The day began for the Lanburg blacksmith and his apprentice much as it usually did. Fire up the forge, haul the water, start firing the ore. They had a new plowshare and a bunch of nail stock to make today. Mid-morning gave them both a surprise, however. A young woman, maybe fourteen or fifteen by her height and build, walked into the shop carrying an old broadsword in it's sheath. Her brown eyes were a little haunted, but determined as she walked up to Garrick while his father was in the back of the shop. Russet-colored hair lay in a plait down her back, enhancing the wide oval of her face.

"Hello," she said quietly, though firmly. "I need to get this sword cleaned up and sharpened, please. Papa said it was mine now, and I needed to learn how to care for it and use it, since he needed another hand to help protect the farm and Annie if more wolves come." Mention of the wolves helped place her family's name in Garrick's memory. Errald. These past few months she hadn't been into town as often as she used to be, with her mother and sister, or he might have remembered her earlier.

Garrick's eyebrows rose. Marissa was something of a legend in the Four Rivers region. For years, she had insisted on taking her place next to the boys in festival games, races, hammer-throws, the stone toss. Even more notorious, she had regularly placed very well in the competitions. Garrick's father Jordan had commented more than once that she'd have made a good blacksmith apprentice. Garrick might have thought he was speaking in jest as girl's don't become blacksmiths, but Jordan wasn't known for his sense of humor. But most recently, it had been the outcome of the wolf attack out at their farm that had everyone's tongues wagging about Marissa Errald. They'd had a couple of years of drought, and many of the game animals had found some place else to be, leaving the predators with lean pickings. This had made them a bit braver than usual this winter.

Wolves weren't known to attack people. It was usually just livestock. Marissa had lost family in the attack, but even more remarkable, she had come to the rescue and even made a fair showing. When it was all over with, Marissa was lauded as a hero, but it was a bittersweet victory. Her family would suffer from the loss of her mother and older brother.

Garrick took the sword and pulled it from the sheath to have a look. He admired the craftsmanship for a moment. "It was oiled before it was put away. That's a good sign. Looks like it could use a reconditioning too. I could strip it down and put a new handle on it too if you want."

Marissa nodded. "Papa said to do whatever you could to bring it up to snuff. New handle, clean up the blade and stuff like that, I guess," she said with a slight frown and a shrug. "I guess I need to learn how to care for it, too. We're in town most of the day and all, so I've got time."

Garrick nodded and slid the blade back home. "Okay. Want to stick around while I take it apart? I'll fire it with a little more carbon too, patch up some of the deeper nicks." He paused for a second. He'd never been good at commiserating with the grief of others, but to say nothing would have been rude. He looked down at the sheathed blade in his hand. "I was sorry to hear about...your loss," he said. It occurred to him that not having a mother around was something they had in common, only Garrick didn't know what it was like to lose his mother, as he'd never known his own.

Her eyes filled with tears, but she blinked, swallowed and when she opened her eyes again, they were gone. She didn't have time for more tears. "Thanks," she said quietly. "I'd like to stay and watch you work on the sword, there. It'll help me learn. It was my grandpa's, Papa said. Papa doesn't know how to use it real well, but he showed me how to hold it and swing it a bit." For such a fiercely competitive person, she certainly had a soft, quiet voice. It fairly thrummed with energy, leaving one to wonder what she was doing with all of that energy these days.

Garrick nodded. "Just let me finish up this batch of nail stock and I'll get right on it." He placed the sword on a workbench. "Ya know, my father taught me how to use a sword. He says that to be a good weapon smith, I have to know how it feels to swing a sword. If you want and can find the time, I can show you some basic maneuvers...that is, if you're interested."

Cinnamon-brown eyes regarded him a moment as she thought about his offer. She tried to gauge if he was serious or just being polite. It seemed like he was serious, so she nodded and truly smiled for the first time since she entered the shop. It seemed to brighten her whole face, that smile. "Yeah, sure," she answered. "If you don't mind teaching a girl, that is," she added with a little sigh. It sounded almost wistful, or was it frustration? "It's not very ladylike, I've been told but I'm sure I could get back here once a week. It's not much, but I'm sure I can arrange that much.

