Smithy

Even with the massive fans in the entranceway, the heat was immediate and apparent the moment Jeremiah stepped into the smithy. The forges were already running, the bright orange glare visible through the slits in the slightly opened faces, not to mention the licks of flame that shot out into the open air. But even more apparent than the heat was the noise. Not only were the fans and forges generating their own massive amount of noise, there were many other machines running just outside, plus there was a sound system playing music from somewhere in the back. It was hard enough to hear himself think - he wasn't sure how actually talking to anyone was going to work. And no one had even started working yet.

In most other situations, were he faced with such conditions, Jeremiah would feel an ice crawling across his skin and want nothing more than to go somewhere else, where things could be quiet and he could relax. But here was different. In the forge he felt oddly at ease. The normal tension that was in his back and shoulders was surging, as though anticipating what was to happen. He could smell the flames and the steel in the air. He was excited.

There were customary nods and pats on the back as he grabbed his gear. He didn't need much - safety goggles, a glove, a hammer and tongs. Everything else was already set up. The anvil, the forge, the quench buckets - all things that could be left as they were when he left so that they would be ready when he returned. And they had long since solidified their place. Jeremiah was a creature of habit in many ways, and having everything in the same spot when he came in each day helped both his comfort and efficiency.

He grabbed a hunk of steel with his tongs and shoved it into the forge, letting it begin to heat as he finished collecting his things. It would take a few minutes for it to get up to temperature, and in the mean time he needed things to do. He never quite seemed to have enough to pass the time before he could swing his hammer.

That was the greatest joy for him. Actually moving the metal with his own strength, molding it into shape until it was something usable and interesting. It moved much faster than many people expected, as well - rather than multi-day projects, many of them took only a matter of hours. He very rarely left the forge without a finished project.

This was life.