*I do not own jane and the dragon or its characters

I hope this chapter will suit you better SunRise19. We all have our moments when we feel our feelings are a waste. I just hope for Smithy that isn't the case. To be honest, I'm not sure how this is going to end. I do however plan to make it a good ending, though I can't promise anything. Hope things will get a little easier, but I think this is only a halfway point. Oh well, never thought I'd get this far.

As of Nov 30, 2020 this chapter was edited for clarity, to fix spelling and grammar, as well as other errors.

Chapter 7: Appreciative Hands

An hour or so later, they were met by the Chamberlain at the castle gates, "Thank goodness," with a nod of thanks towards the blond youth, "Smithy was worried sick."

Jane knew the truth of course and dismounted her horse. Years or circumstances have not changed his disposition, but stress and worry had added lines about his face and his hair was not as vibrant as it had once been, but her father was thoughtful and attentive. After hugging her father, she hugged the blond who had also dismounted. If the Chamberlain had not been there, smiling in appreciation, Smithy was sure he would have made his feelings obvious no matter the consequence. All her kindness, and sweetness flowed through that warmth. "Thank you Smithy." came the muffled voice.

It was over before it began, and she ran off in search of dry clothing. Smithy took both horses, thanked them, and prized them with carrots and apples for their hard work. Pig came snorting, and Mercy pounced at his boots, both were welcomed sights. Although he cared for them as though they were kin, there was still the longing; the layers were unraveling, and feelings he thought he would not allow himself to feel came back with a vengeance. He wanted comfort, for he was like anyone else who yearned for companionship.

The shifts of moods made the tawny feeling uncomfortable, but she did not run. Around his legs she rubbed her small face, purring from the light touch of his fingertips. He took to sitting on a stool, where the feline decided to steal the space on his lap. She pawed at one of his buckles, and the mood lightened at the playfulness.

Jane wondered why he wanted her to follow. Tired from the long hours of riding, dirty with the sweat and dust, all she wanted was to go to bed. Yet, they walked down several halls until they reached the servant's keep. In a storage room, the Chamberlain dug around in one of the clothing chests. He muttered to himself until he found what would seem sufficient. "These may be a bit large, but they should fit."

"Father," She wondered. "what do you need with these?"

"The lad only has his work clothes and what he sleeps in. I want you to give these to him."

Her face began to warm at the implication of his words. "You mean Smithy?"

Sensing the confusion, he smiled. "He works hard, and it would be best to treat him well. I believe his services are worth more than an offering of clean clothes, but for now, it is better than nothing."

"Does mother know?"

"If she knew what you had been up to, then I am sure you would have received an hour-long scolding and a three-hour bath."

"Is it not the other way around?"

"Perhaps, but let us keep silent on the matter."

"Alright."

"I had Mary prepare a bath for you. Once you are dressed, go and give these to him."

Before he could leave, she hugged him once more. "Thank you father, I know I am more trouble than I am worth, but I am grateful."

"Daughter, you cannot find treasure without its risks. Trouble? You are a rough gem and are worth more than all the treasures of the Earth. No glory, title, death, or life can change the fact you are mine."

Jane did not belong to anyone, but she knew what her father meant. She took the gift bundle and welcomed the idea of a bath without the scolding.

His eyes had seen. After the nap he had taken, he thought to visit the kitchen for a much-needed meal. However, he saw how Jane's father greeted the blacksmith. Oh yes, he saw how Jane embraced the blond so easily. It should have been him, it should have all been his.

If Jester knew, he would have even faced Dragon's wrath to find his fair beanstalk. Life danced in her eyes, the chamberlain nodded to himself, and the blacksmith had the gall to appear sheepish. His clean nails stained from the blood in his palms, the bitterness he allowed to blacken even the fondness of friendship. The opportune time will show itself he thought, and when it came, they would not know.

