The Blacksmith and The Knight

A blacksmith cursed on her heart, gave it to a persistant knight without regret.

In the closest town to the war being waged, lies a rare breed, a female blacksmith. She’s good at her work, those who knew, who cared not for her being a woman, or those desperate enough, were aware of how proficient a craftsman she was.
“Bless this township for having a blacksmith,” a knight exclaimed when he walked up.
It was a small cottage towards the middle, surrounded by a stone and wrought iron fence
He walked up to the extension of the home where she worked, waist high stone, wrought iron bars served as secure windows and ventilation around all three sides supported by heavy iron wood structure that supported a wood shingled roof. He looked in awe. The woman sat in a chair next to the iron barred door that seemed more secure than the castles jail doors. He felt the r from the forge.
“I need the service of your blacksmith, ma’am. I need to get back to battle, it took a third day to walk here.”
She looked at him and held out her hand for the sword.
“How long will it take,” he asked as he handed it over.
She pulled out half from the sheath, the blade was chipped and gouged, she shook the other end until it fell to the ground.
‘It’ll take a day. I’m busy and that’s as fast as it can get done.”
He looked dumbfounded. “Really? Even with all the other work? I might be moving up in rank, that sword has been good to me, I need it. Tell him he has my thanks.”
She sighed, picked up the other end, and walked inside her workshop, without another word. As he left, she went to work, then she heard a voice.
“Oi, how much will it cost?”
“We’ll discuss it when it’s done.”
She removed the pommel, grip, cross guard, placed both pieces in the forge until it was hot enough to work. With an oricalcum chisel, she hammered and cut out the fuller, before the pieces cooled. Sweat poured and sizzled on the blade. Once that was finished, she let it cool some for strength, then took a thick length of steel she cut to fit in the slots to hold the blade together. Back in the forge, she lit her pipe on a piece tool a few puffs as she pulled it out and forge welded the steel strap, hammered it flat against the blade with a toothed hammer to better set in the blade. Back in the forge. She puffed her pipe. Back out, she used a regular hammer to further merge the metals and smooth it out, knock out the edge damage.
The knight returned the next day around the same time and found her sharpening it.
“It looks beautiful!”
She just glanced up at him, and did a test cut on a piece of wood wrapped in leather.
“Looks good, and that’s a good cutting form.”
The sword shined in the light of the forge.
“One would think you were a skilled swordswoman the way you move. Where is the blacksmith, I’d like to thank him for his quick work, and pay.”
She looked at him unamused as she held his sword. Tense worked muscles didn’t hide themselves. She walked closer, pointed to the door of the house, as she walked inside. He walked in to a large counter, various weapons and implements on display. It looked as if work was paramount. She walked in, and he got a closer look at her. The cotton shirt was plastered to her skin once she took off the heavy duty apron and revealed her figure.
“I suppose you’re the protégé?”
She looked at him with narrowed eyes.
“You seem to be well built, not as petite as other women, you seem fairly sturdy, so I thought… so you’re his wife?”
She sheathed the sword, sat it firmly on the counter, and crossed her arms, brandishing her thick biceps, her heavy breast seemed to rest on her toned forearms.
“I don’t mean to be rude, I’m just curious.”
“It’s ten silver,” she said and grabbed a bottle of mead to drink from.
He dug for the money. “I’d still like to meet him, if he isn’t busy.”
“You’re talking to him. What a scholar you are.”
He looked surprised.
“My apologies! I’ve never met a female blacksmith before.” He chuckled. “Well your work is impressive, by your appearance, I have no doubt you do quality work. Don’t see too many women in the trade… I’ve heard of one once, but she’s a dwarf… allegedly.”
She took the money, and handed him the sword. He pulled it out for a better look.
“Looks good as new. Man or woman, as long as the works done right, it matters not.”
She just looked annoyed, and wanted him to leave, but he kept talking. She took the money and walked away.
——
A few days later, she went to the pub and wondered why everybody was so cheerful, more than usual. But there was new faces, knights from the war. She went to the bar and ordered a drink and a few pieces of Razorboar meat. She had been tasked with making new swords and armor pieces by the king, and was tired. There was a ruckus of laughter, and a arm around her shoulders. Momentarily surprised, then angry.
“It was all thanks to this lady here, that I was able to take down one of the general! Whatever she’s having, it’s on me! Sit, sit!”
“Oh, it’s you,” she said annoyed.
“We came here to celebrate. That sword repair turned the tide.”
The barkeep handed her a drink, he went to grab his, and spun her around on the stool.
“To the blacksmith!” He held up his tankard.
Everybody held theirs up, he looked at her, she sighed and held hers up. He tapped hers and took a drank. She sighed as everybody cheered, and drank hers.
