Post by Milo Brightmane on Mar 6, 2020 15:44:12 GMT
At the sound of the frantic knocking, Milo stomped over to the door of the Hammerfall Smithy. "All right, all right!" Opening it revealed a young, female tiefling, skin of faintest purple, hair a bush of mahogany curls, hand still raised in knocking then bashfully lowered. "Good morning Nem. Excited for your first day, perhaps?"
The girl clasped her hands in front of her and nods, "Yep."
Milo smiles. "I suppose you'd better come in then."
A brief tour had taken place not too long ago when the arrangement had first been made, so Nem wasn't entirely lost in racks of tools and stacks of raw metal and half finished pieces. With a little hop she sat on the anvil, swinging her legs. "What're we doing first Mr Brightmane?" A thought struck her and she gasped, "Can we make a magic sword what's all made of light? I was reading this story about a boy on a farm who met this old man in the desert and he gave him a magic light sword and it was his dad's, and..."
"Nem!" Milo interrupted the flow. "Slow down. And down from there please."
The girl slipped off the anvil, embarrassed. "Sorry Mr Brightmane. I don't think I could hurt it though..."
"It isn't about damaging it, Nem." The dwarf ran his calloused hands over the surface of the metal. "It's about respect. This lump of steel is an altar. On it I sacrifice my time, and my energy, and in return a new creation is brought into the world. It might be a sword, yes. Or a cuirass. Do you know what that is?" The girl shook her head. "It's a breastplate and a backplate, made together," Milo explains, patting his barrel chest. "But the new creation is as likely to be a new hammer, or a kettle, or a hundred nails. Each one is important in its way. If we had only swords and no kettles, what sort of world would that be? All war, and no tea." He smiles at his little joke. "But I know the draw of arms and armour. There's a reason they hold such important roles in stories. So, come upstairs. I'll show you some things."
Through a small kitchen area and up some rickety wooden steps to an equally small sitting room, Milo gestured at two stands on one side of the room. On one hung a suit of chainmail, well-made but plain, and a silvered helm with a pointed dome. On the other, two far more impressive items. A suit of chainmail, brighter and finer, with intricate patterns almost woven into the links, topped by a helmet which covered far more of the jaw and face, emblazoned with a golden phoenix, wings extended. At the sight of the phoenix helm, Nem spun to face Milo.
"That was you at the Refuge last week! I din't know it was you, I couldn't see your face prop'ly!"
Milo chuckled. "Yes, that was me. Let me show you something. Do you understand Dethek, Dwarven?" Nem shook her head, confused. The dwarf lifted the helmet down from its stand and placed it on Nem's head. Its magical nature adapted to her, allowing her horns to pass through two perfectly shaped holes. <"Is that right? How about now?">
Nem shouted in amazement, "I can understand you! Like I don't know the words, but I know what you're saying! Woah..." Milo lifted the helmet back off her and replaced it on its stand.
"My finest work, I think. The result of a dangerous adventure, and an ongoing problem..." Milo's thoughts drifted briefly, but were brought back to the present by Nem's questioning.
"Do you do adventuring then? Is that why you were at the Refuge?"
"I suppose it became an adventure, of a sort." He gestured for them both to sit down at the roughly hewn table.
"We were there to help find a young boy named Bren. Do you know him?"
Nem shrugged. “A bit, I guess. He’s quiet. I heard he’d come here after his village got burned down.”
Milo nodded. “That’s what Mr Allenby told us too. Storn’s Hollow, some way north-west of here. Allenby let us search his belongings to see if we could find any clues. You saw the gnome that was with us, Elly? She found…” Milo paused before telling Nem about Bren’s picture diary. Something that personal probably shouldn’t be shared, and the boy had been through enough without the other children knowing all the details. If he wanted to share them at some point, that would be his choice. “She found something that made us think faeries were involved.”
Nem’s lips formed a perfect O. “Faeries?! No way, they’re not real.”
“I’m afraid they’re very real, and not to be taken lightly. Stories have done us a disservice by making fairies fun and harmless, but in reality their sense of fun is very different to ours, and can end up being outright cruel.” Nem’s eyes were wide with this newfound information, but she stayed silent, listening to the story.
“The human woman with the tattoos, Augustine, we sent her to talk to your friends Val and Rilla. Val didn’t say much, except to pass on what Rilla whispered to her, that Bren ‘went home with his friend’. Bren’s home or the friend’s home, we didn’t know, but Elly and Cadfan, a rogueish type, had had a run in with some fairies not too long ago…”
“They told us that story!” Nem interrupts. “About the faeries and hags. I thought they were making it up.”
Milo smiled at the memory of Sheryl doing her best to calm down the twenty or so children worked into hysterics by the fantastical nature of the story. “Well, I can’t vouch for the details, but what they said sounded about right, from what I know of faeries and hags. Anyway, we followed them up to the forest where they thought they’d been before, but they couldn’t seem to find their way. I wasn’t convinced the ‘home’ was the faeries’ home anyway, and as we were halfway to Storn’s Hollow anyway we decided to have a look. We arrived there the next day.”