The forge was swept clean, the scraps of food Pig ate, and small offerings of sparrow were left near his feet. The evening would not be so dark, or as lonesome and dangerous as it appeared. The storm had passed, and now he could make out the position of the stars.

"Smithy?"

He rose from the stool he was resting on, the smell of roses he assumed was from her. "Jane?"

Now in dry clothes, the she knight held a bundle in her hands. "Resting, are you? I hope I have not disturbed you."

The blacksmith studied her, finding that her skin glowed under the light from the candelabra. And the warm, gentle affection he carried for her burned at the sight of her bronze tresses arranged in a long, single braid; it was becoming. In truth, this was another test to his composure, and he knew he would have to tread carefully. "Is there something I can do for you, Jane?"

"No," She started. "I came to tell you that my father is happy, which is rare, so I thank you."

He scratched his neck; feeling every bit undeserving. "Jane, you do not hav-"

Maggots he could be stubborn. "Even if it was an order," she softened. "I thank you."

"No Jane, I am sure Gunther could have done better, his horse is faster."

Champion, the raven-colored thoroughbred was a sight to behold. His sleek coat, the careful trim of his mane and tail, the bulge of muscle, he truly was a magnificent specimen. Bought as a gift for his knighthood, Gunther took pride riding him through town. However, when one tried to touch Champion, he would back away. Only Gunther or Smithy could go near him, otherwise, he was a tempestuous creature.

As heroic as it would have appeared, there would have been little to no delight in it. Smithy was not the kind to do things just out of duty, but out of sacrifice and patience as well. As the girl of action she had always been, she took his naked, work-hardened hand. "Maggots Smithy," she whispered. He let his hand hang there limp in her hand, he would not act upon anything, he knew he should not. She scrunched her face, sincerity appeared around those warm, feminine eyes, and her rare sweetness, they were searching. "can you not accept my appreciation?"

"I meant what I said Jane, I did nothing special."

Still, his hand sat there, no movement or encouragement on his part. To make sure there was weight to her words, she gave it a gentle squeeze. "What you said may be true, but you found me. Thank you," she smiled, "the both of you."

"I am sure Brutus will appreciate it."

The cart horse's ears perked up, aware he was being spoken of. "I did not think Brutus capable of such heroism."

His ears fell, but then perked at the sight of a carrot. "He was bred to be strong," Smithy explained. "so no doubt there is some good blood in him."

Feeding him a piece of apple, Jane giggled. "In your hands, he is manageable, but for me, he is stubborn. The other day, he refused to move because he found a patch of grass off the side of the road, and I had to sit there until he was done eating."

"How can you work on an empty stomach?"

"There is a thought. Now that I think about it, I might go to the kitchen to find something to eat. What was served at the midday meal?"

"Mutton."

Hmm, like she had expected. "And for dinner?"

"Beef."

"Ssh, if Dragon hears that, he may turn you into charcoal."

Looking around, he felt it was safe enough to continue. "So if I am burned, who will tend the forge?"

"I would."

With a roll of the eyes, he smirked. "I am sure you could," he chuckled softly, "with a little training that is."

"Hey!"

All the horses reacted, alert, and ready. "Hay is for horses, Jane."

"Are you...jesting?"

The spark of competition was there again. "Am I?" he teased.

He was teasing her. Unlike Gunther who teased with the intention to hurt, Smithy teased goodnaturedly, and brotherly. Why it almost seemed like he was affectionately teasing. Jane could not help but smile. "You are."

"I cannot say I am any good at it, but the horses seem to think so."

"Oh, and what do they tell you?"

"Between you and me, I do not speak horse as everyone would like to believe. I can tell by their movement and behavior what they are possibly thinking."

"Alright, then how would they know I like them?"

"You have to show them, Jane, allow them to read your emotions, for they know better than we do in these sort of matters."

"Can I not just tell them?"

"Although they might not understand the way Dragon does, they do understand the tones of voice. If you do not believe me, feel free to give it a try."

