A Look In The Past 1. Dwarves, Beer And Good Tidings
Erkwlff, Gruffydd and urig were feeling antsy. Their clansman Goronwy had sent them a note, asking for a eting, and while the note was pretty sparse on details otherwise, it did imply he had sothing vitally important to the dwarfdom to discuss.
"What do ye reckon this is all about?" - Gruffydd muttered. The last of their fourso, Trahaearn, was stuck in the queue for beer, and the lack of drink was plucking at their nerves sothing fierce.
"Ain't tha fogiest, uncle." - urig admitted. The youngest of them all, he was barely thirty one, and sitting in the tavern like this with the adults was still novel to him.
"He ain't here yet." - Erkwlff worried.
"Yet? Go... Geoff ain't s'posed ta be here till noon." - urig adjusted himself quickly. He had a hard ti rembering they were within the human tavern, which ant the true nas were forbidden.
His uncle promptly reminded him to be cautious with a slap upside his head. "Watch yer tongue, Maurice!" - he rebuked sharply - "Erkule's not talkin' bout Geoff, he's talkin' about our beer! And Travis. But mostly beer."
"Duly noted, uncle Griff." - tossed urig petulantly - "Beer be supre."
"Daum right, boyo." - his uncle agreed shalessly - "Beer be the elixir of gods sent from tha heavens ta let us re mortals be at fookin' peace with this here piece'a'shit life. Now pipe down, ye hear tha clinkin of tha mugs? Travis, old pal, ol' chum, here we are!"
Trahaearn stopped next to their table, three hefty mugs in each hand. He settled them down gingerly, distributing three of them to his compatriots and sat down with a satisfying sigh, taking a long pull from his own. Two remained in the center of the table.
"Travis, now what tha fook is this? Dinnae ferget how ta count to five?" - Gruffydd groused.
"Ain't forgetting shit, Griff." - Trahaearn retorted irritably - "Iffen ye be remberin' the fookin' note, Geoff's comin' with Rory."
"Rory? Ain't he done settled down in that thar blacksmith up next ta the Gillespies?" - Erkwlff remarked.
"So Ah did." - a new voice piped up. Rhodri waved to his clansn and stepped into the tavern, holding the door open for the elderly Goronwy. Venerable elder, albeit with the help of a cane, was nonetheless quite mobile for his age, and wasted no ti in ambling up to the table and taking up a seat and a mug. Rhodri followed, claiming the last mug and sipping from it imdiately.
"Fookin' heat." - he groused - "Ahhh, beer, tha elixir of tha gods..."
"Tha's what I fookin' said ta this here clayclod!" - laughed Gruffydd, slapping his nephew on the back for good asure.
"Arright." - Erkwlff proffered - "We be all here, we have tha beer... Now, what are we heah to talk about, elder?"
Goronwy jerked his head in Rhodri's direction.
"Show'em, Rory." - he rasped. Rhodri grinned, took another pull of the beer, then reached into his doublet and withdrew a dagger, sticking it into the middle of the table with a solid thunk. Fourso gasped with one voice.
"Ripple steel, ah'll be daud!" - exulted Gruffydd, still mindful enough to keep his voice low in spite of excitent - "Great find, Rory. Shit, ye dinnae have ta sell yer smithy fer it, ah hope?"
Rhodri smirked. It was an "I know sothing you do not" kind of smirk. The kind that imdiately set all four dwarves present on edge. Their clansman had sothing better than this priceless heirloom? That oughta be good, indeed. The faces in front of him elongated as he pulled out four more daggers in simple leather sheaths and laid one in front of each dwarf at the table except for the elder. Goronwy for his part drew his own dagger and stuck it in the table next to Rhodri's, making the rest of the dwarves gasp again. TWO daggers from ripple steel? Or maybe?...
urig was the fastest of them, grabbing the dagger off the table and yanking it out of the sheath, only to stop and whistle appreciatively.
"Six. Fookin'. Ripple. Steel. Daggers!?" - Trahaearn drawled incredulously - "Rory, yer lucky dog, ye."
Rhodri polished his nails on the doublet collar nonchalantly. "Thank ye, thank ye." - he proffered - "Forged them self just the last week, ah did."
Dead. Silence. And four pairs of perfectly round eyes staring at him.
Goronwy set his mug down with a clunk, breaking the spell. "He did, lads." - he proffered softly - "He really did."
Four throats erupted in a triumphant roar as the dwarves raised their mugs as one, slamd them together and guzzled down their beers in one go.
"Way ta go, Rory!" "Fookin' great!" "Tha's our Rory!" "Oh, yeah!"