He doesn’t tell her about the traveller who joined them at their campfire for a bite and a drink. Travelling merchants bringing news of increasing friction between the Kundarian clans was useful in real life but didn’t exactly make for an exciting story for a child. But Tommen Allthorpe had been good company, appreciating some conversation after long days alone on the road. He had stayed with them the night and went on his way in the morning.
“The place was a shell, Nem. Burnt to cinders. You’ve got some affinity with fire, and I like to think I do too after all these years, but never forget the damage it can do. Remember when we start working with it.” He doesn’t mention the charred skeletons they saw through the remains of walls, huddled under the ruined husks of tables and beds, failed attempts to hide from the fight. But he sees some understanding from Nem – Bren’s village had been attacked and now he was an orphan, like her.
“I will,” Nem says quietly. “What happened next?”
“There was a cave nearby.” Milo continues. “It looked like… a drawing Bren had made. So we went inside, and were almost immediately set upon by some horrible crab-like spider things. We almost lost Wellby…”
“Who’s Wellby?”
“Some fool boy who decided he wanted to be an adventurer! He must have only been a few years older than you… I suppose I blame myself, really, I should have sent him home the second things started looking strange. But no, I thought ‘Perhaps this will be a lesson for him’, but you have to live to learn lessons. Thankfully we managed to save him and kill these spider creatures.
We thought we’d found Bren in a wider part of the cave, but it turned out to be a type of faerie called a Boggle that was tricking us. It had taken Bren for a bit of fun, for entertainment.” Milo huffs. “Faeries… Anyway, we demanded Bren be returned, and it started attacking us, using these stick circles it had strung up everywhere as portals, disappearing and reappearing. We beat it though,” he finishes, drawing a smile and a sigh of relief from Nem. “We had some baron travelling with us, who frankly was useless, though his butler was more than meets the eye – he sent the Boggle flying across the room before I sent some little spiritual helpers to knock him about a bit. He did escape though, and I hope we don’t see him again. You let me know if you see or hear anything about the Refuge that sounds like faeries, alright?”
Nem nods whole-heartedly. “And now Bren’s back. He looked very thin when he came back.”
“That’s because the Boggle hadn’t fed him for days. It had only thought about its own fun, not Bren’s well-being.
Well,” Milo says, standing up and stretching, his back crackling, “you’re supposed to be here to learn about smithing, and here I am telling stories. Come on, back downstairs. I’ll show you the right way to start and maintain a fire.”
With a grin, the lilac tiefling leapt up and thundered down the stairs.
[Bren and Storn's Hollow first appeared in 'Wagons and Whispers', write-ups found here and here.]
The girl clasped her hands in front of her and nods, "Yep."
Milo smiles. "I suppose you'd better come in then."
A brief tour had taken place not too long ago when the arrangement had first been made, so Nem wasn't entirely lost in racks of tools and stacks of raw metal and half finished pieces. With a little hop she sat on the anvil, swinging her legs. "What're we doing first Mr Brightmane?" A thought struck her and she gasped, "Can we make a magic sword what's all made of light? I was reading this story about a boy on a farm who met this old man in the desert and he gave him a magic light sword and it was his dad's, and..."
"Nem!" Milo interrupted the flow. "Slow down. And down from there please."
The girl slipped off the anvil, embarrassed. "Sorry Mr Brightmane. I don't think I could hurt it though..."
"It isn't about damaging it, Nem." The dwarf ran his calloused hands over the surface of the metal. "It's about respect. This lump of steel is an altar. On it I sacrifice my time, and my energy, and in return a new creation is brought into the world. It might be a sword, yes. Or a cuirass. Do you know what that is?" The girl shook her head. "It's a breastplate and a backplate, made together," Milo explains, patting his barrel chest. "But the new creation is as likely to be a new hammer, or a kettle, or a hundred nails. Each one is important in its way. If we had only swords and no kettles, what sort of world would that be? All war, and no tea." He smiles at his little joke. "But I know the draw of arms and armour. There's a reason they hold such important roles in stories. So, come upstairs. I'll show you some things."
Through a small kitchen area and up some rickety wooden steps to an equally small sitting room, Milo gestured at two stands on one side of the room. On one hung a suit of chainmail, well-made but plain, and a silvered helm with a pointed dome. On the other, two far more impressive items. A suit of chainmail, brighter and finer, with intricate patterns almost woven into the links, topped by a helmet which covered far more of the jaw and face, emblazoned with a golden phoenix, wings extended. At the sight of the phoenix helm, Nem spun to face Milo.
"That was you at the Refuge last week! I din't know it was you, I couldn't see your face prop'ly!"
Milo chuckled. "Yes, that was me. Let me show you something. Do you understand Dethek, Dwarven?" Nem shook her head, confused. The dwarf lifted the helmet down from its stand and placed it on Nem's head. Its magical nature adapted to her, allowing her horns to pass through two perfectly shaped holes. <"Is that right? How about now?">
Nem shouted in amazement, "I can understand you! Like I don't know the words, but I know what you're saying! Woah..." Milo lifted the helmet back off her and replaced it on its stand.
