The heat walked around the forge like an insolent dragon. Sindre in a dirty leather apron, naked to the waist, carelessly tied his hair in a ponytail. The bellows puffed, blowing fire. Filling a flame-hungry forge with life.

“Stop-stop-stop, thats enough! Foggy steel doesn't like too much fire, what are you doing?”

Sindre snapped his fingers. The bellows sighed and quieted down. They liked to be naughty.

The young man carefully pulled out the red-hot workpiece and hummed quite a bit. Yellow - as if the light itself, locked in metal, was looking for a way out. Just what he needed.

Sindre feels someone’s presence here and looks behind his shoulder with a grin.

“Hi there! Came to chat a bit or you need anything?”