Forge One - (Audio)

[bullhorned]

[The forge had echoed loudly from the sound of hammer on steel. Such had been the case for a week now, ever since Gendry had discovered the forge and learned he had the freedom to use it and its materials. He had fallen in love immediately. At the Crossroads, he had suffered a shambling forge that he'd had to largely put back together himself. The forge in Harrenhal had been better, but he was one of many who worked it. Tohbo Mott's own forge came close, but it lacked the size of this one. It was expertly crafted and spoke of a skill he could only imagine. His old master had talked of the forgs in Qohor and Volantis and how great they were. He could only imagine them being like this one.

And so Gendry had set to work. His half finished sword was completed. The blade was made sharp and glimmering. He did not bother himself with anything but the most basic of hilt and crossguard. Why should he? The sword had been forged from the only steel he could acquire. Now he had superior metal to work with and he imagined how he might forge himself a sword of the finest steel as could be found. And then, armor. A new helmet. Greaves, gauntlets, breastplate, pauldrons, and gorget. And why not? They were generous in their provisions and Gendry though to himself that when he had finished, he would look more a knight than even Ser Loras Tyrell. And then he would be more than just King Robert's bastard son born in Fleabottom. He would be a self made knight, secure and confident in his own armor.

A week in the forge. Drenched in sweat and smoke, with nothing but a damning heat as company. It suited him fine. He was hard at work creating a new helmet, after all. Indeed, he was so utterly devoted to his craft that he had not even returned to his bedchambers. He found the hard ground of more comfort than the feather soft bed provided to him and the distant heat of a cooling forge like a friendly reminder of home. And though he could not claim to have friends among his fellow arrivals, there were at least people of note that concerned him. Even if some, like Arya Stark, thought him as little more than a stranger.

And so he tried the locket.]

[Audio]

I found a forge. A good one. Better than any I've ever seen, at least. These fairy folk might be a queer sort, but they make for fine things. So I've been doing the same.

[He paused and wondered at his own message. Did he want to offer to craft armor and swords for others? No. And certainly not for charity. He only wanted to arm himself and make himself a knight. Once he had, he'd only need the forge to maintain what he already had or replace what might be damaged. So he keeps himself from offering something foolish.]

If there's other smiths about, you might find the place of use. [And then he lingers after that, unsure if more should be said. And so stupidly he can be heard lingering. Breathing.

And then it cuts out.]

[Afterwards, Gendry resumes his work at the forge, where he has discarded his shirt and set himself to the first steps of his new helmet.]

(ooc: prose and brackets are both welcome.)

Comments

audio.

[steeledskin]

...Ser Gendry? [ if he even was a knight. gods, she'd been foolish to trust him. he hadn't introduced himself in his message, but she thinks she recognizes his voice. if she hadn't been feeling so betrayed, she might have noticed that the little static portrait within the locket's halves looked as handsome as she'd thought he'd been at the feast. ] Is that you?

audio.

[bullhorned]

Aye. [There's a kind of irritation in his voice, both that he needed to say so and because he had to figure out how to answer her. And because her voice having no source was so utterly unsettling.] And you, Lady Sansa?

[He does notice the small portrait, otherwise her voice might sound the same as Margary or Daenerys or Lucrezia. Highborn women that all droned on about in the exact same and tiring manner.]

audio.

[steeledskin]

[ a hastily drawn breath -- as if she doesn't care to have him speak her name, though she'd never told him not to. therefore it takes her a hefty moment before she responds. and nearly in a whisper: ] Yes. Me. I would ask you something, ser.

video »

[firith]

[ If anyone starts making rings down there he'll flip his shit with the rest of the Elven quotient. ]

Would you oblige me, young man? How do the swords seem to your eyes, on the whole — are they well-made?

[ Doubting they'll be up to Elven standards, but with Celebrimbor here that will likely change should the Feanorian seek to rekindle his craft (in harmless ways). Until such a time, Thranduil welcomes an overview from a professional. ]

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[bullhorned]

[There is that tone in this man's that speak of a practiced perfection so telling of highborn status. Naturally this has Gendry grumble privately to himself before answering. Likely this man intends to make some order of Gendry.]

They're of decent quality, m'lord. They were made by men what knew their business.

[He undersells them. And why not? He knew of no smith better than Tohbo Mott and these swords were good and better than anything Gendry had made. But Gendry maintained a persistent faith in his old master. And besides, he hadn't yet had the chance to truly see how well he could make a sword.]

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[firith]

[ Underselling is quite right, something he notices and chooses not to comment on. It speaks to the boy's confidence in his craft, but just as he isn't looking to forge specific weaponry for anyone it doesn't occur to Thranduil to ask. That task will go to someone ... else, if the Feanorian will consent.

Cutting corners first isn't the best idea, though, and he still needs a weapon in the interim. So. ]

Are they all made by Men?

