The light rain soon became a continuous drizzle, covering the town with a damp haze. A rather windswept and miserable-looking cyclops trudged through the emptying streets. As much as he was thankful for this, he would even prefer the gawking glances and dirty stares rather than the rain. Only barely, though. He almost pulled off a smile when a man ran round the corner trying to escape the rain, only to jump in shock at nearly bumping into the large cyclops. But he was just as consistently dour as the precipitation.
There was also the feeling that maybe he had upset Bart. The wizard hadn’t said anything since they had left the Inn. Or, more accurately, since Grugg had cut him off from the story he had been telling. Although the wizard had mentioned he would be quiet and conserve his energy for later on, his silence was a bit abrupt. Grugg decided that he would apologize soon.
The unmistakable clanking of metal was now rhythmically ringing out through the now hushed town. As Grugg approached, he lifted his hand to shield his eye from the rain as he read the sign outside the blacksmiths. The Metal Mule. This imagery managed to crack the cyclops' low mood, and a smile lit up his face. He wondered if all the places in the town had funny animal names. Stepping over to the threshold of the smithy, he peered inside for the source of the noises.
The building was not much one for walls, with two sides of the otherwise square plot being open, aside from a couple of support beams with various tools hung up on nails. A simple tiled roof covered enough of the important things inside to keep the inclement weather off. Central to the smithy were the forge and anvil themselves, the glow of the hot coals illuminating the interior with a pulsing amber. Standing by the anvil, hammering away at some manner of blade, was a dwarf. Sweat dripped down their face onto their dark reddish beard, their brow furrowed in concentration, and their hair tied back in a short braided ponytail. At the back end of the forge, where several cluttered shelves and benches occupied, a second dwarf sat. Slightly leaner in figure, they looked down through small round spectacles at a book in their hands. Their black beard was more pointed in nature in comparison to the scraggly red-haired one, but they wore a similar style of ponytail.
“Um, hello. Nice sign.” Grugg gestured with his thumb as the red-haired dwarf stopped hammering to eye him up.
“Aye, pack animals are useful.”
“Nah, she is just a hardass,” the black-haired dwarf countered without pausing their reading.
“You can talk, Marge. Why ya always gotta prostrate me in front of customers? Ha’thakk”. The fiery-haired dwarf shook her head after uttering a dwarfish curse before turning back to a rather bewildered-looking Grugg. “You are gonna be a customer, right?”
“Doubt he is lost, looking for the haberdashers, Vana.”
“Oh, would you shush?”
Grugg nodded slowly. “Yes, uh…” he held out Thud in the most non-threatening way he could manage. “Need some repairs on Thud, please.”
“Aw, it has a name - that’s cute,” Marge cooed from the back, now putting her book away to rise and join Vana in the center of the room.
“Let’s have a look then. Can’t say I’m much of a carpenter though.”
Grugg unwrapped the damp leather coverings from around Thud and sheepishly pointed to the complete travesty he had caused his poor club when he tried to set the Orb onto it with pure brute strength. The two dwarves exchanged a glance and a nod at the notice of said Orb. Vana gently took Thud from his hands and examined the damage to the metalwork.
“I can see what you tried to do here. Unfortunately, crafting a magic weapon isn’t as simple as hitting two things together really hard-”
“Unless you have an anvil and hammer,” Marge added.
“Unless you- alright, smartass,” the blacksmith rolled her eyes in response.
“If possible, would like it if could get new metal hat and special Orb properly inserted.” He forced a grin; it wasn’t the same without the wizard feeding him lines. Perhaps he should have apologized before coming in here. The silence in his head just added to his frank awkwardness.
Vana made a clicking noise with her tongue, weighing up the work required. “Well, this is some really sturdy wood - you are lucky for that. I could probably do an iron or steel cap; steel would last longer, of course. Plus, if you want it properly fused with this magic item, steel takes to that a lot better.”
Grugg nodded along. Those all sounded like things that he would want or need. The dark-haired dwarf had begun scribbling down something on a paper pad she had withdrawn from a pocket. She punctuated the notes with a hasty signature and passed the torn-off piece of paper to the cyclops.
The tale has been taken without authorization; if you see it on Amazon, report the incident.
“These would be the fees, of course. There is a waiting time which can be shortened with a 15% increase in cost. You will find our prices are the best in town.”
He held the piece of paper between two sausage fingers and looked down at it. There were a few numbers on it, an itemized list of all the different jobs that would need to be completed, with a total at the bottom. So he assumed anyway, as he was innumerate. Whilst he had managed to gain a reasonable grasp on spoken and written Common, numbers and arithmetic were something that never came up. The Giant tongue had specific symbols for amounts, and things were only as complicated as needed. He looked back at the dwarves with a blank stare, which they thankfully were astute enough to take the hint.