Garrick smiled, "Why would I mind teaching a girl? Besides, a lot of the boys around here would rather think of you as a boy to save their pride after festival games. My Da always said you'd have made a good apprentice."

Her eyes flashed, but in anger or humor, it was difficult to tell. "You know, they're not the only ones, these days wishing I was a boy," she said dryly. Some semblance of bitterness crept into her expression for a moment.

Garrick gave the nail stock on last tap, quenched it, and set it on a workbench. Walking over, he picked up the blade and pulled it from the scabbard again. He walked over towards the large open double doors to get a better look. Years of being stored in a leather sheath had left it slightly pitted and with a few rust pockets. He took a look at the ricasso to find the mark of the maker, but didn't recognize it. Bringing it back inside, he asked, "Would you mind leaving it with us for a few days? It's going to be a little more involved than I first thought. It'll need some plating. We can go over sword care when you come back."

The young woman watched intently as he worked, nodding along with his words. "No, I don't mind leaving it. I can come back next week for it. I've got the axe out at the farm anyway, just in case."

Walking back over to the bench, he chose a pair of pliers and after taking off the leather hilt wrapping, he began to unravel the wire. Just then, Jordan, Garrick's father walked in. Walking over, he smiled gruffly at the girl, and took the blade from Garrick to have a look. "This the blade your Pa gave you?" he asked, though it was clear he already knew the answer. Jordan was taller than Garrick, standing well over 6 feet, and more heavily built. His voice was gruff, but his tone soft. His curly brown hair was pulled back into a pony tail. There was a strong family resemblance, but Garrick's hair was a pale blonde, almost golden, and his eyes blue. In humans, both parents had to have blue eyes if the child was to have blue eyes, but Garrick wasn't human...not totally anyhow. His mother had been an elf, as was evident if one looked closely at his prominent cheekbones, his slightly canted eyes, and softly pointed ears. He currently sported a soft red beard. But where Jordan's brow was brooding, Garrick's eyes twinkled; and where Jordan grimaced, Garrick smiled. Despite the similarities, they were night and day.

Handing the blade back to Garrick, he turned to face the girl. "Your Pa show you how to use it?"

"Only how to hold it and swing it so I don't cut myself, sir," Marissa answered. "He never learned, himself. Never had a need."

Jordan nodded knowingly. Finding a person in the Four Rivers region that had weapons training wasn't easy. There were a few around, but they usually learned somewhere else and rarely talked about it. "Your Pa's a good man. Salt of the Earth, as they say." He pursed his lips and looked her up and down. "Garrick needs a training partner. Someone competitive. Someone to challenge him. And if your Pa saw fit to give you that piece of hardware, you might benefit from some proper training. That, and I believe you've got the talent to wield it."

Garrick's eyebrows furrowed. He had never been competitive, and he obviously didn't know what to think of his father's offer. Marissa's gaze went from Jordan to Garrick and back again, then she smiled. "I would like that, sir," she replied with a nod. "I'll be glad to be his training partner and... if it turns out I don't have what it takes, that's okay. At least I got a little bit of training, anyway." Still, her eyes sparkled at the opportunity presented and she could barely contain her excitement.

Jordan nodded, "Good. Can you be here twice a week? I know it's a bit of a trek for you and you have more chores to do around the farm these days. I can send Garrick out to help do some chores on the farm to make up the difference."

Garrick sputtered, "I don't know anything about farm labor! And it's way out of town!"

Jordan turned to him, his face stern and his voice iron, "It'll do you good to learn what it's like to keep a farm running. You seem to think blacksmithing is a lot of work. It's time to disabuse you of that notion and let you see how hard others work just to survive, to feed their family. It'll be good character building."

Garrick looked down sulkily. It was obvious he didn't want to work on a farm, but he wanted to argue with his father even less.