He was so boisterous, all she wanted to do was drink and eat in peace, but he had the place all riled up.
He gave her a once over. “You clean up well.”
“Thanks.”
She wore a blouse, a leather corset that popped her breast up, pants, and boots.
“Seriously! No blacksmith I know seems to have any nice clothes. Is that silk?”
She wanted to ignore him, but he kept talking.
“So the baby grandhorn hit him square in the ass! He was lucky he had armor on!” He laughed loudly. “Anyway… why we’re here; three of us took on the general, the other two got hurt bad, one even got his sword cleaved in two. It was just me. I was able to use my sword art and do the same to him, then pierce him right in the heart.”
Curiosity got the better of her. “Did the it survive the battle—the sword?”
He laughed. “No, it broke. But it got the job done. I was going to bring it in the morning.”
“You’re out of luck… I’m closed tomorrow, I need a much needed break.”
——
That afternoon, she started to walk out of her house to run arrands, just to see him ready to knock on the door, much to her chagrin, and annoyance.
“Wonderful day, huh?”
“It was.”
“I know you said you were closed today, but I figured I would just drop it off.”
She snatched the sword and tossed it inside.
“It’s rather fascinating to see a woman work as a blacksmith,” he said unfazed from her actions.
“It’s just blacksmithing.”
“I’m just curious… how did you get into it? You don’t seem to be the conversing type, so I asked around.”
“You what?”
“I asked around. We’re going to be here a while, until either the battle moves, or we win, so your services are much appreciated. A few other men have gotten swords from you, and your barely talked to them.”
‘Even if I wanted to talk, you never stop,” she thought.
“The townspeople said you’re a loner for the most part, and whatever interest I have is a waste, because you don’t care for men.”
“You should listen to them.” She walked away.
“They do seem like nice people, worry about you. I think you’re lonely… bored.” He followed.
She growled under her breath.
“It’s a nice place, but it’s far from most places, and small. You’re probably stagnant. I’ll be your change of pace… your friend. You seem interesting enough,” he said as he followed.
She grabbed her small cart and gave him a look. “I have your sword, now go wander off.”
“A guide would be nice, I haven’t had time to actually explore.”
“You’ll probably figure it out.”
“You know your way around, show me the place. It’s not big, but I could probably get lost.”
“I wager you could.” She sighed. “Then you can pull the cart.”
“Sure!” He laughed. “I’ll be your pack mule.”
She did her best to ignore him while he prattled on about the sights.
“This place is quite interesting… quaint. I heard Primrose has a mine. And decent food at… over there.” On and on. She wanted to hurt him.
They stopped at the Brewster.
“My usual cases of mead and spiced rum,” She said.
“Your town has a Brewster? Incredible!”
“Aye! I’m one of the best around these parts. I’m why we’re known for the towns namesake, Sweet Primrose wine. The plant grows all around here. It’s a family secret.”
“I’ve got to try a bottle of that.”
“I can sell ya a bottle, but it’ll cost ya. See… to help some places around here, we have an arrangement that certain spirits are to be exclusively sold through the proprietor that wants to sell it. There’s a fancy restaurant that orders it, around here, so to make sure they don’t lose money, I only distribute it to them, not sell it myself. Since you’re Dawns friend, I’ll make an exception this time,” the man said.
“Great! I’ll savor it.”
“Say Dawn, who is your new friend?”
“He’s no—”
“Lazarus! I’m a knight in the war. Nice to meet you.”
‘Names Lynn.”
Dawn rolled her eyes.
“Okay… case of blood honey mead, and spiced rum, coming up.” Lynn went to fetch the cases.
“Dawn, huh? Pretty name.”
She scoffed.
“Funny how we never introduced ourselves.”
“If you say so. You seem to be amused by odd things.”
“That’s why you amuse me, as well,” he retorted and looked away.
She looked up and scowled. Lynn came back with two men each with a crate, who took them to her cart. She paid him.
“Those crates look odd,” Lazarus stated, noticed the steam emitted from them.
“Ice enchantment. And we have you the wine. That’ll be two gold.”
“Two gold it is.”
“I heard we’ve been winning the war.”
“We are, and I intend to keep it that way, with help of the lovely Dawn.”
“One of my men was sent to bring you some mead for your win.”
“It’s not a win yet, they retreated for now without their generals.” His voice grew cold. “They’ll be back, we’ll be waiting to wipe them all out. All they do is make me stronger.”
Dawn looked at him, surprised by his change in demeanor.
“What doesn’t kill you,” Lynn said.
Lazarus laughed. “That’s right!” I like it here.”

He flirted with a few women as he pulled the cart, some giggled at him, he talked to a few guards. She was just happy he wasn’t talking to her.
“What’s this,” the furrier asked.
“It’s nothing, believe me,” Dawn stated.
