the young man is looking at the place: he goes inside, to see if the life is better there.
a great smith all in sparkles and smoke looked at him and his eyes reflected the fire.
‘yes, i need a hand,’ he said, gladly looking at the young man’s broad shoulders. ‘take this hammer then. the iron is sparkling hot.’ the young man has nothing to do but take the hammer and sweat for an hour or so. the sprite works the bellows and sings, and the smith keeps the rhythm with his hammer. the fire is roaring and the sparkles are flying, and all things go like in a merry hell. 