It had taken Lana the better part of a day to convince Herritt to let her have a small corner of bench space in his smithy. He had given her a dubious look at first when she had asked to be given something to do, but after running her through a few basic leatherworking jobs, repairing armor and rebinding sword grips, he had grunted in a satisfied manner and gestured her towards a pile of work in the corner, mostly repairs.
It was far from the most interesting way to spend the afternoon, but it was better than tapping her toes in the chantry waiting for the Templars to arrive. After a morning spent wandering the village, she had quickly run out of anything remotely constructive to do and decided that she might was well lend a hand where she had a bit of skill.
Her mother and father had been highly skilled leatherworkers in their clan, and while Lana had never practiced enough to become a true master, she was more than competent for the basic repairs needed here. What she really wanted to do was a bit of decoration on her own armor, but Herritt wouldn't let her anywhere near the leather tooling equipment on his workbench until she had proved she knew her way around. Frustrating, but expected. Her own parents had carefully guarded the tools of their trade, even from her.
She wasn't even sure what to put on her armor, so perhaps it was for the best. Her old hunting leathers had been dedicated to Andruil, as was her vallaslin, but she wasn't exactly a hunter anymore. None of the symbolism of the gods spoke to her the way it had before. So much had changed and she had so many questions.
She shook her head to clear it, steadied her hands and began to cut the laces that held a torn piece of leather in place on a shoulder guard – no, not torn – slashed was more accurate. She laid the old piece together on a new piece of hide and carefully marked around it with chalk and then marked out the new lace holes using the awl. She was aware of Herritt's eyes on her periodically and she was determined to show that shem smith that her skill was equal to the task. She cut the piece and began to punch the holes, working the awl slowly through the hide.
She glanced up at the smith again, but quickly pulled her eyes down to her work. Solas was standing on the edge of smithy, staff in hand, chatting with Herritt and one of his assistants. Her heart hammered suddenly and she felt her face flush with more than the heat from the nearby forge. 'Focus.' She muttered to herself. 'Focus.' She drew a deep breath and continued her work, but her mind skittered sideways. He called me graceful. And meant it too. You could hear it in his voice.
'You have some skill.' His voice cut across the noise behind her and she jumped, jabbing her thumb on the awl. Solas stood behind her, small smile on his face that turned to concern as she swore and shook her hand to clear the pain. He caught her hand in his, 'My apologies, Herald, I did not mean to interrupt.' He turned her hand up and looked over her thumb, 'Not cut? No.' He released her and stepped back. She was almost sure she saw a faint flush on his cheeks. Probably matches my own. She forced what she hoped was a casual smile.
'No, thank you. Just sore.' She shook her hand again, feel awkward. 'And you don't have to call me Herald.' It was bad enough when the humans did it, but when another elf called her The Herald of Andraste, it made her skin crawl. What does it even mean?
He smiled slightly again and held his staff out before him, 'Herritt says you are working for him today and might rebind my staff grip? The binding has worn thin and I was hoping for something sturdier before we venture out again?
'Of course.' She took the staff from him, and gave it a quick look. 'That shouldn't be a problem to fix.' She sighed a little sarcastically. 'I'm honored that the Great Herritt thinks my skills are up to the task.'
Solas cocked his head at her curiously, 'According to him, you're one of the most skilled assistants he's had in quite a while.'
She stared at him and then glanced over his shoulder at Herritt, who grinned and waggled his finger at her and his gruff voice cut across the smithy.
'Don't be distracting my help, elf, she's got a fair pile of work to get through. If you want any of her smiles, you'll have to come back after we close up for the day.'
She bit back a grin and saw Solas jump and a very distinct blush begin to spread from the tips of his ears down his face. He bowed slightly to her and turned, almost fleeing the smithy as Herritt laughed and winked at her. She knew she was blushing too, but turned back to her work with a lighter heart. She put Solas' staff next to her stack of work, she would rebind it next and return it to him that evening – something to look forward to.