He let out a sigh he didn't know he'd held in when Master approved the shield, and he moved quickly to aid him in coiling the steel, acting as the blacksmith's striker. He was tense throughout it, worried that it might flare up Master's temper even worse than before. Once that was done, and Master moved to give him a piece of the lustrous material, Mateo held it in his palm; it didn't even reach to the ends of his hand, it was such a small piece. Master left, and Mateo grimaced. Such a tiny piece. It wouldn't even make a ring that would fit on his hand, though, as he looked at it, it would probably fit Master's slim hand. He scratched his chin and glanced at the curtain that separated the forge from the shop front, and his hand closed around the piece of metal. Yeah….he could do that. There was a slip of paper somewhere with Master's records that held both his and Mateo's finger sizes, written down and meant for practice years ago when Mateo was first learning how to make the finer projects. It had certainly beat making buckets of iron nails, that's for sure. 

Once he found out the right size, he got straight to work. He worked it into a long piece after heating it, then into a circle, mindful to close the notch with small, precise hammerings and soldering. Then he sized it properly on a mandrel and got to work making the setting for where the gem would rest, cutting a space in the ring for where the cup for the stone would rest and soldering it complete in the fire. He then sat down on a stool to work on the filing process, and if Master came to the back at any point, Mateo didn't raise his head or hear. He had no idea how much time passed before the ring was seamless and smooth, the only markers of time the aches in his neck and back. Once the dull work was finished, he heated the ring again in the forge to form the fine scrolling design he'd formed in his mind while he was filing it, pouring all his attentions into its work. It had to be perfect, flawless, something that belonged on Master's hand. Then he quenched the ring, holding it within his gloved fingers.

"…..I need a better stone…." He murmured. Amethyst wouldn't cut it.

The first customer was an easy enough request; Miruin simply sold him a stock weapon and sent him on his way. Then came a barrage of customers with minor repairworks and tasks, and a part of Miruin lamented that he had already delegated his apprentice to a project, as such menial projects bored him… but silver was silver, and what he had planned would not happen without it. They were close to what they needed, and the sale of the ring and whatever else he decided to make from the ingot should be enough to pay for the charter…

Miruin sighed in relief as dusk fell and he flipped the store sign, locking the door and drawing shut the curtains. He didn't immediately go to the back, instead he took down every stock weapon, shield and armor and examined them, tested their sharpness and temper, before he set down to repair dulled edges and clean dust from steel. By the time his task was done, silence hung heavy in the shop and the light was all gone save but for a few scarce candles. Only once he finished did he return to the forge, sweeping aside the curtain and walking towards the circle of steel he had wrought, his gaze finding Mateo. "If you did not finish, get some rest. I will wake you before morn."

Master came back in when Mateo was overlooking the ring, and he straightened up and took the unfinished ring into his gloved hand, closing his fingers around it on reflex. It was a surprise, after all. He listened to Master's crisp order to rest and continue in the hours before dawn, and he hesitated before replying, "M' almost done, Master. But y' right, I should sleep." How long had he stayed awake this time? What time was it now? He stood from his seat and took a soft cloth to wrap up the ring and set it aside in the lockbox where all such unfinished projects went, to prevent them from getting scratched before they were polished and completed, and he glanced up at the peek in the curtained windows. It was already dark outside? Hadn't it just been early afternoon?

He rubbed at the shadows under his eyes and wished for the hundredth time that Master was fond of coffee and kept it around regularly. When Mateo was in the mood to work, he wished the need to sleep and eat would vanish and cease being distractions to his projects. But now that he was out of his mood, he practically had to crawl to his cot in the corner of the forge, feeling the weight of is limbs grow heavier as he moved. As soon as his head hit the pillow, he fell sound asleep, regardless of if Master joined him in rest or continued to work into the night. The hammerfalls on the anvil had long since become Mateo's lullaby.

It seemed like Mateo had only just closed his eyes when he felt a hand shake his shoulder, and he rolled over with a groan. The first thing that came to mind was the stone he needed….he had to find the perfect stone for Master's ring. Slowly he got up, groggily eyeing the food next to the forge that would make his breakfast, though Master was nowhere to be found. That was typical, and in this case, preferable. He ate as he looked around the carefully organized shelves and drawers for supplies, particularly the one with the semi-precious jewels that Master liked to place into his finer work. He glanced over the sapphires and diamond chips, the labradorite and the onyx and jade, until he finally alighted on what he was looking for. He pulled out a perfectly cut piece of fire opal and raised it up to the light of the forge, watching the flecks of color shift as he turned it. This would do.

Hours later, after painstaking work of tempering, polishing, sanding, and adjusting, just as the sun peeked over the nearby mountains, the ring was done. It was a thing of beauty, a lustrous creation that held an inner fire, though whether that was from the components used, the forgelight, or Mateo's tired eyes, he didn't rightly know or care. He placed it back in its soft cloth along with a note scribbled in Mateo's terrible scrawl, the charcoal smudged slightly to his tired hand:

For Master.

And then, as if written like a clarifying afterthought:

To wear.
Personally.

Not for selling.
Unless it's terrible.
-Mateo

He left that note over the cloth for whenever Master came back and crawled back to his cot, ready to sleep for the next three days.

Miruin didn't respond to Mateo's words; he knew better, he knew that his apprentice was at the end of his endurance, and would take no convincing now to move to the cots in the far corner to rest. In truth he watched the boy with an unseen amusement, and when his apprentice fell onto the cot and into sleep, he walked over, taking off the boy's shoes and socks, and drawing a blanket over him before closing the heavy curtain to keep the heat of the forge away from the beds.

For a moment, he listened to the soft snoring of his apprentice, a faint smile on his lips. In truth… he was glad for the boy's company. Never would he admit it, but though he preferred solitude and found company in excess to be both draining and irksome, Mateo for his flaws was enjoyable company. The boy listened when he spoke, said wise things for his years, and above all clung not to Miruin nor peppered him constantly.

Which was why, in the low firelight, he gazed upon the glistening metal ingot and formed an idea, one that stung his common sense… but necessary. Miruin looked at the forge, then set its flame to rest for the night, taking off his own apron and shoes before ducking into the makeshift bedroom and laying on his cot, arms behind his head as he drifted to sleep.

—

As always he rose early, arranged breakfast for himself and Mateo, and departed before dawn had truly broken to begin the morning errands, specifically securing the last few things necessary for the journey ahead. Buisness in Adeluna wasn't terrible, but what was oft requested was naught to par with his skill, nor even that of his apprentice. In truth he chafed at the menial work often given, and when word reached him of another, more artisan-friendly city… well, he had patience and time in plenty.

Miruin returned later in the morn with his arms full of packages, noting at first Mateo's still-slumbering form with a frown of disapproval, before he caught sight of the finished breakfast… and the small cloth with a note upon the anvil. He set aside his cargo and walked over to the note, opening it and reading the boy's atrocious scrawl, before lifting the cloth.

It was… beautiful, a ring spun out of delicate filigree and incredibly fine and thin metal, embracing a gemstone like fire in it's center. The craft of it was beyond what he had assumed the boy would produce; for a long, long moment he stared at the ring, before gently taking it and slipping it onto the ring finger of his right hand. A perfect fit. His fingers curled, feeling the warm metal against his skin, and he looked to his slumbering apprentice, before turning away and unloading the parcels, content to leave the boy to his well-earned slumber.