The afternoon sun glowed hotly down upon the rock farm. Not that one could see it, what with all the smoke and dust sitting heavily in the air, blocking it and most of its light from view. Unfortunately, it did nothing to shield against the August heat. The sweltering heat combined with the gloomy, dust choking atmosphere would have had any normal pony on the ground begging for relief.
 
But in the south field of the rocky wasteland, where a large, rickety building and adjoining open shelter stood, Iron Forge was hard at work. He was used to the stifling humidity, partly because he grew up with it and partly because he spent a good chunk of time over an open fire anyway. And despite the shade his shack provided, it did little to keep him cool.
 
Forge didn’t let it bother him though. The sweat, the headaches, the breathlessness, the dry mouth- it was all part of the smithy business. And to him, they were signs of integrity and craftsmanship. Of course, to others, it looked more like poor health and hygiene, but since the only ‘others’ who frequented the farm were his family and his customers, Forge didn’t worry too much about it.
 
“BANG” went his hammer, as he struck the sizzling horse shoe with great force. Which wasn’t hard to do what with his massive body mass and bulging muscles. Sweat dripped down into his eyes, but he quickly wiped them dry. He focused on his target and then thrust his hammer down again, causing hot red sparks to bounce off the metal.
 
Cling clang cling clang
 
Forge stopped, his hammer poised for another strike, when he heard the visitor bell ringing.
 
Carefully, he set his horseshoe on the little rock table in front of his furnace and leaned his tongs against the side. Brushing the sweaty strands of his mane from his face, he turned to see who had come.
 
It was a tall, grassy-green coated mare with sunset mane of orange and fusha pulled back from her freckle-dappled face. Her shining magenta eyes shone bright and cheerily, and Forge felt for sure they could see right through him at his rapidly-beating heart.
 
“O-oh! Hey Chryssie!” He greeted her, trying to wipe some of the dust and grime off his hooves onto his apron.
 
“Howdy Forgey!” She chimed, grinning her dimpled smile. “Ah brought ‘cha some iced cold sweet tea. Ah told Junebug that if ya wouldn’ come on ‘en for lunch then ah’d bring ya somen’ cold n’ sweet to drink. At least then ya’d take a bit of a break. Ya know ya outta not drive ya’self to bare bones workin sa hard.”
 
As Chrysanthemum walked inside to Forge, the stallion chuckled sheepishly, “Heh, yeah, I know. I just get lost in the flow of my work sometimes. Besides, with ma’s cooking and your thirst-satisfying drinks, I don’t think I’m in danger of a protruding rib cage.”
 
“Still, ah bodies’ bound to take a break sometimes or else they’ll keel over,” she said, levitating the tall glass of crimson liquid with swirling ice cubes over to him. He grabbed it as the both of them laughed, his deep throated and hers light and airy. Boy, did he love to hear her laugh.
 
“So how’s your time been with June?” he asked right before bringing the drink to his lips.
 
“Fine and Dandy! We’ve spent near all afternoon pickin’ and pluckin’ them gorse needles til our hooves grew ah bit sore from tuggin’. One time, June tugged a bit to hard an’ she fell back in a patch an’ when she came up there was a ton’a ‘em little suckers sticken’ outta her mane n’ tail! Ha! Ya should seen it, ah about died laughin’!
 
He stopped mid gulp and chuckled. “I wish I had been there!” He could have heard her laugh twice today if he had.
 
“Yeah, wish ah had mah camera on me. Between me an’ ya Ma we got ‘em offa June though. Speakin’ of ‘em, it was awful kind of ya’s folk to let us pick through their yard for our supplies. Do tell ya Pa and Grandpa when they get back ta’night how mighty thankful June and ah are.”
 
Forge nodded in reply as he drank the last bit of his tea- ice and all.
 
Setting the glass to the side, he licked his lips and said, “mmmm, that hit the spot Chryssie! You always know exactly how much sugar to put in that. Not too strong, not too sweet.
 
Chrysanthemum shrugged, but Forge caught the faint blush at his compliment. “Ah well, comes from years a’ practisin’ I reckon,” she said casually.
 
“Thanks for bringing me some, it was really kind of ya. And I admit, I really did need a bit of a break after working on this shoe all morning,” he said, rubbing his neck and cracking it.
 
Chrysanthemum perked up. “Oh really? How’s it comin’ along?”
 
“Oh fine. I’m almost finished,” he said, stepping to the side and watching her walk up to it. “Just gotta hammer out the finer edges and it’s good to go.”
 
“Why, Ah’ve never seen a finner shoe in all mah life!” she exclaimed, her whole face lighting up.
 
