The forge.

[From The Keep - Main Hall]

Alastair got everything ready, as best he could. He realized the futility of cleaning up a Smithy, since it would always get covered in ash and soot no matter what he did, but at least he could be presentable when Juniper came.

By the time Juniper had rolled around to dressing herself about half an hour had passed. Once she managed to track down the forge she simply let herself in the small building.

"Hello? Anyone here?"

Juniper had to duck her head down low to fit inside the doorframe, causing her shoulder to bump a coat rack to the floor.

It wasn't a very large building, but the smithy was packed to the gills with the tools of blacksmithing, including dozens of weapons hanging to either be repaired or cooling from recent work. Alastair appeared to right the rack, clad in smithing leathers and with tinted goggles on his head.

"Careful! There's a lot of dangerous stuff here, and you could get hurt." Indeed, the forge was still going hot, and despite efforts to ventilate it properly, the room was still sweltering. Alastair didn't seem to mind it, although the size of the shack did emphasize how much taller the woman was than him. He was barely taller than normal women, and this one towered over him by a foot and a half, at least.

"Anyway, um, do you have your stuff? That you want me to work on, I mean."

Juniper raised an eyebrow at Alastair as she remover her  armored coat. The heat of the forge was already causing her to sweat.

"Don't speak to me like I'm some child. I've bent steel and been hurt before. "

Junipers eyes narrowed slightly for a moment as she spoke. Quietly she pulled at the strap of her sheath and set the two handed great sword on a nearby anvil. The sword was over ten pounds and six and a half feet long.

"I know it doesn't look it, but a lot of this stuff is pretty hot, just from the ambient heat. You don't need to cut yourself to get hurt, and burns have a way of sneaking up on you."

He shook his head. "Sorry. Everyone loves weapons, but no one respects the forge. Or the smith, for that matter. Come on, I'll take a look at your stuff, and see if they need maintenance." He tries not to get distracted by the sight of her taking off her armor. She was a marvelous creature to behold, and stirred certain desires within him that he quickly suppressed.

He moved to examine the sword, and whistles. "Never seen anything like this before. At least, not outside of a book. Is this... elvish? " He lifts the massive blade as though it were made of paper, his inhuman strength keeping him from noticing its weight. "Hmm... I've never seen this kind of steel before. It seems unusually strong and flexible, but I'm guessing you've put it through its paces, based on the nicks in the blade. I can sharpen it for you, but it looks like it's been oversharpened over a long period of time. It might need to be reforged soon, and I'm not sure I have the materials or the tools for that."

He glanced at her armored jacket. "Want me to take a look at that, too? I can do repairs on armor, too."

Juniper made herself comfortable, taking a seat on an empty anvil and stretched her legs and cracking several joints.

"Take your best shot. Its been around for a long time. A lot longer than us. It was a gift of sorts."

Juniper took one more look at the sword before the short blacksmith took it in his hands. Her eyes were lost in thought for a moment or two before she looked down at the coat she held in her hand and shrugged, tossing it towards Alastair and leaning back towards a wooden beam.

"That would be kind of you. Leather requires a lot of upkeep."

He nods, and begins grinding at the blade with his grindstone. After a minute or two, he stops, looking at it oddly.

"...Huh. I managed to get a couple of the burrs off, but it looks like your sword is doing more damage to my stone than the other way around." He examines it closely. "Standard methods aren't going to work on this. Sorry, but it seems like I'm going to have to do some research on this metal to do any better," he says, putting it aside. "I'll visit the library later, see what I can dig up."

He turned his attention to the armor. "Yeah.... yeah, it's taken a bit of wear. Fortunately, I can fix this. Unfortunately, I might have to replace some of the leather, which will take time, and besides, you don't want to be around for that, unless you like the smell of tannin."

He sighed. "Sorry. I know this isn't very entertaining. If you want to watch me work, you can, but it's kind of tedious."

Noting the open space and roaring fire she decides to stay and tinker.

