Thovren Struggled under the weight of the ore sack he was carrying. Ususally the blacksmith purchased the ore he needed from the caravans. And he had enough to last a couple weeks unless a particualrly large order needed to be filled. But the Milita didn't wear much pure metal armour. Generally the only solid iron or steel objects were the weapons they carried. Leather breastplates and bracers served just fine for what they needed. But there were some days when a little more was needed. 
Gowran didn't say what he needed this extra ore for right in the middle of the day. He needed someone to help carry it back with him. Thovren spent the better part of his afternoon Trudging to the only location he knew of in the forest to contain iron ore. Beside the burly blacksmith. He foolishly assumed at first he was coming along as protection for Gowran from wolves or forest predators. But as he heard the mining pick stop ringing and his name being called his heart dropped.
 The village didn't have a mine but luckily they didn't have to draw on the vein to often so there was still plenty visible on the surface lair. And it wasn't TOO far away. But still. Thovren wasn't weak. He kept himself in good shape for someone his age especially. He took his duties in the militia seriously and trained as often as he could. But Gowran's sack was easily twice the size of his own and the burly man walked leisurely with it slung over his back to his small smithy. Whistling all the while. Thovren didn't mind helping the blacksmith from time to time. He preferred it to working the farm. And he hoped to pick up a few small tricks from time to time about casting his own bolt heads. 
As the sun started to set at the end if the day Thovren set the heavy sack down beside Gowran's and tried not to lean over with his hands on his knees and gasp for air. Even so his breath was laboured from the arduous hike. He turned to leave, thinking his duty was done when he heard his name called again by the familiar gruff voice. “EH boy! The ore's no good until we smelt it.” Thovren held back a grumble and turned back into the smithy to help pour some of the ore into the furnace to smelt down over night.