“I’m just helping out a friend.”
“You have your eye on Dawn?” The man laughed. “Good luck.”
“He’s not so lucky. I’m running low on tanned leather.”
“I bet you’re happy for more work,” he said.
“Oh… I am. It’s good money, too. A contract with the king. I’m not making anything special, but it’s work. That and this one with his breaking of swords, I might be able to retire.”
The man laughed.
“Should you even speak so brashly about the money you’re making,” Lazarus asked.
“The girls built like a stone wall. You should’ve seen what she did to one of the guards that got drunk at one of the pubs, who propositioned to lay with her. When he and two other pulled their swords, she fought them off with a broom.”
“Oh, that does sound entertaining.”
“It was! She wielded that broom like a long sword. The captain wanted to recruit her!”
“So you’re good with a sword, too?”
“I guess.”
“You just get more and more interesting.”
“Still don’t know how they couldn’t cut through that broom.”
“Reinforcement magic. Nothing special.”

Once all her errands were done, and she was embarrassed by most of the town, they headed back to her home.
“You’re not that bad.” He helped her unload.
“Excuse me?”
“You can be nice.”
“To those who deserve it. So you know the place… think you can fend for yourself, here on out?”
He chuckled. “Thanks to you.”
“Don’t thank me… seriously don’t.”
“There’s one more thing.”
She growled. “What‽”
“Would you like to join me for dinner later? There’s supposed to be a bard tonight, and perhaps we could have a dance?”
She looked at him with narrowed eyes, then grabbed a sword. “You can borrow this, until I fix yours.” And shoved him out the door.
——
Lazarus showed up the next day, she looked up annoyed when he greeted her, then she was surprised.
‘Don’t tell me you broke that sword in less than a day.”
He laughed. “Not yet. I brought you some material for putting up with me. Also it sounded like you were bored making simple swords. Some of these are rather rare. I could probably sell these, but you’re one of the better skilled blacksmiths I’ve seen, I figured you’d make good use out of them.”
Her nerves wavered, and she smiled a little.
He returned a smile. “You look better with a smile.”
She quickly scowled at him and he laughed.
“I wanted to watch you work. I can put these away for you.”
“I can’t get rid of you, anyway… c’mon in.”
He started to sort out his inventory bag, and organize where he put things. She got curious and went for his sword while his hands were full.
“What are you doing?” He moved around.
She went for his sword again.
“Your swords to make are over there, this ones fine.”
He danced around as she chased him, but in his spin, she grabbed the handle and pulled it out. She saw the damage done to it, and glared at him, while he grinned sheepishly.
“I told you it wasn’t broken.”
Dawn tossed it, and slid another in the sheath, pointed at him as a warning, and went back to work. Even with the ventilation, the space was hot. The constant searing heat wasn’t something he was used to. He made himself cope with it, while she casually worked and smoked on her pipe.
“It’s really hot in here!” He fanned his shirt.
She looked at him suffer and smiled. “It has to be.” With the pipe in her mouth. “You can step outside and watch from there, if ya want.”
“No… it’s like battling a long winded fire breathing beast.”
“One that never shuts it’s maw… like you?”
“Funny.”
“I thought it was. Losing the shirt might help.”
“You’d like that. I’m not trying to distract you.”
She looked at him.
“Now who’s the jester?”
“Always you, Lazarus.”
“That’s—oi!”
She laughed.
“If you can wear a shirt, so can I.”
“I have some resistance to fire.”
“How? You’re human, how do you have that?”
“I just… I just do.”
She still sweated, it dripped from her onto the blade, each drop left a ripple before it sizzled. He watched her forge several swords, then move on to making the cross guards, pommels, and handles.
“I guess you’re really strong to keep breaking swords,” she asked.
“I need to be. For the sake of our people. I am pretty high ranking, the men look up to me.”
She nodded.
“I’m not breaking them all by myself, however. You should see who we stand against. What brought you into blacksmithing?”
“I just… fell into it. I had to earn a living… didn’t have much of a choice.”
She thought back to that day, the last time she saw her father, when her whole family fell apart. He grew more corrupted along with his growth of power. He abandoned them. Her mother killed herself to suffer the shame no more. Her along with her brother tracked him down on his latest adventuring quest, found he messed with the wrong blacksmith. He denied them in his current rage. She tried to stop her brother who brandished a sword out of anger. The fight was quick, her brother didn’t survive, her father barely. Then the wizard got in it, the blacksmith took pity when her father turned on her adamant on forcing the wrong choice.
“You’ll love me and give me what I need! You’re my daughter! Dawn!”
“Dawn! Dawn! Oi, Dawn,” Lazarus shouted and shook her.
She snapped back and looked at him.
“Are you okay?”
She stood there, tool in hand. “Fine… I just—”
“Don’t bother explaining. If things are better now, leave it be.”
