Bang! Bang! Bang!
You were a knight, an orphan and a outlander, but you were a knight! A weaponless and armourless knight is about as much use as a straw fire guard. You were no use to anyone, not as a warrior at least. You may never need it again, but you were going to have your armour.
Bang! Bang! Bang!
Your hammer struck against the hot metal with all your strength, forming the iron rod into a flat shape. Sweat dropped from your brow, the forge was burning hotter then it ever had before. It would have to be, in order to forge the carbon into the iron. Your sword would be made of steel, stronger then any iron. It was shorter then your last blade, since the one you lost had quickly sapped your strength in battle. The iron was too hard to properly shape, so back in the forge it went.
It would take a little while for the blade to reheat, so you took a sip of water. It was important to be aware of your temperature, since you could pass out, especially at your weakened state. Although you were close to full strength again, which is why you would even attempt this large project. That being said, it wasn't the reason you decided to begin it.
It had been a month now since you washed ashore, orphaned, weakened and close to death. In that time you'd continued your everyday routine of running, now able to run around the whole village. You could cut wood for around two hours again as well as push your body off the floor fifty times in a row, you were also able to pull your body weight up twenty times in a row. In short, (Y/N) was back!
All you needed was your arms and armour, then you could call yourself a knight again. A knights armour and weaponry was his honour, armour often being passed as heirlooms in the family. Though to be called a knight in the Phoenix legion, you needed to forge your own set at least once. You'd barely bothered to plan much of it out, since once you got someone to sign off on it you could wear any armour you wanted. You'd presented something that was more a block of iron with holes in it then any kind of chest plate, but it passed the test. Your father had been enraged by your laziness, by that point you'd lost your desire for admiration from him.
Now though, you didn't have any forge masters for advice, no drawings on the individual pieces. You were on your own, going off of logic, instinct and what little memory you had. Swords were infinitely easier to forge then armour, so you decided to start with that.
The iron was glowly brightly in the forge, so you pulled it out with the tongs and placed it on the anvil. You started to bang the end of the bar into a thinner, narrower piece. This would be the tang, the slimmer piece which the handle would fit around. Several times it cooled down again, meaning it had to go back in the forge. Once you were satisfied by the length and width, you started on the point.
Once the iron bar had been once again heated, you banged your hammer against the other ends to create the point. It was by hitting the corners did you straighten them out, slowly pushing the metal outward until a sharp edge began to form. It began to harden a little again, meaning it was time for the metal to go back in the forge.
Last night had been the day you finally decided to commit, the day you decided you would forge this armour again. Since you'd landed here, you'd also lost your honour. Not hard to imagine why, you'd failed your father, gotten him killed and ditched your armour to the bottomless depths of the ocean.
You'd been sitting on the beach as you'd done every night, starring at the sea and thinking of your home beyond. A loud squark alerted you as Stormfly landed not far from you, her rider dismounting. Astrid walked towards you sadly, looking like something was weighing on her.
"Hey, (Y/N)." She greeted, standing over you somewhat nervously.
"Hey Astrid. Take a seat, your making me nervous standing over me like that." You requested, patting the ground next to you. Astrid obliged you, sitting beside you.
YOU ARE READING
For Honour - How to Train Your Dragon (Astrid x Male Reader)
FanfictionYou are a knight, son to Lord William Rogan, soon to earn honour and glory to the Phoenix Legion. Or at least you were, after watching you father die in battle as you were helplessly drifted away... Now, standard on Berk with vikings who have never...