eachdraidh | Forge One

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Forge One - (Audio)

[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.)

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It's alright, I like the warmth. I'll be sure to dress appropriately.

[Or inappropriately, depending on who you ask.]

I bet your work is quite beautiful.

My work is meant to be frightening and deadly. [He would take offense, but he reckoned she meant it a compliment. An empty one, for he was certain she saw his blunted misshapen sword at the feast.] But I've not had time to make much here.

Can't it be both?

[It's a genuine question. To her, the best things always are.]

[Deadly and beautiful. He frowns and tries to imagine that. But not even a lady knight could manage that. She was uglier than most men he'd seen.]

Mayhaps. Might be my work is beautiful to others. Never much thought about it before.

I look forward to finding out. Your dedication to your craft makes me feel quite optimistic.

[Gendry finds that doubtful. But then, he still doesn't understand her interest.]

Do you know where to find it, m'lady?

Is it near where the archers practice? I've done a little exploring, but I haven't strolled too much there. For obvious reasons.

[Margaery adds, amusement in her voice.]

[Obvious reasons, indeed. Her touch of humor failed to charm him, but only because he was concerned at her impending arrival.]

Aye, it is. Shouldn't be hard to find, then. Just got to the hottest place you can find.

[There is nowhere she fears to go with Loras on her arm. She collects her brother, who's probably more interested in seeing the forge than she actually is. But better to leave no stone unturned.

The hottest place you can find, he said. And they're barely in the door before Margaery feels the heat radiating in waves, like a long Highgarden summer.]

Ser Gendry certainly spoke the truth.

[Oh, but just wait until she finds out who he is.]

[ He might have more of a vested interest for visiting the forge, but the pair have been leaving no part of the castle unexplored (at least, the parts they could get into.

It's not the heat that surprises him, but the sheer size of the forge. ]

I've never seen a forge this large before. Do you think it's for anyone to use?

[ He asks her idly, nodding at Gendry as they approach him while he's working. He's not quite sure what to make of Gendry just yet, considering he's been having a tendency of pushing his buttons and asking pointed questions, but he's used to playing polite. Especially for Margaery's sake. ]

Ser Gendry. I hope we aren't interrupting anything important.

[Despite the warning, he had almost expected them not to come. He would have been glad if they didn't. His two uncles he had a fledgeling trust in, the Stark girls he liked decently enough, and even the dragon queen seemed admirable. But the Tyrells. The Tyrells seemed to be trouble. They were loyal to the Lannisters and that made them an uneasy presence.

But in the forge, Gendry was anything but uneasy. He had been hard at work and they did not just need the heat to guide them, but the heavy pounding of a hammer on steel. In the heat of the work, he had cast aside his tunic and worked with his chest bare, his brow drenched in sweat, and heavy breathing made difficult by the thick air.

Gendry emerged to greet them, his eyes darting suspiciously from one to the other.]

It ain't nothing what can't wait. M'lady. Ser. [He turned from one to the other with appropriate titles. He'd not yet worked out or recalled that Margaery was, at least from his own time, a queen.]

Please, call me Margaery. We're all the same here, we should be friends. Isn't that right, Loras?

[She smiles at her brother, letting go of his arm to venture forward despite the heat or grime or noise. She's checking out everything like it's bolts of fine silk instead of tools of the trade. After a quick flitting around, she turns back to them.]

Would it be alright if we watched you?

[They promise they won't hold up score cards or anything.]

Yes. We are all allies for the same cause now, after all.

[ Which is technically true, even if it's likely that he'll never set his own personal feelings against certain familiar faces aside. He looks around the forge, wandering off a bit and staring deep into the core of the hearth.

... Watch? It wasn't terribly comfortable here, but Loras couldn't deny the tiniest bit of curiosity. He looks back at the both of them, smiling faintly. ]

We know very little of smithing, but it would be an honor to watch a master at work.

[ See sis he can play nice too. ]

... you want to watch?