“Right. Th-thank you.”
“Being a knight is something of a family thing. I honestly fancy being an adventurer.”
Things were quiet for a moment, she grabbed a bottle of mead, and had been drinking it to calm down.
“Have you ate?”
“I haven’t had time with all the swords you keep breaking.”
She felt too much time had passed sense he said anything, he had been too quiet, she looked over and he was gone. Eventually she started to smell food, she walked in the house and found him cooking in her kitchen.
“Take a break.”
She rolled her eyes and walked away. Moments later he brought her some food, took her tool, and handed her a fork.
“What is wrong with you‽ This is my house, let me work!”
“A weak body makes weak weapons.” He went back towards the kitchen.
“I’m not weak, and if you break that sword, I’ll break you!”
“Do you promise?”
She watched him walk away, and gawked at the food. She grabbed the fork and took a bite.
“Damn… it’s good. Why is it so good?”
He returned with food himself, and one of her bottles of mead.
——
Dawn waited for him to come in, that dinner was still on her mind, and his overall treatment of her, she wondered why she couldn’t scare him away, why he wouldn’t just keep things professional. She’d started to be too curt with him, started to enjoy his company, nothing she did or said deterred him. The moment he walked in, she strutted quickly up to him and snatched his sword, before he could speak, and handed him another.
“I guess the fights back on?” She walked back to the forge.
“Yes… it is.”
“Well hurry up and break that one.”
He was speechless for a moment. “Didn’t you promise to break me?”
“I did, but I not. Have this feeling that you would like it far too much.”
He laughed. “Perhaps… but you would like it too much, as well, wouldn’t you?”
Dawn picked up a decent sized hammer and looked at him. Lazarus quickly dashed out when she flung it at him. When she went to retrieve it from her yard, she couldn’t help but smile at him as he kept going. Back inside, she was a bit disappointed that he didn’t stick around and bother her. She laughed at the idea of actually wanting to be bothered by him. Called herself crazy.
——
A few days passed and each day the forge started to feel different, she couldn’t put her finger on it. Many people seemed to think she had changed, and wondered where he was. She knew what he was doing, so she didn’t need hope that he would return, she knew he would be back as soon as he broke another sword. She went to the pub one night.
“Haven’t seen that Lazarus fellow who always annoys ya.”
“He’ll be back as soon as he breaks that sword.”
“It looks like you’re enjoying his company.”
She just sipped her drink.
“He seems like an odd fellow… odd enough that he just might be breaking then just to see you.”
She laughed. “I wouldn’t be surprised. I’d be so mad if that’s why he does it.”
“Ya sure about that? Or is any reason a good reason fer him to visit?”
“Now look here!” She grew flustered.
The man just laughed.

Lazarus came back the next day looking a bit worn.
She walked up with a new sword. “You’re pushing it, you know that? Pushing my skills to try and make a sword you won’t break.”
“I must be special.”
“You better have the money to pay this debt.”
“I will. You seem to be enjoying your work more than when we first met.”
“I’ve always liked my work.” She turned and stretched. “I’m getting hungry.” She glanced over her shoulder. “I just don’t have time to cook.”
He just stared at her and she couldn’t hide her smirk.
“It should be the woman’s job to cook.”
“And a man should be at the forge… yet… here we are, both being blasphemous.”
He laughed. “I’m cooking, so I’m forging dinner.”
“That wasn’t forging,” she said with a laugh.
“It is. There’s materials, tools, and fire. Tools prep the material; food, fire to temper it correctly as a weapon crafted to fight hunger.”
She chuckled. “What a fool.”
“Tell me I lie.”
“If anything it would be more akin to a potion, than a weapon.

They talked as they ate, and she found that she really did enjoy his company.
“How did you learn to cook so well?”
“Watching those better than me… learning from those who are much worse.”
“What could they teach you?”
“What not to do. Traveling, if you know where to look, you can find the herbs and spices fresh. I’ve collected and traded them for a quick lesson.”
“I’m not that great of a cook. Most of the time I just eat elsewhere. It’s nice to have a home cooked meal.”
“And fancy wine.” He pulled out that bottle he bought days ago.
“You still have that?”
“I didn’t want to drink it alone.”
“But you have the others, and I’m sure friends whom to share it.”
“I wanted to share it with somebody… special. I can drink anything with those knaves.”
“Me? I’m not…”
He was already in the process of opening it, the cork popped out and he took a whiff.
“Ever have this before?”
“No.” She shook her head. “I’m not exactly a noble.”
He handed to her. “Have at it.”
“Really?”
He wiggled the bottle some, she took it and had a swig, handed it back, he took a drink.
“I see why people like it so much,” he said.
“You’re a knight, you’re used to this.”
