It's a beautiful day in the village...

[Eleanor Bennett]

There were many businesses in Aralore village, and Eleanor made a point of knowing the proprietors of each and every one. Some found her a little overbearing, that was true but for the most part Eleanor found herself on good terms with most of them- So when she found out there was a new neighbour moving in, she began formulating how to welcome them to the village mere seconds later. First she would drop off her card, letting them know she was planning on stopping by to welcome them. Her address would be on the card of course so they could always reach her if the day wasn’t good. She would bring flowers, of course, it would be rude not to. Salt and bread and wine as was customary, maybe some tea too.

Though she had planned early, the blonde found herself taken up with work and by the time she finally settled down to write her little card, the man and his sister had begun to settle in Aralore. She had seen them in passing, offered an awkward wave here and there- but they’d never spoken.  She wasn't sure where they were staying, and hadn't had the time to ask around- so Eleanor decided to leave her message at the forge, her new neighbour barely seemed to leave after all.  Nearly a month had passed before Eleanor had finally settled down at her shop counter to write the card:

Dear Neighbour,

Welcome to Aralore village! I’m so sorry I haven’t introduced myself yet- but I’m sure you know how it is, time runs away from you and work is work, always something to do. Anyway, if you’re not busy this coming Wednesday, I would love to stop by and welcome you to the village properly.

Best wishes,

Eleanor Bennet.

She dropped the card off on her evening walk, tucking the envelope carefully underneath the forge door without knocking.  He would find it, she was sure, or at least she hoped- plus there was little point in dropping off a card saying she was going to introduce herself in a few days and then introduce herself as she dropped it off, that just seemed silly.

Wednesday came, and Eleanor wore one of her nicer dresses, placed the gifts in a basket along with a few small vials of her more popular fragrances before stepping out and walking towards the forge. She knocked once, and then again, and then the blonde waited.

[Caleb Shaw]

Caleb had nearly missed seeing the card the next morning, as he was usually oblivious to anything that didn’t pertain to his work when it came to the shop. His mind was mostly focused on what needed to be done and how he would go about doing it, and his eyes were typically moving about the room to check if anything seemed out of place or missing. But as he stepped through the threshold, his foot kicked the note, sending it skidding across the floor ahead of him.

He eyed the card curiously, crouching down to pick it up, opening it as he stood back up and began walking towards the forge so he could get the fire going. As he walked, he read over the words, his brow furrowing in slight confusion. Was this an Araloran custom? To send word before meeting someone, rather than just to come to the shop to say hello? He found it rather strange, but he wouldn’t question it. Everyone had their way of doing things and he gathered that the woman- whomever this Eleanor Bennet was, he was sure she was just trying to be polite and considerate.

Expecting a guest was more difficult for him to deal with than being surprised by one. Maybe it was just the knowing to expect it and not knowing exactly what to say or do when that time came. If he was surprised by the visit, he wouldn’t have been anticipating it or thinking about it beforehand.

Though when Wednesday came, Caleb had nearly forgotten about it until he spotted the card on one of the workbenches where he had left it after reading it. He let out a slight laugh, followed by a sigh before he went to work, not really knowing when said visitor would be showing up. He couldn’t just wait around all day as he had things that needed to get done.

He had been in the middle of hammering iron on his anvil that he barely heard the knock on the door. Vera sometimes dealt with running the shop and handling customers while he worked, but she had stayed home. The second knock occurred as he was placing the iron piece back into the flames to melt down more of what needed to be shaped. He called out loud enough for the visitor to hear him. “It’s open--come in.” Had he really forgotten to leave the doors of the shop open? Another reason why having Vera around to help was always beneficial.

Caleb didn’t look up from the forge as the door opened. He couldn’t risk looking away and miss out on the way the iron melted, potentially ruining the sword he was currently working on. The door opened and he spoke out without looking up. “What can I do for you?” The tone of his voice seemed to lack any emotion or welcoming friendliness. He was never one for pleasantries.

