At Vakama's Forge

By Talking Hawk

Vast clear blue skies reached out with long whispering fingers toward the clouds of smoke that rose from Ta-Metru. The sun's beams reflected off of a being's gold mask as his twin swords, attached to one another to make a flying board, carried him to his destination.

The last Toa smiled beneath his mask, gazing back at Ga-Metru. He had felt rejuvenated after a particularly lonely morning. He had been reflecting on what he now was – the "last Toa" – and it was, indeed, not a very pleasant thought.

Lhikan couldn't help but sighing. He had been the last Toa for a while, but it was beginning to weigh down upon him more and more. He was beginning to come to terms with the fact that if anything happened to him. . .

He didn't like thinking about it, but the centuries had taught him that such thoughts came from the Great Spirit Himself. The Great Spirit was trying to prepare him for something.

More and more, Lhikan found himself visiting the other metrus of the island. He was visiting more of the Matoran, getting to know them, trying to find the right ones. . .

He felt like he was looking for needles in a haystack. As he had begun his search, he felt as though he had never seen a needle before, but he knew that when he found one, he would know it.

Now, he was accustomed to the pinprick-like feeling that accompanied him as he met certain Matoran. Already, he had found one from nearly each metru.

He just had that experience again late that morning. He had been gliding away from the outskirts of the Temple, where he had pondered the great thoughts of the task that lay ahead of him. As it was heavily guarded by Vahki Enforcers that had been posted by Turaga Dume, he had been unable to enter within the inner walls of the Temple. Instead of trying to sneak in, which would have been very risky, he had sat on a rock nearby the sanctuary to ponder.

As he gazed in the direction of the clouds of Ta-Metru, he felt a prompting to look down.

Beneath him some forty meters, a small congregation of Ga-Matoran had gathered, sitting on stone seats in a large open-air auditorium. A sense of wonder seemed to hang over the listening Matoran as a fellow Teacher stood on the stage, lecturing about something of great interest.

To the Toa's surprise, he felt the need to join them. When Lhikan was younger, he used to question such thoughts. But after years of experience and the accumulation of wisdom, he had learned to listen and obey such promptings. Heeding it, he glided down quietly to the back of the auditorium.

His presence seemingly went unnoticed, except for the Teacher at the front.

The first thing that Lhikan noticed was that she carried herself differently than previous Matoran that he had come in contact with. He was well acquainted with the cautious stoop of his best friend Vakama, who toiled over his forge for hours on end. Lhikan realized, also, that such a stoop indicated the lack of faith that Vakama had in himself, which Lhikan knew that as with many things, time could heal.

This Matoran had a different stance, however. She did not have such a stoop, or the puffed-up chest of a certain Rider he had met. The Teacher's shoulders were not bent forward or pushed back, but straight as a line. Lhikan smiled to himself. This Teacher was neither bashful nor arrogant. She believed in herself.

For a brief moment that her listeners would have thought was a brief relapse in thought, the Teacher stopped. Her audience waited patiently, oblivious of the fact that a legendary guardian of the island stood only a few meters behind them.

For a moment, the Teacher thought of saying something to the honored guest. Thoughts coursed rapidly through her mind – 'Is something wrong? Why is he here? Should I say something? Maybe he doesn't want to be noticed.' She was about ready to say something when, as though he had read her thoughts, the Toa smiled gently and took a seat on the last stone step of the auditorium.

The Ga-Matoran let out a small sigh. Nothing was wrong in Ga-Metru, her beloved village. All was well. The Toa simply wanted to listen in on the lesson.

Collecting her thoughts again and determined to share some of her knowledge not only with her fellow Ga-Matoran but this distinguished guest, the Teacher continued with her lecture on the translation of ancient languages of Metru-Nui.

After the lecture was over, and most of the teachers had left the auditorium after recovering from the shock of learning that they had sat through a whole lecture with a Toa behind them and not even realizing it, Lhikan made his way toward the stage. A few Ga-Matoran congratulated the Teacher on a lecture well-taught, but then uneasily left the auditorium, believing that the Toa would like a few private words with the instructor. The Teacher watched him as he made his way down the aisle, and finally leaped nimbly to the stage floor.

"Greetings, Toa Lhikan," the teacher said with a voice that reminiscent of the coolness of water. She bowed respectfully, though her eyes did not wholly reflect her words' steadiness.