“Not really my style. Everything about a knight seems glamorous, except actually doing the job.”
“There is that risk of death.”
Aye… there’s that. I haven’t found the glamour in death.”
“Do you really want to know how I became a blacksmith?”
“Only if you want me to know.”
“I didn’t have a great life as a child. It should’ve been, but my father left us, my mother killed herself because of it. We went to find him… my brother and I. He disowned us, even killed my brother.”
Lazarus scowled.
“My father became an adventure, he was obsessed. He did it for the money, so we could have a good life, but lost his way in greed… fame… whatever else he sought. He started to change, we were no longer important. It was greed of money, power. His reputation grew worse and brought us shame. My mother was too stressed bearing all of it. We all did. She killed herself as she started to grow mad. When we found him, my brother set to fight him to avenge what he ruined and left behind. He used the sword my father threw down, displeased with the blacksmith that made it. Said it wasn’t strong enough. My brother ran him through, and with another sword, my father did the same. That blacksmith took me in under him.”
“That’s tragic. It must be… difficult… recanting that.”
She nodded. “I see a lot of my father in repugnant men. Arrogant men.”
“Do you see him in me?”
“I do. The way you seem to chase power like you’re hungry for it. Strength and power be your life goal. And my father before he lost his way.”
“I hope I don’t turn out that way. I don’t want to.”
“You don’t?”
“I can’t stand arrogant knights, adventurers. I want to fight so I won’t need to, so we can have peace. Now I know you would be disappointed… I can’t have you hurt by my own actions.”
She grabbed the bottle and drank from it. “You’d better not. I’m starting to like you, I don’t want it to be a waste of my time.” She grimaced.
“I can understand how hard it must be to be nice and smile here and there.” He took the wine and drank some.
She reached for a mallet, he grabbed it and handed her the wine in trade.
“I can tell you’re tough, you don’t need to keep proving it.”
“I need to make sure you don’t forget.”
“I won’t, and I like that you are tough. It takes the right msn to handle you.”
She glared at him.
“What I mean is; you’re no damsel, you can handle yourself.”
She took a long drink, handed it to him. “I don’t need a man.”
“Aye, I figure if you ever had a man, it was because you wanted him, not from needing. He would be a lucky fellow.”
“Here you are… in my life and unwanted here,” she retorted.
He almost chocked on the wine as he chuckled. “That’s because I no ordinary man.”
“What kind of man are you?”
“A lucky one.”
She rolled her eyes and tried to repress a smile. And seemingly talking more to herself, than him, said; “no matter how mean I am to you, you just kept taking it.”
He smiled. “Because sometimes whimsy is all one had to brighten up the dark.” He tool a drink and gave it back.
She drank. “Some don’t have that. They linger in the dark, search for slivers of light, or run from them, for they’re blinding. The darks all they know. Comfort in some sick way, even if they feel trapped.”
“Here you are trying to cast away shadows… how blinding is it?”
“Not so much, but it’s still hard to see.”
It was late, she didn’t want to end on a somber note, or say goodbye, but she was tired.
“I’ll see you in a few days to exchange your sword again?”
He laughed. “I promise to break it and rush right over.”
She laughed.
“Did you ever actually fix my actual sword?”
She looked back in the house. “It’s around here.”
“Guess I’ll keep needing loaners until then. Good night, Dawn.”
“Good night… Lazarus.”
She lied in bed and wondered what would happen if they fell in love, worse, if she did, and he didn’t.
“I can’t do it. I need to tell him he needs another blacksmith… I can’t take the risk.”
As she slept her body started to have a dull glow, she winced from the pain, but didn’t wake.
——
Two days past and He didn’t show. Her mind had been stuck on him, she realized it was happiness, he brought joy, and she was the last one to see it. She was determined to make him the best sword and had no answer to why. One sat on the counter on the third day in wait for him to stroll in. Dawn felt like she was enabling a repeat of her father, and she wanted to do it, without reason why. She wanted to make him a strong sword, but she also wanted it to break so he would come back. By the fourth day she started to worry, reached out to see if anybody had seen him, even travelers. Her mood shifted, her body hurt here and there if she thought too much. A fear crept that worried he might’ve died because her weapons were too weak. Few more days passed, she lost her appetite, and the forge long burned out. She looked at that sword on the counter that waited with her, she broke down in sobs. She refused to work, unless she had to, tried to stave off her feelings with drinking, refused to discuss it with anybody, even though they knew.
One day at noon, somebody banged on her door that woke her up. She stomped downstairs.
“I’m closed,” she yelled.
The banging continued, she grabbed an empty bottle, and flung the door open to his happy face. She growled and swung the bottle at him, followed up with a punch, he dodged both.
“What’s wrong, Dawn‽”
“You left, you left and didn’t come back,” she screamed and landed a punch.
