Brynjar ran forward and grabbed his father’s arm trying to pull the knife away from Lief’s throat.
“What are doing father? Leif is your oldest friend he would never hurt mother, and he wouldn’t lie to us about who did.”
Lief frantically agreed.
“I wouldn’t lie Balgruuf, I swear it by the nine I wouldn’t, we grew up together. Frigga thought of Hilde as a sister. We are grieving for her too and I would do anything to help you catch whoever did it, God’s blood I would gladly kill the bastard myself but I just don’t know who it was.”
Balgruuf’s face had been like fury when Brynjar had entered but now he seemed broken and resigned tears streamed down his cheeks as he looked first at Lief and then at the knife. He lowered his hand and let the knife fall to the floor. Then releasing Lief he walked slowly to the table and sat down.
“Leif, dear gods Lief I am so sorry, I don’t know what came over me. I can’t stand the thought of not getting justice for Hilde, I can’t stand the idea that a person can do this to her, to anyone and just go on with their lives as if nothing had happened and they have nothing to answer for. None of that is any excuse for what I have done. How can I make this up to you?”
Leif sat down at the table his hands visibly shaking. Brynjar brought them both a cup of mead. Leif accepted his gratefully, holding it firmly in both hands to keep from spilling. He sat for a while sipping the mead and gathering his nerves while Balgruuf sat quietly across the table tortured not only by the grief for Hilde but also by remorse for the harm he had caused his friend. Eventually Lief put the cup down and spoke.
“I want you to come to dinner with Frigga and me and bring Brynjar of course. My parents are going to Riften in a week to do some trading in Riften so we will have the house to ourselves for a few days. You have spent too much time by yourself and you need to be in the company of friends. I don’t know if you will find justice for Hilde but I know she would want you both to be happy.”
Balgruuf reached across the table and grasped Lief’s hand.
“Thank you, my friend, of course we will be there.”
Later after Lief had gone home Brynjar went to bed. He left his father sitting by the fire with a cup of mead. However rather than the rage, frustration and grief he looked thoughtful as if he was planning something. Whatever he was planning he seemed to be taking comfort from it and almost smiled as he mumbled to himself.
“Yes, that could work…”, ”She’ll be happy about it at least..”, “Useful skills in this world.”
The next day Brynjar awoke to find his father already up and making porridge. He passed Brynjar the bowl
“When you are finished with your breakfast join me at the forge, it’s time to continue your training.”
Balgruuf pulled on his boots and headed out leaving Brynjar to his porridge.
When Brynjar arrived at the forge he found his father feeding the fire with coal and occasionally pulling the rope for the bellows. The forge was already glowing red. The work table was cleared and empty except for a single knife that looked very familiar. As his father saw him approach he pointed to the table.
“Do you recognise the knife?”
“Of course, it’s one of the three knives you had me make, it just need the leather binding on the handle and to be sharpened at will be finished.”
“Then grab some leather strips from the box and bind the handle and when you are done take it to the stone and put an edge on it. While you are busy with that I will finish getting the forge to heat.”
As Brynjar set to work his father continued tending to the fire. By the time the handle was bound the forge was ready and Balgruuf was looking around the room. Brynjar was curious.
“What are you looking for father?”
“A spare bucket.”
“There is a couple in the corner under the table, what do you need it for?”
“Never mind. sharpen up that knife, I will be back in soon.”
With that Balgruuf grabbed the bucket and headed out. Brynjar sat in front of the grind stone and set to work driving the stone with the pedal and carefully adjusting the angle between the blade and the wheel. Sharpening first one side then the other, starting at the back of the blade and working to the tip. When he was satisfied that he could do no more with the grindstone he took down three whetstones from the shelf and poured water on them. He started sharpening the blade first on the coarsest one, using gentle arcs angling the blade with his fingertips, he then repeated this with the medium stone and then the fine stone. Finally he applied a coat of oil and wiped of the excess with a cloth polishing the blade. It shone like a mirror and had an edge like a razor. He felt very proud of his work, he was admiring it when his father returned. His boots were soaking and the bucket was full of red mud, the kind found in some parts of the river bed, rich in clay. Balgruuf put the bucket down and walked over to the work table he picked up the knife and cast an expert eye over it. He held the knife to his ear and run his thumb across the blade listening to to the sound.
“You’ve done a fine job with the sharpening there is no doubt about that and it looks like a good knife, very ‘pretty’.”
