Poem Village Blacksmith Novels & Stories

“I have moved, trained tirelessly for this cause, and I ask for what exactly? The same ones that would turn their backs on me as soon as the weather changes? “Lose the poetry, Eve! This didn’t begin until you crossed back into Blackthorn.” Elder Rowan barked. That was it for me, I turned without another word to them. So much for nothing

one whispered with a slightly dry throat, "Is there anyone in particular who stood out in your eyes?" "Haha, such matters are unsightly to be discussed, don't you think, brothers?" Chen chuckled, "I could never reveal my true intentions. I'm a mere poet. My heart is not to be filled with a woman alone. It belongs to nature 'and' women!" Admiration flickered in the eyes of the gathered villagers. It was a beautiful morning and these villagers were only beginning their day so late in the day. Of course, they were free and a free mind always breeds devils. Most of the gathered villagers were well-known hooligans of the village.

They went to a restaurant in the city center for lunch and then took advantage of the opportunity and asked the people there about the legendary blacksmith, the information that they got is that the blacksmith used to live in his blacksmith shop in the south of the city, but he does not accept the requests of the blacksmith currently. They finished lunch and went towards the blacksmith's shop. They entered it. It was full of weapons, swords, spears, bows and daggers of various shapes and designs. Everyone admired the weapons and started trying them, except for Ahmet, who stood in the middle of the shop without moving until the blacksmith came.

People came away from the spot with strips, slabs and gong mallets of meat, occasionally hung on wooden sticks perched on their shoulders. It was brought to Aki and Temujin’s attention that the village blacksmith had begun working on the armor they requested, as soon as he had received the pieces of dragon scale. The intriguing craftsman who had knowledge of fire applications wouldn’t be joining the festivities planned for the night, they were also told, in order to meet the deadline of three days or earlier.

Maybe she would provide Zen with more useful information about finding black sheep in this village. While Damian and Oritha were intimidating the poor old man, Sasha and Zen reached the village market. The morning market was livelier than the evening. With this many villagers going about bargaining for their wares, Zen and Sasha decided to split up and ask around. Taking to the other shoppers first, Zen learned from a few people that not many people knew about black sheep apart from those in the old shepherd’s yard. From what they gathered, the old farmer’s name was Joe. “Good morning, Madam. Do you happen to know if there are any black sheep around that do not belong to Shepherd Joe?” Zen s

I also make my way through the full corridors, being small has its advantages. I start running by the blacksmithing. It was five-thirty in the morning and the place was already boiling. All five furnaces (that looked more like the volcanoes in the illustrated books) were lit and dozens of blacksmiths raised and lowered their hammers. Pang, Pong Pum. Horrible noise. Even worse is the smell of smoke, coal, metal, and other burning things. (That I don't want to know what it is) Gray-haired blacksmith looks at me and says, —Hey boy! We need more copper here! —Other Blacksmiths start to notice me too.

Christopher bowed his head towards me, as if to acknowledge my warring thoughts, and led our tight circle towards the village. “Royal knights!” Someone shouted as we approached. Even from within my protective circle, I could see that the village was a mess. The buildings were graffitied over and windows were smashed. The burning was coming from a large bonfire in the center of the village, where it appeared that a large stack of hay and cloth were set ablaze. Villagers tentatively peered out from their windows, and a man who had clearly been elected as town spokesperson approached us. “Welcome to Olsenville,” the man said without an ounce of welcome in his voice.

Food and rest obviously helped. He asked: “Tell me Jon, how can a blacksmith from a small village afford such good food? Except for the last few weeks, I'd say you've had a pretty good life. Good food, good bed. It's hard to believe that a small village has so much work for a blacksmith." The man, still looking pale and weak replied: “You are right. It doesn’t. I was a blacksmith for lord Kell, ruler of the Kellana region in Malfer. It's a long story, but I'll tell you if you're interested."

"Well, you're in luck. Our village is always looking for new residents. We have plenty of space, and everyone here is like family." As we walked through the village, we struck up several conversations with the locals. "You both look tired," an elderly man said. "Here, take these flowers. They'll brighten up your day." "Thank you," I said, smiling at his kindness. We continued walking through the village, admiring the colorful buildings and lush gardens. "This is the blacksmith's shop," a woman said, gesturing towards a small building. "He makes the best swords and shields in all the land."

CHAPTER 158 ~3RD PERSON'S POV~ “Have you ever heard about the blacksmith?” Clarabelle asked. "No, I haven't, my queen,” the UNKNOWN replied. Clarabelle shut her eyes and said, “The blacksmith is a legend among the mortals. Some of them actually believe he exists, and some of them believe he's just a myth. They say the blacksmith lives in the deepest, blackest depths of Mystic Meadow and enternaly hammers a glowing piece of metal, waiting for the day he can take revenge on the ones who hurt him.