Dawn saw a new sword on him, grabbed a sheath, shoved him to the ground.
“Who made that,” she yelled.
She sat on him and raised the sheath over her head to hit him, it slipped from her grasp as she started to cry. He noticed they were watched. He sat up and repositioned her, so he could carry her inside. He saw the state of her shop and home, sat her on the counter, surmised she had not been working. The sword sat next to her.
“I was fighting in the war, like I have been.”
“I don’t care! You should’ve said you’d be gone longer!”
“You seem mighty angry at somebody unwanted in her life,” he joked.
“Don’t be daft, and you have another sword I didn’t make!”
“I lost yours, but it didn’t get broken.”
“Excuses! If you lost it, you should’ve came for another,” she cried.
He looked at her a moment. “I wanted to. But we weren’t here, we were sent to support another part of the militia.”
“Another excuse! You could’ve came anyway… without that ugly sword!”
“Dawn… please. I didn’t have a choice.”
“Yes you did!”
“What’s your problem? This isn’t like you,” he spoke more serious.
“My problem is you left for so long, and just strolled back in with some low quality sword, instead of getting one from me.”
“We were days away from here. Surely you’re tired of fixing and giving me swords all the time?”
“More foolishness! I care not for how many you break, for you come back. The swords don’t matter if you come back. You should’ve told me you would be so long.”
“I’m a knight… I had no choice, it was quick notice, we had to go. You’re not using logic.”
“Get out,” she yelled. “I don’t want to hear any of that, just leave and go back from whence you came!”
There was a momentary silence between the two as she sobbed. He reached in his bag and pulled out a small bag of money, placed it on top of the sword. Her body jolted with a dull glow that left him confused. He wanted to say something but she was being unreasonable so he turned to leave. She tossed the money at him.
“I don’t want your money, or anything.”
He turned around. “That’s how this works.”
“Fool… knave… idiot! How stupid are you to think that’s all it was? You waste my time and everything… get out!”
“Okay… what’s going on,” he asked firmly.
“Nothing that mattered anymore, so leave for it would be better that way.”
“Not without answers.”
She turned away from him.
“You’re being childish, what did I do for you to act like this?” He grabbed her shoulders. “Why are you mad, why won’t you take the money, how is it wrong that I protect our people‽”
She clasped her hands that shook. “Because I love you! I fell in love with you, that’s my problem! I’m not supposed to… I can’t, shouldn’t… yet I can’t help it. All you wanted was a weapon, to seek power.”
Her body started to glow.
“Why are you glowing?”
“That’s all you wanted, but you got me too, and you squandered and used me.”
“What’s happening to you, Dawn‽”
“I started to love you too much… the first time I let myself fall in love like a fool. I wanted to make you a sword that would make you undefeatable, even if you never came back… I wanted to love you… when I knew the risk.”
She started to glow brighter.
“I wanted to push you away, I’m sorry I yelled. But I wanted you too.”
“Wait… is this a curse?”
She nodded. “I was cursed because of my father. Pick love over power. If I fall in love with somebody like him, and they don’t love me more than power, I turn into the strongest sword. But for you… unlike my father… I’m fine. I was scared to love, but I’m happy I did.”
“Wait! Please!”
“My love will make me the strongest sword for the selfish man who steals my heart without a care, the one who cracked my armor to get inside. I want you to have my heart.”
She eased off the counter with the sword in hand, and slipped it in his belt.
“I put my heart and soul in making the best blade, but it wasn’t enough… so now you have it all. I’m yours and yours alone, and despite how afraid I was it would happen, I’m happy my love will protect you.”
Her light grew brighter, she pressed herself against him, she pulled his face to his, her lips just started to touch his. Her light was brighter more, he thought he would be blinded and burned away, then it was gone, all but the faint touch of her lips. A clatter to the floor and all was dark again. He looked down, his eyes adjusted and found a sheathed basket hilt sword, that seemed to glimmer in the darkened shop. He picked it up, pulled it enough to find a flamberg saber. It felt warm and sent tingles through his body, he felt like a formidable force, that he alone would end the war. He pulled half the stolen sword from the sheath and dropped it on the floor, tossed the rest as he exited.
A few people were still around. They saw him equip the sword as he left.
“What was that light,” a person asked.
“Where’s Dawn?”
Lazarus solemnly grabbed the sword. “She’s right here.”
“What did you do‽”
“I… didn’t. She was cursed. She fell in love with me, and… I didn’t. I guess I wanted too much power.”
“What does that even mean? You speak in riddles,” a guard asked.
“It means because I wanted her more for what she provided, than I wanted her for her. She fell in love and I didn’t, so she turned into a sword! I didn’t make the curse… I didn’t even know she was cursed! I’d ask her to explain it better… but I don’t think she can talk.” He gripped the sheath.
