The Mending of Armour
Smithy
Within
the stone walls of the smith's shop you see gleaming shields, swords, armor and
tools hanging everywhere. A few paces from the door there is a counter, and
midway back into the shop itself, there are all manner of tools for the working
of metal: several anvils of various shapes and sizes, a mandril, different
hammers, tongs, chisels and punches by the score, trouths and buckets of brine,
water, oil, barrels of iron rings, coils of wire, half turned rods and straps,
scraps of metal here and there, multitude horse shoes hung on poles across the
ceiling, buckets and bags of studs and nails and rivits, looped lengths of
chain. Bags and barrels of charcoal of varying consistencies, a shovel pushed
into a pile of soot in the corner, heavy tables and work benches, legged vices
and clamps, boxes whose contents and use are unknown.
A loud knocking falls upon the doorway of the forge. The heavy door of the smithy creaks open and within its frame a tall man steps, stooping to enter. Golden hair and a long sandy beard reveal his Marachian blood and his garb is that of a woodsman, ragged and worn, travel stained, yet presently clean. A slight cough heralds his coming, rising loud over the braying of the
smith. "Good day friend Rahner."
Over his shoulder the passing day can be seen, though the sun is up it is falling fast and the light in the sky is flat and failing. Cool air draughts around the mans shoulders and he smiles broadly. In his hands is a large piewce of leather work, many times studded with iron, yet its front surface seems burst open and split by sew hewing blow. The mans voice rises again, louder than he might pitch it normally. "Well met man, I hope it's not too late in the day. I've been much occupied with hunting this morn."
The clanging of the hammer on the metal stops, the silence almost seeming louder than the preceding noise, as Rahner halts his blow in mid-strike. He squints against the sunlight, trying to identify the silhouette outlined in the doorway. "Ah, the bowman and scout," he says, putting down hammer, tongs and metal on a nearby bench, "and so you're a hunter, too, Baradil?" He
raises his arms above his head and stretches his arm- and shoulder-muscles, loosing them as he takes a few steps in the general direction of the counter and door. "Have you come to show me that armour of yours?"
The scout nods his head, still standing in the frame of the door, his back exposed to the eye of the market place. He begins to speak and smiles broadly. "Indeed I need it fixing, I can hunt, but I'd fear for my safety with out a sturdy harness on me." He steps in, without closing the door; the stifling heat perhaps a touch too great for him. He streches out his arms, cradling the set of brown tanned armour, the dull iron studding glowing slighy in the orange glow of the forge light. "I'd appreciate and estimate
on the cost of fixing it, for I need armour badly."
Rahner, taking off his heavy smith's apron, nods. "These are indeed frightening times for the unprepared." He beckons the scout to come in further. "Do sit down," he says, motioning to one of a pair of chairs near the counter, "I'll have to take a look at this before I can say anything about cost." He tosses his apron over the back of the other chair, and takes the armour, holding it out in front of him as he studies it.
Amabel saw her tall new friend entering the smithy and decided to greet him. She comes behind him in workshop and stops on entrance. She wait a little until she noticed that men look in her direction, then bows and say with a smile to Baradil:" Greetings M'lord, It really make my day beautiful to see you again." And then looking at Smith and his helper add "Gentleman, god day
to you."
The scout nods as the smith bids him to be seated, turning on his heal his walks over the stone floor of the smithy, his boots scuffing softly. Just as his knees bend to sit another voice comes, it is a young womans and familiar. Standing again and turning his head to face Amabel Baradil smiles broadly. "Well met M'lady." He waves to the seat next to him, "Be seated, we shall talk." He turns his head to Rahner and nods, "Many thanks for this service friend. And this young Lady is Amabel." he turns to the lass " And this smith is called Rahner." And with that Baradil lets his knees sink again as he drops to sitting with a sigh of content and relaxation.
Rahner quickly moves to grab the apron off the chair in which Baradil bade Amabel be seated, and with a wry grin, nods a welcome to the girl. "Pleased to meet you, Lady Amabel." He tosses the apron over the counter, and continues to study the armour, holding it up in various ways. "It's a well-made piece, Baradil, but I'm afraid this panel will have to be replaced, as well as the studs and rivets on this side." He illustrates his words with motions, pointing out exactly what he means. "I might have a
piece of leather of this thickness and heaviness left, that should fit ..."
Girl smile and bow again " It is pleasure to meet you, Sir." She approach to Baradil and sit next to him, this make her little nervous so she played with her bag until men did not finish their conversation. She looks at Baradil and ask "What happened? Why do you need to repair that?"
The scout smiles and looks to Amabel as she sits and adresses him. He shuffles himself and his seat a bit away from the lass for his shoudlers prooved over broad as it was. With a soft chuckle he begins to speak, "Ahhh, I was struck I'm afraid. Damn hard too. 'Twas a battle axe and it burst both armour and flesh well open. Yet I was lucky enough to trot of with my hide in tact." He smiles and turns to Rahner, his voice sobering a little, as if for business. "Friend, I know you are a craftsman so what I shall ask you may be hard to bare. That harness has taken alot of abuse and after I am finished with it, it will do for scrap alone. Make its sturdy, but do not make it a handsome job, do it as easily as it can be for your good self."