"Greetings, teacher," Lhikan replied, smiling. Though he had not listened to the teacher for very long, he had been impressed. While listening, he had received the pinprick-like feeling that he had had before.

She was the one he had been looking for.

Of course, it was not yet time for her to know that. Lhikan decided to begin with talking about something she was familiar with. "That was a wonderful lecture," he said sincerely. "I really quite enjoyed it."

"Oh." The teacher's face flushed a bright blue. Lhikan couldn't help but smile, which only deepened the blush. "Thank you." After a moment's pause in which time she did recover, she continued cheerfully, "I really do enjoy studying the ancient Matoran dialects. But, I'm sure you know much more about them than I do. After all, though pardon me if I'm wrong," she added hastily, "Matoran might have actually spoken these dialects during your lifetime."

Lhikan chuckled softly. "I'm old, that is true, but I do believe that I was not on Metru-Nui when they spoke those dialects." He looked at the carvings that the teacher had brought out to refer to during her lecture. Glancing over them, he added, "Some of these words, however, do sound familiar. Perhaps I came to this island when these dialects were evolving into the present ones."

The Teacher looked up at the Toa in awe. The Toa smiled, thinking of wonderful places and people that laid in his past, before and after coming to Metru-Nui. Then, turning his head, he smiled down at the Matoran. Somehow, he knew that she would be part of the good that lay ahead in the future.

"What is your name?" he asked slowly, in a voice that reminded the teacher of the flow of a mighty river. This river, she could almost perceive, would carry her away with its current toward her future.

Slowly, but decisively, she said,

"Nokama."

When the sun looked straight down on him from the sky, the Toa was making his way toward Ta-Metru. He felt exhilarated as his board took him high above the island, where the gusts of wind swept his worries aside. For a moment, he no longer felt weighed down by what lay behind and what lay ahead of him, but felt exhilarated by the present.

As he came down for his descent to one of the towers of Ta-Metru, he thought of the different cultures of the Matoran on Metru-Nui. Ko-Matoran constantly probed prophecies for knowledge of the future – what lay ahead – while Onu-Matoran unburied the secrets of the past with the care of an archeologist unearthing an ancient treasure to learn of things that lay behind.

In Lhikan's mind, though he himself was not a native of the island, the Fire People, or the Ta-Matoran, seemed to lay in the middle of these two extremes. Sure, there were the Le-Matoran, who lived only for the present, but it was in Lhikan's opinion that the Ta-Matoran took the best of both worlds. They looked to the past for inspiration and knowledge while looking toward the future as they dreamed and adventured in the distinguished field of forging Great Kanohi Masks.

As the Toa stepped off onto a landing and disassembled his gliding board, he gazed about at the familiar entryway. Many times he had stepped through it to visit his Ta-Matoran friend while he was at work on yet another mask. Lhikan smiled as he thought of the tidings he had brought today.

Entering the workshop, the Toa found his friend where he had left him the day before – at his forge. Lhikan chuckled quietly, but then stopped. Normally, it pleased him to find his friend hard at work, but he couldn't help but feeling uneasy about it in this particular case. He wasn't sure if it was the long hours his friend was toiling away at his companion's newest assignment or the reason why the assignment had been given that gave him this sense of unease.

He sighed, yet to be noticed by the dedicated Ta-Matoran worker. Lhikan didn't know what to think about the idea of the honorable Turaga Dume asking for a "Mask of Time." Lhikan had always respected the Turaga, and had always put the utmost trust in him. . .but this time. . .

Lhikan wasn't quite sure what to think. Something was making him feel uncomfortable about the whole thing, but since he felt powerless to deal with the issue concerning Turaga Dume, he decided to address the other issue at hand – Vakama's need to take a break.

Lhikan couldn't help but frown at this thought as well. He wondered if Vakama had even laid down to rest after Lhikan had left the day before. Breathing out softly, and realizing that if he wanted the Matoran's attention he would have to speak first, he said, "Still hard at work, Vakama?"

Immediately, Vakama swiveled around. "Toa Lhikan!" he exclaimed with a gasp. He held half of a golden mask in his hands. The other half, Lhikan realized, was on the floor on the other side of the room. It probably had flown there by its own will after Vakama had accidentally snapped the mask in half with his trembling hands.

