And The Wish...

And the Wish Will Take Awhile

"Thank you," I mutter to the blacksmith as he places a cold washcloth on my injured hand. It's swollen up so much you would puke just glanced at it for a split second. And the pain isn't any better. The man is too kind to let me try again after my hand is well enough. I hope that's soon or I'll never get any gold and totally fail my mission.

"I hear ye heroes don't git hurt," he replies with a toothy grin.

"I never said I was a good Hero," I counter with a small smile. "Just a beginner."

"In smithing too."

"Yeah. That too."

We laugh a bit until the pain surges through my hand again and I yelp. Dammit, I hate hammers so much right now! I wish I could just heal myself. Heal.... Dang it! I'm so stupid! I smack my forehead several times, probably scaring the blacksmith a bit. I take out a small maroon bottle out of my pocket and uncork it. The front label says 'Child Healing Potion' in printed letters. "For all those boo-boos in battle," I mutter and take a sip.

I feel my bones rise up and set back into place where the strike was the worse on my poor, poor hand. It's rather disgusting if you think about it, and watch you hand deflate so it's not swollen, then lift up as the bones click together. But it's better then waiting for it to do it in slow motion.

"So I guess it's time to retry, right?" I ask timidly, standing up. He grunts, nodding to the hammer.

"Want a lighter one?" he inquires. "I've got one just for starters."

"No! I don't! I can do just fine without it!" I tell him with a pout. I know I sound stubborn, and I most certainly am, but I just know I can do it right this time!

I grab the hammer and lift it to the height of my eyes. I focus on the blade with my new vision and exhale slowly. I know I can do this, I'm definitely going to get this one right. It's simple: strike the blade and repeat. I've got this, I am so not quitting now. I'm going to be a master blacksmith by the end of this day! Nothing can stop me now!

I slam the hammer down once again and there is a snapping, cracking, and popping sound. Man, it hurts!

I'm going to need another potion.

And to clean my mouth out after this.

🌺😇🌺

"Wait? You're actually hiring me?" I ask the blacksmith, dumbfounded.

He nods once. "You never give up. I could teach you, but for now I need you at the cash register and to also clean and organize the weapons before and after business hours."

I jump up and down until I get dizzy and just shake his hand repeatedly instead. "Thank you sir! You will probably regret this but I assure you that I'll come through in the end! You don't know how happy I am for getting this opportunity!" I continue rambling on as he looks at me as if I belong in the insane asylum. Which I don't by the way. Just wanted to put it out there.

"But you have to use the starter's tools," he tells me, crossing his arms.

I sigh in aggravation and reluctantly agree to his condition.

I don't need them though.

I don't.

Seriously.

🌺😇🌺

And a month later, I end up sewing clothes in the tailor's shop anyways. Apparently 'beginners' don't get paid much in smithing so when I retire for the night, I go to Mrs. Johnson's house and work in her office. She's actually a very sweet lady, a friend of Lord Earl's, which is the only reason I got this job. Mrs. Johnson mistook me for a bandit the first time.... That sure says a lot about my attire.

I guess it's pretty fun. I mean, the cutting isn't bad and I bleed less when sewing than smithing. Plus I don't have to keep wasting my potions. I get paid well too, especially since I can sew without my eyes open. My only problem with sewing is the needle, I make the lines straight, but sometimes I lose focus of boredom and end up stabbing it in myself. Once I had gotten it through my heel. Don't ask.

But out of all of those, I love the fact that she lets me design my own outfits and make them. They're pretty crappy since I never really learned how to write and draw, I tried but failed, always ending up soaking fabrics in ink. However, when I transform it into a physical form made of the best fabric, I must say they are breathtaking. The best part of the best part? Mrs. Johnson was so impressed with my work she'll be selling them in her store soon.

Can you believe that?

I most certainly can't.

Anyways, I've been up the last few weeks finishing the outfits. Out of the fourteen, seven for women, seven for men, I've finished making one hundred outfits for six of them. Mrs. Johnson helps me out every other day and Mr. Johnson pays me extra to clean and guard his house. And I even live in their attic. It's rather comfortable, I guess. They are so kind for letting me stay. Beforehand I was sleeping in the cabin of the bandit king I had slain awhile back, a few weeks ago.

And I still haven't been to Oakfield.

I'm the crappiest Hero ever.

I wish I could find a way to earn more money, for now I'm depending on the already struggling Johnsons for my daily needs.

I'm just randomly going to say this after what I just said about the Johnson's. I hate rich people.

Well, not all. Only the ones who sit back and do nothing. Like the inherited ones. They don't even help their neighbors who sleep in the rotted shacks, freezing in the snow.

No, wait, it's still summer.

The ones who build themselves up or the born-rich ones who give are the people who I respect the most. Even if they were someone who saved me from dying, saved me from being alone, saved me from the cold, I would still respect those who are generous to those in need whilst helping themselves.

Lord Earl is one such person actually.

He started his own business, he was born fatherless and soon after the age of five, motherless, and ended up being the king of books. He writes some too. Every time we meet up for tea or passed by each other on the streets, he would recite paragraphs from his favorite books.

He's teaching me to read and write too. Everyday I would meet up with him at the bridge and he would guide me, help me understand. I'm just beginning to get the hang of it, but he says I'm doing swell.

Can you believe that?

I most definitely can't.

He's such a sweet guy, charming too. He takes time out of his busy schedule to help me and keep me company, even send tutors if he couldn't make it. He's the definition of a pure, moral, and all around good man. I respect him so much that I couldn't even put it in words, much less write it. Whenever I'm around him, I feel alive and happy beyond reason. He makes me blush and my heart race and I can never stop thinking about him. And whenever he calls me Sparrow, I feel as if I can fly around the world.

And before I realized it, I fell head over heels for him.