(Wrote for fun to give a try at a category I've not written in before. Hope it's enjoyable)
Rivulets of sweat run down my bare skin to dampen the already wet edge of my leather pants. I keep a slow count as I pull down the rope on the bellows. The constant even rhythm I've kept going for the last hour at least. My shoulders and chest burn from the effort.
Or maybe that's from the heat. My face has a sun burnt feeling about it.
The large pile of coal the Mastersmith, a great bear of a man, rakes up glows a brilliant red in the growing dim light. The last hours of the day are upon us and the Master is trying to finish heat treating a large gate hinge for the Lords carriage house.
I watch as the older apprentice, Harles, moves to his side with a large set of tongs. As I pull on the wooden handle with my pain racked hands I see the two of them working together in perfect harmony. They lift the large heavy piece of glowing steel from the fires and with each of them holding part of it they move together over to the quenching tanks.
Three barrels site side by side. Oil for soft, water for hard, salt water for hardest. I learned that this morning.
The cherry red steel screams and sends a great billowing cloud up and across the ceiling as they lower it into the salt water.
"Enough Geon. You're wasting my coal now." The Master calls over to me, his voice a deep grumble. He looks demonic standing in the cloud of steam, it curling up and around his dark face.
I turn the handle lose with pleasure. My blistered hands ache from the unfamiliar effort.
This is only my first day in the forge.
I stand unsure of what to do as they bring the metal piece up out the water and take it to a large box full of sand. Setting it down it sinks into the shifting sand. At his directing, Harles turns the piece for the Master to see from all angles.
"Good. That's one at least. Clean this one up. Well try for the other three tomorrow. Geon. Come here."
I walk over to the still blisteringly hot forge.
The Master takes a metal rake from the side of the wall and pulls the coals apart. I see him fish out a chunk of...something.
"This is a clinker." He tells me moving it out into the open hearth. "It's coal and slag that's fussed together. It makes the fires burn colder. I can't have that. Now they form when the fires are at their hottest like they were today. I want you to start making sure they are fished out the pile. You have to learn how to do it while we work but without getting in our way. You get in my way too many times... Harles show him."
The other apprentice stops rubbing sand against the hinge piece with a piece of old leather, and turns to the side. I see two square marks just above his right hip.
I look away from him quickly. I've had to do my best not to stare at his body all day.
He looks like the smith made him here in the forge.
"That's my tongs. I wont do it your first couple of days but if you don't pick this up quickly I'll give you a brand so you can remember to not be in my way. Do you understand?"
"Yes Master." The idea of that tong, hot from the fires touching my skin causes me to cringe. Like I can already feel the pain.
"As old as you are you're going to have to learn quicker than most apprentices would. If you're going to have any kind of forge of your own one-day you will have to pick this up at near double the pace I normally teach. I realize its not your fault what happened but it's still going to be on you to do it. You understand?"
"Yes, Master."
"Good. Now every tool in the forge has a place it should be. Most of them are there now. You need to start to lean where things go. Keep your mind free of daydreams and focused when you're here. You can get hurt in this place real quick. You did good today for the most part. You follow directions well, just like your mother said. Now, rake the rest of the clinkers out. Takes these tongs and drop them into the fire bucket here. When you've got that done sweep out the forge. Everything goes onto the stones out front. You leave a hot spark in my forge and something catches fire I'll put you in that fire and roast you! You understand?"
I'm already coming to hate hearing that phrase.
"Yes, Master.
The Mastersmith takes one last look at what Harles is doing with the sand then hangs his apron over the peg by the door.
"Keep an eye on him." He tells the older apprentice as he walks out towards his house.
The flat metal bar shifts coal in the pile around.
"Push it to the outside... away from the bellows hole." I hear Harles say from behind me.
I nod but don't look at him beyond a second's glance.
The hot clinkers hit the water with a 'thuwop' sound when I drop them in. Little whiffs of stream rise up after each.
My blistered hands ache. I shake my head. New trade new blisters.
I shake my head at the unfairness of it all. Eighteen years old I should be already the master of my chosen trade.
When I was twelve, father, had apprenticed me to a carter. I got to travel the long roads all over the land, loading and unloading goods. Turnips from one place, pig iron from another. Lumber from the harbors. The big wagons with the creaking wheels. The constant weather.
I had loved it all.
Well... maybe not the heavy lifting, some of that had been backbreaking but still I saw the world for several years. I went to places others only get to dream of seeing. The great white cliffs stand out the largest in my memories, the wide expanse of the sea laid out under them. The tall masted ships smelling of foreign lands. Unloading tons of timber from the new colony. The seemingly endless days of back and forth travel from the coast to the great cities. The loading and unloading of our goods.
It had been all I could dream.
Till the night the men came out the woods.