Something about the way his father had said pretty made Brynjar nervous.
“Did I do something wrong?”
“No boy but maybe I did, I set you to make a knife that can be used to gut fish, cut cords and whittle wood. What if you need to use to defend yourself? Can it handle armour?”
“Armour? I don’t know. I just made it for fish.”
“Boy if a man attacks you he may not allow you to run home and get a knife that isn’t just made for fish. Let’s find out how you would fare against such a man.”
Balgruuf pulled steel breastplate from the stock cupboard and laid it on the table. He then then grabbed the knife and with a cry brought the knife down on the armour as hard as he could. There was a intense screech and a dull snapping noise followed by the sound of the blade hitting the anvil and landing on the floor. The breastplate had a deep scratch in it but nothing more and Balgruuf was holding the knife handle in his hand. The end was splintered wood with loose leather strips hanging down. Balgruuf looked at his son who was staring at the handle his mouth open and look of horrified shock on his face. Balgruuf sighed and put the handle on the table
“Did you see what happened?”
“You…. you broke my knife.”
“Yes but how did it break?”
“It snapped when you hit the armour.”
“Any fool could see that. Look at the handle and think, then try giving me a proper answer.”
Brynjar picked up the handle and studied it carefully.
“The tang snapped about half an inch behind the blade and when the blade came away it ripped the end of the handle apart.”
“A better answer, yes the tang snapped for two reasons. Firstly it was too thin, you need to taper it more gently as it goes into the handle. Secondly it was too hard. It was brittle. The blade needs to be hard to keep its edge but the tang need to have some flex to absorb such impacts.”
“But father the tang and the blade are one how can I harden it and not harden at the same time.”
“Both blade and tang need to be hardened but the tang doesn’t need to be hardened as much. This why I fetched some mud. Get another of your knives remove the handle and I will show you how imperial legion bladesmiths do it.”
Brynjar brought him the blade and he dipped the tang in the thick sticky mud.
“When we harden the metal we heat it up and then cool it quickly by quenching in water or oil. I’ve already taught you this but what I didn’t explain was the faster the metal cools the harder it gets. So to keep the tang from hardening too much we coat it in mud, this will protect it from the water so it cools a little slower. We could also coat the back of the blade as well to give it a little bit of flex while the point and cutting edge will still be fully hardened. Do you understand?”
“Yes father.”
“Good, I am going out for the rest of the day to take care of some business. Make as many new blades as you can, taper the tangs gently and to no less than the width of your index finger. Harden the blades as I just have shown you, I will be back later.”
The days continued very much the same. Brynjar would spend the day making knife blades while his father spent the days talking to various people including some from Riften. He would sometimes walk over the bridge out of town and come back hours later. In the evening he would inspect the blades and throw any that didn’t meet his standard on a steadily growing pile. He would then explain where Brynjar had gone wrong.
The evening of the meal with Leif and Frigga arrived and the four of them sat round talking and eating. There was plenty of food and drink, conversation and even a little laughter. Balgruuf stood up looking serious.
“Fistly I want to thank you both for this wonderful evening, Frigga, thank you for the fine food and Lief, thank you for forgiving a grief stricken fool who couldn’t remember who his friends were. If you will permit me I have a proposition for you both I know you have been living with Lief’s parents since your wedding and I know you are eager for a place of your own. I would like you to rent my house.”
Frigga and Lief looked shocked but Frigga recovered first.
“But where will you live?”
“I have purchased some land in the woods south of town, I want to build a cabin. Apart from being with Hilde I was only ever any good in the legion. I was trained to live off the land, to survive in the wild, I was trained in stealth, tracking and combat. I want to pass these skills onto my boy. Besides the house holds too many memories, I can’t live it that house without thinking she is coming home. I wake up and for a moment I can’t work out why she isn’t beside me.”
“But what of the forge?”
“The land isn’t far away I can still walk into town and run the forge and Brynjar can still spend time with his friends. This way you would get a home to yourselves, I would get back the
only part of my life that can still make me happy and I can teach my boy skills that will serve him in his life. I’ve thought very hard about this, what do you say?”
Lief and Frigga looked at each other and then as one they turned back to Balgruuf and replied “Yes!”
Brynjar sat in silence wondering what changes his father had planned for his life next.
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Comments
Well done Minophis. Looking forwards to the next chapter.