Part one
Written by Vistariman
Angveir arose from his unsteady sleep and looked out the window, to perhaps see if there was any change from the usual snowy pines of the Jerall Mountain landscape. Seeing no difference yet again he shuffled his feet over to the brightly lit kitchen, wondering what he should consume before heading to his forge. After making his decision, he readied his salted pork and lit his fire to boil the water, feeling even more exhausted than ever.
"Hehe, maybe I should retire," he chuckled, "Hell, I feel like I am seventy-five, and I AM only thirty-two."
He walked rather slowly to his window and stared for a while, ignoring his already steaming water kettle, however, he finally heard the water's boiling screams and took it off the fire. He mixed himself some hot cocoa, dispite the fact he will be working in thirty-five hundred degree temperatures for roughly ten hours, and then devored his meal. After working at the forge for an hour, he headed outside to fix his sign that he neglected to do so the day before. He looked at the sign, trying to anolyze the damage.
"Angveir's Purest Metalworks"
"It's Well worth your gold."
He happened to notice that a crack had formed due to the ice forming over the years, and it had done a good deal of damage indeed. He picked up his hammer to bash out his sign, he HAD to replace it anyway, but he stopped dead short when he saw someone walk by. She was a Nord like him, but was apparently the adventurer type, she was loaded with survivor gear, but most of the equipment she used was broken beyond repair. She glanced at the sign, and then at Angveir, and proceeded to greet him with a smile.
"Do you happen to make equipment for the warrior type?" she questioned the smith, "And if you do, are you exceptionally good at it?"
Angveir already had the answer.
"But of course," he said with the best mannerism he could use at the time, "how may I serve you?"
"I have plenty of gold to pay you, good smith," she announced, "That is if you can make me the purest set of armor and weapons to the best of your ability,"
she gestured by dropping a large sack of gold coins, "Here is your pay in advance. I will receive the items in one month, and I know by looking upon you, that they will be well worth the wait."
As soon as she finished that sentence she left just as quickly as she arrived, disappearing through the trees. The bewildered smith, looked upon the gold that was given him, and without thinking, picked it up and went to the forge. After putting the gold down, he had already thought of how the armor was to be crafted, and he then walked to the furnace and pulled out a red hot bar of steel with his tongs. Pulling out his hammer, he began to beat the metal, and was suddenly overcome by the urge to sing. He had never felt so much joy in his life before by the shear enjoyment of his craft. His urge now overcoming him, he let it out slightly by humming as he hammered the shape that already resembled a sword, not knowing or caring what purpose the blade was meant for.
The End of Part 1
Not really an epic story for me, but rather a little practice session to help me get a little better at writing for my upcoming semester of Honors English. I hope it appeases all of you, and perhaps some of you will give me some good advice on improving it. Have a good day everyone.