At Dawn's Light

Chapter 6: The Blacksmith

“No one said anything about you being an Elf!"

Rowan blurted in surprise, “Uncle!"

Uncle Gregan raised a commanding hand, “Quiet!"

The blacksmith didn't even blink. He slowly untied his apron calmly and hung it by the door.

“You are paying for a skill, not a race, King Gregan," the elven blacksmith carefully took down a long package swaddled in green material from a nearby shelf. “I'd rather be called by my name, Elduine, than Elf."

Placing the package on the table, he unwrapped it to reveal a sleek, ornately carved sword. The king stepped forward and admired the craftsmanship. Over the table, the Elf caught Rowan's eye. No smile, no greeting came from either Elf or woman, but Rowan managed a scarce nod before the king turned to her.

“What do you think of the sword, Rowan?"Gregan asked bluntly.

She avoided the blacksmith's gaze and leaned over the weapon, the glow from the nearby forge made the sword shine in the dim light.

“Although I know nothing of metal, it looks like a solid, well-balanced sword. The designs are fascinating."

Before she could stop herself, she was tracing the ivy leaves along the hilt with her finger. Looking up, she noticed the blacksmith raise his eyebrows. His gaze bounced between her finger on the sword and her eyes.

The young woman understood his message, “Oh, sorry. I got carried away."

She blushed. Rowan backed up and began to walk around the little forge, letting her uncle and the blacksmith finalize the p*****t of the sword. She looked at some daggers, stirrups, and knives. There were some smaller swords in shapes she had never seen before, hanging on the wall by the door.

Looking out the window, she noticed clouds were beginning to gather. The fading sunlight reflected off something in a dish on her right. Reaching in, she felt the sharp edges of nothing other than an arrowhead. The colour of the arrowhead was a darker silver than she had ever seen in a metal. It felt smooth and cool to her touch. When Rowan placed it back in the dish, there was no sound. She took out another one.

Gradually, Rowan could hear her uncle's voice growing louder, and the Elf's voice getting lower. For some reason, her uncle felt the price of the sword was too high, and the blacksmith was only charging him that much because Gregan was human. Elduine, the blacksmith, was steadily repeating that the price was for the work done and particular materials used. He tried to assure the King that this sword was one of a kind, made for a King. For a few minutes, Rowan continued to look at the arrowheads, but when she heard her uncle's hand slam on the table, she turned around.

“King Gregan, that is the price that was agreed on at the time of the request. It was done on time, with the materials you asked for. The weapon was designed just for you."

“Are you sure it's your best work, blacksmith? Is it fit for a King?"

Rowan saw her uncle clench his fist and step forward. Elduine stood very still, but the vein in his jaw began to throb.

Rowan gulped and stepped in.

“My King," she addressed her uncle formally with a curtsey. “The craftsmanship and skill put into this sword is unmatched. Perhaps, if you are unhappy, the blacksmith could alter it, or make you a new sword. Or, you can go to the city's blacksmith."

The King cleared his throat and waved Rowan away.

As she looked at the elven blacksmith, she hoped he could read her apology and hope in her eyes. The blacksmith and woman locked eyes.

Once again, something twitched in Eduine's jaw. He dipped his head graciously at Rowan and Gregan. The King nodded and picked up the sword. Rowan quietly went back to the dish of arrowheads.

“Alright, blacksmith, I'll take this sword at your price... Rowan! What are you touching?"

The King's niece had picked up one of the small tips and held it up to the glowing fire.

“I've found some arrowheads, Uncle. Just what I came for! May I get some to practice my mounted archery?"

King Gregan came over and looked closely at the object in her hand, then back to the Elf.

“Can you make complete arrows?"

“Yes, I can," the blacksmith began cleaning the black from his hands into a bucket by the door.

Rowan turned the delicate arrowhead around in her fingers. She marvelled at the strength of something so small. The blacksmith was watching her, and she held up one of the pieces.

“What type of archery are these for?" She asked.

“Those are Elven hunting arrowheads," Elduine explained. “They are light but very durable."

King Gregan took the piece out of Rowan's hand and once again examined it roughly,

“I want something my niece can handle. She needs something light but will last throughout her practices. What are they made of?"

“Those arrowheads are made out of metals and ore I brought from Eliseandril, my home," the blacksmith smiled ever so slightly at Rowan, who smiled back.

“Are they any good?"

Rowan's mouth dropped open slightly at King Gregan's question.

Elduine looked at the arrowheads and lifted his hands slightly.

“They're Elven..."

The King and Blacksmith stared at each other. Rowan was growing more and more uncomfortable by the minute.

She gently cleared her throat.

Gregan continued, “Does that mean the tips are good?"

Rowan felt her eye twitch, Elduine simply nodded.

“Can you make them for humans?"

The Elf's face froze, and from over the king's head, he could see Rowan flush with anger and embarrassment. She shook her head and rolled her eyes dramatically.

Elduine coughed to hide his laugh.

“Yes, I think I could do that. I will have them ready for you in a few days."