As the steel began to glow the color needed, he removed it from the forge and turned to face the doorway as he set it down on the anvil. His eyes darted up to see Eleanor standing there, a bit too fancy-looking to be walking into a place like this. He looked at her curiously for a brief moment before averting his eyes back to his work and bringing the hammer down onto the piece of metal several times, causing a loud clanging sound to echo through the room. Though it may have seemed rude, he worked quickly, as he needed to in order to get the piece shaped before it started to cool down.

It wasn’t until he placed the sword into the water, causing a loud sizzling sound and a cloud of steam to erupt, that he finally glanced back to Eleanor. “Sorry--” he apologized lightly as he wiped his hands with a nearby rag. “Lady Bennet, I presume?” It wasn’t too often a woman came into a forge, so he could only assume it was the lady who left him the card.

[Eleanor Bennett]

Patience was one of Eleanor’s many virtues, and so she didn’t really mind standing outside the door- rocking on her heels as she waited for the smith to let her in. In the moments that stretched between her rapping upon the door and the man’s voice calling out to let her know the door was open: Eleanor examined the door with some modicum of interest. She didn’t know much about carpentry or metalwork- but the young woman still appreciated the whorls and veins in the wood, they were fascinating. When the smith called out that the door was open, Eleanor hesitated for a moment. Even though she had been invited in, it still almost felt a little wrong to just waltz into the forge. But, it was either go in or go home, so the perfumer took a deep, steading breath- feeling the tang of metal on her tongue as she did so- and entered the forge.

It took longer than a second or two for her eyes to adjust to the smokey air, to become accustomed to the way the glow of the forge seeped through the smog. Thankfully the smith didn’t look up as she came in, so Eleanor was free to glance around the room- drinking in as much of it as she could in the dim light. Growing up, her father had deemed forges ‘too dangerous’ for more reasons than one. There wasn’t just the fire and the ringing metal, but the scent really was overpowering. He had always said that a perfumer’s nose was more important than their skill, a delicate instrument that needed to be cared for… and now she was stood there, almost paralysed by the thick air.

The smith spoke again, and blue eyes darted to where he stood- still working, still not looking up. Something akin to guilt took over the young woman’s features, as though she was a child who had been caught with her hand in a jar of sweets rather than someone who had been looking around a building into which she had been invited. Eleanor didn’t respond to his question, she wasn’t sure she even could answer it. After all, she had only come to be neighbourly, not on business or in hopes of seeking a favour… so there was nothing the man could do for her other than offer her an introduction. Eleanor was usually a chatterbox, filling any silence with talk over everything and nothing. Even when she was alone she couldn’t tolerate silence.

Luckily, there was no silence in the forge. The sound of metal upon metal as the sword his the anvil, heavy clanging as the hammer struck the metal over and over again. There was rhythm to it, if not melody, and it was fascinating to watch the man work. Blue eyes wide and drinking in every detail. ”Oh no, no! It’s okay, you were busy!” She exclaimed, almost tripping over the words as she hurried to excuse him, eyes darted up to his face. ”Miss Bennett is fine! Eleanor is better still. I’m not a lady, I own a shop a little down the way.” Holding out the basket, Eleanor began to chatter away- hoping to stifle some of her own awkwardness in the process. ”I brought you a few things, nothing fancy, just a few things to welcome you into town. Though you must be settling in well if you’re already so busy, oh! Sorry, you obviously know my name, but what’s yours, please tell me it isn’t Smith? That would just be a little too on the nose, or is it and I’ve managed to insult you in the first thirty seconds… that must be a record.”

[Caleb Shaw]

The woman’s letter had been rather curious and perhaps a little awkward and peculiar. It should have given Caleb some sort of indication of what to expect, but he was clueless with that sort of thing. In truth, he was imagining either a polite old woman who wrote with pleasantries but would perhaps come in and warn him not to make too much noise. Or a much younger and naive girl who was desperate to make friends. What he hadn’t really expected, was to see the young woman standing there, dressed up in her fancy dress in the middle of a blacksmith’s shop.

