The sound of the hammer striking the hot metal rang from the walls of the forge. I wiped my sleeve across my brow, smearing soot across my features no doubt, but keeping the sweat from my eyes. As I looked down at the anvil, I felt the familiar uncertainty at the quality of the work. I smiled indulgently to myself, for there were no others within the forge at such a late hour to witness it. I had worked metals since Caranthir himself walked this Middle Earth, but still I doubted myself. Picking up the blade with the forceps, I quenched it for a final time. I waited for the steam to abate, and then drew the weapon from the mix of water and oil. Running a rag across the unsharpened blade carelessly, I revealed the carefully forged and welded steel sword with inlays of gold. The steel had been mixed with silver, creating a blade more beautiful than anything made by the hands of Men, and stronger by far. The inner core of the blade was pure gold, a thin rod running the length of the blade to aid balance, and to help to absorb any shock from clashes with other blades or shields. Hours of painstaking work had led to the gold showing through the steel in places, flashing in small sunbursts, contrasted against the silver-sheen of the blade itself.
Nodding at the progress, I laid the sword flat upon the anvil, smiling slightly at the delicate nature of the thing. Taking up the smithing hammer and placing it back upon the shelf, I stood and searched for a moment for the inscribing tools. Taking them from another shelf, I laid them out upon a sturdy table, and then began the intricate work. On one side I inscribed the stars of Telumehtar and Valacirca entwined. Turning it, I carved a long inscription in Tengwar, and then paused before the final stroke. An unfinished sword should not be named. Looking up, I saw that the Sun had risen, but knew that my work was almost completed.
I picked up the sword, and took it to the grinding wheel, laying the edge of the blade against the spinning stone. Sparks flew as the hard metal was gradually worn to an even edge. I changed the angle of the blade and began to grind a sharper edge. Finally satisfied with the result, I lifted the almost completed sword from the wheel. One last thing to do. Walking back to the anvil, I held the sword high in my hand and examined every inch of it. It was a much more slender blade than anything I would ever wield, but it had not been made for my hand. Nodding to myself, I swung the sword with all of the strength I could muster, straight onto the face of the anvil. Sparks flew as the metal collided with an almighty crash, and again I swung the blade, and again. I beat the anvil with the sword in a fury, my teeth bared. Finally, with the ringing of metal upon metal in my ears, I ceased the rough treatment of the sword, and cast an eye down the length of the blade, checking for any damage or imperfections. Satisfied with the sword, I rolled up my sleeve and slid the razor-sharp silvered steel across the skin of my forearm, drawing deep crimson blood that covered the blade. I nodded again, satisfied. A sword needed to learn what it is, and what was expected of it. The blood of the smith must be used to quell the anger of the metal after such harsh treatment. Flicking the blood from the sword, I finally heard the blade sing as it passed through the air. I knew that it was ready, that it had been born finally as a sword. A name was all that was required, so again I took up the engraving tools, and hammered a last word in Tengwar onto the blade.
“Forged under darkness, in memory of hope
I will slay the darkest foes, or perform the darkest deeds
Enemies shall lament my name
Sárphir”
Wrapping the finished sword in a bolt of blackest cloth, I strode from the forge, the morning Sun at my back. Seeing Atharbain approaching with a look of surprise upon her face, I hailed her. “Suilad Atharbain.” She acknowledged my greeting with a somewhat guarded nod. “Will you perform a service for me? Will you take this to the Lady Danel? It is a gift.” Atharbain looked unsure, but nodded.
“Of course Estarfin. It is good to see you working again. I will ensure that she receives it. Namárië.”
Yawning, I wondered how many days it had been since I had last slept. The passing of the Moon and Sun had gone unnoticed within the forge, so I shrugged. But I felt a weariness of heart and body that pulled me slowly along the path to my bed, and perhaps a dreamless sleep.