Vakama's face looked tired and weather-beaten – or, in this case, mask-beaten. An added shade of shame spread across his face as he realized that his friend had seen the pitiful mess had had made before he could clean it up. Lhikan frowned, regretting making Vakama feel this way, but then smiled gently.

"May I?" Lhikan asked, holding out his hand. Hesitantly, Vakama placed the broken mask in the Toa's hand. Vakama turned his gaze aside, watching his helper droid that was walking toward the other half of the broken mask across the room to deposit it on the scrap heap. He could not bear to see the look of disappointment that he was sure to see on his friend's face.

When Vakama did dare to steal a glance at his friend, he was surprised to see his friend. . .smiling! He was confused – how could he be smiling when Vakama had failed so miserably for the umpteenth time? 'They'll probably end up naming a mask graveyard after me,' he thought to himself.

His friend's returning gaze was kind. Handing the broken mask back to the Matoran, he said, "You've got the beginnings of a great mask here, Vakama."

Vakama looked shocked. He valued his friend's words very much, and to have such a compliment was, to say the least, an incredible gift to be had.

Taking the broken mask, Vakama looked at it again. He didn't see what was so great about it, but he wasn't about to go against what his friend had said either.

He handed the broken mask to his helper droid, who slowly carried it in the direction of the scrap heap.

Vakama looked up at the Toa, thinking about the mask-maker who had forged Lhikan's mask. Though Vakama did not know who that was, the Matoran knew that he must had been a great mask-maker indeed. He smiled in his heart, looking at the distinguished ridges over the eyes of the mask and the decisive slits along the cheeks. Vakama had always dreamed of making such a mask, a mask that would be worn by a hero.

Vakama shook his head, ridding himself of such a ridiculous thought. He knew that such a thing would never happen.

However, in a way, if he could make this mask for the Turaga, he might accomplish that goal. The Turaga, after all, was a great hero. Still though, he was no Toa like Lhikan.

It was his dream to make a mask someday that would be worn by such a Toa hero. . .

"Well, Vakama, I have a proposal for you," the Toa said, a slight grin beginning to appear. He placed his hands on his hips as the Matoran looked up at him in wonder.

"What is it?" Vakama asked, opening his hands as his shoulders shrugged. Vakama had a way of acting that was very proper, which Lhikan liked. Even the most miniscule movement spoke of the Matoran's etiquette. It reminded Lhikan of a sense of nobility that many of the inhabitants of Metru-Nui had forgotten long ago.

"Seeing as you have been rather hard at work," Lhikan said, gesturing toward the scrap heap, which caused Vakama to frown, "I do believe that you could use a bit of a break."

This only deepened the Ta-Matoran's frown. Opening his palms again, he gestured toward his anvil and a small stack of Kanoka Disks yet to be pounded and forged into potential Masks of Time.

"I can't leave now!" the Matoran exclaimed. "I only have a few days left until the Great Contest, and I haven't even completed the Mask of Time."

Lhikan frowned, staring at the anvil and then Vakama. For some strange reason, a shiver always went down when he heard the words "The Mask of Time." Though he couldn't quite put his finger on it, the entire thing gave him a feeling of discomfort.

Crossing his arms, he sighed. Vakama wouldn't understand even if he did try to explain his uneasy feelings to him. Turaga Dume had been the leader of Metru-Nui Vakama's whole lifetime. Vakama could never suspect ill of him.

After so many centuries, Lhikan was surprised to suddenly find himself suspecting ill of the great leader. . .

Typically, Lhikan supported his friend in his assignments, but in this case, he felt that doing so would perhaps be an unwise decision. Not only was there the above reason, the possibility that such a "Mask of Time" could be used by either the Turaga or someone else for an ill purpose, but also the fact that Vakama never seemed to leave his forge anymore.

Lhikan could not even remember the last time Vakama had left Ta-Metru. This was not particularly easy anymore with the placement of so many Vahki Enforcers at the gates of each metru, but the fact that Vakama was so caught up with this assignment worried the Toa.

In hopes of setting both his and Vakama's minds at ease, Lhikan voiced at least one of his thoughts. "Well, I think some fresh air could do you a lot of good." With a grin, he continued, "I just returned from hearing a lecture in Ga-Metru. It was really quite fascinating. The Teacher is incredible at translating ancient languages."

Immediately, Lhikan could tell that he hadn't won the Matoran over. Vakama gave him an incredulous look, raising an eyebrow ridge.

