Galf made his way to the Brifhtforge family's forge, where his friend Lyra Brightforge worked. He entered with the spirit of a man about to mortgage his soul, again. The stifling heat, the deafening sound of the hammer striking metal, and the sizzling of the fire seemed to herald his imminent suffering.
"Galfy!" Lyra exclaimed, dropping her hammer with a clang that made the tool table vibrate. "What a miracle to see you here! Have you finally come to ask me for something worthy of a hero like you?"
"Uh, yeah... something like that," Galf mumbled. He felt the weight of his failures and defeat fall upon his shoulders.
Before he could continue, a voice boomed from inside the forge, deep and terrifying, as if a mountain were speaking.
"THAT FAILURE AGAIN?!" the voice growled. "IS HE COMING TO ASK FOR MORE OF MY SWORDS TO LOSE THEM?"
Galf tensed as if he'd been hit with an anvil. Lyra, however, reacted with the speed of an arrow.
"SHUT UP, DAD!" she yelled, turning toward the back door of the forge. "Galf isn't a failure, he's a rising hero!"
"RISING WHERE? TO RUIN?" the voice replied from inside, making even the tool shelves seem to tremble.
Lyra snorted, frustrated, and turned back to Galf with a forced smile.
"Don't mind him, Galfy. My dad's a grump. What do you need?"
"Well... a sword," he said, swallowing hard. "But, uh... I don't have any money."
Lyra's smile froze for an instant before transforming into a mix of unconditional love and exasperation.
"Again, Galfy? Are you sure? You already owe me a lot. Although I could forgive it if, well, you know..." She blushed and playfully hit Galf's shoulder.
Lyra thought she hit him gently, but with her enormous strength, Galf's entire armor vibrated, rattling like a noisemaker.
"Do you think you'll set a date for our engagement soon? I could forgive your debt." Lyra's eyes shone brightly. "And I wouldn't mind adding a new sword."
Galf swallowed hard. The offer was unsettling; the debt was so large that selling himself was an option he constantly considered. "Can I think about it a little more?"
Lyra blushed even more. "Of course, Galfy."
They moved towards the counter, where several dozen swords rested.
"Listen, Lyra, it's an emergency. I need a sword to get my sword back."
Lyra blinked.
"How?"
"You see, I lost my sword in an... uh... honorable combat against a goblin," he said, lowering his voice at the end.
"A GOBLIN?!" Lyra's father's voice boomed again, full of contempt. "AND YOU DARE TO COME BACK HERE?! MY WEAPONS ARE NOT FOR LOSERS!"
"Shut up, Dad, please!" Lyra yelled, blushing. "Stop humiliating him!"
"HE HUMILIATES HIMSELF!"
Galf sighed deeply, wishing the ground would swallow him. "I promise I won't lose the sword this time. It's just to get the other one back."
Lyra sighed too, but this time with a dramatic flair, putting a hand to her chest.
"Alright, Galfy. But only because I know you're destined for greatness. Someday, when you're the most legendary hero in the City of Beginning, everyone will remember that I was your personal blacksmith."
She turned to the sword rack and pulled out a simple, functional, unadorned one.
"Here you go. It's practical and sturdy. Nothing fancy, but it'll do."
Before Galf could take it, the voice boomed one last time: "IF YOU LOSE IT AGAIN, THE NEXT THING I'LL GIVE YOU IS A STICK."
Galf nodded quickly, grabbed the sword, and left before Lyra could make him sign any strange documents.
"Thanks, Lyra. I promise I won't disappoint you this time!" he yelled.
As he left, his father's voice sounded again, "EMPTY PROMISES, AS ALWAYS!"
Lyra watched him go with a dreamy smile.
"Someday, Galfy... someday you'll realize we were meant to be together."