The compliment made Forge’s heart swell with pride. She had complimented his work before, but he never grew tired of hearing her praises. Coughing into his hoof he managed to choke out, “that’s nice of ya to say-”
 
“Nah really! It’s fantastic! Ah bet this here customer is gonna consider ‘emselves real lucky to get sucha quality shoe,” she said, beaming up at him.
 
Forge looked off to the side and chuckled. “Yeah, well, the customer is Grandpa, so I’m not sure “lucky” is the word he’d use.” Grandpa Igneous never gave more than a grunt and a “good work” when it came to Forge’s job. He tried not to let it bother him but, sometimes, it got to him more than he liked to admit.
 
Chrysanthemum noticed the slight droop in Forge’s shoulders and smiled sympathetically.
 
“Ay now, just cuz ya Grandpa ain’t a stallion of many words don’t mean he aint thinkin’ ‘em.”
 
Forge looked up to see her sweet, gentle smile and his own expression softened. “Yeah, you’re probably right.”
 
She placed her hoof on his shoulder comfortingly. Forge wasn’t sure if he should respond by holding her hoof in return or standing still. He took too long deciding though, and didn’t move when Chrysanthemum turned away and began walking towards the doorway.
 
“Well, guess I’d best be headin’ back,” she said matter-of-factly and started to levitate the empty cup to her.
 
She’s leaving already? he thought. It wasn’t very often Chryssie came around. He had to think of a reason for her to stay longer. He stole a quick glance at his furnace and an idea popped into his head.
 
He turned back to the mare, holding up his hoof. “Uhhh wait-um-I, would you . . . “
 
She stopped and, returning the glass to the table, looked back in confusion.
 
Trying to look as casual as possible, he pointed to the shoe and said meekly, “would you like to take a swing at it?”
 
Chrysanthemum eyed it and Forge could see she wanted to. But after a moment, she shook her head. “Don’t be silly- ah’d probably bend it backwards n’ sideways wut with mah clumsy hooves.”
 
“You don’t know for sure until you try! Besides, I can fix any little dent you make out of place, so really there’s no harm,” he assured her, a little too eagerly.
 
She frowned, conflicted. “But-”
 
“-here!” He stopped her, and held out the tongs to her. He grinned, hoping he didn’t look as anxious as he felt for her to take them.
 
After a few moments of suspense, the mare huffed and rolled her eyes good-naturally saiying, “oh all right. Ah guess ah’ll try mah hoof at it- if ya insist.”
 
She walked over to him in front of the fire pit and took the tongs with both hooves.
 
As he watched her pick up the slightly cooled shoe, Forge said “Here, just, let it sit over the heat- yeah like that!”
 
She did as was told and set the tongs on the ledge so that the object was suspended over the heat.
 
“Now, just focus on where ya want to hit and bring the mallet down on it as hard as ya can. But steadily! Too fast and it’ll bounce right off,” he instructed.
 
Lifting the mallet with her magic, she levitated it to her left hoof, holding the tongs steady with her right. She fixed her eyes on the top, sharp edge of the shoe before slamming the hammer on it with all her might.
 
It clanged just about as loud as it did for Forge, but unlike him, her hoof hadn’t the same firm grip and when the hammer bounced off the tongs shook until it looked like the shoe might come loose.
 
Forge placed his hoof on hers before he had a chance to think. The two locked eyes and Forge hoped to Celestia that the warm glow from the furnace disguised the real reason his face turned a shade red. Both mare and stallion looked away hastily and chuckled.
 
Then, drawing her attention back to the tongs, he said, “It’s ok, ya just need to hold it a bit steadier. You’re doing just fine. Try hittin’ it now.”
 
Chrysanthemum nodded, and raising the hammer again, she struck the shoe again.
 
“That’s right, just, hold it steady,” he coaxed.
 
With the extra support from Forge’s grip, the tongs stayed straight as a plank as the hammer bounced off. The edge had even flattened and rounded a bit from the strike.
 
“You’re doing great!” Forge beamed.
 
As Chrysanthemum continued to strike the shoe with renewed vigor, Forge couldn’t help stealing a side glance at her.
 
She wasn’t quite as strong as him, but with the heavy hooves she inherited from Big Mac she was able to make considerable, accurate blows on the shoe. All her attention was focused solely on her work, her eyes alight and tongue stuck out as she enthusiastically hammered away. Her face was red from the heat and exertion, and some droplets of sweet began to drop off her muzzle, but Forge didn’t mind. In fact, she looked cuter right now than he thought she ever had.
 
There were a lot of things Dusty admired about Chryssi, but one of his favorite things about her was her integrity, her tenacity, and her “give-it-her-all” attitude. Afterall, his whole life he had been taught how to work hard and he loved to see that spirit in her. Seeing it up close now was even better.
 
He continued to look at her with a big, dopey smile on his lovestruck face when Chryssie suddenly exclaimed, “wow, just look at ‘em sparks flyin’!”
 
