Forge

For a while all Ben could do was stare at the stall’s owner. Ben knew Mark wasn’t the biggest person when it came to muscle mass, but on average most people didn’t even come close. Wulfric on the other hand doubled what his brother had if not more. It looked as if he had been pounding away at mettle for the last five hundred years. 

“Hi, my name is Mark.” Ben’s brother took hold of Wulfrics outstretched arm. “And this is my brother Ben and my little sister Holly.”

            “It is very good to meet you all.” Wulfric took a moment to get a closer look at all three of them. “I mean none of you no disrespect, but it has been some time since I had the pleasure of meeting siblings with such a unique coloring to their hair.”

            “And it’s all natural!” Holly said, running a hand through her bright red hair, beaming.

            “Well is it now. There is no fire I know of that could rival your beauty.” This made Holly’s smile widen and she spun around taking in everything in the tent.

            “Did you make all this? How long did it take you? It’s so pretty, what is all the knot work called. How much would this cost?” She said holding up a delicate silver chain with a small silver hammer charm on it. Ben stepped a little closer to get a better look. The charm was covered in what looked like Celtic knots. Some of them so fine he could barely make them out.

            “All this was crafted by me. Some pieces taking longer than others. That piece is Mjolner, Thor’s hammer. There were many in the old days who wore them and prayed to the God of thunder. Not many wear them now, not that it would help them anyways, seeing as he is gone.” A look of sadness flashed across Wolfric’s face and was gone. “Those knots are futhark runes. As for the price, little lady, let me think. I’ve been told that the old way of trading is frowned upon now, so for you it would be 160 of your Canadian coin.”

            “Oh.” Holly said a little disappointed. Ben looked down at his little sister. She had actually wanted the chain and charm.

            “Do you teach classes?” Mark asked quickly. Ben could tell he had noticed Holly’s face as well and was trying to quickly break the awkward silence. “I would love to learn how to make some of these.”

            “Well boy, I knew you liked the craft. I could smell it.” Wolfric said smiling.

            “Mark is great at mettles shop. He’s made me all sorts of stuff.” Holly put in excitedly as she carefully put down the necklace on its cushion.

            “And did you use the welder?” Wolfric asked his attention on Mark watching him shake his head in ascent. “I thought as much.” He said shaking his head. “The welder was a fine thing to make, but now so many of your kind spend too much time with it, and have lost the art of the forge. The mettle is alive boy! She needs to be shaped to be turned into the powerful things you want her to be. Not glued together with some alien mettle she’s never meet. I felt your hand boy, it’s meant for a hammer not a torch. Come with me I’ll show you something.”

            Wolfric lead Mark to the back of the tent to where he had tools and an anvil set out. They began to talk about mettle stuff. What mettle to use for what. How to slowly add other materials so the mettle becomes stronger. Not really paying attention Ben started to look at what else was in the tent. Slowly he made his way towards Holly who was excitedly trying to look at everything at once. Ben picked up a Viking sword. The hilt and scabbard beautifully wrapped in dark red leather. The cross guard and pommel had to be made out of silver and he could see that they were both covered in those futhark runes. They still looked like Celtic knots to Ben. He slid the sword out of its sheath and looked at the blade. The mettle looked like some kind of wood it had so many lines running through it. Now Ben didn’t work with mettle like Mark did but he knew it looked like Damascus steel. Yet somehow this steel looked more alive. In the swords fuller next to its hilt was a word in a different mettle, it said Ulfberht. A cry behind him made him look away from the sword. Outside the tent some ravens had perched on the surrounding tents looking at him with small beady red eyes.

            “Ben you need to come see this!” Holly said grabbing his arm and dragging him away from the entrance and the weird looking ravens. She pulled him to a shield propped up against a bench. “Look at this Ben. There is a bunch of pictures carved in the mettle. It looks like it tells a story!”

            She was right. In the center of the shield was a large tree. At the top of the tree there was a bird, maybe an eagle, and a dragon on the bottom. On the branches of the tree it looked like worlds, like each branch held up a world or turned into one. Around and around the tree ran pictures of battles. Wolfs ran, and men fought giants. A serpent edged the rim and a man brought a hammer down on its head. It was one of the most beautiful things Ben had ever seen. An apple tree was burning, and a woman killed a giant wolf with her hands. Ben couldn’t say why but he felt drawn to the story on the shield, so much so that he couldn’t look away. When a square hand enveloped his shoulder he almost jumped out of his skin. He looked up into the worried face of the blacksmith.

            “I think it’s time you should go.” Wolfric said not even looking at him. Instead he was looking outside the tent. Ben realized that it was darker and looked around. Outside of the tent there were Thousands of ravens. Screaming flying covering the other tents and all of them had beady read eyes.

            “What’s going on?” Holly said staring at the birds.

            “Those are Natteravn. It means something bad is coming.” Wolfric said turning to look at them. “And it might already be too late for you to leave.”