Isaac sat forward and rubbed his eyes. He hardly got any sleep the night
before; he was too busy thinking about his mother. Dora had really gone
downhill the past couple of weeks, and Isaac worked his fingers to the bone
trying to help her. He was really busy despite his claims of laying around
doing nothing. More and more color seemed to slip from his mother's face
every hour; Isaac was quite hesitant to go to work now, fearing for his
mother's condition. Isaac pulled himself from his bed and got dressed,
wrapping his golden scarf around his neck as he descended the stairs to the
floor below. His mother was laying in her bed, reading a book. Isaac
walked quietly over.
"Good morning, son. Are you off to work?" Dora asked him. Isaac nodded and finished messing with his scarf. Dora's face was a pasty white, very sickly in appearance, but her eyes still showed much emotion and affection. Her eyes did not convey sorrow, but rather happiness despite her obvious bed-ridden lifestyle. She looked on to Isaac with a shine of pride in her eyes, eager to see her son make his mark on the world.
"I don't know if I should go, though. You don't look very good today; maybe I should stay home. Mr. Carson would understand if I stayed home this once."
"You worry too much, Isaac." Dora said, before coughing violently. "I'll be fine."
"No, I'm going to stay here and look after you."
"Young man, you're going to work and that's final!" Dora snapped, giving Isaac the look of "Don't argue with me because I'm your mother." Isaac was taken back by this sudden order, but instead of arguing further, he nodded and kissed his mother on the forehead. Her fever had spiked again; Isaac opened his mouth to protest, but his mother pointed at the door before he could breathe a word. He turned and left his abode, spotting Garet at the end of his walk.
"Hey, bro!" Garet exclaimed, spotting Isaac leaving his dwelling. Isaac raised a hand to silence his oafish friend.
"My mother's trying to rest, Garet. Please be quiet." Isaac said, approaching his friend.
"Sorry, Isaac, I'd forgotten. My apologies." Garet replied, quietly. "Let's go." Garet and Isaac walked down the dirt-trodden path to the blacksmith. Garet rambled on about the night before, explaining that his sister almost threw a fit because of his training, his little brother trying to use his own Psynergy, and countless other events. Isaac hardly heard a word of Garet's speech, focusing primarily on his mother. He grew increasingly concerned about his mother with every passing second. Normally, Isaac would've appreciated the calming walk through his beloved hometown of Vale, but he couldn't. The wooden houses with hay roofs were usually serene to the warrior, as were the smells of ambrosial bliss of the pastries and fresh baked bread at the baker's. Today, though, they were no more than a mere outside stimulus that didn't attract much attention.
Upon their arrival, they both entered and were quickly greeted by Mr. Carson, the blacksmith. Carson quickly began to explain the basics of the hearth and general weapon making instruction. Carson explained the details of using the forge and the forging hammers, giving a demonstration on making a long sword. Garet listened intently, while Isaac struggled to pay attention.
"Isaac, is there something on your mind?" Mr. Carson asked, halting his hammering on the blade of his long sword.
"No, nothing." Isaac returned, snapping back to the present. Carson continued his lecture, but Isaac paid more attention now, trying to get his mind off of his mother.
After Carson completed his lecture, he turned both of the teenagers to the hearth. Their first assignment was to make a fitting short sword with decent quality. Garet began pounding away with his forging hammer, slowly forming a blade from a piece of metal. Garet took his time and carefully pounded the sword to a good point, and after cooling it in a vat of water, sharpened the blade to a razor's edge.
Isaac worked on his project as well, but his labors bore far less fruit. His mind, not being on the present, was clouded and therefore his work quality went down. During the course of his work, he missed the blade of the sword with his forging hammer completely a number of times, and he was off his mark several times, causing imperfections in the blade, hilt, and handle. Isaac, unaware of his errors, cooled the sword and sharpened the blade. When both of them had finished, Carson carefully scrutinized their work.
"Garet, well done! You have a real talent for this! I haven't seen a sword of this quality from an apprentice for years! You're a natural at this. You keep it, Garet." Carson handed the short sword back to Garet who placed it into a waiting sheath.
"Isaac, were you distracted while you were making this sword?"
"What do you mean?" Isaac inquired.
"You seemed on edge and a thousand kilometers away."
"No, I was all right."