Forge snapped out of his thoughts and turned to look at the forge, not catching Chryssie give him a sly side glance as he did so.
 
“It means you’re hitting it right,” he nodded.
 
After a few more strikes, Forge noticed she was starting to pant a bit. He relaxed his grip on her hoof, saying “I think that ought to do it.”
 
Chryssie nodded, breathless, and wiped her forehead with the back of her hoof. Releasing the hammer back to her magic grip, she grabbed both tongs handles and slowly lifted the shoe up from the fire.
 
“It’s steaming!” she remarked, surprised.
 
“Yep. Now, just slowly move towards the barrel here and lower it into the water to cool off,” Forge said, stepping away to give her some room.
 
Chrysanthemum awkwardly and slowly scooted the few meters to the right. Then, taking extra care not to drop it, she submerged the shoe and tong into the shallow container until she felt it hit the bottom. Laying the handles against the side, she took a few steps back from the barrel.
 
Unfortunately, she didn’t notice her tail swoop underneath her hoof and, being a bit unsteady already, she stumbled and began to fall backwards.
 
Forge saw she was falling and reached out for her crying, ‘I gotcha!”
 
But instead of falling into his hooves with a sigh of relief, a little pink blush, and a bashful stare that lasts a bit too long, she instead slipped right past him and fell into a pill of boxes and crates with a painful grunt, a grimacing face, and a crashing sound of splintered wood and falling metal.
 
Forge rushed forward in a panic. “Chryssie are you ok!? Did you hurt yourself!? Are you-”
 
“Ah’m fine-cough-Ah’m fine. Heheh, just took a bit of ah spill there but-but Ah’m fine,” she assured him, still shook up from her fall.
 
Brushing the tarp from her lap and unwinding the rope from her leg, she grabbed the hoof Froge extended. With ease he hoisted her up onto all fours. Once she got her balance back, she looked up at her horn.
 
“Ya think ya could help with uh . . this?” she chuckled sheepishly, looking at the plank of wood stuck on the edge of her horn.
 
“Ah course!” Forge said, and within seconds it was ripped off carefully.
 
“Thank ya Forgey.”
 
“Don’t mention it. I’m . . sorry I couldn’t catch ya in time,” he said, his ears dropping slightly.
 
“Not cha fault sugarcube,” she reassured him as she brushed the debris from her coat and mane.
 
Once she finished, she turned away and said “Ah’ll get outta ya mane before ah break any more of yer property.”
 
Forge felt awkward and at a loss for words watching Chryssie walk away. She silently headed for the glass and levitated it towards her. He opened his mouth to say something, but nothing came.
 
Come on ya big dofus, say something!
 
“Thanks again for the sweet tea, Chryssie!” He blurted out just as she reached the doorway.
 
The mare stopped and twisted around. Then, smiling wide, she cheerily said, “sure thing, Forgey! And thank ya fer lettin’ me take a hammer at yer shoe.”
 
“Course, anytime,” he said, feeling at ease again. Whew, that was close. He couldn’t let her leave without her charming smile.
 
“Ah’right then, see ya!” she waved, and began trotting away.
 
“See ya!”
 
Forge continued to stand for a few minutes watching after her as she headed toward the house. For a moment, he imagined that she was heading to their house. And that, once he were to head inside for supper, he’d be greeted by her and maybe charged by a little herd of foals. All with their mothers sweet, round magenta eyes and melodic laughter.
 
He sighed. It’s not time to daydream Forge- there’s work to finish, he reminded himself.
 
Turning back to the barrel, he lifted the tongs and shoe out of the water and inspected it. He was amazed to find that the majority of Chryssi’s blows had actually improved the shoe! Only a few more blows and it would be rounded to perfection.
 
Forge smiled warmly. Boy, Chryssi sure is amazing. No wonder I’m head over hooves for her.
 
Placing the shoe over the fire again, he picked up his hammer and held it high.
 
And one day . . . one day, I’m going to work up the courage to tell her that.
 

 

 
 
This here is a part of a birthday gift for my dear friend Celestial-Rainstorm, featuring her nextgen characters Chrysanthemum, daughter of Big Mac and Sugar Belle, and Iron Forge, son of Marble Pie and Trouble Shoes.
 
 
This sweet, country couple aren’t exactly canon (yet!), but their crush on each other has been confirmed in their bios and my little shipping heart couldn’t resist writing a piece for them. These are two fantastic characters that I love dearly and I think they have great chemistry. Both are so down to earth, family and work focused, and overall rays of sunshine. Plus I am weak for a boyfriend who is only slightly more buff and tol than his girlfriend. They’re a strong couple in more ways than one.
 
 
Anyway, hope you all enjoyed it! Feel free to give Celestial-Rainstorm some birthday love as well as check out the rest of her amazing art and characters!