Read by Michael Flamel

The sun was just beginning its descent behind the rolling hills, casting a warm glow over the village. The familiar clang of metal against metal echoed from the blacksmith’s forge as Old Sam toiled away, his muscles straining with each hammer blow. Despite his years of experience, the relentless work took its toll, leaving him with persistent aches and pains that lingered long after the fire had cooled.

The herbalist, with her keen eye for noticing those in need, had observed Old Sam’s discomfort during her visits to the village square. Determined to offer him relief, she set about crafting a special balm designed to soothe his weary muscles.

With a basket of freshly harvested herbs in hand, the herbalist made her way to the blacksmith’s forge. The bell above the door jingled softly as she entered, greeted by the rhythmic clinking of metal and the comforting warmth of the forge.

“Good day, Old Sam,” she called out cheerfully, her voice cutting through the sound of hammer blows. “I’ve brought something that might help ease those aches of yours.”

Old Sam paused mid-strike, wiping the sweat from his brow as he turned to face Elara. “Well now, that sounds mighty kind of you, lass. What’ve you got for an old blacksmith like meself?”

The herbalist smiled warmly, setting down her basket and withdrawing a small jar filled with a rich, golden balm. “It’s a special muscle balm I whipped up just for you,” she explained, unscrewing the lid to reveal the aromatic scent of ginger and cayenne pepper. “Made with ingredients straight from my herb garden.”

Old Sam’s eyes widened with curiosity as he leaned in to get a better whiff of the balm. “Smells potent, that does,” he remarked, a hint of excitement in his voice.

“It’s got all the good stuff,” Elara replied with a chuckle, dipping her fingers into the balm and scooping out a generous dollop. “Here, let me show you how it works.”

With gentle hands, she began to massage the balm into Old Sam’s weary muscles, the warmth of the ginger and cayenne pepper working its magic to ease away the tension. As she worked, they exchanged stories and laughter, reminiscing about days gone by and sharing tales of their favorite herbs.

“Ah, that feels right lovely, it does,” Old Sam sighed contentedly, his muscles relaxing beneath the herbalist’s skilled touch. “You’ve got a real talent for this, lass.”

The herbalist beamed with pride, her heart warmed by the gratitude in Old Sam’s eyes. “Just doing my part to spread a little herbal magic,” she replied modestly, placing a comforting hand on his shoulder. “You take it easy now, Old Sam. And don’t be shy about asking for more balm if you need it.”

With a grateful nod, Old Sam watched as the herbalist gathered her things and made her way back out into the fading light of day. As he returned to his work with renewed vigor, a sense of gratitude washed over him, knowing that he had a friend in the herbalist and a remedy for his aches close at hand.

And so, as the sun dipped below the horizon and the village settled into the gentle embrace of evening, Old Sam hammered away with a newfound spring in his step, his muscles soothed and his spirit uplifted by the healing touch of herbs.