"That sounds. . .interesting. . ." Vakama said, too well mannered to be rude to his friend, and more especially a Toa, "but I really don't see how a lecture on ancient languages is going to help me make this mask."

Lhikan felt helpless. All that Vakama could think about was that forging Mask of Time. It was not so much the deadline that worried the Matoran, Lhikan knew, but the fear that the Turaga, someone he looked up to, might think badly of him. Lhikan did not have the heart to say this to his dear friend for he knew that his words meant as much to the Matoran as well as the Turaga's did, if not even more so.

The Toa knew it was important for Vakama and Nokama, as well as the others, to meet. Deep down, Lhikan knew that someday – whether sooner or later – he would not be there. When that day came, Lhikan wanted Vakama to have other Matoran to hold him up and to support him. Strength came in numbers, and Lhikan knew that this group of Matoran that he had been guided to was destined to be something very special.

The discovery of the chosen Matoran from Ta-Metru had come very easily to Lhikan. In fact, he was the first one that the Toa knew would follow in his footsteps. It pleased him that he would pass the torch of leadership to one day. His dear friend would someday take up the banner of Metru-Nui and be the guardian of this great village, as well as the leader of the next generation of heroes.

The thing that gave the Toa an even greater feeling of loss than being unable to get his friend away from the forge was the fear he had in his heart that Vakama would – as he was currently doing – not be able to step outside of his own personal world. Lhikan had confidence that the Great Spirit had chosen Vakama and not that he had, but Vakama would soon have to learn that the future of Metru-Nui – including Ta-Metru – rested in his hands.

Kneeling down on one knee, Lhikan's eyes looked deeply into Vakama's. Resting his hands on Vakama's shoulders, the Toa said, "Your destiny lies outside of Ta-Metru. Your future encompasses all of Metru-Nui. I know you can't possibly understand that now, but…" Lhikan's voice trailed off as Vakama's brow lowered in confusion.

Knowing that the Matoran would most likely better understand something he was familiar with, Lhikan appealed to the Three Virtues.

"Unity, duty, destiny," Lhikan said in a voice that sent a shiver down Vakama's spine. The Fire Toa's tone was mysterious, yet firm. "These are the Three Virtues. It is a part of my duty," Lhikan said, placing one of his hands over his heart, "to look out for the best interest of the Matoran. That includes you."

Vakama gave him a look of surprise. He had never thought of the Three Virtues in that way before. They had always seemed kind of abstract, something that was a good idea but yet didn't seem to apply to Vakama's life. His world, as far as he was concerned, was Ta-Metru, and little led him to venture either physically or mentally beyond its borders. Sure, if the Po-Matoran didn't take the Ta-Matoran's forged parts and construct them into critical items, Vakama would not have tools to work with, but he knew little beyond that of the importance of the Virtue of Unity.

Placing his right hand again on Vakama's shoulder, Lhikan gazed at his friend. He decided that perhaps it might be best to reveal at least one of his concerns to the Matoran.

"What would you do if I disappeared one day?"

Lhikan wanted Vakama to have a support-network, Matoran he could hang onto when Lhikan was no longer there.

Nothing could have prepared him for the answer.

Without a hesitation, Vakama's eyes narrowed with determination and he stated firmly, "I would find you."

The Toa was speechless. After a moment of gazing back into the stout Matoran's eyes, the Toa realized something. . .

Never had he had a truer friend.

He found himself smiling wryly at Vakama. He certainly had not intended for the conversation to go along this tangent, but he said grimly, "I don't know if you would be able to find me, Vakama. . ." His eyes twinkled, touched by his friend's devotion to him. "But whether or not you can, please, keep the heart of Metru-Nui safe."

Certainly, there was no way for Vakama to know what "the heart of Metru-Nui" was, but he felt compelled to give the sorrowful look of his friend's eyes a reply.

"I will," Vakama said, and the weight that had been on his shoulders was removed. Vakama watched his friend's chest heave as the weight that had been on it was removed as well. Lhikan smiled down at his Matoran friend.

"Someday," he said as Vakama escorted him to the door, "you will meet this Teacher. She is really quite the spectacle."

With that, Lhikan leapt onto his board, bid his friend farewell, and disappeared into the clear blue sky from whence he came.

Soon, Vakama would learn the same for himself.