"Well, your sword was below average, though not bad for a beginner; but you're going to have to practice or pay more attention when you're working. Here, take it." Carson handed Isaac his personally forged weapon, and Isaac himself scrutinized it. The metal in parts of the blade were warped, and the weapon wasn't entirely balanced because of the hilt and the handle's discrepancies. His sword edge was improperly sharpened, with one edge more keen than the other.
"Damn." Isaac swore to himself. Garet turned his head at his friend's comment. He'd hardly heard Isaac swear before, especially after such a minor failure. By the time they finished, Carson had decided to close shop. It had taken six hours to go through the instruction and exercises, so Garet and Isaac left for home. Along the way, Garet finally broke the long silence between the two of them.
"Isaac, I couldn't help but notice how distracted you were today. It's not like you to make mistakes like you did today. I mean, you were upset that you couldn't even swing a hammer straight!"
"It's nothing, Garet. I was just tired, that's all." Isaac said, rubbing his eyes to further his story.
"You're dodging, Isaac. Something's wrong, and you're not telling me what it is."
"I've nothing to hide. Nothing's going on, Garet." Isaac said as they reached the walkway to his home. "I'll see you in the morning." He walked into his dwelling, and his door closed with a quiet thunk. Garet shook his head and walked onward. His house wasn't far away, but he stopped at a crossroads and leaned against another wooden house. He waited, thinking for a long time. Eventually, he was ready to leave when he heard a familiar voice from behind.
"Garet? What are you doing out here?" Jenna asked, fixing her eyes on him.
"Jenna? Oh, I was thinking."
"That's a first. What about?" Jenna leaned up against the wall next to him.
"I was thinking about Isaac. He really seemed out of his gourd today; the guy couldn't hammer a sword that was holding still. It's just not like him at all."
"Do you think he heard what we were saying yesterday, Garet?"
"No. I think he's figured it out for himself. I just wonder how much longer she has. It's sick to think this way, but it's true. Jenna, I just don't know how to tell him that we're here for him. He's always been our leader, never asking for help, but more than one hundred percent ready to give it."
"Garet, he just doesn't want help, but we should be there for him. I think he doesn't want anyone worrying on his behalf. He's so selfless in that way, but he's irritating when he won't spit what he thinks out. Let's just try to set it aside for now, Garet. Gotta go, Garet. Just try not to bash your undersized brain out by trying to think too much." Jenna said, turning to move away. She winked at him during the 'brain' comment and walked off. Garet sighed and returned to his own home after Jenna had taken her leave. After eating his dinner, Garet promptly turned in for the night, eager to rest his body and mind for the coming day. Little did he realize that he'd need it.
"Good morning, son. Are you off to work?" Dora asked him. Isaac nodded and finished messing with his scarf. Dora's face was a pasty white, very sickly in appearance, but her eyes still showed much emotion and affection. Her eyes did not convey sorrow, but rather happiness despite her obvious bed-ridden lifestyle. She looked on to Isaac with a shine of pride in her eyes, eager to see her son make his mark on the world.
"I don't know if I should go, though. You don't look very good today; maybe I should stay home. Mr. Carson would understand if I stayed home this once."
"You worry too much, Isaac." Dora said, before coughing violently. "I'll be fine."
"No, I'm going to stay here and look after you."
"Young man, you're going to work and that's final!" Dora snapped, giving Isaac the look of "Don't argue with me because I'm your mother." Isaac was taken back by this sudden order, but instead of arguing further, he nodded and kissed his mother on the forehead. Her fever had spiked again; Isaac opened his mouth to protest, but his mother pointed at the door before he could breathe a word. He turned and left his abode, spotting Garet at the end of his walk.
"Hey, bro!" Garet exclaimed, spotting Isaac leaving his dwelling. Isaac raised a hand to silence his oafish friend.
"My mother's trying to rest, Garet. Please be quiet." Isaac said, approaching his friend.
"Sorry, Isaac, I'd forgotten. My apologies." Garet replied, quietly. "Let's go." Garet and Isaac walked down the dirt-trodden path to the blacksmith. Garet rambled on about the night before, explaining that his sister almost threw a fit because of his training, his little brother trying to use his own Psynergy, and countless other events. Isaac hardly heard a word of Garet's speech, focusing primarily on his mother. He grew increasingly concerned about his mother with every passing second. Normally, Isaac would've appreciated the calming walk through his beloved hometown of Vale, but he couldn't. The wooden houses with hay roofs were usually serene to the warrior, as were the smells of ambrosial bliss of the pastries and fresh baked bread at the baker's. Today, though, they were no more than a mere outside stimulus that didn't attract much attention.
