Chapter Twenty: Hammer to Fall

"So . . . These rings you made. You'll be wanting them engraved?"

I was waiting for breakfast to be served and since I wasn't entirely awake and I found myself grunting something to the affirmative. Brickit, who was being far too helpful to be trusted, looked thoughtful and almost sage as he folded his hands and pondered the mysteries of scratching a letter into a metal surface.

"Bunta is the best engraver here, wouldn't you say, Brint?"

"Aye," said Brint, more intent on his beer than his brother.

"We'll have her engrave them for ya, lad. That will be an 'S' and an 'N' I take it, then?"

I groaned and dropped my head into my folded arms. It was too early in the morning and I hadn't gotten nearly enough sleep. I had spent all yesterday afternoon and a good part of the evening and night shaping thick strips of silver into signet rings. I had learned a great deal and enjoyed the lesson immensely, but now I needed about a hundred hours of sleep and something besides beer to drink. I was very surprised to learn that silver was nothing like steel to forge. The precious metal was worked at room temperature by careful hammering, tapping and shaping, with a minimal amount of soldering and an amazing amount of filing and polishing. It had taken me one full day, two masters, three explosive arguments over proper technique, four violent arguments over proper technique, and five tries to achieve something like success, and that with the masters breathing down my back as I worked and constantly complaining that I was too tall. In the end I had made two very plain, heavy rings that passed the critical inspection of the masters, the Chief Smith, and me.

That was yesterday. Silly me, I had mentioned to one of the masters that I wanted to give one of the rings - the final and best one I had made - to Peter. I should have known by now that what was known by one Dwarf at sunrise would be known by all of them come sunset.

"No, Brickit," I replied without raising my head. "That will be an 'E' and a 'P.'"

"Right," he agreed too easily. "Spawn and Nancy it is."

"You're not funny," I mumbled.

"Yes, I am," was the glib reply.

"Then you're very easily amused."

"Just as you're easily aggravated, Spawn."

"If I find anything other than an 'E' and a 'P' on those rings I will tell the entire world the Dwarfs of the Blue River Smithy are unlettered and daft."

"You wouldn't be telling them anything they didn't already believe."

Grumbling a reply, I sat up for the sole purpose of glaring at him. I wasn't at my best and it had no effect whatsoever. Brickit smiled winningly at my nasty, early morning persona and asked,

"So tell me, boy, what is it you wish to do?"

I shook my head. Understanding of his meaning had yet to penetrate. What did I want to do? I wanted to sleep.

"You've produced naught but jewelry to this point," explained the Chief Smith as his mother set a plate before me. "Any spawn can work silver. You've proven as much. So what do you want to learn to make?"

I knew the answer instantly. There was no mulling over my reply. Before I could draw a breath to speak Gran set breakfast before the Chief Smith.

"Think on it," he ordered, though somehow I thought he already knew what I would say. "We'll talk after breakfast."

After breakfast, however, turned out to be a bit later than anticipated when three of the grumpy and uncouth cousins from Moon Mountain returned. I could sense the tension immediately and without being told I slipped away and went back to my old task of running coal as Brickit dealt with them. Since my status had changed in the smithy I wasn't yelled for quite so much and the master called me to his side to assist him more than once. It was far more interesting than shoveling coal and fetching water, I must say. He even allowed me, under Bort's watchful eye, to hammer the edges of some spear heads to ready them for sharpening. Bort surprised me by being a patient and able teacher.

When it came time for the midday meal I felt a pang of hesitation as I entered the long house. Brickit sat in his usual spot and the cousins were ranged around him. He glanced my way and with an imperceptible nod motioned for me to take my seat beside him. The cousins were surprised at what to them was brazen behavior as I greeted them. There was very little room between the Chief Smith and his miner peer, but fortunately I was a skinny thing and I fit neatly between them.

"Well met, cousins," I said pleasantly. "Thank you, Lady Bly," I added as she poured me some beer. I noticed it was grainier and worse-tasting than usual, as if it came from the bottom of the barrel. All they needed to do now was to serve was some apple cake to drive off the unwelcome visitors.

