Fading Flame

*Section written by Hunter*

The coals snapped and crackled as they burning bright red within the furnace of the smeltry. The large room that held the smelter swelled with heat as swords were heat treated deep within the furnace. I sweat profusely as I sat on my usual stool next to the anvil, hammering the imperfections out of the crafted swords and armor in much needed repairs. Though it was true that I was on back order with the piles of armor and blades that unfortunately piled up due to my most recent sick day, the true reason for being in the smithy that day was to think. For some reason, I found that when my hands were busy, I could keep a clear head. Able to think my way through any situation, any problem. It was as if my hands were motors to my thought process.
            A very particular subject, or to be more politically correct a someone, was on my mind today. Silver was all I could think about. Yesterday was the very first time that I had been completely open to her about what she meant to me. What had she thought when I told her she interested me? For that matter, what had I meant? Questions like these just kept coming one after another with little to no answers to them. I usually can answer question that I ask myself with much critical thinking… but Silver was something new. I had never felt the kind of emotions that I felt when I was around her. What were these new emotions? And what did these new emotions mean? Curiosity, compassion, jealousy… affection? I gulped at the thought of the word. Was I falling for Silver? It showed the signs for it.
            I gave a heavy sigh as I noticed I no longer was working on any of the orders that were piled up along the wall. I had come to a conclusion. I wanted Silver to know she is welcome to stay at the hearth, free of charge and make herself at home. Maybe then I could investigate these feelings a bit further. I found myself smiling wide, feeling a bit smug of myself for coming up with an answer to my immediate problem. But smiling mostly at the thought of the hearth potentially becoming Silver’s home, with me.
            Feeling rather confident, but having a swarm of butterflies in my stomach, I pushed back my stool, leaving everything where it was, and marched toward the door out to the dining hall. As I took a hold of the handle I pause only for a moment to take a deep breath then casually open the large heavy door. As I stepped out into the dining hall I took in my surroundings. Throughout the better half of the morning it was a dreary grey outside. The rain pitter pat against the glass windows and the occasional crack of lightening lit up the sky. It was no surprise to see that there were no costumers had shown up today. As was per usual on days like this. But as I scanned the dining hall from right to left, my smile started to fade. As there were no customers, there was no Silver as well. My smile had completely faded by the time my eyes had finished its examination of the empty dining hall and noticed a foreign object resting lonely upon a table in the front corner of the room. I steadily walked over to it to see what it was. It was a mug still half filled with tea. It must have been sitting there for a while due to the fact that it was cold. I knew that no costumers had come in, so this must have been Silver’s. I turned around to examine the rest of the room from a different perspective and saw something rather peculiar on the bar counter top. It was at this point I started to panic. Without a steady rhythm with my hands, my mind was cloudy and fully of bitter judgement. I sped walked over to the bar to take a closer look at the scene that was left.

It was two mugs, left obviously by Silver. Upon closer inspection, I found that only one had liquid in it. The other was moist from the recent drain of its contents. Both mugs smelling of a very familiar brew of mine, Honey mead. I sat there staring at the mugs trying to piece together why Silver had left these out, where she was, and why was on already emptied. And then, just like the lightening that cracked outside, it struck me. Silver had left… 

Without a second thought I slammed through the front door out into the rain screaming at the top of my lungs "SILVER!". It was getting later in the afternoon so I grabbed the burning lantern that hung by the door and rushed out into the now pouring rain. I walked briskly through the chilling rain, straining my eyes to pierce through the clouded darkness for even a glimpse of her silver. I periodically shouted, "SILVER! SILVER WHERE ARE YOU!?". My mind was full of dark scenarios that could happen. Silver getting hit by a carriage that couldn't see, a band of bandits that roamed at night, wolves searching for a satisfying meal. My panic state clouding my better judgement of the knowledge that she was completely competent of taking care of herself. But none the less the negative thoughts flooded my brain and overwhelmed any reasoning. I trudged for what seemed like ever, holding the lantern in front of my face and yelling for her. After some time, my voice started to quiver at each shout of her name. The negative thoughts consuming me. I began to cry, but it was hard to tell through the rain. After not a single sign of Silver for what seemed like forever, I decided to head back to the hearth. A single hope that she would be waiting there for me in her usual stool.

It was pitch black when I returned. My clothes were soaked and my boots filled with mud from stomping through the wet ground. I opened the front door with dread and saw it was still void of any occupants. I hung the lantern back on its hook beside the door and left it on, a beacon in hope that if she came back, it would guide her way. I shambled through the dining hall, leaving a trail of wet mud in my wake and headed back to the smithery. I noticed as I struggled opening the door that it was dark in my original thinking place. The coals that were the light source of the room, once a burning flame, now only a slight glow. I had realized I had been gone for hours in my search. I walked over to my stool that rest next to my anvil and slumped down in it and stared into the dying flame. The lighting of the room reflecting the only thoughts that occupied my mind and the coals a spitting image of the feeling within my heart. Once a roaring source of burning passion, now left to nothing more than a fading flame.

Author's Note

WARNING: Neither this chapter nor any of the future ones have been or will be edited as they are purely made for fun and are made with no stops or rereading or forethought. Thus we are aware there are spelling and grammar errors.