It was late at night. Mark had been hammering away all day and well into the night, making these strange devices for the city lord. Gear and cogs made of bronze that fit together to make something larger. When the master blacksmith first took this job, he thought it would be easy. Just a few cogs. But every single one had to be so precise, without a single fault lest they crack and ruin everything. Well, they made it easier for the siege machines to function. That meant less of his friends and family dying out on the battlefield.

As sparks rose around him, Mark saw something flutter about outside. Something small. Curiosity got the better of the Blacksmith and he went outside to check. At the base of the window lay a girl. A girl the size of his thumb. A girl covered in scratches and a torn dress. On her back lay the tattered remains of a pair of wings. It was a fairy.

Crouching down, he carefully picked her up. Nearby, the sounds of a cat meowing could be heard. The beast would devour this poor thing if it got near. He couldn't, wouldn't allow that. Mark did his best to try and remember the legends about faeries. But they were so numerous and so old that they couldn't be trusted. He would just have to treat this one with care until she got better.

He got a small washcloth, a clean one, and set it down on a bench. He got a bowl and broke the side of it, then put a few hot coals in it. Using the broken bit, he covered the top, forcing the heat out the side towards the fae. "Sleep little one. I shall care for you."

As the night went on, Mark worked on. He slept little these days. It seemed tonight was one of those nights he wouldn't sleep at all, just kept hammering away. Making cog and gear, along with a few side projects for locals. A hoe for John, a new washboard for Margret. The usual things that a thriving farming town would need.

Upon dawn, Mark finally laid down his hammer. He had been checking on the fairy all night, but it had not even stirred. He was worried that he had been too late. That it was already dead. But this time, she was laying on her side, instead of her back. The Blacksmith sighed in relief. He made himself breakfast. Then made a smaller version for the girl. Two crumbs of bread, a thin slice of bacon, and a teeny, tiny wedge of cheese. Some sugar water to wash it down too. She would need the extra energy the sugar gave, even if it was rare to get.

Soon, the Blacksmith was back to work. Not on cogs and coils this time, but on nails and hammers. You needed more than just cogs and coils to build great machines of war. It was simple work, something he could do while tired. If they were slightly off, it didn't matter.

Just as he had started working, Mark saw something move in the side of his eye. It was the fairy. She had woken and was staring at him. He had no clue how he had noticed her, but he supposed it was due to the fact that nothing happened in his workshop without him feeling it in his very bones. He was just that connected to the place.

"Little one. You should rest. Eat and sleep. You have quite a fall last night." Mark said, putting his hammer down for the moment.

"Was it you, who rescued me then? You, who saved me from the foul beast?" The creature asked, voice as soft as the wind, yet carrying across the room with ease.

"The cat? Yes, it doesn't come around here. Not since I hammered its tail flat after it knocked a hot piece of metal onto me." The master Blacksmith answered. "Are you ok? I noticed how hurt you are."

"Yes. None are life-threatening. Though I could do with some more sugar water. We don't eat normal foods, but sugar water gives us energy and can sustain us." The Fae answered, not moving from the makeshift cot.

Mark merely nodded and left the room, coming back with a glass of sugar water, then pouring it in the thimble for the girl to drink. If he had not been so close, he would have missed it. The girl had mumbled to herself while inspecting her wings. "I won't ever fly again."

"I humbly open my home to you, fairy. You may stay here as long as you like. Not like you will eat much." The Blacksmith said, trying his best to make the girl feel welcome. He had an idea, but he wasn't sure if it would work. It was an expensive idea at that.

"I most humbly accept your generosity. I wait for the fae mother to notice that I am gone and send someone to retrieve me since I cannot fly to the waygate. Before you offer to take me, know that it would be many months travel for a human."

John reached down into a chest he kept hidden behind an old anvil. It was only for large projects, not the smaller ones he did now. In the chest, he pulled out a strange metal bar. It was a green-gold colour and reflected the light of the coals like glass. "You can pay me back by telling me what happened."

The fae nodded, though John didn't see it, and began to tell her story. All the while, John began working on the metal. Heating it up, then cutting a quarter of the bar off and heating that bit up a lot more.

"I was fighting in a war. Against beings older than the world itself. The war had been raging of eons. You humans call it the 'flow of magic'. The more we win, the easier the flow is for elemental magic, the more we lose, the easier it is for darker kinds of magic. We pushed them back so very far this time. Almost to their home. Then, they counterattack in such force we were pushed almost to home."

