Shadows of Steel.
Chapter 1.....?
In the late sixteenth century, in southern Junland, a small village was stirring. The sun was rising over the horizon, and a mist was settling on a small farmhouse. A boy was awoken by the loud sound of pots and pans crashing together, and the pigs were squealing, indicating that they were hungry, and he had overslept. He got up, still feeling quite groggy, and dressed himself. He selected a plain brown shirt, stitched at the collar, and small pants, too small for his long legs, yet too large for his waist. He wore a simple belt to solve this problem. His dark copper hair was messy, yet with no split ends. He kept it short, and trimmed it regularly. He walked out of his small house, barely three rooms, and headed over to the pig yard. Once there, he noticed the feeding trough had been knocked over, along with some large cauldrons, and his cooking pans. He opened the fence gate carefully, making sure his three pigs would not escape. As he walked towards the trough to straighten it, a voice called out. “Thomas! Your mail’s here!”It was the mailboy, who arrived weekly at his house to deliver messages and parcels. “Thank you Jonathan, for it is a great service you provide me, coming more than seven kilometers out to me, to deliver a few pieces of mail!” Jonathan smiled, turned, and walked away, down the long road which linked Thomas’s farmhouse with the town. Thomas reviewed his mail, finding two things of interest. His master, Steelford the dwarven Metalsmith, had received more iron scrap in the last week than he had in the previous month! He had also received mail from his foremost friend, Eddison. Eddison, a tall sixteen year-old, had recently come of age. Sixteen was the point in life which a boy became in a man, and Eddison had become sixteen a day ago. As the rest of his mail was just work requests, Thomas shoved them in his large pockets, and went on with his chores.
Thomas owned a farm, but only because his parents had died ten years prior. Thomas was but fifteen, almost sixteen. He frequently thought of what his parents would be thinking of him were they still alive, as he remembered them intimately. His father looked quite different from him, with jet black hair, which was kept very neat and clean. Thomas’s eyes were the only thing which he had retained from his father. They were green as emeralds, and shined in the light of the sun. His mother looked like him many aspects, with copper hair, though lighter than that of Thomas. Thomas inherited but one thing from his parents, as they had perished in a fire, yet the house in itself was mainly saved, excepting most of the items inside. The house needed much maintenance, as it had lost a few rooms entirely, with a handful remaining. The barn was saved, along with the pigs and the one most special thing from his childhood. This one thing was a small pony called Aurora, who Thomas loved more than all else. Aurora was maturing, at but thirteen years old. This was a half of her life, yes, but she was young at heart. Thomas shared memories of his parents with Aurora, as she had been his third birthday present. He remembered riding her with his father and mother, in a lush green field, which was once their backyard. This field was now a plot of land Thomas used to grow corn, carrots, potatoes, and such. Thomas thought fondly of this moment, and began to head toward the barn, to see Aurora.
As Thomas approached her stall, Aurora let out a long whinny. This was her saying good morning to Thomas, who had brought with him a large sack of feed, as well as a sugar cube, concealed within his pocket. “Hello Aurora, is it not a beautiful morning?” Aurora whinnied once more, as if to say ‘What is a beautiful morning without ones favorite company? Without companionship, there is no beauty to admire.’ Thomas sighed, knowing he would be late to the Blacksmith’s shop if he took Aurora on a stroll, and told her “I am very sorry my friend, but I have got to go to work now. I will return in five hours, and when I do, I will bring apples.” Aurora slowly stretched, and laid on her bed of hay. With that, Thomas walked out into the forest, along the long sprawling path to town.
Chapter 2?...
The path to town was lengthy, with many streams and flower beds, and the path was very narrow, so very much that ferns grew out into the path and made the passage increasingly difficult. Thomas stopped once to catch his breath, during which he saw a glint of silver cropping out of the grasses. Thomas further inspected this object, after which he decided to pick it up. He started to lift it, but it appeared to be caught on something. Taking his only dagger, Thomas cut a line of thread from a side of the object, after which the object was freed. It was a plate, a rectangular plate, the kind of plate one would use to adorn a display of sorts. Thomas took his bag from his back, untying the laces of the pack, and inserted the plate. This was something Thomas could not identify. Thomas would have to give it to Steelford to examine. As Thomas approached the town, he noticed a herd of deer along the path ahead of him. These deer seemed to be assisting a fawn, which was obviously not in good health. As this did not matter to Thomas, he continued, until he reached the large town he lived in. A town called Chreistenhewn.