He removed the piece of steel from the metal drum filled with water and set it down on his workbench before turning back to her as she began rambling on about her name and she wasn’t a lady--something about the basket she was holding and asking if his name was Smith. Caleb raised a brow, the slightest bit of a smirk twitching at a corner of his lips as he regarded her curiously, a bit taken aback by her array of words that had just escaped her.

The blacksmith took a few steps closer to her, about to extend a hand to her until he realized his hands, blackened with soot and dirt, was something a lady might not wish to risk getting her own hands dirty. He pulled his hand away and forced a polite smile, a faint chuckle passing his lips. “It’s not Smith, fortunately.” His blue eyes shifted to the basket she held and his brows lowered in a confused expression, but he carefully took it from her so she wouldn’t have to stand there awkwardly holding the thing, waiting to find out what to do with it. “Thank you,” he quietly, and perhaps awkwardly thanked her for the basket and set it down on a nearby bench. No one else had really welcomed them to the town, or brought a sort of gift basket, and he wondered if that was a normal thing or if Eleanor was just being nice. “Caleb Shaw,” he finally answered her as he returned his gaze to her face.

It had seemed that Aralore didn’t have much of a blacksmith in town or the one they used to have was no longer in practice, or had left, from what he had heard. Regardless of whatever the reason, it was lucky for him that the kingdom was in need of one, and he was able to step in. Even when business was slow, Caleb worked on things to have a sort of stock of items that people could purchase without needing to wait for it to be crafted. “Thank you for your welcome… It’s very kind of you, Miss Bennett,” he spoke with a tone that seemed devoid of much emotion and friendliness, though it was polite enough.

“My sister, Vera, is sometimes here to assist--and I’m sorry to say she is not here today. She is much better at conversation than I am.” He forced a small smile. “And I’m sure she would have been happy to meet you. Which shop did you say was yours? I could send her by when she is in town again.”

[Eleanor Bennett]

There was so much to look at, Eleanor couldn’t keep her eyes from wandering around the forge. Occasionally, wherever the smith moved- they would fall back upon him. But for the most part, Eleanor curiously took in as many details about the room as she could. It really was quite fascinating, the man seemed to have just as many tools and odds and ends lying about for his work as she did. Some she recognised, tongs, chisels, and punchers: Eleanor sometimes utilised similar devices in her own work. Most however, were new to her- and the young blonde found herself wondering what they were all for.

As he turned back to her, Eleanor let her gaze fall (and stay) upon the smith. Studying him with the same curiosity she had afforded his shop and workspace. And as his lips twitched, as though foreshadowing a smirk- Eleanor didn’t even try to keep her smile from widening- oh good, he was human. After the emotionless greeting, simply asking her what he could do for her with no friendliness or welcome- Eleanor had though she might not be as welcome here as she had hoped. But there it was, a smile! Or the start of one at least, which was something.

It’s not Smith, fortunately.

Eleanor visibility relaxed at his words, more so at the low chuckle that had escaped the smith. He hadn’t given her the chance to take his hand, but Eleanor would have done without thinking twice- dirt and soot were easy enough to wash off…. It was things like lily pollen that was a real nuisance to remove. ”Not Smith, got it.” She parroted back, her voice bright and showing no sign of the small worries that had bothered her a moment ago. Blue eyes followed him, Caleb, as he set the basket down. Taking a deep inhale, through her nose to catch all the different scents filling the air, Eleanor allowed (or rather, forced) herself to pause- to give the man a moment to get used to the fact she had just dropped in and quite possibly ruined his work for the afternoon.

