by Igraine on Mon Feb 13, 2012 10:34 am
The master craftsman stood back, watching Thorin carefully. When he started to make yet another mistake, youth was so foolish in this day and age, the old man grabbed him by the elbow and shook it enough to make it wobble.
"Loosen that elbow, lad. You're not trying to make a plate, just a blade." He contented himself to speak of methods and showing this half demon how to create rather than destroy. That was usually how it was with men that had such powerfully willed women in their lives. The old man smiled, he was some five hundred years young, with possibly another hundred or two left in him by all accounts. He spent his life learning the process of making the highly prized Fae steel. He was one of five masters in all the realm of the Faery that knew this process. He hadn't taken on an apprentice yet, but someday he would, it would have to be passed on.
He watched Thorin carefully, watched as his anger began to fade with the strength of his arm. He was doing just as hundreds of men before him had done, beating his anger out to a purpose. It always mad the men happiest to put their anger to good use. Only two women had visited him in his many decades of making weapons, and one of them was Kahlan. If he were a younger man he might go after her, even though he knew she was so much older than he was -- he looked old and she didn't.
"There's a good lad. Feels good to work the muscles when you're not too sure what to do with your hands, doesn't it?" He wrinkled his brow, puffy white eyebrows like caterpillars bunching together over the bridge of his nose. In the glow of the forge he looked like a god with his impishly pointed ears and the suave cut of his jaw. In his younger years he had been a devilishly handsome man -- not unlike the half demon with him now.
"Some men try to drown their sorrows or their anger, but I'm of the crowd that likes to beat things into creation with my anger. Besides, drinking clouds the brain and that's never a good thing." He took the blade from Thorin and brought him over to an area with special bright green fire. Something about the fire was special, and the reverence that the old man gave it made it apparant that this was why Fae steel was so highly sought. He plunged his whole hand into the fire without flinching. It was mostly cold with a little warmth like a breeze on a spring night.
"This is what gives it the properties. The blood that was given to me...half of it was put in here and the other half in the metal. So long as you didn't hurt the young mistress this blade will still work in your favor." He didn't say how he knew, but then again the whole canopy probably knew with all the noise that had been made in the last day. The light was beginning to dim, the forge fires becoming one of the only sources of light in the canopy.
"The process must be finished tomorrow. The blade will sit in the fire until this time tomorrow. Come to me then and I will show you how to finish it properly." The old master turned and saw all the faces illuminated by the firelight, watching them as they worked. The crowd had grown to at least a dozen faces crowding the open area, which made the man chuckle and make shooing motions with his hands. "Off with you. Go on, there's nothing more to see here." There were murmurs that the Master had seen something in the demon boy and was going to make him the newest apprentice. That wasn't the case though, not yet anyway.
"I am certain that you don't mean me, Master Cadeyrn" Igraine was leaning against the opening farthest from them, just watching quietly.
"You know you're always allowed here, little mistress." Cadeyrn smiled warmly at her. She was like one of his own children. She had spent so much time here with him when she was growing up that he had taken a large part of her education about certain things like forging steel. This young woman meant the world to him in ways that only a very proud father would understand.
"Thank you, Master." Igraine walked over to the man and kissed his cheek. She had grown to call him father when no other man could be bothered to be there for her. "I see you have met my Fiance." Igraine glanced up at Thorin, searching his face, before looking back up at her foster father. "Thank you for accepting him."
Cadeyrn made a gruff noise and wrinkled his brows together but when he looked down at the girl leaning against him his features softened and he rested his chin on the top of her head and hugged her close. "You make me proud, little mistress. He still has some dents that need to be hammered out, but he'll do." Cadeyrn looked at Thorin while he held his foster daughter and nodded at the man.
"He'll do."