Posted by
Goran at 6:45 PM
Sunday, April 26th in the 9th year of the King's reign
Goran,
Smithcraft
alla said to me some days ago, “Wisdom is understanding the weight of your actions.” We were speaking of Hector and Arras, a poem in which a foolish lord slays great monsters. “Do you understand what you have wrought with your hands?” I did not realize at first that she meant, literally, the tools that I have wrought.
Much of my smith-work is the crafting of weapons and armor for the Duke. I have not the valor to wield my swords in battle, but with them, how many men have been slain?
It is comforting to me that most of the battles are fought against elves. And even Breck, whose skull is missing a handsbreadth of bone, admits that the pitched and glorious fights of song are rare. But even if my blades have only slit the throats of brigands and the lordless, have my hands made widows and orphans?
Other tools I make as well. I have sharpened three plows in the last week alone, and re-shod a spade. From such instruments spring life and sustenance.
And what of the hooks I made for the recent Hunt? Two knights must catch the beast by its reeking nostrils so that the worm can neither breathe nor make fire. So held, the poor creature dies of a spear thrust into its eye or throat. What pain it must suffer, yet in past times, they say, dragons laid waste to entire cities and counties.
The Lady Dalla is disquieting to me, and when she speaks to me, my thoughts fill with confusion.
I would put this out of mind, if it weren’t also for the news from the Free Towns. The King has refused to send more men to protect the towns and farms during the summer campaigns. The elven raids have grown worse each summer for the last several years, as it is clear that the king cannot repel the invaders. Now the Free Towns are arming themselves, which is expressly forbidden by charter.
I can only hope that these rumors are not true, for it is very worrisome.
og covers Cannaghdown. Dark shapes pass close by the smithy and fade away. All sound is dulled, and even the ring of metal is soft and dull.
About mid-morning, a child burst from the fog into the smithy. She stood watching me, hands behind her back, for some time. I said nothing at first.
When I realized she would not leave, I set aside my work, left the end of a rod of iron in the fire, and rolled a stump towards one of the anvils. “Do you want to stand on this and help me?” The child scrambled eagerly onto the stump and waited for me. I held the rod and, my hand over hers on the handle of a small hammer, we bent the rod on the horn of the anvil.
We had time only for a few slow strikes of the hammer before the iron had cooled too much to work. “What’re we making?” she asked finally. “Hooks for the dragon hunt,” I replied. “Have you ever seen a dragon?” She shook her head, her eyes wide as she looked up at me. “Neither have I,” I said. “Not a live one anyway.”
Posted by
Goran at 5:50 PM
Wednesday, March 25th in the 9th year of the King's reign
Goran,
Ivar,
Smithcraft
o not think a smith spends all his time hammering metal upon the anvil.
I had to ask Ivar what kind of knives he required. He told me only that they were required for some ceremony and that they needed to have sharp cutting edges. When I pressed him further, I learned that he cared not whether the blade was straight or curved, whether there was a guard, nor did he even need a handle.
The first step in knife-making is to notch a flat piece of iron with a fuller. From the notches, the smith draws out the tang. (I decided to punch holes in the tang anyways, in case Ivar later wished to add a handle.) Then he bends the end that will become the blade and hammers the inside edge until it is straight again. This is the back or spine of the knife, and the other edge is now curved. The smith must work quickly so as not to heat the metal more times than necessary and to keep the metal free of scale from the forge.
Next the knife is ground with the wheel to the proper shape. This is what takes time.
To harden the metal, the the knife is returned to the fire, heated, and quenched in brine. Finally, the smith must polish and temper the knife so it keeps a sharp edge. I prefer to heat the knife directly over the forge fire, but the smith may also place the back of the knife on a heated block and draw the colors up into the knife, until the tang is blue and the edge is the color of straw.
I sharpened the knives carefully, as Ivar had been very particular that the knives be equally sharp. This was all done perhaps two weeks ago. He did not come by to pick them up, until today.
He swept in—always he sweeps, now—and asked to see the knives. I was making nails, but I put that aside. Ivar seemed pleased, but he asked me several times if the knives were equally sharp. He promised to explain soon.