Forging Home

Forging Home

 

Like Reubin had said the forge was impossible to miss. It was a fair bit bigger than the one I had worked for Godfrey in. I would have much preferred to go about the whole business of forging myself a sword in my home though.

There was a man stirring the fire when I entered and retrieving bits and pieces from around the place for me. Tools and such, he layed all of them on the table swiftly and then walked over to me. I think he smiled before he left, but I didn’t remember who he was, I didn’t remember if I should remember him either.

“Milord Danariel?” the voice of a young woman said behind me.

I knew straight away it was Belladonna. My father must have thought I fancied her or something, so he had sent her with my things. I didn’t but, I had only spoken to her to be nice.

“Just set everything down on the table Bella.” I pointed to where all the tools sat without actually looking at her.

I didn’t look at her because looking at people makes you think about them. At that moment I only wanted to be thinking of three people, and she was not one of them.

She must have been able to tell exactly how I was feeling. For instead of attempting to talk to me she simply obeyed my command silently. After placing the metal and parcel containing Piers’ broken sword on the table I felt her do a little curtsy and then she was gone.

“Thankyou.” I mumbled to the empty room. Then it was time to get to work.

 

 

I spent the entirety of what was left of the day making my weapon. I worked long into the night too, in fact, I worked so long that I missed out on watching the sunrise. Over that time the heat of the fire and the sound of hammer hitting metal became second nature to me.

The white metal seemed to glow ever more brightly as it heated up, up until the point when I was forced to work with my eyes practically shut. Eventually the stuff started to burn me, and every time I raised and swung the hammer I could feel my sore muscles ache. I didn’t really feel it though, instead I felt the lava inside of myself and in my mind I focussed on the image of three people standing together. Two men and a woman watching me, and waiting.

After the first few hours the metal started to gain some proper shape. Although not quite properly sized it did still resemble the blade and handle of a sword, one which did not have a cross hilt I might add. After that it was only a matter of melting down the pieces of Piers’ blade and using them to lengthen and complete my weapon.

It wasn’t a particular fun experience destroying my friend’s sword, but he was gone. On top of that I’m sure he would have encouraged me to do so if he were alive.

I think I might have been screaming a bit while I worked, possibly from the immense heat that I could feel biting into my flesh. Or maybe from my afore mentioned destruction of Piers’ broken sword. In any case I had the sword finished, as I have already said, by late morning of the next day. It was the best thing I had ever made. Maybe second best.

 

“May I take a look?” It was a highly simple question, and yet I found answering the question awfully hard.

I sat on a stool holding my creation. My father stood just in front of me with his hand outstretched towards me. He was asking to see the weapon I had created for the purpose of killing Symonds. A simple request, yes, but somehow I almost felt that the weapon was too personal for me to show him. It was everyone after all.

I did give it to him at some point though. But I refused to answer his question and I didn’t blink once as I watched him hold it.

“It’s…” I expected him to say something derisive or ridiculing, but for once he was decent. “It’s spectacular, Danariel.” Honestly I was a little shocked, I really was. It was one of the only compliments he ever gave me, not that it matters.

He handed it back carefully and gently, it was a shame he couldn’t have been like that when raising me.

I couldn’t help but smile when my hand slid perfectly onto the sword’s hilt. It could not make the rain stop since it was only a sword, but it did help a little bit. It was almost like they really were in there, and every time I examined the weapon I could see pieces of all three.

The pommel of my sword. A horses’ head, Pandora’s to be exact. I had left the pommel uncoated with regular metal so that it glowed with a brilliant white light. It always helped to remind me of the home that I had first come to love. The home where I had first felt the sun instead of the rain, that home had given to me my horse and a purpose for my life. It was Rowan.

The blade of my sword. It was wide and thin, and due to the immense heat required to forge the meteorite the metal of Piers’ sword had blackened. But under that blackened metal lay the white metal of the meteorite. So from the blade’s bade to its tip I had engraved into it the design of a cherry tree. The white branches crept up and around the sword like vines, each and every branch was dotted with cherry blossoms.

That cherry tree always helped to remind me of the home that I had first come to trust. That was the second home which I eventually came to love, and also the second home to shield me from the rain. The home from which I had learnt much about myself and others, that home had given goodness and morality to my life. Even if I was still learning how to use those two things. It was Piers.

It was a beautiful weapon. Beautiful just like the missing piece of me had been. The beauty of the sword always helped to remind me of the home that I had first come to treasure, the only home that ever truly stopped the rain. The home that had made me feel whole until it was taken away from me. It was Katherine.