Thomas was approaching Steelford’s shop, and many men were outside, yelling orders, or placing them. Many a master needed material for their work, and Steelford was the only dwarf in Chreistenhewn. Dwarves were master smiths, or at least most were, and could make anything with their small, skilled hands. The dwarves were also known as a fighting race, a gruff race, a rude race, yet this was a very incorrect description case of Steelford. For Steelford was a kind, gentle being. He was very fatherly, and fittingly, had raised Thomas from the age of seven. Thomas and Eddison were his apprentices, and because of this, the three were thick as thieves. As thomas approached, Steelford gave out a long, silent yawn. Thomas smiled, as did Steelford, his mismatched eyes twinkling. “Good morning Thomas! How are ye this fine day?” Steelford inquired, smiling wide, wide as a river. “I’m doing well this morning master, and have managed to finish all at home, so that I may work here until sundown!” Thomas was not always keen to work, so this was something Steelford did not expect. “Steelford, Thomas! Sorry i’m so late!” It was Eddison! Eddison, having become sixteen, did not need to work, but choose to do so anyway. “Oi! Eddison! Can yer give me a hand with these here tongs? The Dragon fire needs constant watching while I smelt the Mithril!” Mithril was a rare, magical metal, mauve in hue, yet black as night. Eddison yawned, stretched, and walked over to a barrel. From this barrel, he procured a large, worn smith’s hammer, and set it beside the anvil. He also grabbed some large, newly made mithril tongs, the only type of tongs which could withstand the heat of Dragon fire. The Dragon fire was blue, with emerald embers which glowed fiercely, as if to emulate a dragon’s gemlike eyes. Thomas, who had been told to sit and watch, walked over to the largest disused anvil, and sat down, only to jump up at the sound of Eddison screaming. He had fallen into the Dragon’s hearth, and was ablaze with lapping blue flames. Thomas grabbed the steaming water, and found himself collapsing from the twinkling blue fumes…
Chapter 1.....?
In the late sixteenth century, in southern Junland, a small village was stirring. The sun was rising over the horizon, and a mist was settling on a small farmhouse. A boy was awoken by the loud sound of pots and pans crashing together, and the pigs were squealing, indicating that they were hungry, and he had overslept. He got up, still feeling quite groggy, and dressed himself. He selected a plain brown shirt, stitched at the collar, and small pants, too small for his long legs, yet too large for his waist. He wore a simple belt to solve this problem. His dark copper hair was messy, yet with no split ends. He kept it short, and trimmed it regularly. He walked out of his small house, barely three rooms, and headed over to the pig yard. Once there, he noticed the feeding trough had been knocked over, along with some large cauldrons, and his cooking pans. He opened the fence gate carefully, making sure his three pigs would not escape. As he walked towards the trough to straighten it, a voice called out. “Thomas! Your mail’s here!”It was the mailboy, who arrived weekly at his house to deliver messages and parcels. “Thank you Jonathan, for it is a great service you provide me, coming more than seven kilometers out to me, to deliver a few pieces of mail!” Jonathan smiled, turned, and walked away, down the long road which linked Thomas’s farmhouse with the town. Thomas reviewed his mail, finding two things of interest. His master, Steelford the dwarven Metalsmith, had received more iron scrap in the last week than he had in the previous month! He had also received mail from his foremost friend, Eddison. Eddison, a tall sixteen year-old, had recently come of age. Sixteen was the point in life which a boy became in a man, and Eddison had become sixteen a day ago. As the rest of his mail was just work requests, Thomas shoved them in his large pockets, and went on with his chores.
