Renewed Passion

The hammer swung down hard on the glowing metal. Sparks flew as the metal was pushed into the divot in the swage, bringing more curvature to its shape. The hammer, comically small compared to the hand gripping it, rose once more. It’s rounded head fell swiftly again, the metal giving in to the impact, bending to the curve in the swage.

Rahg, the smith, set the hammer down on the anvil next to him, and picked up the iron tongs resting against the anvil. Pinching the candescent metal with the tongs, he moved it deftly to the large tank of water next to the forge, and submerged it, steaming. Waiting some seconds, he lifted the metal out of the water to eye level. His vivid blue eyes carefully examined the shape of the metal.

“Alas, a spoon,” Rahg said.

Satisfied with the shape, Rahg set it aside to be polished and chiseled to perfection later. He still had more spoons to craft, and wanted to get it done as quickly as possible.

Before he could begin anew, voices rising outside of his forge caught his attention.

The townspeople were gathered around a young man, who was frantically gesturing for them all to calm down. Rahg stood in the entrance to his forge, listening intently. His frame nearly filled the entire opening, which was already widened for airflow.

The young man managed to corral the attention of the crowd once more.

“Listen! Listen! I speak the truth! It’s all up in the Greypeak Mountains! Loads of mythril, waiting to be found!” he said.

The crowd murmured some more. One man raised his voice in agitation, but Rahg couldn’t make out the words.

“I’m telling you so you can beat other people there and get rich!” the young man responded.

The crowd murmured some more, and some people walked away. Rahg watched for a little longer, but found nothing interesting and went back to his forge.

Myhril, he thought. The legendary metal…

“Oi! Rahg!” a voice rang from behind.

“Hmm?” Rahg grunted as he prepared work for the next spoon.

“What do you reckon? Of this mythril business?” the man asked.

Rahg looked up. The man was Teren, a travelling merchant who frequently bought from Rahg.

“Mmm. It’s a legendary metal. Never seen it. Probably not real,” Rahg replied.

“So you think he lied?”

“Yes.”

“What if I told you I heard similar rumors up in the city?” Teren continued.

Rahg picked up his tongs, and held a small chunk of iron over his forge. “I’d call whoever told you that a liar too.”

“Even if I heard it yet again in Neverwinter? Even if I told you many have already left for this place and came back, confirming the rumors?”

Rahg waited for the metal to glow before pulling it out, and holding it over the anvil. “Mmm,” he grunted, picking up a big hammer. He started flattening the metal.

“Proof?” Rahg said, pausing his hammering briefly.

“Harder to convince than that metal you’re hitting, aren’t you?” Teren said, reaching into a pocket. From it, he pulled out a small, glittering chunk of stone. “Here’s your proof!” Teren tossed the stone to Rahg, who dropped his hammer to catch it.

Rahg held it up to his eyes. The stone glittered in the dim firelight of his forge like no ore he’d seen before. It wasn’t much in this little chunk, not even enough to make a nail, but he held it over the fire with tongs nonetheless.

The metal quickly heated, and glowed. It’s glow was somehow more… pure to the eyes of Rahg. It was a uniform, beautiful golden glow. Rahg moved it to the anvil and rushed to retrieve his smallest hammer from the wall he hung his tools on.

Rushing back, he gave the glowing metal one quick test strike. Finding the metal unrelenting, he hammered it once more, but harder. It gave only a little, but he hadn’t used his full strength yet. With one final strike, he hit it as hard as he possibly could.

The metal completely flattened under the small hammer. The force of his swing and lack of resistance caused him to break the handle of the hammer in two.

“Mmm,” Rahg grunted.

Teren watched him, eager for a reaction, but got none. “Even honest and true mythril can’t bring you to smile, can it?”

“You are certain?” Rahg asked.

“Aye.”

“Mmm. What strange metal,” Rahg noted.

“Aye.”

“Legends. How can legends be real?’ Rahg pondered. Teren didn’t respond. “Durable, but easier to shape than even iron. I would never have believed, had I not seen it myself. Why did you bring me this?”

“Rahg, your talents are wasted here. I’ve seen what you can do. You’ve made marvelous weapons and armors, but you come back to your hometown and make…” Teren trailed off, looking around. He spotted Rahg’s current project. “Spoons?”

Rahg shrugged.

“Imagine what you could do with mythril!”

“What do you want?” Rahg asked. He tried not to let on that he agreed with Teren.

“For you to find your passion again. I know under that rock-like attitude is a fiery man. I’ve seen him, when he really gets into a project.”

Rahg became slightly uncomfortable, knowing it was true. “Mmm,” he grunted. “I have spoons to make.”

“Think about it!” Teren said, as he turned to leave.

Rahg retrieved a new hammer, and returned to the anvil. The mythril, now flattened, was beginning to cool, so he reheated it, and brought it back to the anvil with tongs. He had to reshape it into a chunk, sometimes needing to reheat it again. Once it was in a malleable chunk, he raised the hammer.

Mythril…

He hammered the metal into a small disc, and then used a punch to make a sizeable hole in it. He had to act quick, before the metal cooled too much. Quickly, he moved the ring to the smallest divot in the swage, and rounded out the edges. Satisfied with the shape, he cooled it in the water tank, and pulled it out to inspect.

The ring was already smooth and polished as he pulled it out of the water. Rahg gasped, astonished at how easy the metal is to work with. Gazing at the ring, he felt invigorated for the first time in years. He silently vowed that this ring would be the ring he’d propose to someone with. Maybe after working with it a little more, at least.

Rahg looked at the spoon he left unfinished. After a moment, he made the decision to seek the mythril, and his passion steeled.