Taming the Wild

The Blacksmith

Charles was holding his broken telescope in his hands, clenching his fingers tightly around the metal tube. He was still new in town and kind of nervous about meeting new people. A little self-conscious for not knowing the ways of the West, he also felt a little alienated in the Carlton society. Being the new school teacher in the little Western town Charles became a target of criticism by some who believed schooling was redundant for the children in these parts. All kids needed to become adults was hard work and strong arms, according to most of the Carlton people.

Charles did not even need to use his gift of reading the minds - his telepathy - to know what the majority of the people in town thought about him. Little English know-it-all who came to act superior to everyone else just because he had posh education. Their thoughts were loud enough for Charles to hear, even though he constantly tried to shield himself. But even if it wasn't in their minds, it was also in their eyes - he could see the way they all looked at him. All but a few, of course. Miss Moira McTaggart, Mr. Hank McCoy. Those were the people who actually cared about knowledge and those were the people who were establishing - or at least trying to establish - a new school in Carlton.

And, by God, Charles was going to help them as much as he could! He stood firmly by his strong belief that knowledge was light and education was the candle to give us a glimpse of that light. Therefore, going to school was important for the development of every human being and nothing was going to stop him from teaching the children knowledge and values that endured all.

And yet, it was astonishing how little of the parents in town were actually willing to let their children study. It was depressing how empty the classrooms were. But Charles held onto hope. He held onto hope so tightly it hurt. Hope was all he had. Hope that he will find his sister again. Hope that the school will not fail. Hope that one day the world will be a better place.

... But now his telescope was broken and no matter how much he procrastinated meeting a blacksmith who was probably just as shallow about education and knowledge as the rest of the people in town, he had to deal with it now. How hard could it be to talk to the blacksmith anyway!?

Charles knocked on the side of the open door of the blacksmith's workshop and gave a friendly smile at the figure of the man inside the workshop. He was tall, lean, dirty, his hair was messy, his face was twisted in a grimace. He did not seem like someone who was pleased at having company. But then again, Charles wasn't here to keep him company - he was here because of the broken lens. And yet, it was in Charles' nature to be polite and to try to win over every person he meets.

"I hope I'm not interrupting..." he said, his voice, a little too quiet, sounding a bit shaky to his own ears. There was no visible reaction to his words so he continued "Umm, I don't think we've met. I'm Charles Xavier."

The man's eyes looked at him from under his eyebrows. The expression was stern, hard. "Lehnsherr." He barked.

Charles smiled a bit awkwardly "Nice to meet you, Mr. Lehnsherr." He said "That's an interesting name to come across in these parts."

Charles was only trying to make conversation but the man did not seem much interested in that. "Interesting name for an uninteresting person." Was his short reply and after that he went back to work, twisting the metal with his strong arms.

Charles held his breath. "Of course." he nodded quickly, feeling even more ridiculous now. "I myself am not from these parts actually. I came all the way from England, if you can't tell by the accent..." he joked and chuckled sheepishly but when he saw there was little, or let's face it, no interest in what he was saying, he decided to move on straight to the point. "I'm here for this..." he handed the telescope to the blacksmith and started explaining what was wrong with it.