Daisuke Shimada (tokyosteel) wrote in lechance, @ 2008-08-25 08:44:00 |
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Entry tags: | theodore nordstrom, z -- daisuke shimada |
Open
The party had ended. He'd seen the people of the town, if not met them all personally. He'd talked a bit, he'd eaten. He'd avoided dancing, fortunately for him. No one wanted to look like a fool on their first night in public, did they?
He'd unpacked his things into the house he'd chosen, across the street from the smithy and down a few doors, just as he'd said. Everything was in it's place, arranged and waiting for when he came home at the end of the day and relaxed.
Now it was time to work. He'd gotten up early, before the sun was up, and started the fire in the forge. He donned the leather apron that was a hallmark of his trade and when the sky lightened, those closest to the smithy would have heard the rhythm of metal against metal, his own unique "tune" hammered out.
He was making tools at the moment. Wasn't that what people needed when starting in a new place? He'd pinched off several dozen nails already, and worked now on a shovel blade, hair pulled back and an all-too-common smear of soot on his forehead. He glanced up at the person lingering in the open doorway of the shop, made a few more blows to the slowly-shaping plane of metal, then thrust it into a bucket of water, dusted his hands together and stepped closer. He bowed from the waist before saying, "Is there something you need?"