Sparks showered the night sky as Liv's hammer strikes the red hot steel blade in front of her. She pauses for a moment, bringing her arm up to wipe the sweat from her brow. Her teacher and good friend Alvor stood behind her letting his blade heat up in the forge. Both of them are drenched in sweat after working for the last sixteen hours, slaving away over the most recent order from the Imperials. One hundred shortswords, one week, no if, ands, or buts. Alvor couldn't say no to a favor from his favorite nephew, Hadvar. Also being a devout Imperial supporter, his enthusiasm was contagious, making Liv work harder to impress him. Liv on the other hand tried to remain impartial to either side, keeping her political thoughts in her head. Being the daughter of both a Nord and an Imperial, her heart was torn.
An order of this size normally wouldn't be an issue, but the Imperials demanded some sort of unique filigree be cast into the handle. Liv quenched the blade in her hand, setting it aside to take the heated blade from Alvor's hands. She brought it to the workbench, bringing down her hammer upon it. "We will finish this one up and continue at first light tomorrow," he said, voice thick with exhaustion. Liv sighed heavily, already dreading it as it was already well past midnight.
"You go on in ahead of me, you'll need the rest more than I will, old man." She smiled at him, earning a chuckle.
"If you insist," he said wiping his hands on the dingy apron, she could just barely make out the smile on his face in the firelight. She shooed him off, turning to finish hammering the fuller into the perfect thickness. Riverwood was serene at this time of night, hardly a sound to be heard. Things down at the Sleeping Giant would be winding down, Delphine ushering out the local drunk and ner do well. Pretty soon Liv would see Faendal half-carrying Embry to his porch, where he would leave him before returning to Faendal's bed in the lumber mill. As she continued couldn't help but want to groan, this was the most work that she had done since coming on as Alvor's apprentice.
Growing up on a farm only prepared her for so much, and most of the smithing was rather repetitive. Part of Liv felt nostalgic for the crops and her uncle Severio, but he always knew that she wasn't cut for that kind of work. He and Liv knew that one day she would become the most renowned blacksmith in Skyrim. Hopefully, one day even working for Kings directly, not just doing mind-numbing work for low-level soldiers. Alvor always praised her for the little details she worked out so well, even letting her keep her first real sword. Unsure if she would ever have to use it, Liv kept it locked up tight in a chest at the foot of her bed, wrapped up in her late mother's cloak.
Liv turned and quenched the last blade of the night, just in time to hear drunken singing down the road. She leaned on the railing, watching Faendal struggle to keep Embry moving. "Like clockwork, the man of the hour." she joked to them, earning a boisterous laugh from Embry.
"Faendal says it is time for bed!" he shouts as the wood elf desperately tries, and fails to shush the old fool. "I disagree, the night is young and you missed Sven and I singing Ragnar the Red!"
"I'm sure I didn't miss much, now head to bed you drunken fool. Some of us work at dawn." Liv tried not to encourage him, earning a grateful look out of Faendal.
"Try and make it down tomorrow, it'll help give me a chance with Camilla. She's been asking about you," Faendal called out as he pushed Embry over onto the man's porch, in the moonlight Liv could barely make out the playful twinkle in his eyes.
"I'll try, but it all depends how much we get done tomorrow," she smiled at the elf, "but you know I will try my damndest, I've been aching for a pint." Part of her felt disappointed, being of age Liv always wondered if she would settle down. But the only eligible bachelors in Riverwood were either drunks or fawning over Camilla Valerius, the thought had a tiny green monster surfacing in Liv's mind.
"Fingers crossed, night!" he waved, making his way across the narrow bridge towards the mill. Liv smiled at his retreating figure and walked across the porch, sneaking into the front door, trying not to make a sound. The fire in the hearth crackled, providing a bit of light for her to navigate the quiet house and flop into bed. Beside her Alvor's young daughter stirred slightly before turning over and mumbling something about being a great soldier. Liv smiled at the girl's ambition, kicking off her boots, but she lacked the energy to even crawl under the covers she fell into a deep and dreamless sleep.
Daybreak came quickly just as Liv feared, Alvor shaking her gently to wake her. "Let's go, kid, one more day and we can be done," he whispered, trying not to wake the sleeping Dorthe. Liv grumbled and got up, slipping her feet into her boots and retying her mass of auburn waves at the back of her head. Sigrid smiled at the girl, handing her a bowl of hot porridge.
