It was a beautiful morning; the sun beating down as the mountains cast a shade for the kingdom below. The busy streets of Rotkara Es'La, which are hoarded with bazaars, markets, and wagons filled with merchandise, merchants who want their merchandise sold off for some few pieces of coins, while outside the walls of Rotkara Es'La. There lies the peaceful village they called Novra Es'La. Farmers, gatherers, and workers ache their bones, ensuring a proper harvest of yield for the upcoming season is enough to sustain the whole village and the market of its fresh harvests, and then there upon the far distance, a lone house sat atop the hill where their village's blacksmith lie that also provides the kingdom's troops with fine arms.
"Oh, ye' lil' slugga!" A man named Thalrik chuckles heartily that seems to echo out of the smithy. He watches his boy play with a wooden mallet, striking the large anvil with cute little thunkle sounds. "Be kerful na', aye?" he warns as the little boy swings for another strike on the anvil, now letting out a small but audible thunk. The little boy gives the man a gleeful smile and nods vigorously and lightly taps the anvil with the wooden mallet. The sound is now barely audible, but it's still there. He gives the boy an approving nod. "Thankfulleh yer' mother was kind enuff te' mek' des wuden malet of ye'." His voice was gruff, carrying a heavy accent that sounded a lot like Nordic-Scottish accent that almost sounds like Norn.
The man let out a heavy rumbling laugh, but it carried a sweet and cheerful undertone. He stood up from his stool and approached the little boy, his own metal hammer in hand. Tucking that large hammer into the holster on his belt, and knelt down to the boy's height. "How 'but ye' ol' man teach ye' how to beh e smeth, aye?" The man turned and faced a wall filled with tools and reached out to grab one of his own wooden mallets on the rack above; he guided the boy's hand that held the mallet onto the anvil. "Now, we sta't ba' du'n des kend a motion, aye?" The man swung his wooden mallet onto the anvil with a lot of power. A sound resonated like a ring as the wood struck the cast metal. The boy giggles at the man and with a grunt, the boy mustered up all his strength and lets it strike the anvil only for it to give a small dinking sound.
"Oh, ye' be a fyn' smeth wans ye've grown, me boy." Thalrik chuckles and pats the boy's back. "Thanks, father." The young boy was no longer merely a child anymore as he had finally grown out of his childhood. "Oll in de de's wurk, me boy!" The bearded man sighs in contentment and chuckles once more and looks his boy in the eyes with a proud, warm smile across his face. He walked over to a stool that was across the anvil and sat down, looking at the boy. He gives him a smirk, not in a mocking gesture but in an approving one. Thalrik shook his head approvingly as he glanced at the boy. The boy smiles proudly back at the man and glances back at a well-built gauntlet that rests atop the anvil.
"Father! May I please try them on?" The boy's voice echo excitement, tugging on the bearded man's shoulder. His eyes gleamed with pleading as he looked at his father. He couldn't quite contain his excitement. "Please, Father! I beg of you!" He knelt down on his knees, eyes swollen as he looked at his own father with pleading eyes.
The bearded man's throat thrums as he laughs at the boy's reaction. "Er... O'right, ye' li'l weasle! Hev at it!" He chuckles as the boy's face widens with excitement and giggles. His arms are wide with excitement as he approaches the anvil with glee. Not long before he could reach the anvil, a piercing voice from a girl shot through the workshop, making him pause in his tracks. "Hmph! Why does it have to be you to try them on first?" His gaze shoots towards the sound of the voice, finding it to be his twin sister. She walks up towards the anvil with authority in her step. Her arms crossed underneath her chest.
"Bu—" but before the boy could complain, their father chuckled and stood up. He approaches his boy and rests his hand on his shoulder. "Me boy, let yer' sista' try et on fer once, aye..?" the bearded man smiles at the boy warmly, encouraging him. She grins at the man and, giving her brother a triumphant smug, he turns to her father. "Thank you, father!" As the girl enthusiastically reached for the sabatons that sat above the anvil. With an eager smile, she wore them on. The boy's shoulders slump down in defeat before he makes his way out of the smithy. Her gleeful voice and shrieks resonated around the small smithy with each glee and giggle that seemed to echo outside. Taking a seat under the canopy above the steps of the smithy, he ponders with his thoughts as he scans his peaceful village. He couldn't help but let out a subtle smile; after all, they's just some shoes. He'll get over it.