“Tell you what, how about in exchange for this, you help us with a few things? Marge, you reckon we could find some jobs for our big friend here?”
“Well...” the dark-haired dwarf pulled out another notepad and flicked through. “Those lads that were supposed to come to break down the old wooden molds didn’t show up because of the bad weather.” She rolled her eyes. “Humans have the worst work ethic, I swear.”
“True, true. Well, then.. Mr…Gregg was it?”
“Grugg, pleased to meet you both.” He awkwardly half bowed, the potential options for how this sort of situation worked swirling around his head.
“Mr. Grugg. Well, it’s certainly nice to meet someone who remembers their manners when addressing a lady. Isn’t that right, Marge?”
“I’ll let you know when I see one,” the reply came, still nose-deep and focused on a notepad.
“We’ll be having words later,” she threatened, but there was a soft smile hidden in the creases of her eyes. “So, Grugg. We have a bunch of wooden molds round the back, long things we use for shaping some metal pours - but they’re old now and no good. A few local lads were meant to come around and saw them up so they could be used for firewood. But they’re a no-show. Want to have a crack, and we’ll knock a bit of coin off what we’re gonna charge you?”
Grugg paused to consider what he was being talked into. What would Bart say? He said that he would be able to listen in, so he was at least aware of the situation. So if he didn’t interject, did that mean he was on the right path? If he started getting jobs from everyone, then he would have no time to investigate the mysteries… Although, being out and around the town in unassuming positions may get him closer to clues or information. Yes, that is what the wizard would say!
“Yes, please,” he nodded and winked knowingly to himself. It was the perfect subtle nod, as cyclops’ did not have a way to actually wink, so it would just be like he blinked to anyone watching. But he knew.
“Excellent.” Vana jerked her thumb to the back of the building. “There are a couple of spare saws out back already, and the pieces need to be about this big.” She gestured a width of a couple of feet.
Grugg headed out the back and around to where the wood was stacked. The light rain had persisted, which was very inconsiderate. He kept the thoughts of Thud being fixed in his mind to keep him on track. The wood was a few inches thick and charred in various places. Each half of the mold was a good six or so feet long, and there were at least two dozen in the pile. Taking one glance over at the long saw lying against the back wall of the building, rain droplets collecting and running down the dark gray metal, he picked up the first piece of wood. Snap. He flexed the wood between his large hands, the thick muscles in his arms making light work of the task. Snap.
Marge came round to the side of the building, taking shelter under a small roofed storage area, and observed the cyclops work. She scribbled something down in her notepad before returning inside.
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“Job’s done,” Grugg announced, entering the main forge and slightly dripping wet. He was sure he got a splinter from one of the wooden pieces, but he could not for the life of him see anything in his hand.
“Wow, really? That was very fast.” Vana paused her hammering once more, wiping the sweat from her forehead.
“Aye, he is a good worker. Very focused, unlike the ogres we hired that one time.”
“Bloody Thodilns, it’s a wonder they don’t forget how to breathe.” The red-haired dwarf shook her head, placing the hammer down on the anvil with a gloved hand.
“In fact, Vana, I think he could be even more helpful to us”. The two dwarves exchanged glances again before returning to the cyclops, who looked mentally exhausted. Vana explained their train of thought.
“The guy that runs the stables here no longer comes here for all his horseshoes and the like. Took his business elsewhere because of a slight dispute, and a lot of the town follow his lead; otherwise, they get an ear beating, right?”
“He has been most gracious, however, to offer to return to us should we beat his champion in some illicit fighting ring.”
“Marge and I aren’t fighters and have no such interest - however, getting that business back will do great things for our dwindling coffers.”
Grugg again found himself nodding along. He had managed to hold his tongue on the fighting ring things, not half due to the dwarves not giving him the opportunity, but also because he felt he was learning and improving his social skills. Some of them, anyway.
“As such, to cut to the chase.” Marge held up her copy of the invoice for club repairs. “If you beat this so-called champion for us and get that old codger to bring business back to us, we will waive your Thud repair fee - it will be free.”
“Grugg beat up silly fighters; get Thud back quicker?”
Vana glanced over at Marge, who nodded in return. “Sure thing, Grugg.”
“Good, because fight is tomorrow,” he grinned widely, excited at the prospect of people to punch and an improved Thud.
“We are glad you are so eager! Hey Vana, why don’t we give him the ol’ hand-weights that daft ogre never picked up?”
Vana walked over to one of the many shelves and rummaged around in the piles of metal parts in all shapes and sizes. Then, with a clang as several parts dropped off to the floor, much to Marge’s chagrin, the blacksmith emerged triumphant and handed Grugg two large metal slabs with multiple hoops along one side each.
The knuckle dusters slid perfectly onto his fingers, and a wide grin ran up his face.