Hey! I finally updated!!!! It's only a little bit but ya know!
Sorry it took so long but skool work, exams and other bad bad things got in
the way! Anyways enjoy....
Chapter six.
It was a dark cloudy day despite being June and Will was stood in an exposed field. The man he had arranged to meet was called Terry Brown. He was tall and fairly plain except for a very ragged bushy beard. Combined with wellington boots, an old paint splattered jumper and jeans he had the look Will expected of most historical fanatics, the type you always saw on t.v. At this moment in time he was carefully inspecting the shards of the knife. A looked of disturbed wonder was slowly spreading across his face, much like the look Will would have seen on Iorek's face if he had been able to read any expression at all.
"This knife" exclaimed Terry "is sharper than anything I've seen before! And then the other edge is indescribable, you can't see the end its so sharp!" he turned the tip round in his wok roughened fingers mindful of the edges. "This should be in a museum! How old did you say it was?"
"Three hundred years" said Will. He wished he could tell this man all he knew about the knife, after all this was the man who could fix it, who could give Will the power to find Lyra again. Only if he should need to, of course.
But it would be far too dangerous, Terry Brown might not be trust worthy. Anyway he'd probably put Will down as a lunatic and then he'd never fix the knife. Plus, given Will's mothers condition he doubted anyone would think twice before locking him away.
So the knifes secrets had better be left secret, thought Will.
"Three hundred years?!!?" the look of amazement on Terry's face was clear. "I've never seen anything like it from that time, it was all very rudimentary back then, but this! They must have found a new way of heating the metal because well.it's..just wonderful!" words seemed to be failing this man and Will knew why.
The knife had a sort of intoxicating power over people and Will remembered how wonderful it had felt to feel its weight in his hand once more after Iorek had fixed it. And it did look beautiful today, its soft, subtle colours showing themselves despite the heavy clouds. Will wished Terry had been able to see the knife before it had been broken at all, then he would have understood it's true beauty.
"Then they must have spent days on the edge" continued Terry in amazement. "It's so.. I don't know.subtle. Is that the right word? Anyway this really should be on display, in a museum" he repeated.
"That's what I was thinking" lied Will. "But I really think it should be fixed, don't you? Could you do that, could you fix it?" Wills heart was in his lurching uncontrollably as the man replied.
"Fix it?" Terry looked at the fragments much closer. "It's been fixed before hasn't it"
"Yes" replied Will " quite recently I think, but I couldn't be sure."
"The skill required is immense with such fine work, and it's held." Terry held up a piece for Will to inspect. "The second time this knife broke was in a different place to the forging marks. That's incredible, and where it has been reforged you can hardly seen the join at the edge!" Terry shook his head in disbelief "I doubt many people have that kind of skill"
"No, not many people" replied Will with just the slightest emphasis on the word people. "But can you fix it, that's the question"
"I'm not sure. I mean I could melt it down and make a totally new blade."
"No you mustn't do that!" said Will "you'd never get the edge back. If its going to be mended then it has to be done like before, piece by piece. Now, can you do that?"
Terry shook his head "I don't know, I just don't know. But I never say no to a challenge, I can't promise anything but I'll try." Terry handed the pieces back to Will before adding, "come here tomorrow and I'll have the forge built, then we'll see what happens"
Will thanked the man then left to get some sleep, after all he knew how tiring fixing the knife would be.
Chapter 7
Will returned the next day as requested. A forge much like the one Iorek had set up stood in the middle of the field but somehow it seemed to lack some of the power that Will expected. He might not be an armoured bear, thought Will but he'll have to do.
As he approached the burning forge Will remembered Ioreks words. The knife has intentions too. What were its intentions now? He felt its danger like it was being given off as smoke. It lay in his pocket like a coiled viper ready to strike, what damage could it do? He stopped halfway to the forge questioning if what he was doing was right. If this would in anyway endanger what he and Lyra had achieved, if it would threaten the dust would it be worth it? The knife did have its own intentions, Will was sure of that, the Spectres for one. They had been warned not to look for each other but how could he not when he woke up every night with the sound of her screams resounding in his ears. If she was in danger he had to help her or be tormented by his failure for the rest of his life. Besides he would only use it if he was absolutely sure she needed help. With this thought in his head he took a deep breath and strode towards the forge, chin jutting forwards as he walked.
But deep down he knew what would happen if the knife could be fixed, if he had the power to travel the worlds again. He would use it no matter if Lyra needed his help or not, he would search for her however long it took even if that meant to his death.