Rhodri waited for his clansn to settle down a little, then proffered in quiet voice. "Now, lads, ah'd be glad ta claim this one, but tha truth is? S'aint who figured tha secret out." - he continued quietly - "And b'fore ye make more ruckus, s'aint a dwarf who did."
Everyone quietened down, listening intently.
"Now, heah's tha thing." - Rhodri began, - "Mah's smithy right next ta Gillespie estate, as ye well know. Ah've been their blacksmith fer a while, and I haveta say, ah ain't got nuthin ta complain 'bout graf Gillespie. So, theah I was, one mornin', just tending ta forge, and ah've got a visitor. Turned out ta be maiden Gillespie. Sait summat 'bout gettin' ta know artizans o'the land. Asked fer public na. Nice and good as ye please, so ah'd intraduced self. She gives a buncha paper and asks ta forge that there thing..."
He paused, reached into his doublet one more ti and withdrew yet another object made out of ripple steel.
"This be a neat wee handmill, ye lot." - he explained, setting it down next to his dagger - "So ah told her that such a fine -ka-nism? Ain't no good makin' it from nuthin' but steel. And that goshdarned apprentice o'mine gone and spoilt tha slting just tha other day. Turned a batch of pig iron."
Everyone around clicked their tongues, silently agreeing that an apprentice that made such a basic mistake was indeed very much goshdarned.
"So... she tells ta fetch summa that pig iron." - Rhodri continued his tale - "Looks at it. And tells ta put it with tha last ingot o'steel that ah had into tha furnace, heat it all right up good and propar and beat the fookin' bells outa it with mah hamr. Fold it on itself an' beat it so more. Fold and beat, fold and beat 'till the lines on it are laike hair thin. And would ya know what ah got in tha end?"
All of them looked at the daggers and mill in the center of the table.
"So ah went to that thar estate over yonder to ask iffen maybe graf Gillespie happens ta have so of our old writin' or summat." - he concluded - "He ain't got nuthin, tho. Turns out maiden Gillespie gone and done figured tha whole thing from tha old story about Throm. Showed tha story bit and everythin'. It does say about foldin' and beatin', s'just we ain't never paid much heed to tha old tales, yanno?"
Goronwy coughed. "Keep goin, Rory. This is what we're heah fer." - he nudged - "Tell them 'bout graf's offer."
Rhodri nodded. "Gettin' ta it, elder." - he agreed - "So... once graf Gillespie hears ah know how ta make ripple steel again... Maiden makes us an offer. We co ta the Gillespie lands up north an' build the propar forge hall, an' he pledges ta keep us fed and clothed so that we can get so serious forgin' an' minin' an' chiselin' on."
"Wait, wait, hol'up." - Erkwlff interrupted him suddenly - "We as in we six? Or we as in we clansn?"
"We as in we dwarves, lad." - Goronwy rasped - "Graf Gillespie offers food, clothes an' spirits ta every dwarf ta co to his lands, so long as we build and work that forge hall. Bettah even, he done pledged ta give us all tha stone an' ti we need ta build ourselves a propah settlent first. We haveta cut the stone on our own, though. Oh, and Gillespies did say won and children are welco too. They offer a downright townsteadin' of our own in their lands."
Rhodri added in the resulting lull - "Maiden Gillespie be touched by gods, tha word is. Whatever she puts her eye on turns ta gold, like. Now, ah be thinkin', what if she puts her eye on us the dwarves for a while? I figure we coulda trust Gillespies. Graf ain't never done wrong, and he's known fer knowing the denier's worth."
"So... ye wanna tha four of us ta spread word to the clansn? Ta let them know there be a place for them an' their families up north? That tha clansn can forge tha ripple steel again? That there be a forge hall built, if only we gather tha lot?" - Trahaearn mused - "Damn it all, ah'm in."
"So am I." - urig stated confidently - "Ain't no use stoppin' , uncle."
"Stoppin' ye, lad?" - Gruffydd retorted incredulously - "Ah'd wollop yer lazy arse outta the doors first thang in the mornin' if yer not gone by tha sunrise. Cause mark my words, I'm gonna be."
"It be agreed on, then." - Erkwlff sumd up, pushing away from the table and standing up - "Let us be off, brothers. New dawn cos fer us dwarves."
"Hear, hear!" - agreed everyone else, standing up as well. All of them had urgent things to attend to. Goronwy and Rhodri would remain and prepare for the first settlers. As for Erkwlff, Gruffydd, urig and Trahaearn? All four of them were already on the road in their thoughts.
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