The fae shook her head, bad memories flooding her mind. She was startled out of it as the Blacksmith approached and held up a ruler next to her. "Don't mind me, go on." He said, taking measurements of her from all sides. The fairy couldn't help but blush as he took her bust size by wrapping a finger and thumb around her chest, then the same for we waist, with only a mumbled sorry as an apology.

"A-anyway." She started, as the blacksmith pulled out a hammer much smaller than the one he was using. "After we were pushed back, many of us had to flee to the human realm. We have had to do it many times before, so it wasn't seen as a big issue. However, this time there was a battle being raged outside, and we were all caught in it. The humans didn't even notice us, yet we were still caught in the crossfire. Arrows, swords, boulder larger than houses. We were cut down by all, without anyone even noticing."

The blacksmith nodded while grabbing another tool. Some sort of clamp he used to twist the string of metal he had made. There also seemed to be some cogs taking shape. Small ones, that seemed too small to fit in anything but the smallest of clocks.

"After escaping the battle, I fled in a random direction, looking for a way home. As I moved about, I was attacked many times. First was the crows, who waited nearby to feast upon the dead. Then the eagles, who waited beyond, ready to feast upon the crows who grew too fat to fly. Then, when I was exhausted from the flight, it was the rats who attacked me while on the ground. Finally, it was the cat who was the one to take my wings. It lept out from the shadows, taking my wings with it."

The Blacksmith paused his work, turning on the girl. A frown marred his face. "That is quite the tale. I hope to make up the wrongs that have been done to you with kindness if you would let me."

The girl was shocked by the words. What great deed could ever be done that would give her back the perfect skin of a fairy, or the wings that are unique to every individual? This human was trying to make promises that no one could keep, not the mightiest fae or human. "Thank you, but do not make promises you cannot keep. A promise made to a fairy must be kept, or you will suffer pain for the rest of your life."

The Blacksmith smiled at her, a sad look in his eyes. "I already suffer. My son has been taken by this darned war. My daughter, killed and raped in a back alley by a group of hooligans. My wife, bless her soul, couldn't take the pain and ended it all. I will help you. Let this old man do one last good deed."

The fae was left in shock. She had suffered physically, yes. But this man had suffered from a blow that will never heal. The ache will never go away. She may never fly again, but he shall never truly smile.

The blacksmith turned back to his work, hammering away with the tiny hammer. From dawn till dusk he worked, the fae silently watching his back. Eventually, the sun began to rise once more, and only then did he turn around fully. In his hands lay a set of wings. A perfect pair of metal wings.

"Here, try these on." The blacksmith said, holding them out for her.

"They will be too heavy. I am small, I cannot hope to carry these." She said, biting back tears. They were beautiful artworks. Covered in cogs that seemed to spin together endlessly.

"It will be fine. I used a rare and magical metal known as Gravitite. They are weightless. Be careful though, they are fragile. The metal will break under the softest touch." The blacksmith said, holding them even closer to the girl.

She slowly reached out and touched them. Wrapping both hands around the base of the wings, she lifted them up with ease. Placing them on her back, they seemed to fuse perfectly with that was left of her wings. Not even tugging or pulling on them.

With three light flaps, her magic begun to move through the metal, the cogs spinning the magic like a spool of wool. A fourth flap and she rose in the air, a fifth and she was flying. The tears in her eyes burst out in joy. She could fly.

"Thank you, oh thank you!" She cried out, flying up to the Blacksmith. She tried her best to hug him, but was too small. That didn't bother either of them, as the blacksmith placed a single finger against the back of her head, returning the gesture.

"You were hurt. It was the least I could do." The Blacksmith said, looking down upon the girl.

"I-I must go. I must find the others! We must go home!" She cried out, excitement in her voice. Her sudden burst of excitement died, however, as she turned on the Blacksmith. "I have no way to repay you. I have neither money nor possessions."

The Blacksmith shook his head. "The only payment I need is the smile of a young woman." He answered, and somehow the fairy knew it to be true. So she gave the happiest, most sincere smile she had ever given. Then out of the window, she took off, calling for her sisters.

Years passed. Eventually, the Blacksmith passed on. Even though he had no family, nor any remaining friends, every day there was a new flower upon his grave. People of the town whispered that he was the friend of faeries, for he had given flight back to their Queen.