"Just think, tonight we can all have a drink and celebrate the end of this massive order." Sigrid tried to sound as encouraging as she could as Liv shoveled food into her mouth. Liv smiled at her fondly, over the last year in Riverwood Sigrid quickly became the mother Liv never had. After her parent's death seventeen years ago she never got a female role model until late in her life, and before Liv got used to it she was off to Riverwood. She knew that Nimriel was a good influence on her uncle though, and for that she was grateful.
"Thank you, Sigrid, I'll see you at lunchtime. Don't let Alvor work us through, I don't think he wants to see me on another day of no lunch." Liv smiled, winking playfully at the older man and setting her bowl in Sigrid's outstretched hands, the older woman smiling.
"You can guarantee I will make him stop, he's become a grouch in his old age when he doesn't get his afternoon snack." Sigrid joked and Liv laughed, earning a scowl from Alvor who grumbled into his breakfast.
"Very funny Liv," he smirked and Liv knew she was in for it now, "guess who just earned herself sharpening duty." She groaned, getting up from the table.
"Fine, you're the boss," she said, slipping out the front door. The morning air was crisp, the fresh smell of oncoming fall in the air. Summer would be coming to an end before she knew it. Making her way to the grindstone she began to get started, grabbing a shortsword from the crate beside her. Leave it to Alvor to give her the most tedious of the day's tasks, I know he'll just take his time getting out here to prove some kind of lesson, Liv thought to herself. While she worked away she thought of all the things she could do to finish up faster and get to the Inn for a mead. Her mouth watered at the thought.
By the time that Alvor joined her, it was nearly an hour later, and by the grin on his face, Liv knew that there might be some hope for them today. "I just received a letter from Legate Rikke herself, and they do not need us to send sharpened swords. They have someone at the camp outside Falkreath."
"Oh thank Stendarr," Liv breathed a sigh of relief, immediately tossing the sword she was working on into the crate full of the other ones. "It's nice they don't expect the world of us for once."
"You can say that again," Alvor reached over and began stroking the embers, "if we make good time we will be done by late afternoon."
"Then, we have to celebrate, at least for tonight." Liv smiled, getting up from her place at the grindstone.
"Yes, then Sigrid and I will make our way to Whiterun on Middas." Alvor patted Liv on the shoulder, "you don't mind caring for Dorthe again? We shouldn't be gone more than a few days, Legate Rikke says a caravan will be nearby there to take the swords to Falkreath."
"Not at all, she is a good kid. I'll keep her busy here till you're back." Liv smiled, unburdened. Alvor nodded, returning to his work. The two were quiet, working as quickly and efficiently as they could. Liv peered out of the corner of her eye, noticing Faendal leaning on the railing of the sawmill. For a brief moment, she thought he might be staring at her until Liv heard the familiar sing-song voice of Camilla arguing with her brother, disappointment settling into her belly. It would always be Camilla, maybe Uncle Severio was right, she wouldn't find the entire world in little old Riverwood.
The morning sped by and by the afternoon it warmed up considerably. The roof of Alvor's shop just barely hiding them from the rath of the late summer sun. The two worked tirelessly, until around three in the afternoon, and Liv leaned against the railing trying desperately to fan herself as Alvor finished what she hoped was the last shortsword. As he tossed it into the pile Liv clapped, cheering him. "Never again do we agree to this much in such a short period," he said firmly.
"I'll hold you to that Alvor, don't let the coin or Hadvar sway you otherwise." Liv crouched down, counting once more to make sure that nothing was forgotten.
He shook his head at her and ushered her back to her feet. "I'll finish up today, you go on, bathe and go get a drink. Sigrid has your wage in the house. Help yourself to a good meal at The Sleeping Giant," Liv beamed at him, not staying for a second in case he changed his mind.
"Thank you Alvor!" she shouted at him, quickly running towards the front door to grab fresh clothes. Just before she disappeared into the house Liv was distracted by the sounds of a horse galloping down the road. A cloaked man sat atop a large black horse, its mane wild as the two of them sped through town, almost running over poor, old, Hilde. He was gone so quickly that Liv didn't get to see his face.
"Hey slow down!" She heard Alvor exclaim, running down his steps towards the retreating figure. He huffed, swearing loudly before making his way towards Hilde, who had been knocked over by shock, and helping her up. Sven rushed out of his mother's house, quickly taking her arm and thanking Alvor.
"What could that have been about?" she whispered to herself before heading back into the house, where Sigrid and Dorthe asked what the shouting was for.