|Summary:||Tym gets a pair of visitors in the forge: Danae to offer him a deal and Bruce to order some arms.|
|Date:||December 4, 2011|
|Stonebridge — Smithy|
|Through the front of the shop is a small, dimly lit blacksmithy that specializes in smaller items like chisels, fishing gear, and spearheads. The area is not what many would considered clean and the dirt floor is devoid of anything flammable. Each side has a heavily constructed heating element and a large, raised anvil nearby for the final forging. Tools are hung upon the walls in very specific places while the finished products are kept on a set of shelves near the entrance.|
|December 4, 288|
Stonebridge is a bustling place, but once one finds the right street, it's easy enough to pick out the smithy. The smoke billowing out the chimney helps, but if that's not enough, the steady ringing of hammer against metal should lead the way. Inside, Tym Rivers stands bent over the anvil, arm rising and falling at an even pace, beating red-hot iron into what looks like… maybe a sickle?
The heat hits Danae first, adding a flush to her cheeks, as she pauses by the enterance, a pale grey shawl draped around her slender shoulders. Her step does not shudder at the considition of the smithy, skirts whispering along the dirt floors and keen eyes watching the flicker of hot iron with interest as heat licks and sparks break the air. "Master Rivers?" She wonders in a pause between the blows and sear of the forge, voice clear and cool.
Tym flicks a look up across the room, and flashes Danae a smile from beneath the fall of his hair, before turning back to his work. He spends another few minutes working, and then tosses the curved blade into a bucket and stretches arms above his head before dropping the hammer, fast enough at first it seems it will crash into the anvil, but he stops it at just the last second and sets it gently down. Hands are brushes together and on his leather apron as he comes out from behind to cross the room and say, "That's me. Who's asking?"
The spray of freckles across her nose dances as Danae returns his smile, if briefly and accompanied by a shallow nod, fair skin holding the flush of the heat. While he works, she waits patiently, her hands curved over the sweel of a small bag that she holds and a guard lingering near the door in the pale gold and cream of House Westerling. Keen eyes flicker over Tym's work and that which garlands the walls of the forge, appraising its worth and excellence in consideration. "I am Danae Westerling of the Crag," she offers gently, one hand rising to play with the shells twined in the delicate work of her necklace. "Your work is very fine, Master Rivers."
"Tym Rivers. Pleasure to meet you, Miss Westerling," Tym greets her, and then squints a bit at the guard in the doorway, "Or is that Lady Westerling?" He glances around at the work she eyes, and shrugs, "It keeps me in coin well enough, I guess. Something I can help you with?"
"It is Lady Westerling," Danae agrees after a moments consideration, a congenial air in her tone as she takes no offense to the confusion. She is from afar, after all. Tym's question is taken as an opportunity to step further into the shop and gain a better look at his work, delicate hands sliding along the strap of her bag. The firelight glitters off the long strands of her hair as she pauses, flashing him a slight smile. "Actually Master Rivers, it was my hope that I might help you. Do you get much of your raw locally or do your import from abroad?"
Tym nods as the matter of her title is cleared up, swiping his hair back away from his face, but making no other attempt to straighten up or otherwise show deference to the rank he now knows she possesses. He offers a friendly sort of smile, and then scratches at his chest at the question, broad shoulders rising and falling in a shrug, "Don't know if there are any mines around here," he says, "But we must get it somewhere."
That makes two of them, even if the fine weave of her clothes are telling, Danae makes no demand for respect and instead unfastens the bag that she carries. Reaching within, she withdraws a piece of stone with a very fine line of iron ore and offers it to the smith, a slight smile framing her features.
"Tym!" The voice comes bellowing a few good moments before the proprietor of it can be seen. "I've got some work for you, yeah." The phrase is spoken gruffly and plainly, and then Ser Bruce Longbough, the Captain of the Stonebridge Guard comes into the smithy with his helmet tucked under an arm. He's a bit sweaty, with dirt on his face. "Bolts and…" His eyes move from Tym to Danae. He stares for a reasonable amount longer than polite.
Tym reaches out to take the ore, peering at it for a second before Bruce arrives. He looks up at the guard captain, and then smirks faintly, introducing with a jerk of his chin, "Ser Bruce, Lady Danae. Lady Danae, Ser Bruce." The he goes back to turning the ore over in his hands, examining it. He even goes so far as to sniff the rock and, that apparently not sufficing, lick it.
It is very nice ore. Heybb. The placid blonde pivots on one foot and gracefully turns towards the door with a gentle incline of her head at the introduction. "Ser Bruce. You are of the Stonebridge Naylands? It is a pleasure." There is a slight bend to her knee to accompany her words, equivilent to his introduced station. Danae blinks at the sight of Tym /licking/ the ore, catching at the periphery of her vision and drawing her attention back to him. "And what is your judgement, Master Rivers?" She wonders, a slight curl of amusement in her tone.
Bruce snaps out of his little daze as soon as Danae speaks to him, offering her a polite bow. "M'lady Danae, it is? Right then, as he said, Ser Bruce Longbough, Captain of the Guard here. Aye, I am sworn to Lord Ryker Nayland." He kind of settles back into his daze and looks back at the noblewoman, mouth slightly agape as if something is on the tip of his tongue.
"Not bad," Tym replies to Danae with a nod, adding, "But I'd have to work with it to be sure." He starts to toss the rock back, but stops himself and hands it over to the lady instead, giving her a nod and asking, "You selling, or something?" He seems a bit skeptical. To Bruce he turns next, saying, "You said something about an order?"
