The Elven Age: Book 1 Joining

Chapter 4-Meliron the Smith

The clambering of his fathers hammer rung in his ears. The heat made his cloth shirt wet and damp.

“Fetch me my tongs Mel”, said his father still clambering the steel that would soon be a sword.

Frankly, Mel had no idea why the snow elves were making swords. They never fought and whenever he asked his father about it all he would say would be “its just in case”. But Mel wanted his work to be more, to be recognized and not stashed in an armory tucked under a mountain. But nonetheless he obeyed. The snow elves were free to do as they pleased, roam free; they just never did, from fear of becoming slaves. Most snow elves were captures and kept as blacksmiths due to their keen affinity for smithing the best weapons and armor that exists. For Mel, his father was the best of the best, a master smither, and Mel was his apprentice. His father was renowned as the best smith there was. Mel was following his father’s footsteps, even surpassing him in some areas despite still being a teenager amongst elves. Personally he preferred making the runes, the only problem was that a high elf was also needed to make successful runes. He did them anyway.

Mel handed his father the tongs and his father removed the metal that was lying in the roasting hot fire. He was very thankful that snow elves skin was tougher than most elves so the blacksmiths never really got burned. Originally their tougher skin was to resist the coldness of snow, but it proved useful for other things. He placed it on the anvil and continued clanging with his massive hammer. Mel’s father, Morse was stronger and more muscular than most elves due to spending his entire life in the forges. Another problem was the materials. Many materials could be found in the mountain Glalgoon, but they had gone dry many centuries ago, even before Mel was born.

Morse handed Mel the tongs with the sword that was beginning to take shape. This was Mel’s job, his father made the shape and Mel sharpened and made the finishing touches on it, such as hilt and design. Mel began strapping the leather to the blade hilt. Leather was another thing that was hard to come by, but thankfully they had a small meadow that had formed in the mountain and where some animals had lived before they sealed off the entrance to Glalgoon. The meadow received sunlight form a large whole in the top of the mountain, the only way in and out of the mountain.

“Mel, did you take the metal ore that was here?” said his father in his deep and bellowing voice.

“I can’t seem to find it”, he continued.

“Is it already in the fire?”

“Of course it’s not already in the fire. Would you mind fetching me some new ones?”

“Of course father”, said Mel rushing out the forges.

“Thanks my boy”, shouted his father.

Mel rushed down the streets of Glalgoon. Houses were molded into the stonewalls of the mountains and torches were the only source of sunlight they had. The streets were made of cobblestone. They received their water from the snow that had formed on the mountains yet surprisingly it never snowed in the meadow. He made his way down onto the meadow, a deer was grazing by their crops so he quickly shooed it away. He liked animals, at least most animals. He laid down in the meadow this was the only place in the entire mountain that the sun could be seen, occasionally. It was also the only time Mel got to see himself clearly. He pulled out the shard of mirror he always kept on himself and inspected closely. His dark grey hair had grown long since the last time he was here, he liked to keep it short so it didn’t get in his way when he was in the forge, it was now longer than his shoulder, his father always kept it nearly shaved, he hated hair. Mel’s eyes were a deep blue, his father said they resembled the color of the great Eastern Ocean, but he never saw it so he wouldn’t know. Mel’s skin was a light pale, almost white, which made him look sickly and ruined his good looks, like most snow elves. All in all he looked like most elves except for his deep blue eyes which he inherited from his mother, the other snow elves had dull blue eyes, like if there was no color to them, almost grey, even his father.

He inspected the mirror shard, it was one of the few things he still had from his mother. She had died when the snow elves had retreated into the mountain during the Great Elven War, Mel was had just been born and his father was the main smith during the war. From that moment on his father had practically raised him in the forges. The other thing that he had that belonged to his mother was her ring. It was a ring made of a special metal that couldn’t be broken no matter how hard he tried. It was greyish silver band with a dull silver oval stone embedded into it. Everything about it was simple; it was a simple band that was curved around the edged. The only strange thing about it was that when it was in fire, symbols appeared out of nowhere around it. Mel kept the ring on a string around his neck. Even now he could feel its coldness tapping his chest.

He put the shard away and continued his journey to the mining tunnels. They were surprisingly large yet even then their materials would soon run out.

Many people greeted him there, he was known by many in Glalgoon. He packed a bag with some iron ore and began making his way back. He entered the valley and felt certain uneasiness, he was being watched. He dropped his bag and went for his axe; unfortunately he had left it back at the forges. Either way if he did get caught, they would never take him away, escaping Glalgoon was near impossible.

“Show yourself traitors-“

He was smacked on the back of the head by something blunt, a hammer maybe. His surroundings slowly began to disappear and soon he was lying in total darkness, they had captured him