Gods and mortals

Dawn

A.N.
It is safe to say that this story will have eventual smut, and at times it will get dark. Scenes of gore, torture and so on shall be present.
This is the first official chapter, I highly recommend reading the introduction, as it explains the current state of affairs while also setting the foundations of the narrative.

Gods and mortals:
Chapter 1: Dawn

Asgard...

Bright red sparks erupted upon the impact of the iron hammer on the glowing blade.

The heavy instrument fell down on the hot metal again, resounding in a loud clanking noise. The action was repeated several times, resounding in more powerful thuds.

When the beaten sword was molded into its desired shape the strikes ended abruptly. A pair of tongs grasped the steaming weapon and dunked it into a pot of oil.

Heat radiated off the flames covering the steel. Upon moving the blade away, droplets of the flammable substance were scattered across the floor beneath.
One managed to land on the wool shirt of the smith, causing it to catch ablaze.

The young man dropped the tongs and moved back with a surprised yelp, frantically patting the flames away until they were extinguished.

A low sigh passed through Brogr Gerrilsson's lips as he rubbed the blackened part of his tunic. It was smoking, the skin underneath was an angry reddish color; it was already forming scabs and a couple of blisters.

Scrunching his face at the sight of it, the blacksmith covered it back up and retrieved the fallen utensils. He placed the quenched blade on the anvil so that it would cool down faster, thus making the wait a tad more bearable.

Once everything was done, he made his way back to the tempered sword, and grabbed a scalpel and a smaller hammer.

Using the tip of it, he began carving simple decorations into the blade, adorning it with a couple of runes, animals that held symbolic meanings, all in an effort to render his craftsmanship more pleasing to the eye of a customer.

Blowing the tiny remnants of the metal away, he looked back out of the window, noticing that the sun was shining low across the lake surrounding the rainbow bridge.

It was at that moment that the knob of the workshop's door was twisted, and was subsequently opened.

His father Gerril was at the entrance. The older man walked over to his son and observed the nearly completed work.

"It is done?" he asked with an inquisitive tone, gesturing lazily towards the object in question.

A couple of moments passed before Brogr answered: "I've quenched it, reheated it and worked it thrice. Just as you've specified. As you can see here" he pointed towards the end of it, where a short, crude bit of naked steel was still present, "I have yet to fix the guard and grip. After that, it will simply need a pommel, some cleaning with oil, good leather to dress it and it shall be ready to sell."

Gerril's face formed in a frown, wrinkles creasing in a curious formation. "No... don't use a guard. Don't add the pommel either, a simple button-shaped end shall do. The rest is fine."

The smith's blue eyes snapped to the other, wide with confusion: "What?" he asked in an incredulous tone, "No guard? Wh-wha-what kind of suggestion is that?! And no pommel? Why do you think our client is paying us? To get a half-assed blade that can't even offer the least amount of protection?"

He turned around and threw his gloves the wooden boards in a fit of rage.

"Calm yourself, everything is fine. The customer will still pay our d- "Why? Just tell me now, why? Why this... idea?" he asked, flinging his arms around in quick motions.