"Of the Westerling holds, it is, yes. Well met then, Ser Loungbough. It is my intention to present myself to your Lord and Lady at their convienence," Danae acknowledges pleasantly. As Ser Bruce returns to his daze, so does she return to her observation of the smith, perhaps assuming that might be his way. The ore is tucked back into her bag with a, "I could see that done, should you be interested." She knows the ore is good. "Looking for trade partners would be more accurate, we've other mines but…" Others with the other goods of the west, her silence suggests enticingly.
Bruce has his attention pulled away back to polite, normal mode, this time by Tym. He nods enthusiastically at the smith. "Aye, we need bolt heads for the new crossbows, and then the usual maintenance on swords and such." He doesn't look at Danae directly this time when he speaks to her, eyes slightly downcast. "I trust I'm not intruding, m'lady."
"Only real way to test it," Tym nods to Danae, "If you get me some I'll give it a try." He nods a bit as she explains, and then brows lower, eyes narrowing slightly at that dangling sentence. He is still thinking on it when Bruce speaks up again and he turns back to nod, "Same number as last time?" he assumes, "When you want 'em by?" He turns back to Danae then to ask, scratching his jaw, "You talking gold?"
"Of course not, good Ser. Far be it for me to wayleigh the business of Master River's forge and the Guard by my visit," Danae demurs with a flicker of blonde lashes against her cheeks."I will see to it then and you can judge for yourself its quality," she promises Tym, assured of it for herself. Although her expression stays pleasant, that narrowing is observed as her fingers run along the edge of her bag. "Mhm. If that be your interest, Master Rivers. Yes."
"Double, this time. Soon enough I'll be having you make a big reserve, but not yet, unfortunately. Gotta get the Lord to lighten his grip on the purse stringers, first." Bruce grins and winks at Tym. Oncemore, his tone lowers and he lowers his head at Danae. "Not wayleighing anything, m'lady…" He has nothing else to say to her, but turns back to Tym. His free hand, that not cradelling his helm, lifts up to rub the back of his neck.
"What're my options?" Tym inquires of Danae. He glances at her bag, and then back to Bruce, nodding. "Double. I'll let Joachim know." That'd be the master smith who owns this forge, which Bruce would know though Danae may not. He shrugs at the knight, "No rush. Not much fun in making buckets of bolts, even if they pay."
"Joachim?" Danae queries, brows rising slightly as she looks from one man to the next. As for options, she plucks the bag from her shoulders to offer it carefully to Tym. What it contains essentially a sample selection of stones, gems and ores, some more spectacular than others, but each from the mines of her hold. "Your master then? If you know of others who might be interested in such, I'd be delighted to speak with them during my stay." To Ser Bruce she replies lightly, "I'm pleased it is so."
"Well then, I guess I'll be off. M'lady." Bruce offers another bow to Danae, clearing his throat after he's done. "I'll uh, check up in a few days, Tym." Then he's on his way out.
"Joachim's the master smith," Tym fills in as he takes the bag from Danae and begins rifling through it. He pulls out rocks in ones and twos, holding them up to the light or the fire, tapping them against the edge of the anvil, and occasionally biting them. It takes him a bit, though he pauses between inspections to nod, "He'd be one to speak with. Couple other smiths…" he scratches his nose and gestures vaguely, "Roost, Mire. Might be interested if your price's good." To Bruce he nods, "See you around."
"A pleasure meeting, Ser Loungbough," Danae returns, inclining her chin in a slight nod. She watches as Tym nibbles, licks and generally fondles her selected sample pack of wares. "Try not to chip a tooth Master Rivers," she notes with a twitch of humor to the curve of her lips. Her jaw juts outward in throughtfully as he lists the other holdings near, mentaly filing them away for later perusal. "I shall then. And for your own assessment?"
Bruce slips out without another word.
Tym just glances at Danae at her warning and replies, "I won't." He continues making his way through the various offerings, not in any particular sort of rush, it seems. "Don't get too much call for the fancier stuff," he says, gesturing at a few shinier rocks, "But I'd give these a shot, see if they're any sort of quality." He shoves them all back into the bag save his chosen four, which he holds out to her, the first she gave him among them.
There is no edge to Danae's wait, standing quiet in an easy posture with her hands folded over laces at her waist. Although her guard fidgets at the door after a while as Tym works his way through the offerings. Accepting the bag, she slings it back over her shoulder and looks from him to the chosen four in his grip. "Why don't you keep those and show them to the Master and see if he agrees with the assessment. Then I'll return and we can discuss samples?" She suggests easily.
Tym takes his time, either oblivious to the guard's fidgeting or just not that concerned by it. When she suggests he keep the samples, he shrugs and nods, then reaches up his free hand to swipe at his hair, agreeing, "Alright. I'll see what he thinks. You staying in town?"
"Yes." Danae names the local in where she and her retinue have taken residence for the beginning of their stay. She adjuts the bag on her shoulder that holds the other stones and samples and ducks her chin in a nod. "Then we shall meet again soon. Good day, Master Rivers."
"Crane's Crossing's a nice spot," Tym approves her choice of inn, and then nods back, cracking another smile for her. "Looking forward to it. Good day, Lady Westerling." He tips a nonexistent cap to her, and heads back to his forge.
There is a smile his approval, slight if warm. Then Danae and her guard take their leave of the forge, leaving him to return to his work.