Words of power

by Sugar Moon

Chapter Two

Clang.

Clang.

Clang.

In a squat building, in the centre of Pony’s field the sound of metal striking metal was a constant background noise. A steady rhythm of heavy hits that struck solidly always sounded throughout the village, from sunup to sundown it rang and that was how everyone liked it. That sound was now as much a staple of the village as the strong horses they sold come spring, the stubborn nature of the local folk, or the cider and ale brewed hereabouts.

Nobody would say that the local farmers were famous but the ones who did know about them knew about their stubbornness; some would say they could give their horses lessons in the craft. It was a testament to their own that when people complained about this, it was usually with an underlying tone of grudging respect.

The person inside the grey building knew all too well of this. They still called him “That Foreign boy” yet he’d been here for almost seven years now. It’s not that they were unkind to him or inconsiderate, on the contrary from the moment he had been here they had been nothing but open and welcoming to him. The local farmers all helped him build the house at the centre of the village, even the mayor had allowed him to buy the plot of land for a fair price back when he first started here. He was their blacksmith and they accepted him far more than he thought he deserved. The name that first started as just a quick name, a term of address that the gossipers latched onto, became something more. Now it was his name as sure as it was Splitting Anvils. Obviously whenever he met with a farmer or the mayor, they called “Master Anvils” or “Blacksmith” if they were being informal but he knew they still called him the Foreigner behind his back. He didn’t mind, there was no malice in it.

Names, he decided, were a funny thing.

The clanging of metal continued unabated as he thought on this, the startling ringing of the hammer beating against the white-hot steel was music to ears now. It helped him think and calmed him down whenever he needed it, and need it he did when dealing some the more troublesome members of the area. The pony folk they jokingly called themselves, though Splitting knew the land was historically called Ponella he didn’t want to correct them or face the awkward questions. Nowadays no country claimed the land even if it technically fell inside the borders of Hippotaria,the country ruled by the Immortal Sisters, no tax collectors went through the villages in their name. They kept to themselves and liked it that way; if any noble or other type of royal dignitary came here they would be polite and courteous but they would bend their knee for nobody. Yes, the pony folk are a stubborn breed, set apart from their neighbours.

He thrust the metal he held in his hand into a trough of water, the steam hissed as it rose off from the quenching and with it some anxiety he had picked up with his thoughts. He liked the secluded nature here, and thoughts of rulers and countries made his hand itch and his knees ache.

Tempering the metal was an important step, he knew. The quick dip made it stronger, less prone to shattering when worked hard and hard it would be worked. Every tool he made was to the best of his ability, he didn’t shirk on his work as he knew how important it could be. A poor scythe harvested few crops and out here that could be life or death to some. This was important, what he was born to do.

Quietly he took the steel back to the forge for one last time.

Turning it over in the flames a thought came to him, to just melt the steel down for something else, make a new hoe for farmer Top, she always needed new tools and this would be a good gift for the red-headed woman. She was practical and appreciated this sort of thing. That made him blush, he always did when he thought of her. She would be out there, now, at the feast, getting ready for the dance. Maybe she’d even pick him. No, he couldn’t allow that. He had work to do and it wouldn’t be be fair to bring her into his life. He needed to stay alone he thought to himself.

Sighing he thrust the steel back into the trough for the final time. He looked at it in his hands and was slightly proud. It was a pretty thing, practical maybe but perfect for him. It would do the job better than any other. He just hoped he would never have to use it. After all, what would a blacksmith want with a blade.

---

‘Will you tell me now?’ Big Mac asked for the fifth time. He hated his own curiosity, he really did. He wanted to avoid the village today, all that pomp and grandeur always got on his nerves. He was a plain sort of person and any kind of fuss seemed like a waste of effort to him. Even the usual excuse of it being tradition did not do anything to quench his dislike. He wanted to stay at the farm today, he had woke early so to get a head start on the work for the day. When his sister had asked him if he wanted to go he politely made his excuses and lost himself in his farm work. There was always something to do on the farm and if him staying behind meant that his sister could go out and enjoy herself, then all the more reason for him stay home.

‘Nope, this is far too much fun,’ Turner said his eyes lighting up. ‘Besides, if I just tell you it won’t be a surprise and we wouldn’t want to ruin that, would we?’

‘Yes I would. Just out with it so I can get back to the farm.’ Big Mac’s voice sounded a little harsher than he intended but if Turner noticed he didn’t mention it.

‘No. This, my friend, has to be seen to be believed.’
They came into the centre of the village just before dawn. The radiant light of the sun cosseted the village in its dying amber hues. He wished he was back on his farm now. The way his fields looked towards the end of a hard day always gave him pause. He didn’t think there was anything as beautiful as his land at twilight. The way the fading light always seemed to stretch on, across the grass; the way the wind blew lightly,gently shaking the leaves on the trees as if it was cradling them. Nothing would ever compare to how he felt when he saw that, no woman could be as beautiful nor jewels or gold. Give him all the riches of the world and he wouldn’t trade it for one moment of his land at twilight.

