The Mit and The Billows - Chapter 1

By: Mitler King of Kobolds

"Mr. Delion," I called out as I entered the blacksmith's shop, balancing the farm tools in my arms, "Mr. Delion?"

The fire was roaring in the forge, and I could feel the heat from the entrance. It felt closed off, and the air was heavy; the fields were where I belonged. I stepped further into the smithy and called out a little louder, "Mr. Delion!"

"Just a minute!" The deep smooth voice of the smith rang back from the next room over. I stood there with the hoes and sickles getting heavier by the second. Finally, the smith came out of the back, his broad frame filled the door frame, and his deep red skin and orange eyes made him look like a devil. The black horns curling along his head didn't help his image, but he was the only one qualified to run the blacksmith's shop. "Oh, Arded, what a surprise! Welcome to Love's Hammer. What can I do for you?"

"Some of our equipment needs to be sharpened." I shifted the weight in my grip, and a hoe clattered to the ground. "Sorry, but harvest is coming up next month. Is that a problem, Mr. Delion?"

"Please, call me Love." He bent to pick up the hoe and looked at the blade in a shaft of light from the window. "I didn't sharpen this. Where did you have it done?"

"My father had it sent to the next town over. The smith there was supposed to be good." I hated that I had to explain this. The truth was that my father didn't like the thought of Love Delion handling his farm equipment. He was convinced it would bring blight to our crops.

"True, he's not a bad smith." Love handled the hoe with care and sighed and waved me to come in further. "But, he's not as good as me. I'm guessing you had these done recently?"

"Yes, just tending the family garden was enough to chip and dull one of the hoes." I followed him to a table where he put the hoe, and I set the rest of the equipment down with it. "We didn't use these, but we didn't want to take a chance on them being as poorly done as the hoe."

"That must have taken some convincing for your father." Love pressed a thumb against a sickle's blade, and he frowned. "Even though this doesn't even feel like it could cut butter, let alone wheat. The timeline is tight. It would be better if I had help, but my apprentice went home to his town to help his sick grandmother."

"I can come and help!" I spoke before I thought, and Love grinned widely, making my cheeks hot. "I mean, well, it's our fault that you don't have much time. I just thought I'd take responsibility."

"I don't know how you ended up so responsible and thoughtful." He walked around the table and towered over me. "You sure you're alright to work in the forge with me? It looks like you're overheating already. Your face is red as a beet Arded."

Something about how he lingered on my name made my stomach flip, and I took half a step back. "I'm sure. I'll do it."

"What a relief then!" Love stepped away and stretched his arms over his head. "I'll get the guest room set up, and you can go home and gather what you'll need to stay over for the month."

"What? Really there's no need for me to stay with you, Mr. Delion." I felt panic rising in my chest. How would I even explain that to my father? Staying with Love Delion for a whole month, my father would keel over. "I'll just come here instead of going to the fields."

"I just told you, call me Love," The hulking tiefling sighed again as he put the farm tools in a barrel. He then labelled it with Arded's name, "and, it's an hour each way. I couldn't live with myself if you were mugged on the road or travelling at night. It's just more practical."

I couldn't fight a solid logical argument like that. "Fine, I'll tell my father I have to stay here. It'll serve him right for not doing things right the first time."

To the next chapter!

The Mit and The Billows - Chapter 2

Author's musings:

This story is the result of chatting in discord. I should be careful there. This is the second one that I've started because of an errant comment on there. Well, enjoy the story!

I am impersonating a sentient oven mitt. At these times in life it's ok to ask "what am I even doing anymore?".

This has been your local Trash Panda, being easily influenced.