Uedica at the Forge by Stuart Hough

Annan smiled as she approached. He wasn’t at all displeased that she wanted to watch the forging of the metal. He waited whilst she settled herself. Her eyes adjusted to the sources of bright light in his forge, after her walk through the dusk. She stopped squinting and he could see her face take on the natural beauty that he regarded as so precious. The light played upon her flawless skin. She seemed to glow through her long, wind-tousled hair.

“Did you use the rock I gave you?” She asked, wanting to speak of the subject that had brought her to the forge.

“I did. Usually, I would use pieces from my ‘treasury’, but that rock, wasn’t just a rock. Not a normal rock anyway. It was just too heavy.”

“Rivallo gave it to me. He said that it had fallen in fire, from the sky. I’m not sure that I believe that bit.”

“Well, wherever it came from, it was really heavy for the size of it. The bloom was really bright when it was smelted. I’ve never seen anything like it. There were virtually no impurities.”

“Can I see?” Uedica asked curiously. “The ‘treasury’, I mean.” She knew it was quite a request. Metal-workers were a notoriously secretive, throughout the tribes. They guarded their own secrets well. Never the less, they were a community. They would often recognise the work of others by name and would admire and aspire to learn from those they had never met. Annan looked uneasy.

“I don’t usually show it to anyone other than my father.” He sighed and turned to lift the lid of a heavy oak box. Whatever the young smith’s skill, he knew in his own heart, he could never refuse her. She got to her feet quickly and felt as if she were being admitted to an inner sanctum of knowledge.

She peered inside.

There were items of rough metal in the form of rings and ingots. There were large stones. An array of clay pots held an assortment of smaller stones and ground powders. “Oh!” she said softy. “That wasn’t what I was expecting.” It didn’t look much like ‘treasure’, she thought.

His heart sank as he saw her disappointment. “These are the sources of the seven known metals. They are iron, tin, lead, copper, quicksilver, silver and gold. It’s my ‘treasure’. What others think of it after it has been worked is up to them. This is the first form of beauty, in its natural and unadorned state. Each one is unique and full of the promise of what it may become and mean to others.”

She picked up a bright red stone and looked at it intently. She’d never seen the like of it before. He smiled as her selection of the most mysterious metal of them all. “That is cinnabar, from which comes quicksilver. That one has come all of the way from Iberia.” She selected a different stone, and watched the light play on its thin, translucent crystals. Its lustre and shine made it look like a desirable gem in its own right. “That one is casserite. From that, comes tin.”

“Is this tin?” She asked holding a thin metal bar.

“It is and it speaks.” He smiled at her surprised expression. “It does not.” She scoffed. She would not fall for any of his childish pranks. “It does.” He insisted as he took the metal from her hand. “When I say ‘speak, it’s actually more of a ‘cry’. He held the metal bar to her ear. “Listen and you will hear the ‘cry of the tin’.” He gently flexed the metal to a slight bend. She could hear the metal give a high-pitched tinkling sound, as it was stressed. “That is the ‘cry’ of the tin.” He grinned. She listened again. With a little imagination, it wasn’t difficult to think of the sound as a cry of tiny souls. Everyone had heard metal ring, once hit, but she’d never heard anything like that before.

“The big shiny, heavy stones are galena, from which comes lead and silver.” She picked up a small knobbly piece that nestled in its own pot. “They are small nuggets of gold in their pure form. Some yellowish, some reddish, depending upon where they are from. The green powder is copper. We may need some of those later on.”

She began to find Annan’s world fascinating. She was amazed that from such dull, uninteresting objects, objects of great soul and shining beauty could be made. She continued to peer into the chest, inspecting the grubby contents further.

“So, what you do,” she said distractedly as she intently inspected a shining stone of galena, “is like cooking but with rocks.”

“Yes.” He grinned at her analogy. “I suppose it is.”