Journey of an Einherji - The Sword of Summer

Contest of Fire and Metal

Kenning Square looked like a mix between a basketball court and the movie set of Dragonheart. A chain-link fence bordered a stretch of cracked asphalt. Along one side stood a row of stone pillars carved like totem poles with dragon heads, centipedes and troll faces. Along the other side, bleachers were packed with dwarfs spectators. On the court, two open-air blacksmith shops were ready for action. Each had a forge with bellows to stoke the fire, an assortment of anvils, a few sturdy tables and racks of tool that looked like torture equipment.

The crowd seemed prepared for a long day. They had brought coolers, blanckets and picnic baskets. A few enterprising dwarves had parked their food trucks nearby. The sign for ÌRI'S HANDCRAFTED CONFECTIONS showed a waffle cone topped with a three storey ice cream palace, BUMBURR'S BREAKSFAST BURRITOS had a line of twenty dwarves, which made me sorry I had eaten a few cookies at Blitzen's place.

As we approached the court, the crowd gave Blitzen a smattering applause. Sam was nowhere to be seen. She had never come back to the apartment the previous night. I was caught between being angry, worried, and the pain in my back for sleeping in Blitz's armchair.

Junior was waiting, leaning on his gold-plated walker. His two bodyguards stood behind him, dressed like their boss in overalls and leather gauntlets.

"Well, well, Blitzen." - the old dwarf sneered - "Mossglow started ten minutes ago. Were you getting your beauty sleep?"

Blitzen looked like he hadn't slept at all. His eyes were sunken and bloodshot. He had spent the past hour worrying about what to wear, finally deciding on grey slacks, a smart white shirt with black braces, pointy black shoes and a pork-pie hat. He might not win for his crafting, but he would defintely get the award for best dressed blacksmith.

He glanced around distractedly.

"Get started?"

The crowd cheered. Hearthstone accompanied Blitzen to the forge. After a night on Blitz's tanning bed, the elf's face had a rosy sheen as if he had been infused with red pepper. Before we left the apartment, he had cast a rune on Blitz to help him feel rested and focused, which had left Hearth exhausted and unfocused. Nevertheless, Hearth stoked the forge while Blitzen puttered around his workstation, staring in confusion at the racks of tools and baskets of metal ore.

Despite my efforts, Hearth insisted that he would help Blitz first with the forge until he regained some strength. It was up to me and Magnus to keep Blitzen safe.

Junior scooted around on his walker, barking at one of his bodyguards to fetch him a lump of iron and a sack of bone chips. The other bodyguard stood watch, scanning for anything that might disrupt his boss's work.

After about an hour, my adrenaline rush wore off. I realized why the spectators had brought picnic lunches. Crafting was a slow sport. Every once in a while the crowd would clap or murmur approvingly when Junior struck a good hit with his hammer, or plunged a piece of metal into the cooling vat with a satisfying hiss. Nabbi and the two other judges paced back and forth between the workstations, scribbling notes on their clipboards. But, for me and Magnus, most of the morning was spent standing around with our respective swords, trying to look like we knew what we were doing.

A couple of times we had to do our job. Once a dart shot out of nowhere, heading for Blitzen. Magnus sliced the dart out of the air. The crowd applauded, but Magnus stared at the Sword of Summer with furrowed eyebrows.

A rounded object, that looked too similar to a grenade, came from the crowd. Before the grenade hit the ground, I smacked it with the flat side of my sword and sent it back towards where it came from. Luckily when the grenade exploded, it didn't killed anyone. A yellowish smoke covered about five meters diameters of the crowd. It smelled like rotten eggs.