[He looked bewildered from one sibling to the next. It was not so strange, perhaps. Tohbo Mott had invited Jon Arryn and Ned Stark to watch him work. But he had never plied his craft in front of a lady. Likely it was scandalous that he was shirtless as he was now.]

I could, if you like. It's loud. Hot, too. And a long process as well. Likely it won't be so interesting as you think.

[Her husbands were gay and born of incest, scandalous is becoming a way of life for her.]

I think I would enjoy it far more than the silence of my room, as fine as it is. And it shouldn't be half as much noise as the gossip that was always buzzing around at court.

[Margaery rolls her eyes and shakes her head, as if she was above it all.]

Ser Gendry, do you think I should have a blade here? Just a small one, a dagger perhaps.

[ Margaery might be focused on watching Gendry, but Loras is beginning to wander off and walk around the hearth, eyeing all of the materials curiously. For someone who wielded weapons, he knew very little of their construction. Typical.

He chuckles at his sister's quip when he wanders back. ]

Even if it were as noisy, I'd choose this over Kings' Landing any day. Consider yourself lucky, Ser Gendry.

[ It was hot and grimy, but not a Lannister or a spy in sight. He turns to Margaery, then to Gendry. As much as he wants to believe he'll always be by her side, it was better to be safe than sorry. ]

Perhaps we could get you a jeweled one.

[ Why sacrifice style for function when you can have both? ]

There's no jeweled blades here.

[Gendry moved to the furnace, and placed his hands on the massive bellows used to keep the forge hot. It had cooled since then and he needed to heat the metal again. So up and down he went, fanning the flames and making it burn hotter, as if the previous heat was only a spring and now summer was coming.]

Why is it you want one, m'lady? [He had a mind to go ahead and make her one. And why not? She was pretty and it would be an easy thing to make. He felt no particular ill will towards her, despite her marriage.]

Mostly to ease an overprotective brother's mind.

[She gives Loras a teasing, knowing smile before looking back to Gendry, taking a step closer.]

I'm used to taking walks whenever and wherever the mood strikes me. I truly believe that everyone I've had the pleasure of speaking to has been sincerely kind, with only the best of intentions. Is it naive of me to think it of everyone?

[Margaery seems to reconsider the whole idea now, shaking her head.]

Maybe it's just the fear talking. Being in such a strange place, not knowing for sure the sort of lands that other people come from.

[ What? No jewels?? ]

Pity. So long as it serves its purpose, I suppose it doesn't matter.

I don't think anything short of a Queensguard will even begin to put my mind at ease.

[ It's a light tease, but also truthful. And even then, the loyalty of guard members was questionable these days, so it still wouldn't be good enough.

He wipes at his forehead as the forge grows hotter. The question isn't directed at him, but he speaks all the same. ]

Everyone is kind thus far, but perhaps with time, they will begin to show their true colors. We all seek to make a good first impression, after all.

[Gendry did think it was naive. It was terribly naive and so he could agree on Loras on the simple matter not to assume this place safe. He continued with the bellows until the heat become intolerable, then he collected a pair of tongs to place the helmet back in the furnace.]

They've been decent to me. Might be normal for folk to be decent to you. But not to the likes of me. It ain't natural. [He turns to look at the two of them.] But I'll find you a knife, m'lady. You ought to be able to have your walks in peace.

[Margaery steps quick and close at that, almost carelessly heedless of the heat.]

And it shall be the finest knife to be found, I'm sure. Your kindness at humoring such a silly girl means so much to me.

You have my thanks as well, Ser Gendry. I just hope she'll never have to use it.

[ Absently, he picks up a cold swage block, eyeing it curiously. ]

What is this?

[ That's right he's gonna start touching and meddling in stuff he shouldn't. ]

[Gendry's grimace shows his discomfort at having tools picked up and examined.]

A swage block. That one's an armorer's maid. It's used for shaping armor.

[He glances to Margaery.]

It's what Master Mott used when he was making your brother's armor.

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Forge One - (Audio)

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