Ford stirred in his bed as the morning light crept in through his small room through an equally small window under which his writing desk was situated. It was a quaint, cozy room, the kind you'd want for a single person living by his lonesome, but at the same time, it was monstrously cramped -- a shelf overflowing with various books stood next to the dusty stonework of a dimly-lit herth-fire, a small table situated in the middle of the room, flanked by two chairs, and one of the dresser's drawers was still half-open, a sock protruding from it's edge. The biggest, and most worrying thing, however, had to be the presence of a large, unwieldy table, haphazardly shoved into the corner and left to collect dust.
The sound of a fist pounding on the door caused the blacksmith to sit up and scratch his belly, pulling down his shirt. The voice on the other side spoke with shrill excitement, "Fooord, wake up, it's mornin'!"
"Already? Bloody hell..." Ford mumbled, rubbing his eyes and reluctantly rising from the bed. He grasped onto the edge of the dresser, which was next to the bed, and pushed himself up, lazily pulling out a clean shirt and pair of trousers to get changed into. He tied his hair back into it's usual ponytail. A small dog, one that he christened Thimble, was still fast asleep in front of the fire, curled comfortably into a ball on the rug.
As soon as he was dressed, Ford strode over to the door, swinging it open to face an impatient-looking Hilda, who leaned in to give him a hug. She had her hair tightly coiled into a prim and proper bun, and her earthy brown eyes were wide open with wakefulness. He made a brief oof noise as she barrelled into him, "How're you here so early?"
His sister gave him a bright smile, "Thought I'd stop by before heading off to Mistress Willowbean."
Ford nodded. Mistress Willowbean was Hilda's employer, and like Ford, had given her lodgings in exchange for her labour as an apprentice. The coin they both earned was carefully counted and split in equal parts to go to a savings account meant to eventually get them a small house, and so they had laboured intensely to make sure they would get to their goal -- Ford took on more responsibilities at the Forge, and Hilda tried to be as dilligent with her duties as she could. Whenever they could spare the time, they would go out with their older brother Finn to look for suitable housing choices.
The smith returned that smile and surpressed a yawn, "Reckon you can come over on Sunday to look at this one place near the Scholar's stair? S'pretty decent from what I hear, three small rooms, one room for each of us, nice view o' the Stonemason's Quarter."
"Sure, I can come over." His sister replied, "How's smithy work?"
"Oh, you know, the same old, same old. Workin' extra hard to make extra coin for the house. It'll be good to get a break soon." Ford said, "What'd Hucklebush say when you came over?"
"Oh, he told me no' to steal too much of your time." Hilda said with a chuckle, patting her brother on the shoulder, "He says he needs you down by the forges in half an hour, so y'better go get washed up an' have something to eat, hup hup!"
"A'righ', a'righ', I'll get movin' in a moment or two..."
His sister glanced around the room, curiously assessing how her brother was fending for himself. She could see that he had only recently gotten up, judging by how the dresser remained half-open, and the books were still piled up on the shelves in a messy fashion, as was usual. Eventually, her gaze fell onto the large table that had been discarded in the corner, "Still couldn't move that bloody thing out?"
He shook his head and rolled his eyes, "No, an' guess whose fault that is?"
"Oi, oi!" Hilda raised her hands defensively, "Finn an' I didn' actually think you'd get picked in that bloody raffle!"
"But you still put me in, didn't you?" Ford countered, snorting. He reached up to ruffle her head, and Hilda pouted.
"Fair enough, fair enough." She mumbled somewhat sullenly. She spotted the print of a wolf howling at the moon, inked in a mossy green, hanging on the wall, and her brow raised swiftly, inquisitive thoughts forming in her head. Ford didn't have that in his room before... "That's a new decoration. Where'd you get that?"
Ford glanced back. As soon as his eyes fell on the print, a memory returned to him. Three feathers he had given, and that was the present he received in turn.
He smiled slightly, "It's a gift from a friend."