"I think I'll work myself if you don't mind. "

She crosses the room, picking up a hammer mounted on a rack and a rounded steel bar in the scrap pile. She places one end into the hot coals and gave the bellows a few pulls.

"I'm sorry, what?" he says, as she begins to toy around with the equipment.

"First off, this is my forge, and I don't recall giving you permission to use it," he says, angrily. "Second, you never mentioned being a smith, and unless you are one, I cannot in good conscience let you try forging a damn thing."

"And, lastly, this is my home. Or the closest thing I have to it. These tools were my mother's, and she passed em down to me, so if you touch em again without permission I'll show you exactly what molten iron can do to a person."

It was pretty clear she had touched a nerve.

Juniper stopped in her tracks, one hand raised with the other setting the hammer down gently. She turned to face the furious smith, palms out and lips pursed. She wasn't here to be spoken down to or threatened.

"Alright. I'll just go then. Thank you for..."

Juniper didn't even finish her sentence. She simply collected her things and left, not saying another word.

<To Main Hall>

Alastair seethed. How dare she come into his forge and touch his things without his permission-

It was only then that he realized the mistake he had made, and his anger turned back onto himself.

"Dammit... DAMMIT!" he yelled, kicking over his own anvil in his fury.

As always, he was alone again. Only this time, he had no one to blame but himself.

Millie had gotten an early start on the day. If she wanted to get back to making clothing for the villagers, she needed the proper equipment. Millie wasn't embracing the idea of going to Portside. Finally she spotted a smithy. She had high hopes they would be able to create some good supplies, she approached.

Alastair would have been happy to spend the rest of the day moping about. It was rare for him to have any personal contact outside of the strictly professional, and through his own temper, he had managed to sabotage one of the few opportunities he would've had to make a friend. But then he heard someone approaching, and remembered he was supposed to be a goddamn professional. Stowing his anger and sorrow for the time being, he righted his anvil and tried as best he could to compose himself.

"Ah, uh, apologies for the mess. What can I do for you, ma'am?" he said, his voice cracking slightly.

"No worries about the mess, I find myself working out of whatever spot I happen to be in. I was wondering if I could commission some shears that could cut fabric and some sewing needles?" Millie inquired.

"Oh. Oh yes, of course, that should be no trouble," he said distractedly. "The needles I can do in a few minutes, but the shears will take some hours. Would you like to wait? If not, I can give you a receipt and you can pick them up on your return."

He looked the girl in the eyes for the first time. She wasn't unattractive, certainly, but she seemed... plain. Plain of appearance, plain of personality, plain of everything. A far cry from the exotic beauty that had graced him mere minutes before.

"A few hours is fine, thank you. I need to find transportation to Portside to pick up some fabric." She reached for her coin pouch. "How much, please?"

"Oh, um... one shilling for the needles, one quid and sixpence for the shears," He said, quickly doing the math in his head.

"So, uh, what are you making, if you don't mind me asking," he said, doing his best to make small talk.

Millie opened her coin pouch to remove the coins to give him. "I'm the town seamstress. Now that we are rebuilding and things are settling down, I thought it might be time to make some clothing for people to replace their damaged pieces," Millie explained.

Alastair looked down at his own damaged clothing. "Sensible enough. Perhaps I should ask you to make something for me as well. Although I usually need something a bit sturdier than most people."

"That shouldn't be a problem. My brother works with wood and needs sturdy clothing, and I've been sewing his for quite a while. I will probably have to go in to Portside for fabric, but I  need to anyway," Millie explained.

"Alright, well, that's... good," he said awkwardly. "Do you need anything else?"

"Not that I can...oh! Straight pins." Millie stated.

"Okay, that should only be two shillings for five," he says. He looked down a bit.

"I hope I'm not overcharging. I mean... I know things have been tough recently. So I don't want to feel like I'm gouging you or anything."

"Not at all, you're prices are very fair," Millie replied. She dug out four shillings and handed them to him. She gave him a shy smile, everyone had been through so much that she felt it was something good.