Are
A warrior's path is not only to strengthen the body, but mind as well. Sounded kinda poetic and was a good enough excuse to stretch aching legs and let fingers rest for a day or so. The stand and shop would still be there as the sun rose again, as would the half finished fencer's boots and the handful of other projects left shelved.
Sweltering heat and boredom was enough to drive the curious cobbler clad in the now well worn padded leathers from the streets and into the confines of the Atheneum. Among the cool halls and musty tomes he wandered aimlessly for an hour or so. Straps and belt echoing creaks and groans through the otherwise eerily silent rows.
His fingers knew what his mind needed and refused what his heart wanted. A warrior was his path, what had been would rest for now, stones wouldn't go anywhere, not until he was ready. Until he was worthy.
The regular echoes of wood on marble roused him from his waking dreams. Suddenly the treatise on spear fencing seemed far too dry, what with the disturbance of the silence drawing closer. Someone new, unfamiliar. The cobbler caught a glimpse between bowing shelves and felt a pang of guilt as he peeped like some dagger in the dark. Manners, a better man would at least give good tidings.
"Heil ok sæl!" he managed to muster, voice tentative as if re-learning how to form words after days of silence. He uttered his usual greeting as he rounded the corner, making sure to stand straight, eyes up and clad in a smile unfitting one dressed more for battle than for studying.
Sweltering heat and boredom was enough to drive the curious cobbler clad in the now well worn padded leathers from the streets and into the confines of the Atheneum. Among the cool halls and musty tomes he wandered aimlessly for an hour or so. Straps and belt echoing creaks and groans through the otherwise eerily silent rows.
His fingers knew what his mind needed and refused what his heart wanted. A warrior was his path, what had been would rest for now, stones wouldn't go anywhere, not until he was ready. Until he was worthy.
The regular echoes of wood on marble roused him from his waking dreams. Suddenly the treatise on spear fencing seemed far too dry, what with the disturbance of the silence drawing closer. Someone new, unfamiliar. The cobbler caught a glimpse between bowing shelves and felt a pang of guilt as he peeped like some dagger in the dark. Manners, a better man would at least give good tidings.
"Heil ok sæl!" he managed to muster, voice tentative as if re-learning how to form words after days of silence. He uttered his usual greeting as he rounded the corner, making sure to stand straight, eyes up and clad in a smile unfitting one dressed more for battle than for studying.