With a bow, she flashed them her biggest, brightest smile. "I like you all, and I am honored to work alongside you as we fulfill our daily duty."

This time he broke out in full laughter. Unrestrained, hearty, boyish laughter, which made her heart beat a little faster. "Well said Jane." he managed to say once he calmed down.

The musk of the night surrounded them, and an owl cried somewhere in the distance. He tried to push embarrassment aside, thinking of how much he had dropped his guard, but the attention, as well as the amount of conversation, made him feel hopeful.

"The moon is big tonight," she sighed; interrupting his thoughts. "like a light in the darkness."

Like her, he thought. Jane always seemed to be around when he needed her most. However, she did not need him, but he would be here when she did. And right now, she needed him to lend an ear.

"When I was younger," which was not so long ago she thought, "I believed the moon was following me, but then my father proved by the direction of that stars how wrong I was."

"Your father is an intelligent man, you are lucky to have him."

"I know, but I wish he did not worry so much."

"Think of it this way Jane, if he did not care, then he would not worry at all."

Giving his hand another squeeze, she sighed. "I guess so."

He cleared his throat and looked at his hand in her grasp. Had she not noticed how firmly she held on to him? Or for how long?

"It is getting late Jane, you should not stay long."

"What do you mean?"

"It would not look well."

"Because what?"

It was not possible to be this ignorant, was it? Even if it was endearing, the trouble it would cause if word got around; he did not want to think about it. "We are no longer children Jane, and people will talk if they get the wrong impression."

Yes, it was possible to be so ignorant. Jane found no problem. She was quite comfortable. What could Smithy worry about if nothing wrong was being done? He saw how she still showed no intention of letting go. With a sigh, he continued. "You must know Jane, clasped hands are for sweethearts."

She knew, but his comment did not deter her. "It only seemed natural, so I got carried away."

Surprised he was, disappointed he was not. He was glad and thought it seemed only natural as well. If any trouble arose, he planned to take full blame, even making a whole story of seduction up if the occasion called for it. Blame her he would not, for he was to blame. He allowed himself to feel, to dream, and care, and therefore, he would protect her, even if she did not need saving. "As long as you are aware Jane."

"But before I go, there are a few things I care to say. About tending your forge, I did mean it. If you were willing to teach me, then I would be glad to learn."

"I believe you have to ask the king for such permission, Jane. If he finds no objections, then it would be my pleasure."

She looked down at their clasped hands. "I should probably let go now."

"I would think so."

Something that had always bothered her was his kindness. Even if she took advantage of this, he would say nothing. Like now, but her selfishness she did what she wanted. "Does it bother you?"

In so many ways yes, but not in the way she had meant. It was so like Jane to ask for more than he could give, but he was willing, and it was a pleasure. "I think you should do whatever feels right for you." he patted her head and smiled; defeated by her feminine ways.

Lifting their hands, his smile became sheepish. "However, it would not be wise to do this in the future."

She never thought of him as a brother. Those eyes, surrounded by sincerity, quiet humor, and knowing, held her focus, locking them in their understanding. There was only two years difference in age, but his mature disposition made her feel safe, with every ounce of warmth of a wood fire. His fair waves were starting to dry, and she still held that bundle of clothing. "Smithy?" She asked, but did not continue further.

Her words were lost in the blooms of color, with its waves of blue, the window of his soul, the color of the calm before the storm. Straightforwardly they looked straight through her, all around her the world was fading. Angry butterflies in her tummy, confusion, distress, they distracted her. Any moment she felt as though she would be swept away, and she did not know how to stop it. She did not know whether she wanted it to.

Now he was starting to worry. Had he been too forward? "Jane?" he called softly.

How pleasant those words rung in her eyes, his inflection she could never tire of. His face scrunched up in confusion, the same it had as the boy of her youth, however, the rest had caught up with adulthood long ago. The square of his jaw, the scar above his right brow, those eyes which spoke to her, she liked them all except for the small mole above his left ear; that she did not care for. Her eyes widened at this revelation then. Jane found him attractive, and that seemed okay.

