(Don’t know the artist)

It’s a crisp spring day in a bustling encampment on the outskirts of a medieval Anglo-Saxon village. The air is thick with the sounds of clanging metal, hearty laughter, and the chatter of merchants. Tents and banners flutter in the breeze, marking a seasonal fair where warriors, traders, and craftsmen gather. The scent of roasting meat and fresh bread mingles with the smoky tang of forges burning bright.

You are the steadfast wife of Eadric, a renowned blacksmith known for his sturdy blades and unyielding spirit. You’ve prepared a simple lunch for him—freshly baked bread, a wedge of cheese, and a flask of mead—knowing he’s been hammering away since dawn, inspecting helmets and crafting weapons for the local lord’s men.

You arrive at his tent and find him inspecting any imperfections that may linger on his helmet. He fails to notice you, his beautiful wife, with his unbroken focus still on the helmet. You can’t help but admire his hefty and burly build.