Jordan turned back to Marissa, and his tone softened to merely gruff, "Well? Twice a week? And you'll need to find time to practice in between." It was clear that Jordan was a good man, but perhaps a bit overly-strict with Garrick. "Tough Love" as some called it.

"I think Papa will work with that bargain," she nodded thoughtfully. "I can probably squeeze some time out, here and there between visits, too." For the life of her, though, she couldn't figure out how to slice that pie any thinner but somehow, she'd find a way. She cast a sympathetic look at Garrick when Jordan turned away. Marissa had no doubt that her father would get a good share of work out of him, but she hoped that in the long run, it was all worth it.

Jordan smiled, "Good. Then it's settled. Stick around while Garrick takes the grip off your sword. I've got a few things for you to take with you."

Garrick knew that was his cue and he pulled the sword from the sheath again, and began to unwrap the leather from the hilt. As he did so, Jordan walked to the back of the smithy, leaving the two alone again.

"Sorry," Marissa apologized quietly. She knew what it was like to be berated in front of other people. "I'll do what I can to make sure the work isn't ... messy or anything." She still watched intently as he worked, trying to learn through osmosis and observation.

Garrick didn't look up, and answered in a similar tone, "It's okay. If it wasn't this, it would be something else. Besides, it'll get me out of the smithy." He left the fact that he would out from under his father's watchful eye unsaid. He peeked up at her, and a rueful smile played across his lips. "Besides, I really could use a practice partner. Otherwise, I'd have to do all my sparring with him. I hope you don't bruise easily. We use sticks for sparring. He believes that your reflexes will become faster if they are keeping you from avoiding pain."

As he finished unraveling the leather, he used pliers to untwist a few pieces if wire, and uncovered the wooden handle, which came apart in two halves, to expose the tang. There was a bit more rust visible here. Garrick nodded as if he'd expected to see this. The wood tended to trap in moisture. "We'll get this cleaned up and see if we can't build up the tang a bit."

"The tang?" she asked, sitting up a bit straighter. "That's this part?" She pointed to the piece of the blade that fit into the hilt. At his nod, she smiled her understanding and asked a couple more questions pertaining to terminology.

Jordan returned, looked over Garrick's shoulder, and nodded knowingly, as if he'd expected that as well. Smiling at Marissa, he handed her bastard sword of similar weight and size to her own, but the hilt looked rudimentary by comparison. At his side was a sword of similar make. "That's a practice sword. The edge is flat. You need to know what it feels like to swing and hit things with it, so play with until you come back. Once we've evaluated your skill, we'll move you to using your blade to practice when the time is right. Sword care will be part of your training. Bring that along out back and we'll go over four basic defensive positions for you to practice before your first training exercise."

"Yes, sir," Marissa answered, standing with ease and eagerness. A bit of uncertainty lingered in her nervous fidgeting but all things considered, it was certainly a normal reaction.

As the two stepped out back, Marissa saw large bins of ore, stacks of firewood, a large water barrel. Off to one side was a well worn patch of ground surrounded by what appeared to be empty racks. At the far end of the field were three arrow targets. What followed was not exactly a first training exercise, but the initial instruction of the positions she was to practice had Marissa stretched and slightly sore in ways she'd never been before. It felt good though, she reflected and that was what she took away from the forge that day.

*** *** *** *** ***

That first day of practice began a rather unusual friendship. Garrick's training gave him an edge in the beginning, but Marissa was a quick learner, and soon pushed Garrick's boundaries. Marissa's competitive nature drove Garrick to improve his skills. Soon, it was him that was struggling to hold his own. What Marissa lacked in form and technique, she made up for in sheer ferocity. Marrissa taught him to appreciate rivalry, even competition. For Marissa, it was much needed contact outside her farm and family, though she didn't like the way Garrick often beat himself up over the smallest mistakes and she let him know it in no uncertain terms. Boldness and uncertainty they exchanged so often it felt like an emotional see-saw to watch. In truth, a solid friendship formed during those visits, something truly needed by both.