Sighing he continued on. As much as he’d like to be back, he knew he was here now and there was no point in complaining. There was always tomorrow.

‘Oh don’t look so glum,’ Turner said sensing his friends mood. ‘It’s a good surprise, I promise. We’ll be talking about it for years to come. I don’t think anything this exciting has happened here since some nefarious individual, not naming names you understand, let that badger into last year’s feast day dance.’

Big Mac grinned at the memory. Everyone in the surrounding area knew it was Turner who had played that prank, proving it was a different matter though. His little japes always got him into trouble but with a few fancy words and suitably chastened looks he got away with it. Try as people did, it was impossible to stay mad him.

‘It might even be as exciting as when that foreign boy moved here.’ Turner continued his smile crooked at the memory of his own misadventures.

“That Foreign Boy” as everyone called him was the local blacksmith and one Big Mac’s closest friends. They had struck it off famously when they first met. The same solid practicality was deeply ingrained in both of them and they enjoyed each others company. Big Mac never could take to calling him foreign after that though. He fitted in here as sure as anyone else and Big Mac would have words with those who said otherwise.

‘That’s a big promise you’re making there, you sure you aren’t just exaggerating?’ Big Mac lifted an eyebrow.’It wasn’t that long ago you said you could best everybody in a quarterstaff duel and what did you get for your trouble? A sore head.’

‘How was I to know you would enter?’ Turner snapped irritatably. ‘I am the best, besides you. I had easily trumped everybody, you know. You didn’t have to join in just to show me up. I know I’m a bit proud at times but there was no need for it Big Mac. Anyway’ Turner added in a small whisper, ‘a man shouldn’t have to hurt his friends.’

Looking at his friend, Big Mac saw the hurt in eyes. He hadn’t known that his entering that duel had harmed Turner so much. He thought he was just deflating his large ego a little, but no. It seemed it meant so much more to the wiry man.
‘It was just a friendly duel, Time’ Big Mac started before his friend waved his conversation away with an easy hand.

‘It doesn’t matter. Anyway we’re here now’

The feast was in full throng, the wild dances had already begun and unless Big Mac’s eyes were failing him, he could see the remainder of the village that wasn’t dancing merrily drinking to the beat. He chuckled a little at that, there would be sore heads in the morning.

Dancing was never one of his strong points, drinking as he discovered when he tried it years ago, was. Barely old enough to shave, Turner had “procured” some ale of some travelling merchant he said. More than likely it was pilfered from the inn’s stores as a merchant coming to the village would be news for weeks. Most things were in short supply in a small community at the edge of the world, so when any merchant came it was cause for celebration and gossip. Odd Big Mac supposed. We seem to use anything as an excuse to party. Remembering back to that small cask of ale that he and Turner split, the image his drunk friend barely being able to walk after a draught of the heady drink was clear in his mind. While he, on the other hand, was as sober as a judge. Course finishing of the final dregs of the alcohol was when his father had caught them. He threatened to tan Big Mac’s hide but the worst he got was a stern lecture and a look he’d never been able to shake from his father’s face. He’d had rather been beaten with Splitting’s forge hammer than have had that look again.

Taking a quick glance over to the drinkers again, as Turner pounded on the Blacksmith’s door, Big Mac knew he didn’t want to be one of them. Somehow the drink wasn’t as appealing as to him as it was years ago.

‘Open there forey,’ Turner called as he knocked on the door roughly with the flat of his hand. ‘It’s me, Turner for Harmony’s sake. So open up.’

Turner leaned, nonchalantly, against the door frame as the rattle of keys in the lock and the sounds of bolts being unfastened came from the other side. He rolled his eyes, Splitting always was a paranoid fellow even in a place this small. He literally couldn’t conceive anyone stupid enough to break into the forge. The Blacksmith must be the only person that locked their door at any time, for tens of miles away. Besides, it wasn’t as if it could keep Turner out if he wanted in,he smirked, satisfied.

The door inched open carefully revealing a single bright blue eye peering out, scanning the outside world.

Oh dear, Turner thought to himself, he seems to be extra paranoid today. Well nothing for it but to put on my best smile and not take no for an answer.

Leaning forward, and subtly placing his hand inside the doorjamb, Turner fixed his most cheerful grin to the cautious orb.

‘Ah, there you are Splitting. Come on, don’t you know what day it is? I thought everyone who lived around here knew what day it was.’

Turner spared a look over his shoulder at Big Mac and winked, hoping to quell some of his friends anger at his jest. He knew how sensitive Big Mac was to his jokes about Splitting. Honestly, sometimes he thought he had no sense of humour. Besides, this was the best way to get him to leave that Chaos-Blasted forge, he rationalised.

‘Yes, I know what day it is. Which is exactly why I’m staying right here.’

‘Oh come now, don’t you want to go outside? Enjoy the festivities of the day? I hear Carrot top is out there you know?’

