Chapter 24 #2
Heat blasted her in the face, so searing it almost took her breath away.
She could smell metal in the air, and the strange scent of fire that was always a little acrid.
Clanging noises echoed throughout the entire space, bouncing off the tall ceilings and falling back down like arrows raining down on her head.
She waited for the sounds to overwhelm her. For the clanging and the hammers and everything to just be too much. But they weren't.
They weren't pleasant. She didn't know how anyone spent their days here, every day, endlessly hammering metal into a shape that they could be pleased with.
But she didn't want to plug her ears and curl up in a ball.
And besides, no one was rushing her. Gunnar stood right next to her, his strong hand holding hers with a reassurance that she didn't remember ever feeling in her life.
He waited. Without pressuring her, without pushing her, just waited until he could be certain she was used to the sounds.
Then, at her nod, he drew her further inside.
There were only a few blacksmiths working right now.
They were massive trolls, rippling with muscles, with huge guts that maybe helped them lift and work the metal.
She watched as one of their arms bulged, the troll bending what looked like a plate of metal into a shield, as easily as though it were string.
"Most blacksmiths are done for the day," Gunnar said, his voice clear as daylight even amid all the sound. "They work early in the morning when it is cooler in here."
"That makes sense." Already a bead of sweat was rolling down the back of her neck and between her shoulder blades.
But Gunnar dragged her far away from the fires and out the back. There was another forge out here, but it was much smaller. One that was clearly meant for more detailed work.
A couple of chairs were sitting next to it, along with a pile of what looked like gold wire. It wasn't much, and she still wasn't sure how this was a date, but she sat when Gunnar gestured to a chair.
She was too short for it. Her feet dangled awkwardly, so she crossed her legs on the chair that had clearly been built for trolls much larger than her.
Gunnar sat down in front of her and took a deep, awkward breath. Finally, he released it and said, "I don't usually do this."
"Do what?"
He shrugged. "Date? I don't talk to women."
"I heard you went to the brothels regularly before me."
She hadn't realized he could blush that fiercely. His ears turned a deep, dark green, just like the rest of his face. It spread down his neck and likely beneath the white shirt he wore.
"Ah," he said, rubbing the back of his neck. "You heard about all that?"
She nodded solemnly. "I did."
"Shit."
Rose didn't want him to feel bad about it. So she just shrugged like he had. "I was a whore, Gunnar. It doesn't surprise me."
"I didn't use those women like you were used."
"No, and I imagine they were paid." She twisted her lips in what she hoped kind of looked like a smile. "It's all right. I just wanted you to know that I understood you aren't used to wooing a woman."
"Fuck, that sounds awful."
"Not really." She glanced over at the pile of gold on the forge. "What's all this?"
Gunnar let out a very long breath that suggested he was thankful for the break in what was likely a very awkward moment for him. "Right, I thought... Well, you don't wear any jewelry."
Rose ghosted her fingers over her pierced ears. She did, in fact, wear jewelry. Just her ears, which the trolls thought was odd because she wasn't married.
"No," he muttered as he gathered up the gold. "I mean jewelry that you were given. Jewelry that means something."
She watched as he manipulated the gold in his hands. The wire was so easy for him to wind and braid until he had something that was rather pretty to look at. Braided gold, with a pattern of five strands instead of three. And then he reached for her hand.
She let him take it, fascinated as he started to fit the gold to her wrist. "When I was young, I learned how to do this with all the other young trolls.
Making jewelry is a large part of who we are.
And when I was just starting, I broke the favorite bowl of our teacher.
I thought I was going to get a beating for it.
Our father was ruthless in his lessons."
He wove it a little more around her wrist, fitting the strands before continuing the intricate pattern.
"The teacher said something to me that stuck. Broken things can be fixed with gold," he said. "Pieces can be forged anew. They aren't ruined. They're formed into something even stronger."
With one final touch, he wove the ends together. It wrapped around her wrist multiple times, weaving up her arm just as the strands were woven together. Simplistic, yes, but beautiful all the same.
And when she looked up to thank him, Gunnar was looking at her with an expression she had never seen before. Soft. Kind. Perhaps even... longing.
"You are forging yourself into something new," he murmured. "I'm glad to be here to see it."
“Oh,” she whispered. “That’s lovely, Gunnar.”
“Would you like to make a few more?”
She nodded fiercely because she did. She really, really did.