Training

Childhood

Two years have passed since the first day I met my mother. In my ignorance, I learned that my little me was living again. I do not know if it's a gift or not. The situation is definitely more difficult. The lack of convenience such as toilets, running water, electricity is not easy when one is used to it. I do not know if I'm in a past period, a distant future, or anywhere else.

From the top of my two springs, I can assure you that everything is gigantic and that people do not pay me much attention. They do not like my curiosity about everything around me. Between the: You're too small to discuss this or again: It's a man's story, do not worry about it. What does it matter if I'm little or a girl? I have my own intelligence and I understand better than children my age.

I am wiser than children my age, my memories of my old life, the fact that I have already grown up bring a little something extra. Even if sometimes, I realize that my head is not mature and that I can not restrain my childish and even completely incoherent behaviors.

I am nevertheless the pride of my parents. At least, now that of my father. My mother died last winter. She caught a flu that quickly became uncontrollable. She was a brave woman, happy, but with a weak constitution. I heard the healer in our neighborhood say that she lived incredibly long and that he was lucky that she could give birth to a little girl. The little time spent with her made me understand that I made her very happy and filled her with pride.

Today, I do my best to help my father with housework. He made everything easy to reach to me. But, he strictly forbade me to touch the stoves, too small, too dangerous not before I was big enough to reach the top without a bench or chair, it’s now a rule. So the meals I prepare are cold, but tasty. The first meals I prepared for his employees and himself was ... How to say, a real shock. A little one of a year and a half of cooking that caused a real concussion. First, the refusal to eat, some were convinced that it was muds cakes, others were afraid of taste.

It was my father who broke the ice and dared to eat what I was offering. After, astonishment and delight, he stopped asking questions. Her little daughter has always learned faster and does nothing like the others.

During the summer, I began to hang out more and more often in the forge. I am curious and determined. I wanted to learn and spend more time with my father. I always sit quietly neither too near nor too far from him and I observe while asking questions. Even if he refuses to give me a hammer, nothing prevents me to assimilate all the information on his passion, work. Even if the practice is not there, the knowledge is.

The hot season is coming to an end, the freshness of the harvest season is taking its place. One afternoon after being harvested wild berries, I sneak into the forge. I know my dad is not here, having a date at the castle, but I like watching men work. The dance of the hammers, the sound of rhythmic pounding, the purring sometimes roaring of the furnaces attract me inexorably.

On tiptoe (which is not really necessary given the constant din in the workshop), making me as small as possible not to be noticed, I slipped among blacksmiths and apprentices. When two gigantic hands lift me abruptly and come to drop me on one of the workbenches. He turns me over so that I can face him. When I saw silver eyes, frowning under discontent, lips pursed so intensely that they formed a white line. I felt my cheeks burn, embarrassed, I bend my head to look at my feet piteously.

- What are you doing, he growls.

- I only wanted to come and watch, I said in a small voice. I do not want to disturb, I was going to settle in a corner not to be in the way, I promised Zeph.

I look up, terrified and my face burning me even more strongly. I close my arms on my chest as if to protect myself, nibbling my lip nervously. For a split second I thought I saw a sketch of a smile. Not long enough to confirm that he may have been amused.

He leans a little closer to me, his face at my height, he squints as if he tries to evaluate, reading something on my face. My heart is racing, the fear of being punished is choking me.

- I ... I'm leaving, I will not bother you. I'm so sorry Zeph. I should not have, but I like ... I like the forge too much, I say quickly in a breath.

I see him get up, a smile is drawn on his lips, but his eyes remain severe. He takes me in his arms and crosses the workshop. He drops me off on a bench close to his desk. I dare not do anything completely lost by his almost friendly behavior.

- Do you promise to be a good girl ? Like you are when the boss is here ?

- YES! I'll be perfect, I promise wide-eyed, shining with pleasure.

- I trust you, he warned me brusquely.

Zeph is one of my father's best apprentices. Finally, he is no longer an apprentice, but continues to work for him. They are now associated. He began his apprenticeship at seven springtime. Now aged seventeen, he is considered an adult. Like all other blacksmiths, he have an impressive musculature. He is somewhat stand-offish and does not appreciate my presence in the forge so much. He keeps telling my father that this is not the place of a little girl.

But, he obviously likes my interest in their work. For the first time, I allow myself to look him in detail. He has long brown-red hair that he was tied in a poney tail with a leather lace. His forehead is smooth and slightly hollow, his eyebrows are less pronounced than the other men I have seen so far. He has thick eyebrows, well defined a little darker than his hair. His silvery eyes are bent by long, almost girly eyelashes. He has high and defined cheekbones, an aquiline nose and a diamond-shaped jawbone.

He must come from a far country, everything on him is different from the local population. The people I met normally have brown to black hair, brown eyes and slightly reddish brown skin. Our faces are triangular generally. His skin is olive-skinned and it's really striking. He attracts a lot of women's eyes and the number of girls who have come to charming him is rather huge. Although he is old enough to marry, he does not seem interested in starting his own family.

The afternoon passes quickly, as he explains to me in more detail his work than his own master. It was such an intense learning period that I apologized and left for a nap. My little brain can not learn as intensely as an older child.