The Consumed Smith

It had only been a couple days since he went out for the Highharvestide Festival, but Rahg had been busy. An array of various weapons, tools, armor pieces, and household goods lined the racks and shelves of the storefront portion of his forge. He was the only one there, as usual, but he liked it that way. Iron bars separated the outside world from his wares to prevent theft, and his workspace had a constant view of the storefront if someone came along to buy his goods. The workspace was mostly out of public view, and there Rahg toiled away at his work.

Rahg brought the huge hammer down on the glowing plate of metal before him, showering the surroundings with sparks. He was working on a new heating device, one that would hopefully be lighter in weight and more efficient at heating homes; the winter ahead seemed more and more threatening, and the more fuel Mythrite could save, the better off everyone will be.

With the vision of his new product in mind, he hammered away. The plate of metal molded more to his liking with each strike, until finally he had finished it. It was rectangular, with an extrusion in the middle. He cooled the plate in water, and brought it out again for inspection.

It was only one panel of the overall design; in fact, it was one panel of the hatch that one would open to put fuel in the furnace. Rahg easily lifted the metal with one hand to test the weight. It was lighter than he expected, which pleased him because he needed at least one more layer to properly insulate the hatch - it would not do for his customers to all burn their hands, after all.

Rahg set the panel aside for polishing and final adjustments later on. There were many more parts he needed to make before he could assemble it all and test it.

Deciding to take a small break, Rahg went to his storefront and drank from one of the many waterskins he had underneath the counter. The water was warm, and it all slid down his throat, gone in seconds.

From the storefront, Rahg had a decent view of the street outside. He watched the passersby, listening intently to what they all were saying. Ever since he moved to Mythrite, he found that one could learn the news of the town if they just listen in on random people. This was, after all, how he learned about the recent festival.

There was a breeze today, so Rahg could only catch bits and pieces of conversations over the course of a few minutes:

“...thrown out of the store!” a dwarven man barked to another, laughing heartily after.

“New pumpkin bread… the bakery. It… allergies, though?” a woman discussed with a man holding her hand.

“Merave Truevale… poisoned, I tell ya!” a human man shouted, being dragged farther off by the town guard.

Rahg stood for a while, but eventually shook himself back to focus.

Wasted a lot of time, he thought, returning to the forge.

He began heating a large chunk of metal. His next project was to make the other panel for the furnace hatch. However, he quickly unfocused, his mind wandering.

Merave? Swear I’ve heard that name before. Where? he thought.

Realizing the metal was sufficiently hot, maybe too hot, he snapped back his thoughts to the forge, and began to hammer away at the metal, intending to make a plate of the same size and shape as before.

Soon, his mind began to wander again, further away with each strike of the hammer. His body, stuck in the rhythm of smithing, seemingly operated on its own, while his mind became further entrenched in trying to remember who Merave was, or how he knew the name.

Suddenly, he remembered her. They met during the recent festival, while Rahg was extremely drunk. They shared a dance together (a very great dance, in fact), but Rahg was too drunk to remember on his own who she was. He had already tried looking for her around town a couple days prior, but to his utter disappointment, came up with nothing. Hearing the name jogged his memory enough to attach the name to the face he lovingly remembered and sought.

Then, a pit formed in his stomach as he remembered the rest of what he heard.

Poison?! No…!

He paused briefly, just enough to collect himself. He had important work to do. Surely more important than a woman, or so he assured himself. He raised his hammer again, and continued flattening out the hot metal.

After a while, Rahg was just going through the motions. He cooled the panel he just finished shaping, and placed it aside with the first one. He heated up another chunk of metal, and then hammered away at it. This piece only needed to be flat, as it would become just one side of the furnace. The hammer struck over and over again, while Rahg’s focus came and went like the sparks that flared brightly but quickly faded.

Rahg remained in the forge until he had finished all the pieces of his design, which took almost until dawn the next day to accomplish. Ordinarily, he would have left before sundown, even if it interrupted a long project like this.

His heart sank as he examined his work. The metal was lumpy, uneven in many places, and cracked in others. He cursed himself for being so careless.

I did better work when I was 7 years old! he thought.

Nonetheless, he assembled all the pieces together to form what should have been a new heating furnace that was lighter and more efficient than others. He did manage to get the weight down, but the shoddy craftsmanship he had done in his distracted nature made it a poor furnace overall.

I can’t do this, he thought, hefting the furnace up to his shoulders and launching it into his pile of scrap metal. Rahg’s thoughts turned once more to Merave, letting his thoughts consume him.

Merave… I will not let my work consume me. Never again. I promise, Rahg thought, as he closed up his workshop and store, and departed into the brightening morning.