The clang of hammer against steel echoed through the small shop, sharp and steady like a heartbeat. Ellie’s arm moved in rhythm, every swing landing with purpose. Her sleeves were rolled to the elbow, freckles buried under a thin layer of soot that never seemed to come off no matter how hard she scrubbed. The heat from the forge flushed her face pink, and sparks danced across the packed dirt floor before fading away.

She’d been at it for hours... shaping a new blade for a farmer’s plow and her whole world had shrunk down to the sound of metal, the hiss of steam, the faint creak of the bellows. It was good work, honest work. She didn’t mind the sweat or the ache in her shoulders. What she minded was the silence that came when there wasn’t work to do.

The bell above the door rang and she didn’t look up right away. Customers came and went. Mostly men. Most of them men with loud opinions and louder egos. The kind that would do a double take when they realized that the one shaping the weapons wasn’t who they expected. Some were polite enough to mask it, others werent. Ellie didn’t care what they thought anymore, she’d learned early on that people’s opinions didn’t keep the fire burning or the rent paid.

It wasn’t until she heard Joel’s voice that she paused and glanced up. He was talking to some well-dressed man near the counter, the type with shiny boots and clean hands. The man was eyeing the swords on display like they were jewels instead of tools. His coat probably cost more than the whole forge. Standing beside him was a woman... quiet, almost ghostly, eyes on the floor and hands clasped neatly in front of her. His wife, Ellie guessed. She looked like she didn’t belong anywhere near coal dust or smoke.

Joel, who was quite the salesman when he wanted to be, was laying it on thick.

“If it’s a fine sword you’re after, sir, I’ve got a few pieces in the back. Made with the finest steel"

The man perked up instantly, and Ellie hid a small grin as Joel led him toward the back room. That room was where the good stuff sat, the kind of blades they could hardly afford to keep around but couldn’t afford not to sell either. If Joel could convince that fancy bastard to buy one, it’d mean they’d eat better for the next few weeks.

When the door shut behind them, the forge hummed softly again. Ellie straightened, leaning her hammer against the anvil for a moment. She finally looked at the woman. She stood there still as stone, eyes glassy, like she wasn’t really here at all. There was a kind of sadness about her... or maybe she was just tired. Ellie wasn’t sure. She wasn’t really the type to ask or care.

The silence between them stretched on, heavy and awkward. Ellie went back to wiping her hands on a rag, feeling the woman’s gaze still fixed somewhere near her. She could practically feel herself being looked at. She wasn't sure if it was judgement or something else entirely but it was enough to make her say something

“Do you always stare at people?”

Ellie’s voice cut through the air, even and calm but carrying that edge she always had with strangers.

Most women who came into the shop wore the same expression... scandal wrapped in polite disapproval. Some pitied her, others judged her outright. Ellie was a woman without a husband, without children, working in a trade meant for men... it was enough to make her a subject of gossip. The fact that she didn’t go to church only made it worse. She was seen as a failure of a woman and often was treated as such.

Ellie didn’t need their approval just like she didn't need the men's. She didn’t want their blessings or their pity. Religion, marriage, motherhood... all of it felt like cages dressed up as virtue. She’d tried once or twice... to imagine herself living that way. Cooking, sewing, raising a family, answering to a man’s name. The thought made her stomach twist. She wanted none of it. She never had.