Somebody rushed in her house and back out. “She’s not here!”
“Because she’s right here! We just went over that! She’s my sword now… she gave up everything for me.”
“We need to break the curse,” a woman yelled.
“I plan on it.”
“Not you, bastard! It’s your fault! Now give Dawn to us, you brought this on her.”
“There’s nothing any of you can do to save her,” the town mage decreed. “She came to me about the curse, years ago. If Dawn fell in love with a warrior that only desired what she could provide… powerful weapons, then through her love, she would be that weapon. That’s the secret to why she was the way she was. She was afraid to get close to anybody for this very reason. Dawn somehow found you worthy of her love… now… her curse is also yours to bear.”
“I’m going to break the curse, if it’s the last thing I do.”
“Will you? I can feel her power she granted to you. More than enough to corrupt a man. And you’ve been boisterous about your growing accolades.”
Somebody threw a rock. “Get out of our town!”
“Don’t come back until she’s cured! You ruined her life!” They threw a rock.
“I’m not the bad guy here! I don’t like this either! You fools act as if I knew about it!” He started to walk away.
“She was finally happy because of you, and look what you did,” a man spoke.
“I didn’t know,” Lazarus yelled.
Some followed him to the front gate, as he walked through town, people were seen point and murmur about the sword in the brunette sheath.

Lazarus joined back with his men, with a card players face to hide himself.
“Did the blacksmith give you both of those,” one asked.
“Aye… she did.”
Another laughed. “She must’ve given him two, so she could get a longer break from him!”
“Used all the money and took a vacation!” He laughed
He could only smile an empty smile. They asked to see the swords, he unsheathed both. They started taking bets on how fast such a ceremonial , weak looking saber would last before it broke, he took them up on that offer, with a genuine smile, with full trust she would not let him down.
——
After the last skirmish, they were impressed, except the few that bet it would break by the fourth time it was used or the ones that thought it wouldn’t survive the day. After collecting his money, he went to have a meal on his own. Her unsheathed, he proudly inspected her, she was still pristine. She easily sliced through enemies and pierce armor.
“I have reinforcement magic.”
Not too uncommon, but usually only those who trained in combat developed the skill. It was as if she was an extension of himself, read his mind and muscle.
“She wielded that broom, like a longsword!”
“Maybe the curse gave her sword skills,” he thought.
The way she would burn with her cuts, sometimes leaving trails of flame.
“I have some resistance to fire.”
Blood and pretty much anything else made hot butter on a knife slide like molasses.
“She was indeed a powerful sword.” A knight walked up. “With effort, it could probably cut through sword and armor. I was amazed at the fiery slashes sent through the air as ranged attacks. May I?”
He reached for it in Lazarus’ lap, the moment he grabbed the handle, a hot pain shot through his body that seized every muscle, but his fingers. They were both taken by surprise.
“I’ve never seen a sword do that before.”
“I hadn’t a notion it did that. Are you okay?”
“The pain stopped the moment I let go. I need to have her make a sword like that for me.”
“She said she put her heart and soul in it… just for me… I don’t think there will be another quite like it.”
“You truly are blessed. She didn’t make that for the coin. You’d be wise to see her again… she may offer more to you than sharp blades.”
He nodded. “Aye… I plan on seeing her again, until then, this keeps her close.”

During the next fight, there were Trolls with clubs. Their swings heavy, the way his blade clashed left nicks, but wouldn’t cut through. The weight of the club seemed too heavy. Iton wood, he thought. Fear she would break, started to fill him, she was knocked from his hand, he dodged the downward swing, rolled past another’s cross swing further from his precious blade. He pulled the other blade to block the next attack, and run it through his enemy, as the other came, he reached where she was, his hand held out to grab, she flew past another knight to his hand, where he blocked the next attack, used his other to gut the Troll. The way she rang out had him concerned.
He slept with her close every night, cherished her, despite the fact she seemed impossible to steal by others, he found the extra steps eased his mind. It just didn’t feel right, with any space between them. She gave her life for him and he would kill for her honor. Every situation where he thought it risky for her petite blade by comparison to the standard issued swords, and the one she made, he wanted to use her less and less for fear she may break, even if she shown no sign of it, much less wear or dulling. Even if it felt wrong to mot use her. His hand practically started to itch in battle, when she wasn’t in it. He often thought about her. When there was a reprieve he thought of their last words, about who she really was, and why such a curse fell on her. One night in another town, he asked mages and wizards if they ever heard of the curse. Niether knew. He would ask everywhere.
The more he thought about her, the more risky moments he had, he wanted to use her less, hopes the war ended soon. She gave him more responsibility, and she was useful as they got stronger together. A brief battle with Golems, that was arduous, he managed to cut through them, the melted rock, he just didn’t want to use her, although he was compelled to, he fought it. In another town, a few went to the blacksmith for repairs.
