Fifteen years ago today. Fifteen years ago, one of Father's guards found me, a human baby, outside the gates to Bregan Hold. The mournful peal of Kothar's Hammer exacerbated his grim mood. Ach. Such thoughts are poisonous. I am pround to have been raised by the king of the dwarves. Between Orik and Hvedra, one could not have asked for a better parentage.
"Ah, Kothar! Finishing your Raiment of War, are we?" King Orik said as he trundled into the forge, referring to the custom set of Armor and now, sword, that Kothar had forged for himself. It consisted of a breastplate with inlaid silver in floral patterns and chain mail sleeves and skirt.. His gauntlets and greaves had the same floral pattern.
"Yes, father. I only have a few more hours work on my sword, and its mostly engraving." he replied, returning his hammer to the rack and removing a fine chisel and a smaller hammer.
"Excellent. I shall leave you too it then." Orik lumbered back out of the forge, Volund on his shoulder.
Kothar spent the next five hours engraving his blade and crossgaurd. His crossgaurd consisted of two dragons, one of each side of the blade, which arched their tails away from and back towards the blade, but the did not touch it with their open maws. He engraved every scale with painstaking detail, and all along the blade he engraved the same floral pattern from his armor, then began the work of imbuing his blade with the meager power of his magic. Once completed, he donned his armor and sheathed his sword on his hip and presented himself to his father.
"Father, I have finished. Come see!"
"Mine son, I could not have taught you better." Orik said after turning him around and examining Kothar from head to toe. "This is fine workmanship son. What will you name your sword?" Orik asked
"I plan to let the people name my sword. Naming ones own sword before you have proven yourself with it is arrogant, when you may not live long enough into your first battle to prove the weapon's worth."
"Ah, mine son. Always the Philosipher. I hope you shall never have to prove your weapons worth in anything but harmless sparring." He replied.
"Father, I'm going to go out into Farthen Dur, to the training grounds. I would like to try out mine new equipment. Would you join me?"
"Yes, I shall."
Meh. Kinda crap chapter. Sets up for next chapter and rest of story. ideas are appreciated. Spasibo.