Summer 1094 SR
Charlaine struck the iron once more, then dipped it into the trough, listening as it bubbled and hissed. She waited until the noise ceased, then withdrew it, using the tongs to hold it before her eyes, examining the finish. It still needed more work, but her arms were sore, and she desperately wanted something to drink.
Her mother appeared at the workshop"s doorway, carrying a tankard and a small wooden platter with some meat and cheese.
“Hungry?” Estelle asked.
“Yes, how did you know?”
“I’m quite familiar with the sounds of smithing,” her mother replied, “and your hammering had slowed. When that happens to your father, it’s because he’s hungry.”
Charlaine pulled off her sheepskin gloves, tossing them on the workbench, along with the half-finished blade. Taking the tra
