Gods and mortals

Embers

A.N.
Dammit, online school is a fucking mess!
I swear I'm starting to go insane over calls and meetings and homework, (funny considering I do less now and yet I feel more tired) so I'll just cross my fingers and hope for the best.

Asgard, inner district...

A sneer had been plastered on her face, clearly disgusted and annoyed at seeing him, but she masked it by thinning her lips into a line. If she thought that she could so easily fool him like that, then she clearly hadn't known him well enough: he wasn't that gullible, not as much as his father at least.

"Brogr, how nice to... see you." in that moment he would've wanted nothing more than to sock her across the face, to wipe that fake smile off of her mouth. But he didn't, and merely exhaled through his nose.

"Oh dear Hlif, who has entered the... oh! My son! Oh come here, let me look at you, you've grown so much in these last two years!" Gerril entered the room and sauntered over to him, bringing him into a hug, which he stiffly returned, all the while still glaring at Hlif.

His father was so enraptured in seeing him again that he didn't realize the tension that was sparking in the room.

To keep up with the facade, he turned his attention to the older man, "I've barely grown in height, I'm still as much of the same as I was in the past." it was forced, Norns it sounded so bad to his ears as well but Gerril didn't bat an eye, still completely oblivious to the act.

In that moment another lady at the door, much like Hlif if her dress and way that she walked were any indication, came to the front door, calling her over; confirming the smith's suspicions.

"Lord Alrik is waiting for us at the district's town hall. He brought his other noble friends as well, and have invited us to the play scheduled at dinner."

And soon enough the two were off, talking and giggling like maids as they were made to enter a large, and luxuriously decorated carriage. The amount of gold made Brogr want to vomit.

"Off she goes..." Gerril sighed with satisfaction, and the smith darted his eyes at him, "How often does this happen?" "Everyday." he narrowed his gaze a bit: "And you don't think that these... noble friends aren't trying to woo her?" his father adopted an offended look: "Odin's beard, no! What would make you think that Brogr? You may be a blacksmith but I didn't raise a simpleton!"

He rubbed the bridge of his nose in frustration. His fears had been confirmed, and his father had worsened in this regard. He wondered, just how did it get to this point?

But Gerril was already walking away, motioning for him to follow. "The lord I've been working for, Ulvkilsson, he knows of your talents for forging. The house is built with a smithy down on the lower second level. He was generous enough to have it restructured with the latest equipment, so that it would easily fit your needs. Oh, and place your packages over there on that chair, there's no need to carry all of it to the lower levels." he said pointing at the cushioned seat.

After walking down a couple flights of stairs (still very large and made out of polished stone) he pushed open a beautifully handcrafted oak door.

Inside was the forge, and it left him speechless: it was large, far bigger than the previous one; the walls were lined with hammers, and saws and other instruments of different sizes and shapes, some he didn't even know existed.

The forge itself was large, enough so that he could easily work on four separate projects at the same time, Norns, there were five anvils!

Gerril saw his amazement, "Pretty impressive, right?" he asked, coming to stand next to him.