14. Blacksmith

"Ishtaaarrr, wake up~!" A voice rang out through my dreams, startling me awake.

"Guhh~..."

"Ishtarr? Can you hear me, Ishtaaaar?

Slowly, the blurriness dissipated, and a new picture began forming around me. Torina lay half-sitting beside me, propping her chin up with an elbow and resting it atop her open palm, watching me sleep intently. I blinked several times and cleared my throat.

"Yep, yep. Morning to you too."

Elara grinned and placed a warm, wet kiss on my lips before turning away and sitting on the edge of the bed. Torina stretched out lazily, arching her back sensuously. I caught a glimpse of her chest for the briefest of moments. "Good morning, darling," she sang sweetly.

"Is this what your mornings are always like, waking up next to you?"

"Pretty much," Torina giggled, pulling me towards the bed.

I followed her instructions, slipping under the covers and throwing an arm lazily over her naked hips, enjoying the soft feeling of her skin against mine. "I was thinking of asking that Targon guy if he could forge my sword. I had an odd dream tonight which almost seemed like instructions on how the potion worked."

Elara perked up her head and cocked her brow in surprise. "Tell us about it."

"Well, it started yesterday when some angel came down and gave me a love potion of some sort. She just said something about lovemaking and left," I recalled. "And then the dream came. The potion must've manifested inside my mind somehow, and according to my dream, all I had to do was to cum on a sword crafted with the meteorite after consuming a little of the potion."

"Interesting. I'll try to get Targon to forge the best weapon possible for you," Elara assured. "Wanna come with me?"

"Now?"

"Yeah, of course. You slept for a while; we got up quite early today. Now is as good a time as any," she giggled.

I glanced outside; it was indeed bright out already. The sun was shining strongly above, and I'd been asleep for the entire morning.

Torina nudged me and smiled wryly, patting my arm gently. "You said that you have to cum on the sword? I can help you with that, ehe~!"

I chuckled. "If we manage to get everything set up, you might end up helping me quite a lot."

"What a fantastic problem to have," Torina tittered.

After a quick breakfast, Torina and I quickly made ourselves presentable and headed down to the blacksmith, where Elara waited. We entered through a different passage, one closer to the smelter room, and found ourselves face-to-face with Targon and his apprentice. A pipe jutted out from Targon's mouth, held between his teeth. I could smell a hint of smoke wafting toward us, and he turned toward the door, narrowing his gaze upon me.

"Oh, my! What brings you ladies here today?" he inquired politely, taking the pipe and tapping some ash out.

Elara and Torina immediately went into their respective explanations of how they desired to gift me with a sword, one crafted by his handiwork. One specifically made from the materials of the meteorite. Targon nodded throughout, taking another long drag of his pipe. When they finished talking, he looked at me. His brows scrunched together, and his jaw set. "We shall see. I have never forged a weapon with 'meteorite rock' before, but I shall do anything for our village's savior, Ishtar."

"Excellent!" Torina cheered and skipped happily, humming a merry tune while skipping and hopping in circles. "Targon, Targon~! May I use the anvil and the tools~?"

"U-uh... Use them if you want," he replied cautiously, probably because I was present.

"Great!" she sang cheerfully.

Targon looked at his apprentice and pointed. "Show the girl some basics," he said, turning back to Elara and me. "I'll head with these girls to the meteorite crash site."

His apprentice gave a brief bow, and we began leading the way to Elara's old house, where I had crashed. After traveling along the dirt path through the laidback village, we reached her abandoned cottage.

"Whew, this place is already becoming a mess..." she muttered, placing her hands on her hips and looking around her home. "Hopefully, Aunt Helen is well. We need to get this fixed someday for her."

Targon strode forward and picked up pieces of the rock, squinting his eyes as he inspected it closely. "This seems to be a weird material. An alloy might should suffice, though."

"No, we want it with just the materials from the meteorite," I interrupted.

"That is certainly peculiar. This is the first time I've worked with any type of 'rock' whatsoever, so I am unfamiliar with the ways it can react when placed into the furnace."

He looked unsure of what he should do.

"Either way," Targon mused, shaking his head. "It'll take a little longer than usual to finish crafting, but I promise to create something worth giving. Though, it may not look pretty..."

"Beauty can't be seen by just the eye, anyway." I grinned and winked at Elara. "Anyway, how much will this set us back?"

"Nothing! Nothing at all! I cannot possibly charge you money for this," the large, gruff man stated. "It's an honor to be able to work with a hero such as yourself." He stood up and stepped out of the wreckage of the meteorite. "My apprentice and I will work tirelessly until it's completed, so don't you worry."

With that said, Targon grabbed his pipe, put it in between his lips, and left after taking several more deep drags. He went back to his hut, presumably to prepare and work hard on the task assigned to him.

Elara tapped on my shoulder and smiled cutely, rocking her hips side to side. "Wanna go practice? We got some time until Targon finishes his work, after all!"

"Oh, sure. Let's go!"

***

After the walk back to the smelter, we sat together underneath a large tree nearby. We had spent most of the day training our skills and practicing different types of combat. When the two of us sparred together, the outcome always leaned heavily toward Elara, but I was making progress.

In what felt like the blink of an eye, the sun was sinking behind the horizon. We made our way to the forgery, where the smoldering flames emanating from the blacksmith shop roared noisily in front of us. When we walked through, Targon stood near a red-hot anvil, hammer in hand, sweat glistening across his wide muscles as he smithed and molded the blade. The apprentice did some grunt work, stacking the ore that he'd piled up.

Torina bounded towards me gleefully. "Hey~! Check this out, Ishtar! It's nearly done! Isn't it neat~?"

Targon noticed us and paused, lowering the hammer down to his side. "Sorry, give me a moment." He wiped the sweat off his face and stepped toward us, motioning the apprentice over, who did the same. "We've been trying to perfect the blade, but... the meteorite rock is just not possible to forge with. Its properties won't allow us to hammer it well." He hesitated and averted his gaze from me and Torina as if guilty of something.

"There's just one missing piece," I interjected, signaling the two girls with a seductive glare. "You two, do it."