Horseshoes and Cantrips (Aerendyl Dy'ner)
Posted: Sat Feb 13, 2021 12:11 am
"Focus, Aerendyl!"
The words snapped him back to reality and he quickly grabbed the glowing metal rod from the forge with the tongs and placed it on the anvil.
The rod wasn't heavy, but he could feel the muscles in his arms and shoulders ache as he carefully lifted it. He'd already spent the last two days 'training' with Miiria, or as he liked to think of it, 'torture'. One hand still holding the tongs, he reluctantly took up the blacksmith's hammer again, blinking sweat out of his eyes.
"You'll never be a decent smith, let alone a good one, if your mind is always off with the Fey" came the remonstration, accompanied by the now customary slow shake of her head and disapproving glare.
"At worst, you're going to end up with one of those rods...somewhere unpleasant. And don't think I'll be the one to pay for a healer for you."
Doing his best to lift the hammer, which now seemed to have grown to the weight of a young adult dragon, he tried to focus on the task at hand. Raise the hammer... swing the hammer. Put more strength in the swing. Don't overwork one area. Picture the shape you want to create. Strike fast, don't let the metal get cold. He repeated the tenets of his new religion to himself mentally as he continued to hammer the metal with every ounce of strength his slender frame could muster.
"Don't worry, your body will adapt" she sounded slightly amused now, as if she took a perveserse joy in putting him through the crucible she herself had already passed through, "Or at the least, your stamina will improve."
He knew they all had his best interests at heart: his mother and father, his aunt Liria, even Miria with her daily torture sessions. They all wanted him to fulfill his 'potential', whatever they imagined that might be. But he couldn't help but think that there was more to his future than simply pounding a hammer on an anvil day-in day-out.
Not that he didn't like smithing, excruciatingly exhausting and painful as it was right now. The joy of creating something new, and hopefully veluthe, and of knowing it would be appreciated by someone somewhere was both a novel and welcome feeling to the young moon elf.
As he finished up his hammering and thrust the now horseshoe-shaped piece of metal into the basin of water, he couldn't help but steal another glance at the stone tower on the other side of the river. He sighed and pulled the horseshoe out of the water, holding it up so that Miiria could inspect it.
"Not bad" she admitted grudgingly, "A few dozen more like that and you might be ready to move on to something harder."
He groaned inwardly. His aunt really had banished him to the Nine Hells...
The words snapped him back to reality and he quickly grabbed the glowing metal rod from the forge with the tongs and placed it on the anvil.
The rod wasn't heavy, but he could feel the muscles in his arms and shoulders ache as he carefully lifted it. He'd already spent the last two days 'training' with Miiria, or as he liked to think of it, 'torture'. One hand still holding the tongs, he reluctantly took up the blacksmith's hammer again, blinking sweat out of his eyes.
"You'll never be a decent smith, let alone a good one, if your mind is always off with the Fey" came the remonstration, accompanied by the now customary slow shake of her head and disapproving glare.
"At worst, you're going to end up with one of those rods...somewhere unpleasant. And don't think I'll be the one to pay for a healer for you."
Doing his best to lift the hammer, which now seemed to have grown to the weight of a young adult dragon, he tried to focus on the task at hand. Raise the hammer... swing the hammer. Put more strength in the swing. Don't overwork one area. Picture the shape you want to create. Strike fast, don't let the metal get cold. He repeated the tenets of his new religion to himself mentally as he continued to hammer the metal with every ounce of strength his slender frame could muster.
"Don't worry, your body will adapt" she sounded slightly amused now, as if she took a perveserse joy in putting him through the crucible she herself had already passed through, "Or at the least, your stamina will improve."
He knew they all had his best interests at heart: his mother and father, his aunt Liria, even Miria with her daily torture sessions. They all wanted him to fulfill his 'potential', whatever they imagined that might be. But he couldn't help but think that there was more to his future than simply pounding a hammer on an anvil day-in day-out.
Not that he didn't like smithing, excruciatingly exhausting and painful as it was right now. The joy of creating something new, and hopefully veluthe, and of knowing it would be appreciated by someone somewhere was both a novel and welcome feeling to the young moon elf.
As he finished up his hammering and thrust the now horseshoe-shaped piece of metal into the basin of water, he couldn't help but steal another glance at the stone tower on the other side of the river. He sighed and pulled the horseshoe out of the water, holding it up so that Miiria could inspect it.
"Not bad" she admitted grudgingly, "A few dozen more like that and you might be ready to move on to something harder."
He groaned inwardly. His aunt really had banished him to the Nine Hells...