Ser Gendry Waters (![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png)
bullhorned) wrote in ![[community profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/community.png)
eachdraidh2014-04-09 11:22 am
bullhorned) wrote in eachdraidh2014-04-09 11:22 am
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.)
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.)
no subject
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? ]
no subject
[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.]
no subject
[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.
no subject
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.
no subject
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.
no subject
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.
no subject
[ 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. ]
no subject
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.