Mirri: Fixing a pole where the pain sets in

[Phineas]

Mirri followed the sounds of the smith.  As she entered the workshop, she glanced warily around, taking note of the number of people as well as noting the location of visible exits.

She held the spearhead in her paws, looking at the individuals here, searching for an elf.

[Johan]

This thread takes place during the 25th day of the Sprouting Grass/Egg moon.

The smithery was small indeed, and there were but two people in it. While Mirri was pleased to see that one was an elf, she was disappointed to see that this elf was very young...barely a century old, by her estimation.

The elven youth appeared to be taking lessons from an aged, portly human.

"Ya see heer," The human was saying. "Once th' met'l be hard enuff, ye haf ta put it back in th' forge fer ta heat it an' sof'n it agin."

The small anvil that the smith was beating a length of metal upon looked very new, bearing only a few signs of use. Likewise the forge, which stood nearby, had barely any signs of soot upon it.

[Phineas]

Mirri stared in wide-eyed dumb surprise.  An elf...learning the craft of weaponsmithing  from a human?  This was wrong.  Wrong wrong wrong.  So wrong.

Mirri started fidgeting, unsure of what to do next.  She turned to leave when she suddenly hesitated, realizing that a human weaponsmith was not necessarily wrong: it was unfamiliar.  She turned back to face the room.  But the spear she had was elven -- no human could possibly repair an elvish weapon as an elf could repair it!  She turned again to leave.  But it was only the haft that was broken -- surely a human could replace a pole of wood?  She turned back to face the room.  But this human dealt with metal -- what would he know of wood!  She turned again to leave.  But maybe the elf knew how to shape wood for a spear?  She turned again to face the room.

[Johan]

[Dray]

[OOC] Phineas, that was true comedy, thanks for the chuckle.

[Phineas]

Mirri's eyes slowly traced a line from the human's heavy face to his outstretched hand.  Mirri slapped what remained of the spear's wooden haft into the blacksmith's palm.

"You can fix my spear."  Without waiting for a reply, she turned to leave.

[Johan]

Silence followed Mirri out of the door to the small smithy, and only once she was several steps away did her sharp hearing detect Pike's stunned, inarticulate questioning "Eh, wha'?"

[Phineas]

Mirri returned slowly to the doorway, her eyes narrowed and fixed appraisingly upon the blacksmith.  She opened her mouth to speak to the human and, after hesitating for a long moment, she instead turned her gaze to the elf.

"You there, young sir apprentice", she spoke in Evlish.  "My spear is broken.  The head was crafted by the Elven metal-lordsmith Aelaean Ornlaea, and the haft was crafted by the Elven carpenter-lordsmith Shealear Ofroheoa Haearaen. Is your master's skill worthy to repair a weapon created by these revered artisans?  Answer me truthfully and use honest words."

Her words were polite, but her manner was impatient and her tone was aloof.

[Johan]

The young elf concentrated hard on Mirri's words as the cat-woman spoke. His eyes betrayed that he was more than a little distracted.

"I'm sorry." He apologized in a strained elven (or perhaps it was simply a different dialect of the elven mother language). "I don't know as I am new here at the Keep. I delivered the forge and anvil only this past week, but Pike seems to know what he's talking about, and his works are sturdy."

He looked at the spear head, with its broken shaft, as it rested in Pike's hands. "I haven't seen any weapon like that here though." He said.

Then Pike spoke, using that same strained elven that the elf used, though not as fluently. "I can put a sturdy haft on this head, miss. It will work fine, but it won't be pretty. It just won't." His eyes made no apology for his inability to meet the craftsmanship that was inherant in the original weapon. "Of course, what's most important in a spear?"

[Phineas]

Mirri's ear twitched.  "A sturdy haft will do, forge-master," she said, speaking the Common tongue in a softer tone.  The human had surprised her: she had expected him to be insulted and arrogantly defend his crafting abilities.  Instead his frankness had impressed her.

As she turned to leave, she glaced back at Pike.  "But not too sturdy," she added.  "The haft must have some flexibility.  An unyeilding haft will crack upon impact."  She stepped towards the exit.

[Johan]

"Aye miss...I unnerstan'." Pike transitioned back into his common tongue, shared closely, Mirri realized, with the holy dwarf, Zurn. "It'll be done taday...ye c'n haf it inna mornin'."

[Phineas]

Mirri took note of Pike's words and left the smith's workshop.  She crossed the courtyard and entered the tavern where Belwar and Saul sat.