The smith walks to the back of the smithy while his customers talk, and rummages through a pile of unclassifiable pieces of metal and leather. His soft chuckle can be heard by the scout and his lady-friend, as he calls from the back. "Indeed, I would rather deliver a proper piece of work, but when push comes to shove, no Orc would spare you for the beautiful piece of
absolutely worthless armour you're wearing . . . Ah, here," he picks something up and holds it against the light. As he walks to the front of the smithy, you can see it's an old saddle. "This should yield a piece that's big enough." As he places it near the armour, you can see that the saddle's colour is much lighter than the armour's. "But you're right, this won't be pretty, but I think it will be safe."
Amabel's eyes open wide. She was amassed when she hears that her friend was hurt. She looks at him as she thought to find a bleeding wound upon him right now. She looks at Rahner; confused, happy for time he gave her with his answer. For her it was embarrassment to get such response from her new friend. But she gets some courage and asks, "Is it hurt much?"
The scout listens to Rahner and his face wears a serious look, his eyes fastened with interest. "An old saddle? Well that is novell, but saddles are well strong enough. How will you join the panels, stiching or riveting them together? It would take a fair needle to join them. Perhaps you could use the studs as rivits as well, make two jobs one." He turns his head towards Amabel and smiles kindly. "Ahh fear not lass, I'm all but healed." His hand pats his tomach lightly and he nods, "It was a nasty wound, but the flesh is knitted and wholsome so in a few days all will be fine."
She saw that night is approaching and suddenly she remember that she has to go back to a healing house and deliver plants she collected today. She stands up. "O my. I forget I have to get back to a healer house. " It was obvious that she is rather nervous and not actually clear with what to do. "I think that I'll saw you back in the healer's house, and I hope that your wound will get better. " She bows to him "I'm sorry but I really need to go." Then she turns to a Rahner "Sir, It was pleasure to meet you, and I'm sorry for leaving you in such a rash way."
Rahner smiles to the girl. "My pleasure, too. Feel free to come by." He watches her until she leaves, but in the mean time takes a small, sharp-looking knife, and starts to carefully cut the leather of the saddle.
She bows again, smile and then leave.
Baradil stands and bows in fare well to the young lady. "Forgive me Amabel, I cannot walk you back this evening, but go swiftly, though without fear for Hadorsford is safe. Fare thee well."
The smith continues to slice open the leather along the seams of the saddle, saying: "Don't worry, Baradil, I shan't sew the entire saddle in. Your comrades could use you for target practice, but you wouldn't be able to move at all." Lifting a corner of the leather with his left hand, and taking a prong in the right, he jabs the latter down. A dry 'thud' can be heard, and Rahner's chuckle. "Wood." He finishes cutting out the leather and hands it to Baradil for inspection. "I'll both sew and rivet it. You can take chances with shovels, but not with swords and armour." He leans back against the counter, crossing his arms across his chest. "And no extra charge. Craftsman's pride."
The scout watches the smith work, even as he waves to the departing lass. He then turns back to the smith, watching his skilled movements. With a chuckle he smiles. "Imagine that, walking round with a full saddle upon my front. I'd ne'er be able to sleep for the fear of been ridden." He chuckles and looks at the leather, taking it and pulling at its tight surface. "It's good, very good, better in material than the stuff of my armour, but I've no real skill. Though friend, for a smith, you work an awful lot like a tanner. Let me guess your village had no tanner and they got you to dabble?" He passes the armour back to the smith and scratches at his beard and stretches both hands behing his back, yawning deeply. "It has been a long day." He says oddly, for his yawn is not fuklly out and the words are warped by it. As his arms fall back to his side he chuckles "I appreciate your pride in your work, but I have pride in paying a fair price, so you must charge, or I'll make you drink your earnings in the sleeping echo."
"No, not quite." Humour shines in Rahner's eyes as he stuffs the leather through the armour's arm-hole and places it aside for future work. "My father was a tanner, and wanted me to be one too. I found out quite early that fire's more my element, though. I still picked up enough to fix your armour, though." He takes the chair recently vacated by Amabel, turns it around and sits down on it, leaning forward and resting his elbows on the back of the chair. He, too, stifles a yawn. "What I meant was, should you not have the means to pay for double stitching and riveting, I would still do it." For the first time this evening, he narrows his eyes, which are suddenly devoid of any emotion. "I'll not risk anybody's lives by botching my job on armour or arms."
The scout nods his head in deep approval. "It seems I have picked the right person for mending my armour than, and more than certainly the maker of my next set." shaking his head he continues to speak, coughing softly firstly then smile kindly. "Friend I am no rich man, but I have no family to support and no women too woo, so I'd happily spend it on craftsmanship. I might get
you to make a new harness for my axe though soon. I made one on the road, bad crafting, I'm sure it will shear in no time. Would you tire of such a simple task?"
