Tom Liberman - The Hammer of Fire

“That’s nice, in any case, I’ve come to you with a plan, something that Delius will like, it’s something I’d like myself but I’m not young anymore, and frankly, even when I was young I wasn’t much the adventuring sort. I’m a fair blacksmith, no false modesty there, I know my way around the hammer and anvil, but as for killing and rescuing fair maids, it’s not really my forte. Where was I?”

“A plan,” suggested Milli with a hopeful look in her eyes as she gazed up at the old dwarf.

“That’s right; now, I can’t tell you how to get to the hammer anymore and any suggestion I make is based on information fed to me by the Firefists. It’s been nothing but lies and spying for years now. That miserable apprentice they’ve saddled me with is nothing but a lying filthy little spy with no character whatsoever. I’ve tried with him, tried to instill some discipline, some pride of work, but he’s grown up spoiled, entitled, rich, there’s nothing I can do with him. But young Delius, I can give him something to do with the hammer.”

“What?” said Milli her coffee cup poised half-way between the saucer and her flush lips.

“What do you know about Craggen Steep?” said Fierfelm as he carefully set down his coffee cup in the chipped saucer and turned his old eyes to the girl. “What do you really know?”

“Well, it’s a secret citadel, hidden from the rest of the world, that it is endless miles of caverns tunneled through the mountains, that… that… that’s it’s ruled by a council of elders but the blacksmiths, the master blacksmith’s, the Edos’s, they are the other power.”

“Yes, but what do you know of its origins?”

“I don’t really know very much. They brought me here as a little girl but I’m still an outsider, they won’t tell me anything.”

“What do you make of the great passages, the grand halls?”

“Oh, they’re magnificent, the stone work is so beautiful, the gems, the precious metals, the artisan work, it’s the most beautiful place there could ever be,” said Milli her eyes glowing and a wide smile on her face as she gazed towards the corner of the room and saw not the faded paint, the cracked trim, but something else, something far grander.

“What do you think of their size?” Interrupted the old dwarf, breaking her from her reverie.

“Their size?” repeated Milli.

“Yes, their size,” said the old dwarf with a twinkle in his eyes.

“The grand passage that cuts through the heart of the mountain must be a hundred feet tall, the ancient cathedrals to Davim and the other Gods, you could walk an army through them.”

“What do you make of that?” said Fierfelm with a little nod of his head.

“I’m not sure I understand,” said Milli, her head tilted to one side and her nose slightly wrinkled as she gazed at the elderly dwarf.

The First Edos smiled gently at the girl and raised his eyebrows.

“Well, I suppose, as a girl, I always wondered, why build such massive structures when you’re, well, not exactly very tall,” she said. “Is that what you mean?”

The First Edos nodded his head and took another sip of his coffee, “It’s best to make it too hot and then it cools nicely after a bit. These porcelain cups are quite nice for keeping the heat. Gold is ridiculous as a coffee mug, just ridiculous; you’d think someone would think of that.”

Milli closed one eye and shook her head, “What?”

“The coffee, best to make it too hot.”

“Yes, I’m sorry First Edos, would you like me to put the kettle back on?” said Milli.

“What do you make of that?” said Fierfelm.

Milli blinked three times with her long lashes and stared at the elderly dwarf for a long moment, “The halls?”

“Of course, what else were we talking about?”

“I suppose…,” she started and put her hand to her chin, “I suppose it means that they weren’t built for dwarves in the first place.”

“Or even by dwarves,” said Fierfelm and took another sip of his coffee, made a sour face, looked at the cup, and frowned.

Milli stood up, went to the kitchen, put the kettle back on the fire, and then returned to sit down next to the First Edos, “If not dwarves, then who built all this?”

“Elementals, from the dawn of time, the greatest elemental of them all, Gazadum, this was his seat of power,” said Fierfelm, put the coffee cup to his lips for a moment, wrinkled his nose, and set it back down again without drinking further.

“But, but, but where are they now? These elementals?” said Milli as she sat down with a thump.

“You know the story of Dar Drawhammer,” said Fierfelm with another distasteful look at his coffee. “Did you say you had cake?”

Milli jumped to her feet again and went back to the kitchen as she looked over her shoulder, “I’ve heard the story a thousand times, how Dar defeated the Elementals with the shield… wait, you mean that story is about here, about Craggen Steep? They never say that, they always say it was some far off place.”

Fierfelm nodded his head and the platinum circled around his beard bumped into the table and sent some of the coffee in his cup slopping out. “It’s all a secret you know.”

“Let me get that,” said Milli as she rushed back over to the table with a rag just as the kettle began to whistle.

“You said there was cake?” repeated Fierfelm.

“Oh, yes, I’ll get some, in just a moment, I think I might have it around here, somewhere,” said Milli with a desperate look at the kettle, the spill, and her cupboard.

“I thought all you halflings loved to bake?”

“I was raised by dwarves,” said Milli as she suddenly stopped and looked at the old dwarf with a wide smile, “I love gold.”

Fierfelm nodded his head, “Not a bad thing necessarily, although to extreme, it is a dangerous pursuit. Perhaps, because I have so much, it is not as valuable to me. One doesn’t value what one has in abundance I suppose, it’s the nature of a dwarf.”

“What about those elementals, how does that fit into convincing Dol to take the hammer?” asked Milli as she finished cleaning up the mess, although her subsequent neglect of the kettle saw boiling water slop onto the stove and hiss violently.

“Gazadum was possibly the first of the elementals and certainly one of the most powerful,” said Fierfelm. “When Dar drove him from Balag Tol he fled to the southlands along with many of the other powerful fire elementals including Hezfer the Blue Flame who consumed Onod, his twin sister Eleniak the Dancing Flame, and the terrible Shadak the Black Fire.”

“Balag Tol?” asked Milli as she returned with a fresh cup of coffee and a rather malformed pastry, icing smeared unevenly across its surface, “I’m sorry about the tart, it’s a few days old, I haven’t been shopping, I thought we were going to take the hammer and leave, so I’ve let things slip a little.”

“Quite all right, my dear,” said Fierfelm and he looked at the misshapen little tart with a glance and then raised the coffee cup to his lips.

“What is Balag Tol?” repeated Milli.

“What’s that?” said the First Edos.

“Balag Tol, I’ve never heard of it,” said Milli.

“Oh, that’s Craggen Steep, of course,” said Fierfelm with a little wave of his left hand as he sipped from the cup and grimaced again. “That’s what it was called before, at least so the chronicles say. They say Gazadum ruled there for a countless years while he and his fellow elementals shaped the world. It is his residual heat that still fires the Deep Forge all these centuries later.”

“What does all this have to do with the Hammer of Fire, and Dol?” said Milli as she leaned forward, “Not that I mind hearing the stories.”