Ropitherin. Not the most imaginative of names, especially for a sword, but it still fitted perfectly. It would do.

“When are you going?” My father asked bluntly once I was done examining Ropitherin once again.

“That depends on how much longer it would take for you to fully train me” I replied. “And how long would that be?”

He almost laughed and then wiped his lips. “Fully training you would take years. From the look of things I’d say you’re nearly ready now though, you can leave whenever you wish.”

I shot him a quizzical look and stood up to face him. I was taller than him, it was a good feeling.

He tapped his right temple and started to walk away but I reached out and put the stump of my hand against his back. He turned swiftly to face me and opened his mouth but not a word came out.

“I would be able to go if I knew where Symonds was…” I mumbled quietly.

It was slightly shameful to admit that I actually had no idea of where to go, I did desperately want to be out of Whitewind though, all I had was a sword against the rain.

“I have no idea where the b*****d is.” I added as explanation.

“I took he liberty of sending out a few of my men to try and find your friend Symonds. I could have had one of them slit his throat easy enough but I thought you might have hated me even more if I had done that” he replied simply.

“Where is he?” I demanded. “Where?”

Reubin shrugged and then patted me on the shoulder. It was annoying and I wanted to punch him, but I restrained myself. I still needed him after all, he had his few uses.

“No need to get your feathers in a ruffle, Danariel.” He laughed. “I personally have no idea but I’ll have someone lead you most of the way whenever you’re ready.”

I had never before stopped to consider why my father was being nice now when he hadn’t been all those years when I was a kid. There was nothing in it for him, he was not making up for the past nor ensuring his future safety from my sword. I never did solve that puzzle, I just accepted his help because using him felt good.

“Now, when are you heading on your merry way, son?”

“As soon as possible.”

“I suspected as much” he replied quickly before beginning to leave. “I also took the liberty of having your horse and some of your things brought down to the gates as I thought you would be leaving today. I’ll wait for you to collect your things and then you can be on your way.” With that he was gone.

It was nice and upsetting to know that we were both terrible at goodbyes. It was one of the very few things we had in common with one another. That and our ability to hurt anyone who ever got close to us.

 

 

Reubin was waiting at the gate with Pandora just as he had said, and much to my amusement my horse was glaring and snorting at him. I think I laughed a little bit as I walked over and he eyed the horse carefully.

I could see that he was holding something behind his back. Although I couldn’t quite make it out I already knew what it was, it was a scabbard for the sword I had just made. That was why he had asked to see the weapon at all, to check it its size and find a suitable scabbard so I wouldn’t have to make one. It was a nice thought.

“This should fit your sword.” He offered the scabbard as I approached.

I took it with my hand and mumbled my thanks to the man. The sword fit perfectly into the ornate sheathe, I expected it to either be too small or too large. But somehow he had found the perfect scabbard.

“My man will take you to an area not to far from where Symonds is, you can plan your next move from there.”

I nodded silently and continued to stare at him while attaching the scabbard to my waist. Maybe he really did think he could make up for everything that had happened… It didn’t really matter did it? I didn’t know, I really did not.

“I know that nothing I’ve done will ever fix an-”

“Correct.” I cut in before he had finished. “Nothing you have done for me in the past week or so will fix anything that happened between us in the past.”

He didn’t seem at all affected by what I was saying, I’m certain that he wasn’t.

“Although I do appreciate what you have done father, so despite everything… thankyou.”

He opened his mouth to say something but before he had the chance I had already said it. I really needed to say it, it was something that had gone unsaid for far too long. Sometimes I just needed to say how I felt though, so I did just that.

“I Hate You.”

Those three words seemed to hang in the air for quite some time. I could barely even remember saying them, they seemed to just fly out of their own accord. ‘I hate you’, it was so short and simple and yet so powerful at the same time. I think it might have felt good, it really did. But it doesn’t matter.

He smiled and took a short, quick step backwards. Then he waved.

“Goodbye son.”

Then he walked away, back towards the castle. After that I left with his man, the two of us didn’t talk, he simply led me to where I needed to go.

Little did I know that he really was affected by what I had said. I think I might have realised that some time later maybe. It did feel good for me, although it did not for him. Because it did matter, maybe not to me or to anyone else, but it mattered to him.

Where he had gone after that was too his room to drink away the pain. He had cared for me somewhere along the line in spite of everything, and he had wanted to and hoped to fix things. Maybe he drunk himself to death, maybe he slipped and hit his head and that was how he died. I had no idea though, I was too focussed on my own problems and getting away from the rain to even consider that he was the one who really needed saving. After all, nothing was entirely his fault.