A wry grin appears on the face of the smith. "Although I spurned being a tanner for life, it doesn't mean that I dislike the work. Certainly I'd be honoured to give your axe a new home, but first things first." He straightens his back, leaning his wrists on the back of his chair, and continues, "I'll start on your armour tomorrow, if I have time, and it should be finished the day after or so. As for the cost . . ." He tilts his head to the side when he thinks, and offers: "Seven coppers?"
The scouts shakes his head firmly and smiles. "Not a chance, I'll pay no less than nine and I'll be robbing you then. Nine and your favourite game meat, and what would that be?" He looks about the smithy and nods, "A smith and tanner is a formidable pairing and more so within one soul. You will get a good reputation soon, especially if your work is half as good as I bet it
will be. How soon could it be ready? Are you busy at the moment friend?" He takes a step back and towards the chair, with a deep sigh he sits and pats his stomach. "Excuse me, the wound is feeling tight, I've been upon my feet all day, and that bow shot yesterday twisted me. Folly." He shakes his head and looks back to Rahner
A smile spreads across Rahner's face as he considers Baradil's words. "You do have an honourable soul, sir scout. I've never known anyone to reject an offered price for a higher one." He arches one brow as Baradil touches his stomach, but leaves the event out of his next statement, and the scout with his pride. "Eight coppers, though, is my final bid, but I have a favour to ask of you in addition to that. One that may prove cheap in coinage, but more costly in time."
The bearded man sighs as the smith makes a firm statement of eight pieces. "So be it Rahner. Let it not be said though that I did not try." He chuckles and grins, and nods his head back. "So whats this favour? I'd be glad to help you out, I know how it is to be the new man in town... yet I never got settled. Ahh the life of a scout. I know little of Hadorsford save the innards of the Echo and every arrow whole in that poor dummy." He leans back on his chair and streches again, as his hands fall they smooth his hair back and pull it behind his head, a swift series of movement fasten it back with a piece of twine. Again the man rubs at his eyes, as if rubbing sleep from them.
Rahner lowers his head, thinking for a while, and then looks up again. "You're as sure-aimed with your words as with your arrows, it seems. You've hit right to the heart of my request. I've only come to this town a sevenday ago, and any knowledge you could spare concerning the people, environment, anything, would be so welcome." His uncertainty slides away behind the usual half-smile, though, as he adds, "And maybe you could teach me how to make holes like yours in the target dummy?" The spark in his eyes clearly betrays his admiration for yesterday's show.
The scout smiles broadly a nods his head. Waving a careless hand, he speaks. "You aska trifle friend, surely. Yet if you'd remained a touch longer you would have seen your Master shoots a bow equal to mine, so mayhap we could share the honour." He looks to the anvil behind Rahner and smiles, "Yet if I teach you, be sure of this, you will be pestered for arrow heads, each need fashioning for me. For I am fletcher to a full band of scouts as well as for market days, so I'd glady ask for them, but I'll need to talk to your master fully about that. For I need mostly plain ones, yet for battle a friend of mine fashioned several soughts, some tare and rent, other puncture, other hit and can't be pulled out again. They are more work, but I'd gladdly pay a pretty penny for them. Nought better for shooting orcs with." He chuckles bitterly and nods again, "But aye, we'll shoot together soon. But ask Almar, he will suprise you if you've not seen him shoot yet."
An incredulous shake of the head preceeds Rahner's laugh. "I'd never have sought it in him, to be honest. But I heard he was a guardsman before, so I could have known." He relaxes in his chair, and ponders his next words for a moment. "I'm afraid I shan't be able to help you with the special arrowheads. I have come here to learn about the art of weaponcrafting, because my former master knew only little about it. I should be able to make simple ones, though. Rivets, nails, studs, arrowheads, all variation of the same theme." He rises from his chair, yawns and stretches. "I'm afraid I have occupied your time for too long, friend Baradil, for you seem as tired as I am. I shall try to have your armour ready for you within two days, three at the most, so if you'd check back with me then?"
The scout steps into the open of the Market place, indeed the tall man is forced to dodge one or two folks who are still milling about in the failing of the day. The sky is shot with many colours a the sun offers its last violent light of the day afore it is quashed in Belegaer. The tall scout turns and bows, "It has been a pleasure friend, and I will make sure you get to hear about the drink. I'll knock upon your door when I get a firm day and hour, but for now I can not offer such." He bows and begins to talk of towards the centre, truning to wave one last time.
This time the roles are reversed, as the smith's sihouette is now outlined against the firelight inside the smithy. He raises his hand in salute to the departing scout, and then turns to close the door. Outside, the sound of a bar being pushed into place can be heard, and the light shining out of the windows is suddenly gone as Rahner draws the curtains.
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