"My finest work, I think. The result of a dangerous adventure, and an ongoing problem..." Milo's thoughts drifted briefly, but were brought back to the present by Nem's questioning.
"Do you do adventuring then? Is that why you were at the Refuge?"
"I suppose it became an adventure, of a sort." He gestured for them both to sit down at the roughly hewn table.
"We were there to help find a young boy named Bren. Do you know him?"
Nem shrugged. “A bit, I guess. He’s quiet. I heard he’d come here after his village got burned down.”
Milo nodded. “That’s what Mr Allenby told us too. Storn’s Hollow, some way north-west of here. Allenby let us search his belongings to see if we could find any clues. You saw the gnome that was with us, Elly? She found…” Milo paused before telling Nem about Bren’s picture diary. Something that personal probably shouldn’t be shared, and the boy had been through enough without the other children knowing all the details. If he wanted to share them at some point, that would be his choice. “She found something that made us think faeries were involved.”
Nem’s lips formed a perfect O. “Faeries?! No way, they’re not real.”
“I’m afraid they’re very real, and not to be taken lightly. Stories have done us a disservice by making fairies fun and harmless, but in reality their sense of fun is very different to ours, and can end up being outright cruel.” Nem’s eyes were wide with this newfound information, but she stayed silent, listening to the story.
“The human woman with the tattoos, Augustine, we sent her to talk to your friends Val and Rilla. Val didn’t say much, except to pass on what Rilla whispered to her, that Bren ‘went home with his friend’. Bren’s home or the friend’s home, we didn’t know, but Elly and Cadfan, a rogueish type, had had a run in with some fairies not too long ago…”
“They told us that story!” Nem interrupts. “About the faeries and hags. I thought they were making it up.”
Milo smiled at the memory of Sheryl doing her best to calm down the twenty or so children worked into hysterics by the fantastical nature of the story. “Well, I can’t vouch for the details, but what they said sounded about right, from what I know of faeries and hags. Anyway, we followed them up to the forest where they thought they’d been before, but they couldn’t seem to find their way. I wasn’t convinced the ‘home’ was the faeries’ home anyway, and as we were halfway to Storn’s Hollow anyway we decided to have a look. We arrived there the next day.”
He doesn’t tell her about the traveller who joined them at their campfire for a bite and a drink. Travelling merchants bringing news of increasing friction between the Kundarian clans was useful in real life but didn’t exactly make for an exciting story for a child. But Tommen Allthorpe had been good company, appreciating some conversation after long days alone on the road. He had stayed with them the night and went on his way in the morning.
“The place was a shell, Nem. Burnt to cinders. You’ve got some affinity with fire, and I like to think I do too after all these years, but never forget the damage it can do. Remember when we start working with it.” He doesn’t mention the charred skeletons they saw through the remains of walls, huddled under the ruined husks of tables and beds, failed attempts to hide from the fight. But he sees some understanding from Nem – Bren’s village had been attacked and now he was an orphan, like her.
“I will,” Nem says quietly. “What happened next?”
“There was a cave nearby.” Milo continues. “It looked like… a drawing Bren had made. So we went inside, and were almost immediately set upon by some horrible crab-like spider things. We almost lost Wellby…”
“Who’s Wellby?”
“Some fool boy who decided he wanted to be an adventurer! He must have only been a few years older than you… I suppose I blame myself, really, I should have sent him home the second things started looking strange. But no, I thought ‘Perhaps this will be a lesson for him’, but you have to live to learn lessons. Thankfully we managed to save him and kill these spider creatures.
We thought we’d found Bren in a wider part of the cave, but it turned out to be a type of faerie called a Boggle that was tricking us. It had taken Bren for a bit of fun, for entertainment.” Milo huffs. “Faeries… Anyway, we demanded Bren be returned, and it started attacking us, using these stick circles it had strung up everywhere as portals, disappearing and reappearing. We beat it though,” he finishes, drawing a smile and a sigh of relief from Nem. “We had some baron travelling with us, who frankly was useless, though his butler was more than meets the eye – he sent the Boggle flying across the room before I sent some little spiritual helpers to knock him about a bit. He did escape though, and I hope we don’t see him again. You let me know if you see or hear anything about the Refuge that sounds like faeries, alright?”
Nem nods whole-heartedly. “And now Bren’s back. He looked very thin when he came back.”
“That’s because the Boggle hadn’t fed him for days. It had only thought about its own fun, not Bren’s well-being.
Well,” Milo says, standing up and stretching, his back crackling, “you’re supposed to be here to learn about smithing, and here I am telling stories. Come on, back downstairs. I’ll show you the right way to start and maintain a fire.”
With a grin, the lilac tiefling leapt up and thundered down the stairs.
[Bren and Storn's Hollow first appeared in 'Wagons and Whispers', write-ups found here and here.]