Chapter six.
It was a dark cloudy day despite being June and Will was stood in an exposed field. The man he had arranged to meet was called Terry Brown. He was tall and fairly plain except for a very ragged bushy beard. Combined with wellington boots, an old paint splattered jumper and jeans he had the look Will expected of most historical fanatics, the type you always saw on t.v. At this moment in time he was carefully inspecting the shards of the knife. A looked of disturbed wonder was slowly spreading across his face, much like the look Will would have seen on Iorek's face if he had been able to read any expression at all.
"This knife" exclaimed Terry "is sharper than anything I've seen before! And then the other edge is indescribable, you can't see the end its so sharp!" he turned the tip round in his wok roughened fingers mindful of the edges. "This should be in a museum! How old did you say it was?"
"Three hundred years" said Will. He wished he could tell this man all he knew about the knife, after all this was the man who could fix it, who could give Will the power to find Lyra again. Only if he should need to, of course.
But it would be far too dangerous, Terry Brown might not be trust worthy. Anyway he'd probably put Will down as a lunatic and then he'd never fix the knife. Plus, given Will's mothers condition he doubted anyone would think twice before locking him away.
So the knifes secrets had better be left secret, thought Will.
"Three hundred years?!!?" the look of amazement on Terry's face was clear. "I've never seen anything like it from that time, it was all very rudimentary back then, but this! They must have found a new way of heating the metal because well.it's..just wonderful!" words seemed to be failing this man and Will knew why.
The knife had a sort of intoxicating power over people and Will remembered how wonderful it had felt to feel its weight in his hand once more after Iorek had fixed it. And it did look beautiful today, its soft, subtle colours showing themselves despite the heavy clouds. Will wished Terry had been able to see the knife before it had been broken at all, then he would have understood it's true beauty.
"Then they must have spent days on the edge" continued Terry in amazement. "It's so.. I don't know.subtle. Is that the right word? Anyway this really should be on display, in a museum" he repeated.
"That's what I was thinking" lied Will. "But I really think it should be fixed, don't you? Could you do that, could you fix it?" Wills heart was in his lurching uncontrollably as the man replied.
"Fix it?" Terry looked at the fragments much closer. "It's been fixed before hasn't it"
"Yes" replied Will " quite recently I think, but I couldn't be sure."
"The skill required is immense with such fine work, and it's held." Terry held up a piece for Will to inspect. "The second time this knife broke was in a different place to the forging marks. That's incredible, and where it has been reforged you can hardly seen the join at the edge!" Terry shook his head in disbelief "I doubt many people have that kind of skill"
"No, not many people" replied Will with just the slightest emphasis on the word people. "But can you fix it, that's the question"
"I'm not sure. I mean I could melt it down and make a totally new blade."
"No you mustn't do that!" said Will "you'd never get the edge back. If its going to be mended then it has to be done like before, piece by piece. Now, can you do that?"
Terry shook his head "I don't know, I just don't know. But I never say no to a challenge, I can't promise anything but I'll try." Terry handed the pieces back to Will before adding, "come here tomorrow and I'll have the forge built, then we'll see what happens"
Will thanked the man then left to get some sleep, after all he knew how tiring fixing the knife would be.
Chapter 7
Will returned the next day as requested. A forge much like the one Iorek had set up stood in the middle of the field but somehow it seemed to lack some of the power that Will expected. He might not be an armoured bear, thought Will but he'll have to do.
As he approached the burning forge Will remembered Ioreks words. The knife has intentions too. What were its intentions now? He felt its danger like it was being given off as smoke. It lay in his pocket like a coiled viper ready to strike, what damage could it do? He stopped halfway to the forge questioning if what he was doing was right. If this would in anyway endanger what he and Lyra had achieved, if it would threaten the dust would it be worth it? The knife did have its own intentions, Will was sure of that, the Spectres for one. They had been warned not to look for each other but how could he not when he woke up every night with the sound of her screams resounding in his ears. If she was in danger he had to help her or be tormented by his failure for the rest of his life. Besides he would only use it if he was absolutely sure she needed help. With this thought in his head he took a deep breath and strode towards the forge, chin jutting forwards as he walked.
But deep down he knew what would happen if the knife could be fixed, if he had the power to travel the worlds again. He would use it no matter if Lyra needed his help or not, he would search for her however long it took even if that meant to his death.