steel sharpens steel

title: steel sharpens steel
fandom: Stardew Valley
character(s)/pairing(s): Abigail and Clint. no pairings.
summary: Six moments in the journey of Clint taking on Abigail as his apprentice.
crossposted: AO3 / Tumblr

my drabbles for the Stardew Valley Fanfiction Writers Guild's Labor Day 2026 drabble challenge! this year, all the drabbles are meant to be read together to form a "literary sketch" of the story of Abigail becoming Clint's apprentice.

like last year, though, all the drabbles will be posted together on this post. if you'd like to see them as separate chapters, check them out on AO3, linked above.

day 1: ore

ask thrice

Abigail comes with a cracked sword, no gold, and an ask. Clint says no. He can't afford charity work with how the war's driving costs up; besides, the crack is only one of the old sword's problems.

Abigail comes with a sack of ore, some gold, and an ask. Clint says no. It won't cover even the steel for a sword; however, he hates to tell her that after her tale of gathering it.

Abigail comes with a blacksmithing apron, forge gloves, and an ask. Clint…listens. She apprentices with him, however long it takes; her pay is the materials and tools to forge her sword.

They shake on it.

base components

"Heat, plus reducing agent, plus time," Clint says as Abigail dumps ore into the furnace. "Eventually, we'll have pig iron."

Abigail finishes the layer before plunging the shovel into the earth. She leans on the handle, panting in the summer sun. "You do this every day?"

"Most days."

Abigail groans. She looks between the piles of ore, coke, and limestone she has left, then hangs her head. Clint watches her for a moment, realizes he's looking at himself from twenty years ago, and rubs his goatee with his entire hand to cover his surprised huff.

"Coke, next," he says. With a sigh, Abigail wrenches the shovel free to begin again.

day 2: fruit

of one's labor

Clint hands Abigail a crowbar and nods at the crate. "Go ahead, then."

Abigail looks between him, the crowbar, and the crate. Frowns. "What's in it?"

"Why don't you open it and find out?" Clint replies.

Abigail rolls her eyes, but pries the top off one corner at a time. Puts the lid off to side, rips open the packaging, and looks up at Clint with a raised eyebrow. "Steel?"

Clint nods. "Round and square bars."

"…Okay?"

"Made from the pig iron you smelted."

Abigail blinks, then looks back down at the metal. Smiles as she runs her fingers along a bar. Clint knows the feeling. Smiles a bit, too.

at dawn's shadow

Clint walks out into a frosty autumn morning with two mugs of coffee. It's early enough that the sun's just a suggestion off to the east, but Abigail's here already, arranging crates into a table near the furnace.

"Morning," Clint says. "What'd you bring?"

"Blackberry cobbler," Abigail yawns. He hands off her usual mug; she gulps some, then passes him a spoon and a furnace-warmed plate.

His coffee's serviceable, but the cobbler's perfect—sweet, tart, and buttery. They sit and eat in silence at the edge of the furnace's warm glow.

What a life, Clint thinks. He sips his coffee and watches the sun slowly paint the valley in light.

day 3: fish

tempering

"You shot your shot and it missed, and that blows," Abigail says as she shoulders her bag. "But it's still good you shot it."

"Sure, for the practice," Clint says flatly from the counter as he counts the till. "Because there's more fish in the sea. Right? That's what everyone's said."

"No." The force in her voice makes Clint look up. Abigail's glaring at him, arms crossed. "Because you went after what you fucking want."

Clint blinks. She doesn't.

"That's why I'm here," Abigail says. "And that's why you finally told her. Because we're people who make things happen for ourselves."

She nods and leaves, Clint just staring after her.

brick by brick

On Abigail's first blade, the taper isn't totally symmetrical, the tang wasn't drawn out cleanly, and it's a touch out of true. But as she carefully looks it over in the forge's light, Clint knows she's seeing it for what it is: a milestone.

"It took forever to get here," Abigail says.

"I told you it would. But—you made it."

"Why'd you take me on, knowing that?"

He pauses. "My father said it's hard to find a man who wants to learn how to fish," Clint says. "So…I figured, if you were serious enough to ask, and stay, you were worth teaching."

Abigail smiles. "Alright. Then what's next?"