"King or no, you've not been invited!" snapped the eldest of the cousins.

Brickit's reply was matter-of-fact and calm. "Nor does he need to be, Biss. The rumor that brought you here is true. He placed himself in danger's way for the sake of this clan and saved four of our children from the Werewulf. He bears the wounds to prove it. He eats with my family now."

I couldn't tell if this was simply shocking or extremely horrifying to the visiting Dwarfs. Biss' expression was carved of stone and his companions drew back and exchanged scandalized looks before eyeing me and the scratches on my jaw and neck with deep suspicion. I suppose the notion of adopting a human rather revolted them, but then Black Dwarfs are not the most tolerant or fair-minded creatures in Aslan's creation. I was fortunate in my choice of Dwarfs, for mine were wiser and more open-minded than most. Brickit had already said that these cousins were confused and Gran had called them jealous of my presence. I wondered if there was any way of resolving their obvious disgust, but I realized that anything I said or any gesture I made towards them right now would be looked upon as trying to mollify them and salve their wounded pride. I decided that until I knew better, I would leave the cousins to each other and trust they could settle their differences in a somewhat civilized manner.

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"I suppose thanks are in order."

I dumped my shovelful of coal into the half-full barrow before turning to the Chief Smith. "How so?"

"Your noxious presence has chased off my cousins. The only thing worse than uninvited guests are uninvited guests that are related to you."

"Remind me not to drop in uninvited," I grunted, leaning on the shovel for a quick rest. When I came back here again I needed to bring tools of the proper size, not to mention a decent pillow. "So shall we look at our pact as a standing invitation, then?"

"Only if I'm free to return the favor."

I grinned, shoveling some more of the stone onto the cart. "Only if you learn my brother's name."

"I know the Nancy's name, lad, I just choose not to use it."

I rolled my eyes. Clearly this was going to be a long and drawn out war.

"So," Brickit said. "Have you thought on what you want to make?"

"I didn't need to. I want to make a knife. Nothing as fancy as yours, of course. But . . . something as elegant."

"Elegant?" he echoed, trying out the word. His bushy eyebrows rose as he applied the word to his own work and found it suited.

Facing him squarely, I replied in earnest. "La. Something worthy of a king. Worthy of my king. I want to make something to thank Peter."

"Thank him for what?" demanded the Dwarf, picking up a shovel. He dumped more coal into the barrow.

"A lot of things," I said. "Mostly for not giving up on me."

Brickit gave me an odd look. "Why would he ever think to do that?"

I snorted. "Because I was beastly."

He grunted in response.

"Also to thank him for sending me here," I added after a pause, pushing the shovel into the pile of coal, "and for sending me to Lithin. I think he saw before I did that I was the right person to do this."

Another cascade of shiny black rock was added to the barrow. Brickit was unusually thoughtful and finally he said, "'Tis not a simple task."

"Then you'll just have to make certain I do it right then, won't you? After all, the whole of Narnia will know where their High King's knife came from."

"Aye, his spawn of a brother!"

"Who learned under the gentle tutelage of you," I finished with a grin. I winced as the scratches on my neck reminded me of their presence.

"Sore?" Brickit pressed.

"Only when I smile, really."

"Good. Don't smile."

I rolled my eyes instead. "So will you teach me?"

"Only on the condition that you do exactly as I say and that if the end result is less than perfect, you start again."

"Agreed. I won't give him less than my best. Ever."

He set his shovel down. "Go empty this and get your apron on."

"Now?" I wondered, a faint whine slipping through. It was almost time for dinner and I was tired and filthy and very hungry.

His black eyes were sparkling. "Can you think of a better time?"

I could, but there was no way I would say as much. Despite the pain it caused, I smiled.

"No."

He returned the smile, knowing exactly what I was thinking. This was another test, a test that I had passed. "Then get thee moving, Spawn!"