Because I have apparently failed to adequately describe the characters with which the story is concerned (thank you Tot for bringing this to my attention), I offer updated descriptions here. You may rest assured, these descriptions will be placed in the story where appropriate.
At the age of fourteen, Baelin was now on the verge of reaching a man’s height. His head was graced with hair a regal shade of brown—despite countless hours in the sun—which was cut long and most often held back with a simple tie. He was rather thickly muscled for one of his age, though hardly to the point where it would merit any serious note from someone examining him. He had a nose that hooked ever so slightly downward at the bridge, and a prominent chin, complimented with a dimple.
He stood perhaps half a head taller than Baelin and had sun-kissed brown hair and dark eyes. He had, if not a strong face, at least a proportioned one with a straight nose and prominent, but not too prominent, cheek bones.
Forden was a withered old cobbler, spritely for his age, or older than he looked, Baelin wasn’t sure which. He had a full head of white hair and a thin frame that had never been thick to begin with. The old cobbler reminded Baelin of a well-worn old tool, showing all the signs of long and hard use, while maintaining all the important faculties and bearing a great deal of character as a result.
(This is a composite of description that is scattered throughout her first scene. And if it seems--as it is--longer than the other descriptions, I hope you realize that is because, as a male, Baelin has taken a much greater interest in her appearance, she being, first a female, and second an attractive one.)
Baelin looked around and found a slender girl, maybe four inches taller than him, with jet black hair and porcelain skin, leaning against a nearby tree with a smirk that was a display of sweetness and innocence so perfect it had to be false.
The girl’s smile broadened to reveal a row of perfect teeth.
Baelin spotted something hanging from the girl’s waist, like a sword, but it hung wrong to be a blade. And her outfit was cleverly disguised armor of some form, black and tightly fitted, though not so much as to inhibit movement or practicality.
She had the perfect slope to her nose, and she moved… seductively; there was no other way to put it. Her hips rocked back and forth, and her slender frame seemed taut and supple... She was without flaw.
... noticing up close that her face was lined with a mass of thin scars, cleverly disguised with make-up, but still visible.
Hopefully this gives a clear enough picture for those who desire such things!