Thomas owned a farm, but only because his parents had died ten years prior. Thomas was but fifteen, almost sixteen. He frequently thought of what his parents would be thinking of him were they still alive, as he remembered them intimately. His father looked quite different from him, with jet black hair, which was kept very neat and clean. Thomas’s eyes were the only thing which he had retained from his father. They were green as emeralds, and shined in the light of the sun. His mother looked like him many aspects, with copper hair, though lighter than that of Thomas. Thomas inherited but one thing from his parents, as they had perished in a fire, yet the house in itself was mainly saved, excepting most of the items inside. The house needed much maintenance, as it had lost a few rooms entirely, with a handful remaining. The barn was saved, along with the pigs and the one most special thing from his childhood. This one thing was a small pony called Aurora, who Thomas loved more than all else. Aurora was maturing, at but thirteen years old. This was a half of her life, yes, but she was young at heart. Thomas shared memories of his parents with Aurora, as she had been his third birthday present. He remembered riding her with his father and mother, in a lush green field, which was once their backyard. This field was now a plot of land Thomas used to grow corn, carrots, potatoes, and such. Thomas thought fondly of this moment, and began to head toward the barn, to see Aurora.
As Thomas approached her stall, Aurora let out a long whinny. This was her saying good morning to Thomas, who had brought with him a large sack of feed, as well as a sugar cube, concealed within his pocket. “Hello Aurora, is it not a beautiful morning?” Aurora whinnied once more, as if to say ‘What is a beautiful morning without ones favorite company? Without companionship, there is no beauty to admire.’ Thomas sighed, knowing he would be late to the Blacksmith’s shop if he took Aurora on a stroll, and told her “I am very sorry my friend, but I have got to go to work now. I will return in five hours, and when I do, I will bring apples.” Aurora slowly stretched, and laid on her bed of hay. With that, Thomas walked out into the forest, along the long sprawling path to town.
Chapter 2?...
The path to town was lengthy, with many streams and flower beds, and the path was very narrow, so very much that ferns grew out into the path and made the passage increasingly difficult. Thomas stopped once to catch his breath, during which he saw a glint of silver cropping out of the grasses. Thomas further inspected this object, after which he decided to pick it up. He started to lift it, but it appeared to be caught on something. Taking his only dagger, Thomas cut a line of thread from a side of the object, after which the object was freed. It was a plate, a rectangular plate, the kind of plate one would use to adorn a display of sorts. Thomas took his bag from his back, untying the laces of the pack, and inserted the plate. This was something Thomas could not identify. Thomas would have to give it to Steelford to examine. As Thomas approached the town, he noticed a herd of deer along the path ahead of him. These deer seemed to be assisting a fawn, which was obviously not in good health. As this did not matter to Thomas, he continued, until he reached the large town he lived in. A town called Chreistenhewn.
Thomas was approaching Steelford’s shop, and many men were outside, yelling orders, or placing them. Many a master needed material for their work, and Steelford was the only dwarf in Chreistenhewn. Dwarves were master smiths, or at least most were, and could make anything with their small, skilled hands. The dwarves were also known as a fighting race, a gruff race, a rude race, yet this was a very incorrect description case of Steelford. For Steelford was a kind, gentle being. He was very fatherly, and fittingly, had raised Thomas from the age of seven. Thomas and Eddison were his apprentices, and because of this, the three were thick as thieves. As thomas approached, Steelford gave out a long, silent yawn. Thomas smiled, as did Steelford, his mismatched eyes twinkling. “Good morning Thomas! How are ye this fine day?” Steelford inquired, smiling wide, wide as a river. “I’m doing well this morning master, and have managed to finish all at home, so that I may work here until sundown!” Thomas was not always keen to work, so this was something Steelford did not expect. “Steelford, Thomas! Sorry i’m so late!” It was Eddison! Eddison, having become sixteen, did not need to work, but choose to do so anyway. “Oi! Eddison! Can yer give me a hand with these here tongs? The Dragon fire needs constant watching while I smelt the Mithril!” Mithril was a rare, magical metal, mauve in hue, yet black as night. Eddison yawned, stretched, and walked over to a barrel. From this barrel, he procured a large, worn smith’s hammer, and set it beside the anvil. He also grabbed some large, newly made mithril tongs, the only type of tongs which could withstand the heat of Dragon fire. The Dragon fire was blue, with emerald embers which glowed fiercely, as if to emulate a dragon’s gemlike eyes. Thomas, who had been told to sit and watch, walked over to the largest disused anvil, and sat down, only to jump up at the sound of Eddison screaming. He had fallen into the Dragon’s hearth, and was ablaze with lapping blue flames. Thomas grabbed the steaming water, and found himself collapsing from the twinkling blue fumes…