-- Lilith POV, Skyview Monastery --

  There was a knock at her door, and she looked up from the rune book.

  "Who is it?"

  "It's John. Can I come in?"

  "John! Yes, please!" She jumped to rush and open the door for him, "Come in! I've been waiting for you!"

  He laughed, "Nice to see you so excited! I've got something for you."

  "What is it?", she looked curiously what he might have brought with him. It had to be hidden in this massive backpack that he used to lug around with him.

  He set the pack down, opened it and lifted something rolled up, "Paper. And ink. So you can practise proper calligraphy. Can you imagine these monks made me travel to town, buy paper and ink, because they didn't want to share any of their own? Misers."

  "Paper!" It was more a whisper than a word, but surely expressed her amazement, "I've never drawn or written on paper before."

  He put the bundle on her table and gave her shoulder a firm pat, "Now you will."

  He fetched some more things from his pack, "An ink well. And a brush. I have no idea if you can handle a brush with your claws, but it's the traditional tool for calligraphy. The only to produce proper strokes on paper."

  The brush sure was a delicate item, and she picked it up very carefully. John was right, her claws were in the way, but the brush hairs felt very soft and pleasant on her skin.

  He was waching her, as she held the brush clumsily with her left and tried to arrange the fingers of her right hand to hold the brush in a way that would allow her proper strokes without her claws damaging the brush or paper. Eventually it worked out. Line the brush along the side of her index finger, use the thumb to press against it. The thumb claw pointed forward in that hold and the index finger claw poked her palm, but it seemed the best she could manage.

  "You never learned writing?" John eventually asked.

  She shook her head, "I can't remember much of before. I can read. I know the letters and the words. But I don't know how to hold a brush properly. I think this will work though."

  He nodded, "You learned quickly to draw runes with chalk on slate. I'm sure you'll pick this up swiftly as well. Take some time, try different grips."

  Then, suddenly he laughed, "And don't worry. You're not alone. My hands aren't very suitable for brushes either. Look!"

  He presented her his hands, palm up. Big hands, strong and covered with tough, callous skin, formed by a lifetime of hammering metal.

  "Oh", she felt pity for him. While her hands might be impractical with her claws, they were immaculate in appearance.

  "I'm sorry John. You deserve better hands."

  She put the brush onto her table and grasped his hands, careful not to hurt his skin with her claws, just using smooth fingers. She watched and felt them for a while with her fingers before she looked up to him, "Can they heal?"

  He watched her with a kind smile, "You've not seen many working men before, have you? The hands are fine. That's what you get from actual work."

  She nodded a little, looking at his hands once more, "I'll take your word for it. I still feel sorry for your hands."

  He freed one hand from her hold to rub her left upper arm, "Don't worry. I'm good. Just not so much with the brush."

  She smiled a little, looking at him again, "If you say so."

  "Hey!" He tried. "Cheer up Lilith. Think of the paper and the ink. Don't worry about me. I came to give you something to enjoy, not to make you sad."

  She had to grin, almost in protest, "I am happy about the paper and the brush!"

  John gave her another firm pat to the shoulder, "That's better. Now I want you to come with me to the forge. It's not quite done yet, but I want you to get used to the place. You need to learn what is what, and how to use the things. At least the bellows, so you can heat the forge. I want you to learn hammer work too. And some of the basics of forging."

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  "I can't go there yet. I've tried. You know they put geas on me. It keeps me on this level of the monastery. Well, within some rooms here." She made a sweeping gesture with a hand, trying to indicate the area that she was talking about.

  "Huh", now John was confused, "What's that?"

  "Sort of a spell. If I try to go down the stairs, something messes with my mind and makes me want to go up and back here. I can't resist it. You'll have to ask superior Martins to change the spell. He can allow me to visit more rooms", she explained.

  "Crazy", John shook his head. "Alright, come with me. We'll see superior Martins now, and then we go to the forge so I can show you the ropes."

  Superior Martins had not seemed very happy about the idea of changing the geas, but John had insisted and now she could visit the forge whenever she wanted. Progress!

  At John's side she made it down the dreaded stairs, then followed him to a room that had to be close to the gate. So that was why superior Martins was so hesitant to allow here there. Too close to the monastery gate.