‘I,I,..’ Splitting stammers as he tries to control his blush, the door opening just slightly which is just the opportunity that Turner has been waiting for. Surprising everyone Time darted forward as quickly,and lithe as a panther towards the opening and slips inside. Before either man can stop him Time is already halfway into the house, standing dumbfound in front of the forge.

‘What in Harmony’s name is that?’ Time near shouted his hand shaking as it pointed towards something beside the forge.

Big Mac lumbered ahead to catch up. As he did he saw Splitting wrap something large up in a bundle of rags. Curious.

‘It is what it is, Turner. And I would have you not mention it to anyone.’ Splitting said placing the bundle into a large chest beside the forge.

‘But it’s a sword!’

Splitting internally groaned.

‘A sword?’ Big Mac interjected. ‘What are you doing with a sword?’

Big Mac didn’t like the idea of one of his friends making such a weapon. They were simple farmers and villagers. They never needed them before and hopefully never would. Making such a thing only seemed to be courting trouble to Big Mac.

‘It was a test’ Shining explained. ‘Of my abilities. You know, see if I could make something different that’s all. I’m a little tired of only making horseshoes and hoes. I just fancied a challenge, that’s all.’

‘But a sword. Celestial teeth, why sword? It’s dangerous, Splitting!’ Turner exclaimed. ‘You could have made anything, a shovel, a hammer or even a set of cutlery. That’s a challenge. I just don’t see why you’d make something so dangerous’

‘It’s only a show piece. Nothing more, I promise. Besides, it’s only a sword, Turner. No harm will come to anyone with it. I promise.’ Big Mac looked towards Turner expecting him to stop now. Splitting had satisfied his fears and that was enough for him but his friend’s trademark grin had slipped and if possible he looked even paler.

‘But-’ Turner began before Big Mac cut in. ‘But nothing, Turner. Leave him alone. He explained himself, not that he had to, and that should be good enough for anyone.’

Turner’s eyes darted around for a second before he schooled himself to focus on something other than the chest with the sword in.

‘Now that that’s out of the way, will you two tell me why you barged into the forge?’ Splitting’s tone was frosty.

‘We already said, we wanted you to come down to the feastday with us. There’s going to be dancing and singing and...’ Big Mac trailed off under Splitting’s gaze.

Big Mac looked towards Turner, his eyes pleading him to help

‘..And of course there is my surprise.’ Turner finished smoothly.

‘Surprise?’ Big Mac and Splitting said together. Splitting looked at Big Mac curiously before turning back to Turner.

‘Yes. My surprise. How else would I have gotten Big Mac to go otherwise?’

‘You’d have found a way’ said Splitting ‘you always have been able to get him into mischief before, why should now be any different?’

‘You wound me, Splitting.’ Turner grabbed his chest in mock pain.

‘Oh, come off it, Turner. Tell us.’ Big Mac begged.

Turner rolled his eyes and smiled a little. His earlier discomfort a distant memory.

‘FIne but I really do think it has to be seen to be believed.’

‘Just tell us!’ Big Mac near shouted.

‘Right now, at the feast is a very special guest. There’s a lady at the feast.’

Splitting’s face twitched a little but Big Mac smacked his face in disappointment.

‘Is that it?’ he said.

‘What do you mean is that it?’ Said Turner, offended.

‘I mean yo made me leave my farm all because there’s a lady in the village. If I had known it was just that I would have never have come. Oh, Turner this is a fine thing you made me do.’

‘She’s not just a Lady, Big Mac.I swear it. While I was walking around on one of my regular jaunts about town I just happened to overhear-’ Splitting cut in exasperated.’You mean while you went out snooping you started eavesdropping. What did you hear?’ His voice was more forceful than Turner had ever heard it before. ‘Well, I, she’s not just a Lady, Splitting. She’s the Lady. Lady Sparkle of Hippotaria. The one in line for the throne.’

‘What?’ Splitting shouted grabbing Turner by the shoulders, shaking him with his intensity.’ Twily...I mean Sparkle is here? Where?’

‘Right here’ a voice called from the open door.

Author's Note:

I do not write fast. Though to be truthful the majority of this chapter was written at the same time as the first one. I just, I dunno, lost my drive? I am trying to write more though, write everyday is a mantra that I want to stick to. So hopefully I update a lot more. At least until this and a few other stories are done. I hope you enjoy this.

Comments

[Imperator45]

Yeah,it is not dead

Hoove is just so ...
Big Mac(my favorite) is so....Maccy?
Why does a blacksmith making a sword is so bad?Is this country so pacifist?
And is Spliting new name for Shining Armor?
And is this a Twimac story?
Sorry for all this question but your story is making me excited like no other in some time and it look very promising

[Sunsong]

Wheel of Time based? Loved the WoT joke about Ponella and Hippotaria, aka Emond's Field and Andor. No play on words about the Two Rivers? Perrin is Splitting, right?