Alan swore under his breath, fussing over the liquefied silver inside an iron cup. His fourth attempt that day and he’d burnt the temperamental ore again. It was a delicate and time-consuming process that required his full attention, brushing away the impurities as they separated and floated to the surface. No matter how many times he tried, Alan couldn’t seem to get it right – the heat would be too low, or too hot, and the entire project had to be scrapped.

Alan glanced across the room and once again locked eyes with Bruce who watched his progress while picking at the remains of the meat pie. The smell of its spices and rich aroma drifted across the shop to where Alan was working. Alan set down the iron cup and stepped away, throwing his hands up in frustration. He placed his hand on his hip and gestured to the cup. “I’m sorry, Bruce. I burnt another one.”

His master took another bite and said, “It’s because ye’re too impatient. Ye have to give it time. The delicate process cannae be rushed. Clean it up and we’ll try another one tomorrow.”

Alan sighed, collecting his tools and returning them to the workspace where they belonged.

“Working with silver is not an easy job,” Bruce reminded him. “It requires a steady hand. Not everyone can become a master of this trade.”

“I can do it,” Alan told him. “I ken I can.”

Bruce frowned, his silver hair falling down across his forehead. He took another bite, saying, “Need I remind ye that silver isn’t cheap? I cannae afford to let ye ruin another batch. Ye’ll focus and get it right next time, or yer training there will end. Do we have an agreement?”

He nodded. “Aye.”

“Ye're distracted today,” Bruce observed. “Do ye need to clear yer mind?”

“Why did I even get involved?” he grumbled, slamming his tools about as he hung them on the wall.

In his heart, Alan knew the truth. It was because he loved her. He loved her, and he couldn’t bear to see her married off to the scoundrel.

Bruce eyed him warily, eating the meat pie Jain had brought them while Alan cleaned up the shop, banging the equipment harder than he normally would have allowed.

“What’s on yer mind, lad?”

Alan sighed, looking away from him. “Nothing. I’m just in a mood that’s all.”

Bruce set aside the rest of the pie before walking over to where Alan stood. “If that be the case, then I won’t press ye to talk. But dinnae go taking yer foul mood out on my wares, lad, or I’ll be taking it out of yer pay.”

Alan took a calming breath and unclenched his fingers from holding them in a fist.

Just then, Rodrick walked in from outside with a somber expression. Alan looked over at him expectantly and was relieved to see him give a subtle nod.

“Will someone tell me what in God’s name is happening?”

Rodrick looked back at them dumbfounded, glancing back at Alan for direction. Alan threw down his rag and leaned back against the anvil with his arms crossed in front of his chest. “I had a run in with Conrad earlier. It’s got both of us a wee bit antsy.”

“Conrad? What was he doing?”

Alan grit his teeth. “He was harassing Jain. I sent him on his way but not after threatening him with a good thrashing first.”

“Moira’s lass?” Bruce demanded in surprise. “That’s a foolish idiot to pick on my niece. Is she alright?”

Rodrick nodded, though his face was troubled. “I walked her home to make sure she got there safely. Alan was in nae fit shape to leave the shop.”

“And that’s what got ye all worked up over?”

“It’s a long story. He got into an argument with Jain the other day and she threw a bucket of water at him. As ye can imagine, Conrad dinnae like that very much, and he came by earlier to demand an apology.”

“And did she give it?”

Alan balked at that, saying, “Of course not, ye ken Jain. But Conrad has a bit of a temper and I couldn’t just stand by and watch it happen. Ye ken what they’re saying around the village, about the lass who went missing. Jain thinks he had something to do with it. We saw them talking at the festival before she disappeared…’twas the last place she was seen.”

“We dinnae ken what happened to Heather,” Bruce said, his calm never wavering. “She very well may turn up soon.”

“Only if it’s in a ditch,” Alan argued. “Mayhap ye’re not convinced, but I am. If that lass doesn’t come back safely, we’ll ken why.”

Bruce scratched his head, looking over at Rodrick in the door. “And do ye agree with him, Rodrick?”

The stable hand crossed his arms in front of his chest and nodded solemnly. “Aye, Bruce, I do.”

Bruce sighed. “Ye did the right thing lad. I thank ye fer looking after my kin, but ye cannae be letting men like Conrad get to ye.”

“I ken.”

“It’s about Jain though isn’t it?” Bruce asked him.

Alan and Rodrick both turned to him in surprise, noticing the sudden redness of his cheeks. “Well, I’m not a fool!” he said, rubbing the back of his neck. “Ye’ve been skirting yer chores fer weeks. Every spare moment ye can ye’ve been over at their farm. Any excuse ye can find to see her. That isn’t like ye, Alan. I ken ye better than that – it’s obvious ye care fer her quite a bit.”

Alan nodded. “Aye, that I do.”

“But does she feel the same?” Bruce challenged.

“I dinnae ken.”

“Jain’s not an easy lass to handle, in fact she’s a lot like working with silver. In order fer it to work, ye’ve got to add heat. That’s an important part of the process and it cannae be avoided, but ye have to do it slowly. If the flame is too hot, the ore will burn. It’s a delicate balance. Make yer feelings known, but take yer time and let Jain come to the same conclusion fer herself, otherwise ye might scare her off.”

His apprentice nodded. “I’ll finish with the chores and then be on my way.”

Bruce shook his head and stood up, brushing off his pants. “It’s always a woman,” he sighed.

Rodrick cleared his throat and said, “On my way back I heard talk of a meeting taking place in the great hall this eve. Apparently, Laird Gordon got word of another raid. The Norsemen have taken a village to the east.”

Bruce groaned, looking past them to the village square with a far off look in his eye. “I’ll bet Keenan is hungry fer blood. That’s the only reason he’d been calling us there together. He wants permission to attack.”

“Will ye go?” Rodrick asked him.

“Aye. Alan will come along with me. We’ll see what the council has to say.”

Alan swallowed hard, watching Rodrick back out of the smithy and return to his foals outside. Before he left, Rodrick turned to the smith and said, “It was nice to see ye, Bruce.”

“Oh, Rodrick, did ye have a chance to see Aileen while ye were there?”

The stable hand stopped what he was doing to turn around and sighed. “Nae, Bruce. I’m afraid I dinnae.”

Alan’s master contemplated that and said, “Perhaps ye should go again. We all ken she’s fond of ye and it would do her some good to have the company.”

“She has Jain…”

“Aye. She has Jain alright, but it’s ye that she’ll want to see. Think about it, lad.”

Alan grinned at Bruce’s not so subtle tactic and clapped him on the shoulder before turning back towards the iron cup and the burnt silver he had ruined.

When he stared at the mess, Alan felt the weight of a strong hand being placed upon his shoulder. “Alan, there is nae doubt in my mind that ye can do this. Ye’ve got the best hands I’ve ever seen, just concentrate. Take yer time and dinnae rush it by overheating the ore.”

Alan exhaled through his nose and glanced back towards his master. He turned and Bruce looked him in the eyes with a nod.

“Try again.”