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Some would say over the past few days that Locke had gained a lighter step. It could be from the lack of weight he now carried at his hip. As his coin pouch was now considerably lighter. He had spent the remainder of his coin upon materials and equipment to set himself in motion for the task at hand, but he knew little to none about the finer points of woodworking. A bench. How hard could it be? He had found himself saying to himself on quite a few occasions. But the more he explained to the smith at the fairs in sardar, the more he realized that a lot of work was going to be put forth in making this particular item. But, his word was already spoken, and he owed such…for an inside joke. But this he would gladly pay a hundred times over. As he begun to work out the details, or measurements and design, he came to realize still, that gathering the materials was by far…the easy part. Aside from having to come up and map out the details on paper, the whole time laughing to himself because he couldn’t get over, how much he would of liked to have a scribe do this crap for him, but then he figured it’d be better off if he had a builder do, but he still found a chuckle at the thought every now and then. His hand had grown cramped quite a few times, between the writing out the idea’s on a scroll or spare parchment of paper, then moving to trace out a guideline upon the actual piece of wood. Before his hands would finally get down to the cutting, and spiking. His design was basic. She needed no fluff with anything she owned. And his mouth wore a smile through the entirety of his work. Cutting, plaining, sanding, spiking…repeatedly, only to begin anew on a number of occasions, when he began to work on a new section, until finally, with his hands upon his hips and taking a step back, he would glance to the small wonder that he built himself. It wasn’t the prettiest, as he wasn’t a professional, but…it was one of the greatest things he did with his life. He smiled even wider as he moved to the dust covered bench to retrieve the small trinket that would end it all. A small golden plaque, probably what had made his coin pouch so much lighter. Spiked in it’s four corners to fasten between the seats upon a small flat surface he placed should she ever wish to sit and work on her…scribing or the likes. Simply enough, the plaque was etched in unprofessional words, a poem. He had owed it to her since the Thing.

Have you ever found someone
That you fell for at first sight,
And every time you see them
Your heart is filled with fright.
Have you ever found someone
Who gives you a warm embrace
Every time you think of
Their sweet smile on their face.
Have you ever found someone
So alluring you could have died,
And you never could forget them
Even if you tried.
Yet you can’t stop thinking of them
Even though you know its true,
That no matter how much you care
They’ll never think of you.
And just for that reason
You sometimes try to go on,
But every time you see them
Your thoughts come back just as strong.
Have you ever found someone
That never thought about you,
I know that I have
I’ve always thought about you