eachdraidh | Video; Available only to the Unseelie

[Lancelot stood in front of a great, molten forge, walking along a narrow walk-way inside Troichean Beinn. He was out of his armor, wearing a thick smithing apron and a short-sleeved tunic, startlingly different from the usual attire he would display. As always, Lancelot's absolute lack of enthusiasm shined like a dying star.]

To those of the Unseelie court--I have a trade I would like to make with you. If you believe yourself skilled in researching history and mythology, please respond.

I have a second trade I would like to make to those with an affinity towards nature--in which I must emphasize that such an affinity is a necessity, unless one prefers risking death in this.

[Hoisting his free arm up, Lancelot raised a short-sword with a gleaming red blade, fairy letters written down the length of it. Visibly, the sword seemed to have been vibrating somewhat. Anyone with magical affinity may even hear a soft, hollow sort of noise coming from it as well.]

To those who can assist me in these favors, I can repay you with the fruits of my labors. Wrought iron, enchanted by fairy-magic. I cannot promise the best of weapons at this moment, but if you aid me in this, I will create a finer reward for you.

Flat | Top-Level Comments Only

[He didn't groan. Lancelot lifted his own tankard up, taking his own drink, though at a slower pace. He had no reason to hurry until the master came in and beyond that, he likely was going to take his sweet time getting into the swing of things. There were some pains he really preferred to avoid dealing with.]

A wonder the smiths don't lose more fingers with this rule.

I figure it ain't much of a worry for them, seeing as they can make themselves new ones.

[Not that Gendry had any desire to suddenly be outfitted with clockwork fingers anytime soon.]

Hm. [Lancelot finished the tankard with considerable grace. He would begin to lose that grace during the course of the afternoon, but--at least he had it at some point.]

Well, one can only hope they don't do it intentionally.

Try not to follow in their footsteps, lad.

[Gendry smirked, but shook his head.]

That's not like to happen. My feet are too big.

Don't let the Master hear you make those sort of comments. He doesn't have any say in it, but I wonder if he may feel jealous of such things he has no control over.

[He poured another tankard, looking to Gendry to see if he needed another.]

For all they call me Headthudder, calling out his smaller feet ain't no harm.

[Only Gendry had checked himself to be sure he wouldn't be overhead. He liked Master Gret and did not want to fall out of his favor. But he also believed that the dwarf was a fair man and that he would only give as good as he got.]

Hmmm. [Lancelot noticed Gendry's quick glance, but didn't call him on it. He couldn't blame him. Despite his strength and stature, blows to the head from that man were still fairly painful.]

All the same, I won't say I'll turn you in, myself.

[Deciding that their line of dialogue could only lead to them being battered with a hammer--]

What are you currently hammering out?

[Gendry gave a sly grin at this secret theyd' seemingly forged between one another. He then nodded to his own workplace.]

It's an axe, made from Valyrian steel. Where I'm from, there's no metal stronger'n that. It's rare and the secrets to making it are lost. Usually only lords and kings ever have weapons like that.

[But Gendry, a simple gutterborn bastard, would have his own weapon that he'd forged himself.]

[Lancelot gave Gendry a sound nod. Admittedly, 'lords and kings' usually tended to err on having weapons weaker than knights with a few exceptions. Only 'great kings' tended to have such incredible blades, his own included.]

A noble pursuit--searching for a lost art. I imagine the dwarves would hold high regard for you if you accomplished such a feat, Sir.

[Gendry hadn't really considered it NOBLE, but he supposed it might be.]

Mayhaps. At least it will be, if I take on an apprentice some day.

You may be thinking a bit too far ahead. [Sighing, Lancelot shook his head.]

Take your time and learn a bit more about the world before you resign yourself to the title of Master. I would say 'find a woman to spend time with', but this city may lack your type.

[Aaaaand he was officially tipsy.]

Seven hells, not you too.

[Gendry was barely in his cups yet, but he'd been drinking slower than Lancelot had. Now he stared at the Golem with frustration. Master Gret had told him much the same.]

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