[ If the smith knows what he's looking at, he ought to be able to pick out the differences from what he is accustomed to when it comes to Elvish steel. ]

audio;

[vazyol]

[ When motivated, she proves herself a quick study — as with these devices, said by some to be magic and others the work of man. Either explanation suits her well enough, for she has seen the wonders (dangers) of both magic and men. And with the help of others, she has become capable of uses the locket's basic functions.

Dany hums appreciatively. Gendry's broadcast contains useful information. ]

A smith and a knight. [ It's an interesting fact, at the very least. From her understanding of Westerosi culture, the two don't often overlap -- like girl and ruler. ]

Would you allow me to see some of your work, Ser Gendry?

audio;

[bullhorned]

[It takes him a moment to remember that voice. It's the queen. The damned dragon queen herself, wanting to come and see his work. It seemed like a folly to allow it. Certainly no queen would truly want to see his wares. But who was he to deny her? It was not his forge and even if he was, he could hardly forbid it. But if he did allow her, what would that mean?

He chose the safest course and left the choice to her.]

If it pleases, your grace. I've not much to show yet.

[A sword he intended to abandon for another and the start of a helmet. It did him little credit.]

audio;

[vazyol]

[ She considers this. If nothing is finished, then she might wait. ]

Mayhaps I will send mine own knight in my stead. He knows more of such work than I.

[ and he might like to see what options he has available, having worn his armor for some time through grass, sand, and salt. It isn't as shiny as it once was, though she thinks it holds sentimental value, it might require repairs. ]

voice

[happilyevermore]

They keep very fine kitchens, as well. Which are as well staffed as I'm sure your forge is. I fear I know little of metal smithing, are the arms available of sub-par make?

[She is only curious, not attempting to be condescending. If better weapons than what the 'magic folk' offer are to be had, she would rather have those for protection.]

voice

[bullhorned]

They're fit for a knight and will serve in battle. These smiths know their business, m'lady.

[Is she a lady? Gendry doesn't know. But she's too well spoken not to be. So he assumes. This place seemed to be filled with an overwhelming number of high born women.]

audio

[mildly]

I daresay my brother will want to see it for himself. Would it be alright if I tagged along? I've never visited a forge before.

audio

[bullhorned]

[... ah, Margaery Tyrell. And her brother, Ser Loras. Gendry can only imagine why she would wish to be in the forge. But if her brothers allows it, what's it to him?]

If it pleases, m'lady. It can be terrible hot, though.

Video

[unclebob]

How skilled are you in working with metal?

[The reason the cyborg asks is quite obvious. He's got a hole punched right through his chest and going out the back. It's simple enough patch job, if only the Terminator had the right tools and two good arms to work with. Since he has neither, he might as well keep his options open.]

Video

[bullhorned]

[A reason that eludes Gendry entirely. But at least this sounds like a man who has business asking Gendry about these sort of things. A man. Not soft women and their mysterious highborn ways.]

I've worked with it most my life. I've made tools, knives, helmets, and more. I know my business.

audio;

[chiot]

Can y'make bullets? I learned how, but d'you have the stuff? Meltin' down all the metal...

audio;

[bullhorned]

What the hell is a bullet? [He thought perhaps he meant bullock, but that made even less sense.]

audio.

[impeaches]

Is there a blade going spare? I feel that Loras and I might have a need.

audio.

[bullhorned]

There's a few of quality, m'lord. You could pick one, if it pleases.

[He recognizes the voice as his uncle. But aside from recognizing rank and privilege, he betrays no familiarity.]

video

[courtly]

A knight and a smith? Are there any other hidden talents you'd like to disclose, Ser Gendry?

[ There's a slight smile on his lips, mostly curious. ]

video

[bullhorned]

[... the knight. The very picture of one, in fact. Gendry pauses before answering, so as to hide the distaste he feels at his own shortcomings. Regardless of what misplaced praise might be given to him.]

I've none, save for keeping shards in my chest. But seems we've all managed that.

Video

[lastoftheline]

Celebrimbor has been in a funk, there is no other way to describe it. The news that Legolas had told him weighed him down, like a milestone slung about his neck, dragging him down.

He knew that he needed to snap himself out of it, that this black depression would pull him down without a trace.

So when he hears the announcement, that there is a forge and if anything can pull him out it'll be his work.

"A forge?" A bit of his old spark manages to reach his grey eyes. "And a good one you say? How large?"

Video

[bullhorned]

"Very large. Bigger than any I've been in and I once worked in the largest in Westeros," Gendry answered with no small amount of pride to have had Tohbo Mott as his master. "Room plenty for others what might want to make use of it."

voice.

[espouses]

Are there any runes?

voice.

[bullhorned]

Any what? [First bullets, now runes. What madness will people want next?]