”Oh you’re welcome.” Shrugging, Eleanor dismissed his second words of thanks. ”It’s the least I could do, I moved here a little while ago myself and I know it’s not always easy being new in a strange town. Not that people here are anything to worry about, everyone is really friendly.” Again, she may have babbled somewhat- filling up any spaces and silences with idle chatter. Perhaps it was nerves, to some degree, rather than an easiness in which she held herself. Either way, the warm smile had returned and did not leave Eleanor’s lips as she spoke.

”Oh that’s okay! I’m sure our paths will cross at some point if you’re staying awhile- it would be nice to meet her properly. It must be nice to have the company, I would have loved for my sister to take an interest in my work but no-” She paused. A sigh. ”Alya prefers her sewing needles to perfumery. And that’s fine! I mean she’s brilliant at it but I do miss having her around. “ Eleanor had gotten carried away, just a little- but she forced herself to cycle back to his original questions. ”Oh, it’s the perfumery, just a little down the ways. Can’t miss it- there’s ivy all over the walls and flowers in the window.”

Eleanor glanced around quickly, but there was nowhere obvious to sit- so the woman remained where she was. ”So Caleb-not-Smith-but-Shaw… what brings you to town?”

[Caleb Shaw]

The scents of the smithy was a complete contrast to what you would smell at a perfumery. The room was filled with harsh aromas of metal, fire, leather, and sweat, and although the air may have been bothersome to most, it hardly phased Caleb anymore as he had grown accustomed to it. Though, if he were to step foot into a perfumery, he most likely would be overwhelmed by those specific scents.

He smirked again but was quick to avert his gaze at the basket as she repeated his confirmation of his name not being Smith. How unfortunate that would have been if it were. And awkward. Vera most certainly would have loved to be here for this, and probably would be singing praise about the basket much more than he was.

As Eleanor mentioned her moving to Aralore, he returned his gaze and gave her a curious look. Perhaps they’d have something in common to talk of, after all. He offered her the slightest of a smile and nodded, nearly thankful that her babbling filled the space rather than whatever awkward silence he’d most likely allow to linger for far too long.

But he must have looked foolish as he stood there, staring at her while she rambled on about meeting Vera and how she wished her own sister had taken an interest in her work. Caleb wasn’t entirely sure if Vera’s interest was her own, or if it had been something he had somehow forced on her and she was too kind to resist it. They were close and took care of one another, and even if Vera hated his work, he knew she most likely would have found something to like about it.

A low, barely audible chuckle escaped him and he shook his head, turning his gaze towards the direction of where the door was as if he’d be able to see through the wall and spot her shop. He nodded and smiled politely. “Ivy and flowers. Got it. I will tell Vera and have her make a visit to you so you can meet.”

Caleb noticed as she looked around and he could nearly sense that she was looking for a place to sit as if she intended on staying. He scratched the back of his neck and glanced around himself. There really wasn’t anywhere to sit in this place. It was a workshop, and typically people came to look at his work and request work be done.

”So Caleb-not-Smith-but-Shaw… what brings you to town?” He blinked in confusion and turned his gaze back to her. Did she mean today bringing him to town, or in general, why he and Vera had come to Aralore? “Uhhh…” He paused for a moment, still feeling somewhat bad that he had nowhere to really sit and have a conversation, and that this wasn’t entirely the best place to have such.

He didn’t answer right away. His story wasn’t exactly one you told a complete stranger when you first met them. So he shrugged before finally answering. “I was looking for work and it appeared Aralore was lacking a smithy.”
He turned away, glancing around again as if contemplating something, and then glanced back at her. “Would you care to take a walk with me? I’m afraid this place is not as inviting and comforting for conversation.” That is--if she even wanted to converse with him still. Perhaps she was just as awkwardly uncomfortable as he was. “Unless, perhaps, you need to return to your work?” Though Caleb should be continuing with his work, he knew it wouldn’t hurt him to take a small break, if at least to get some fresh air and escape the heat of the smithy.