He called her name again, but she said nothing. Slowly, but gently he willed his hand to squeeze back, this made her shudder. "I appreciate you, Jane."

Pig was proud of him at the moment. Scent glands or not, there was more in the air than the scent of a horse or a burning fire.

After Mary had heard the story, she could not believe it. She dare not ask but thought to see for herself. In her usual hiding place, she saw how forward the redhead was. How dare she take advantage of his innocence. Her stable prince even explained the seriousness of the matter but saw no guilt in the knight's posture.

Unlike some other servants who thought little of the chasteness of marriage, she held strong to her childhood teachings and dreamt of the day of her marriage. For the past two years, she had gotten to know him through the accounts of others. What made her even more convinced of his goodness was his attitude toward the unfortunate ones, the animals deemed unworthy of living. In secret, he treated the sick, starved, or neglected creatures, those others condemned to death. Mary admired him and was not about to allow someone to take what was hers.

She was confused by his reactions to Jane and for good reason. Most men took every opportunity which arose, but he seemed worried, even disgusted. Was that correct? No, not disgusted, but a word she could not think of. When she had all she could bear, she ran, down the steps and through the servant's hallway, until she was a good way away from anyone.

Why did it sound so serious? Jane wished she knew. Smithy sighed, waiting for her to answer. Would she understand what he meant? Possibly not, but he had to say something, anything to lighten the load he carried. Was there something she was waiting for?

"Say something, Jane."

The pang of guilt came to her then, and the sense of betrayal strong. What would Jester think if he saw her? What would Gunther do? They would do something disheartening, something possibly horrible.

No, she was a Knight, above emotion, trained in self-control, and she refused to be carried away. At once, she became rational again and removed her hand from his. For a moment, as kindly, as sweet, and glorious, she thought there were the flickers of comfort, as natural and necessary as breath. Yet, it was dangerous in another depth, light, and perception, all of which she was unprepared for. She hoped, she would stop being silly, and grow up. When she remembered her original task, she explained. "These clothes here are for you to change into. They are old but clean, and I hope it will be enough."

He moved away to grab for the clothes, away from his chances of the only warmth he cared for. "It will be fine, thank you Jane."

"Smithy, about what you said…I am sorry if I caused any trouble. Also, I appreciate you too, I really do. So, goodnight."

With his back facing her, she could not see him smiling. "Goodnight Jane."

Pig and Mercy nodded to one another and carried on. They were sure he was not a lost cause. Change was happening, whether he liked it or not, and there were still many steps left in their plan. However, they would bide their time. Perhaps they could help nature move things along, but only subtly. Mercy would bet her dinner on it; which of course she would not since cats have no use for bets, but she hoped as much as a cat could hope that her master could find happiness.

Maggots! What was she doing? Smithy was not like Jester who she knew so well. How could she forget that such things as holding hands carried consequences? Neither was he like Gunther, who had not lightened on his teasing. It was simply a trick of the moonlight, or of the stress, she was under. Whether she knew it or not, comfort was lending a hand, generously, patiently waiting for her to let go.

As wonderful, as lovely, as kindly such thoughts were, they were dangerous, even deadly to her goals. If she wished to continue, then abandoning those thoughts would be best. There was nothing to his actions she convinced herself. However, those who spy saw differently.

No time was wasted as he ran to his living quarters. There he was free to feel the rush of blood in his face, and the sense of clarity in the world. Laughter bubbled in his throat, and he reached down for Pig, kissing her upon the head. He could not convince the muscles in his face not to shape his lips into the curves of a smile. Jane appreciated him and he appreciated her.

It was simple and obvious, and he would welcome this alien feeling. She was the light in the harsh, biting cold, and the shelter from the sweltering heat. Smithy needed her, even if she could exist without him. She was the spark he needed for the flame, and the flame he needed, was to shape metal.