“Why are you relying more on that sword,” one asked.
Much to Lazarus surprise held up mostly fine, just dinged and chipped. “I don’t want to risk her as much as I have been.”
“I’m certain that swords indestructible,” his captain surmised.
“I’ve never seen him sharpen it. Blood flows off, like fish in a stream.”
“I just don’t want my luck to run out with my new rank. He can’t have her broken.”
“Do you find it odd he has been calling it a ‘her’, a lot,” one whispered to another.
It reached a point where he hardly used her at all. She stayed by his side, he held her in battle, because he had to. Despite the decency of the last sword she made, to use it well, he relied less on raw power, more on dexterity. He started to learn it wasn’t all the swords fault, but his that they broke so much. Lazarus often found desperate enemies reach for her, grab at her to use against him, with failure to deal with the sheer pain. He told himself she was only for his use, like she said. She would never let anybody else use her, only he was worthy. Although he wondered if she got mad at him for not using her. Would she understand id he explained it, or would she think him a fool? Could she think or feel anything? He imagined her scolding him for the foolish things he did, that she would laugh at his jokes, her toiling away at her forge, blood and swear at the next weapon, being proud for how long his sword lasted. She was too much for him. One battle, an enemy fought through the pain and attacked him with her. She almost cut through the other sword, he felt the impacts, yet she did not hurt him, the one she loved. He cut them down and retrieved her.
——
Lazarus started trying to leave her at camp, she felt like too much responsibility. He thought of getting rid of her, but just couldn’t part, she was like a drug. No magic user was any help to him. It had been months, another spring came about. The war ended and it was back to the usual. He found himself escorting a dungeon, they made short work. He was back among people, had spent a few nights with women, but felt shame, they did not satisfy his needs and wants as once before, before he met Dawn. One night he was at the pub, drunk, the people watched him cry.
“Why did you have to do this to me,” he yelled and slammed her on the table. “You shouldn’t have loved me, now look at you! And me! You really are cursed… my curse, you over built heifer! Why? Why do you do this to me‽ Make me want and need you! Damn you Dawn, damn you for haunting my thoughts and being my strength!”
Everyone was uneasy, his fellow knights and the adventures he was with removed him from the bar.
“I think you’ve been too stressed, and drank too much. Go home… walk it off and sleep,” a knight said.
“She’s even worse when I sleep,” he cried.
“I’m giving you a choice. Walk it off, or keep being a disturbance and spend the night in a cell without her.”
“You know I can’t be without her.”
Lazarus walked with her clenched and found himself in the woods. Tired he lay against a tree and spoke his truth.
“I’m… sorry… I know it’s not your fault. I’ve tried to find help. There is no one. I’m just so angry this is your life now—you squandered it for me. I guess I was like your father… it I… if I knew him, I would use you to end his life, the act would be poetic justice. I don’t want this anymore! I don’t want you! Not like this. I want to experience your love, truly, and this is not it. I do love you, I have for a while now. I want your love in a way we can exchange it. It’s so hard to love you like this, I need to brandish it the same way I need to brandish you in battle. I need you, not some perfect sword. I need your flaws, your hurt, anger, the womanly wiles of your nearly manly physique. I fathomed once that you don’t need protection, but I’d do it anyway, like how you’ve given everything to protect me. I love you, and my heart feels empty without a way to give it to you, and accept yours. I want you back, Dawn.” He clenched her tight to his chest.
As day broke, he felt something heavy on him, his head pounded, there was a groan in his ear. Something pulled away, he thought somebody wanted to take her from him again, so he held it tighter.
“Don’t hold so tight… you’re crushing me,” A whiny tired voice spoke.
He released his grip and there was a moment of silence. His eyes opened and the sun was bright. He held what or whoever it was in his view until his eyes focused.
“Dawn?”
She mumbled and woke up groggily, yelped in surprise, pushed away from him and looked over herself, and the surroundings in near panic.
“Dawn.”
“Why aren’t I a sword‽ What happened, did I break, am I dead‽”
“Dawn!”
He sat up, held her face and kissed her lips. She felt the heat on her skin, the air that filled her lungs, once the kiss ended.
Her voice stammered. “The curse… I’m—but I’m supposed to be—”
“The woman I fell in love with. More valuable than a sword that can strike down the gods themselves. I was a fool… I beg for your forgiveness.” His head lowered.
“Your love broke the curse… how could I not forgive? I longed for you, willing to embrace my curse for you. I want you to be mine.”
He stood and scooped her in his arms. “In the midst of battle, I forgot what I fought for. Your curse was mine, I learned to truly treasure you.”
She pulled him close for a kiss.