  She stopped in surprise as they entered the workshop. The outer wall was almost gone, a huge hole with an arc above, build from stones to bear the weight of the wall. There was a metal bar across the opening, about a pace above the ground, probably to prevent someone from falling out by accident. The opening offered a great vista of the landscape. Much like a panorama view, compared to the small holes that were the other windows.

  Left of the opening was the forge. A massive, brick-build basin-like structure. And a huge chimney opening above. Even she could identify this as a sort of fireplace.

  John pointed to the structure, "It's not quite done yet, but this will be the forge where we heat metal to working temperature."

  "These are the bellows", he pointed at some things that reminded Lilith of oversized bags, held by wooden frames. "They pump air for the forge, to make the coal burn hot enough to melt metal." He looked at her, "You'll have to work the bellows regularly while I work with the iron and steel. I bet you'll like the forging better, but until you're good enough with the hammer, you'll assist me and work the bellows."

  "I understand", she tried to signal acceptance, even that she definitely would like to be closer to the fire of the forge.

  "This here", he set his hand on some massive metal thing that was placed on an even bigger wooden footing. "Is an anvil. It's used to shape metal. You put the hot metal up here onto the anvil and then use a hammer to shape it. The pointy end is used to form round shapes, like horseshoes. I want you to learn the forging basics too, even if your first job will be to inscribe and infuse runes into the items that I forge."

  He looked at her, "How strong are you?"

  She felt confused, "I once lifted a man with one hand. Wasn't very well fed though. A scrawny cultist."

  "Wouldn't have guessed from your looks. Sounds good to me though. Not all forge work needs a lot of strength, but it sure helps." He gave her an appreciative nod.

  He pointed at a hand of hers as another thought appeared to him, "Actually I think you'll have troubles to hold a hammer with the claws on your fingers. We'll have to get creative. Wrap the handle with leather or something, so it's wide enough for you to hold."

  She looked at her hands. She had begun to love her claws. They were pointy, shiny, and black like obsidian. And very sharp. Now suddenly they had become a problem. She really didn't like that thought. She wanted to feel good about her claws.

  "Come with me", his voice woke her from her contemplation. She followed him to a corner where some tools were piled up and he picked a mid sized hammer from the collection. "You'll use a hammer like this frequently. See if you can hold it."

  A bit hesitantly she grasped the handle. She couldn't fully close her hand because she had to align her claws with her palm towards her wrist, but to her own judgement it seemed her grip was good enough.

  John wasn't pleased though, "You can't hold a hammer like that. You won't have control. We'll have to wrap something to make the handle wider. No big issue. Wait a moment."

  'No big issue.' She really hoped it was not. Her chances at forging seemed to be slipping just because of her claws.

  He returned with a lengthy strip of leather, "Give me the hammer for a moment."

  She handed it to him, "Here you are." He took it and began to wrap the leather strip around the handle, then tied up the ends.

  "Try it again."

  Now, this was better. She could close her hand around the handle without her claws being blocked by her palm. He watched her and chuckled, "And you said you feel sorry for my hands. Now I feel sorry for yours. I think we can make it work though."

  He handed her a rod of a reddish metal, "This is copper. You can forge copper cold. So, try it. Put the copper rod on the anvil and hammer the end flat."

  Yikes! At first she didn't even hit the rod with the hammer. Then she hammered a lot of dents into the rod. John watched. Then the stupid thing bent upwards. She could feel his disapproval of her work, but besides the occasional hint how to hold the hammer better, how to swing, how to hold the rod more level on the anvil, he didn't criticize.

  Finally he stepped close and rubbed her left upper arm, his other hand firmly put against her right shoulder and she looked up at him from her work. The copper rod was now actually flat at the end, just not a very evenly flat. With a rather soft voice her told her, "See, you've made it. Your first time to forge metal. It'll take time. Don't get frustrated. We'll practice day by day. Simple things first, then more complicated ones. It takes years to become a proper blacksmith. I've learned from my father since I was six or seven. Couldn't even look over the anvil."

  She looked at the bent and dented copper rod another time, then tried to meet his eyes, "I like fire. But I don't think I like metal nearly as much."

  She received another encouraging shoulder pat, "Don't worry. You'll get to hit it with a hammer a lot."