Upon their arrival, they both entered and were quickly greeted by Mr. Carson, the blacksmith. Carson quickly began to explain the basics of the hearth and general weapon making instruction. Carson explained the details of using the forge and the forging hammers, giving a demonstration on making a long sword. Garet listened intently, while Isaac struggled to pay attention.
"Isaac, is there something on your mind?" Mr. Carson asked, halting his hammering on the blade of his long sword.
"No, nothing." Isaac returned, snapping back to the present. Carson continued his lecture, but Isaac paid more attention now, trying to get his mind off of his mother.
After Carson completed his lecture, he turned both of the teenagers to the hearth. Their first assignment was to make a fitting short sword with decent quality. Garet began pounding away with his forging hammer, slowly forming a blade from a piece of metal. Garet took his time and carefully pounded the sword to a good point, and after cooling it in a vat of water, sharpened the blade to a razor's edge.
Isaac worked on his project as well, but his labors bore far less fruit. His mind, not being on the present, was clouded and therefore his work quality went down. During the course of his work, he missed the blade of the sword with his forging hammer completely a number of times, and he was off his mark several times, causing imperfections in the blade, hilt, and handle. Isaac, unaware of his errors, cooled the sword and sharpened the blade. When both of them had finished, Carson carefully scrutinized their work.
"Garet, well done! You have a real talent for this! I haven't seen a sword of this quality from an apprentice for years! You're a natural at this. You keep it, Garet." Carson handed the short sword back to Garet who placed it into a waiting sheath.
"Isaac, were you distracted while you were making this sword?"
"What do you mean?" Isaac inquired.
"You seemed on edge and a thousand kilometers away."
"No, I was all right."
"Well, your sword was below average, though not bad for a beginner; but you're going to have to practice or pay more attention when you're working. Here, take it." Carson handed Isaac his personally forged weapon, and Isaac himself scrutinized it. The metal in parts of the blade were warped, and the weapon wasn't entirely balanced because of the hilt and the handle's discrepancies. His sword edge was improperly sharpened, with one edge more keen than the other.
"Damn." Isaac swore to himself. Garet turned his head at his friend's comment. He'd hardly heard Isaac swear before, especially after such a minor failure. By the time they finished, Carson had decided to close shop. It had taken six hours to go through the instruction and exercises, so Garet and Isaac left for home. Along the way, Garet finally broke the long silence between the two of them.
"Isaac, I couldn't help but notice how distracted you were today. It's not like you to make mistakes like you did today. I mean, you were upset that you couldn't even swing a hammer straight!"
"It's nothing, Garet. I was just tired, that's all." Isaac said, rubbing his eyes to further his story.
"You're dodging, Isaac. Something's wrong, and you're not telling me what it is."
"I've nothing to hide. Nothing's going on, Garet." Isaac said as they reached the walkway to his home. "I'll see you in the morning." He walked into his dwelling, and his door closed with a quiet thunk. Garet shook his head and walked onward. His house wasn't far away, but he stopped at a crossroads and leaned against another wooden house. He waited, thinking for a long time. Eventually, he was ready to leave when he heard a familiar voice from behind.
"Garet? What are you doing out here?" Jenna asked, fixing her eyes on him.
"Jenna? Oh, I was thinking."
"That's a first. What about?" Jenna leaned up against the wall next to him.
"I was thinking about Isaac. He really seemed out of his gourd today; the guy couldn't hammer a sword that was holding still. It's just not like him at all."
"Do you think he heard what we were saying yesterday, Garet?"
"No. I think he's figured it out for himself. I just wonder how much longer she has. It's sick to think this way, but it's true. Jenna, I just don't know how to tell him that we're here for him. He's always been our leader, never asking for help, but more than one hundred percent ready to give it."
"Garet, he just doesn't want help, but we should be there for him. I think he doesn't want anyone worrying on his behalf. He's so selfless in that way, but he's irritating when he won't spit what he thinks out. Let's just try to set it aside for now, Garet. Gotta go, Garet. Just try not to bash your undersized brain out by trying to think too much." Jenna said, turning to move away. She winked at him during the 'brain' comment and walked off. Garet sighed and returned to his own home after Jenna had taken her leave. After eating his dinner, Garet promptly turned in for the night, eager to rest his body and mind for the coming day. Little did he realize that he'd need it.