Hearth Fire

Stronric decided he was going to need to find a town nearby soon. The depleting supplies from the sudden influx of goats was becoming a problem. He would need to make a list of necessary supplies, including food for the animals. He could use the ram to help carry supplies back from town. The ram would need to eventually be fitted for a saddle. The wounded ram had healed incredibly fast, causing Stronric to wonder if the blessing extended to the animals as well. If the animals could benefit from the blessing, I wonder what else could… “Thump Thump”. Sighing, Stronric got up and walked to the crude door. As he opened it, he stepped aside as five goats made their way inside.

“Where are yer coming from?” he asked as the goats bleated at him in annoyance, seemingly for being kept in the cold.

Shaking his head, he looked at the nanny goat.

“I name thee baroness of goats. Now stop summoning yer subjects.” He said as he rubbed Beatrice's nose.

Beatrice gave him a flat look and bleated in annoyance.

“See, just like an old crone, no sense of humor, always having her knickers in a bunch.” He laughed as Beatrice rammed his leg.

He walked back over to the fire to eat his breakfast. He grabbed a stick out of the fire and shook it until the flame died then reached for a broken chair seat. With a piece of hardtack hanging out of his mouth, he wrote his list of things he needed on the bottom side of the chair seat. Between the “bing” of his daily blessing and the bleating of the goats, focusing was almost impossible. Seeking out some quite, he headed out into the old courtyard and sat on a bench. The “clunk clunk” of hooves followed him, but when he looked up to yell at the goats to leave him alone, he was surprised to see it was the ram following him.

Its wound had stopped bleeding, but descending the mountain any further would no be possible until a few more days had gone by. He surely wouldn’t be able to ride the animal, but perhaps it could follow him. The ram laid down beside him. Stronric nuzzled his nose as he worked.

Alright, I need blacksmiths’ tools, ore, coal, leather, dried wood, oats, grains…… The list went on and on.

Stronric sat back and let out a sigh, reading the list one more time to make sure he forgot nothing. All he needed to do now was to find something of value to sell. Back inside of the hold, the goats were everywhere. They were climbing everywhere; on the bar, his sleeping spot, the broken barrels of beer.

“Out yer bastards!” Stronric shouted.

Turning to Beatrice, “this is your fault you old nanny! Get your goats rounded up. We are taking them to the pens. I will let ye devils out for the day. No more destroying the place. Ye guys are almost as bad as the Gobi.”

Beatrice let out an annoyed bleat and got up from her spot. She headed upstairs with the goats in tow. Stronric followed her, making sure no goats got lost on the way. Once they reached the pens, Stronric had two goats under one of his arms and a third being pulled by its tail. Letting go and setting the goats down, they ran to catch up to Beatrice. Stronric went to the wench and let the goats out for the day.

“I will be here if ye need me. If anything happens, come and get me Beatrice. I will be down in the smithy.” He said to the old nanny.

She let out a bleat and went up the ramp. Stronric made his way to the smithy, crouching at the last step before the entrance, where a line of dirt laid undisturbed. Nodding his head, he checked the other side of the landing for a second undisturbed line. Knowing the smithy was safe, he headed inside. He took a section of wood he’d collected for the haft of his weapon and sharpened one end. Grabbing the orc chieftain’s head, he stuck it on the sharpened end and walked down to the next floor. He jammed the totem into a corner and walked back upstairs. That should warn the orc about coming up into my smithy.

The bellows heaved in deep breaths as the forge was brought back to life. He got to work smelting the orc scrap metal. Feeding the fire and building up the coal, Stronric loved working the forge. It was slow work, his melting urn wasn’t big, and this wasn’t the best way to process ore. Eventually, he would need a proper furnace. Just another thing to add to the list. He hummed a tune as he worked. Slowly, the pile of scrap disappeared into the melting urn. Blocks of iron ingots filled up the shelves as the day progressed. As the metal heated and the impurities were burnt away, he worked on his short sword, refining the etching he’d carved into the weapon.

He sharpened and polished the blade until it was razor sharp. Once he could see his reflection on the blade, he smiled with satisfaction. He then chose a section of wood to make a sheath, which he began hollowing out with a dagger. Once the dagger couldn’t reach, he used the sharpened rod to dig out the rest. He attempted to fit the blade into the wood, pulled it out and worked on the sheath more. Once the weapon was properly placed in the sheath, he proceeded to shape the sheath by carving. Stronric heated some iron and worked it on the anvil. Rounding it into circles, he wrapped the bottom and the top of the sheath in metal. When the iron had cooled and fixed into place, he brought the sheath over to the workbench. He etched the metal in runes, and blackened the whole sheath using coals.

It’s good to work with yer hands and empty your mind. I haven’t had too many moments like this since I got here. Now onto the important work.

Stronric took out all the leather he could spare and grabbed some more wood. He was going to make a shoulder harness for his new axe so he could carry the weapon around while maintaining use of both hands. He carved the center of the wood out, making it into a long U shape. He grooved a half circle on one end of the wood, carving out one side deeper than the other, so that the axe could fit into the slot. Using the forge, he fashioned nails for pinning the leather straps in place. He stood back and looked at his work. It wasn’t exceptional, but it was practical. He put on his harness and reached over his shoulder dropping his weapon into the grove.

The harness sat at the top of his back. He drew the axe a few times, getting used to lifting and twisting it out of the holster. He walked over to the anvil to practice sitting with it on. He would have to sway his hips to get the haft on the left side to sit comfortably enough, but it did work.

He headed back upstairs for where he stored the valuables with a smile on his face. It was time he took a look at that war hammer and bag of loot he’d found. The war hammer was truly a piece of artwork. Normally he would use it, but it felt like it wasn’t meant for him. He cleaned and polished the weapon then carefully wrapped it in cloth and placed it in his hidden beer cellar. Next was the bag of coins, and the backpack of bottles. He emptied the bag of bottles, the labels were worn and faded. All he could make out was “ He T n”. He eyed the reddish liquid and set it down. There were four bottles of the red stuff, three bottles of blue liquid and a bottle of greenish liquid.

Emptying out the rest of the contents of the bag revealed twenty five feet of tri-strand twist rope, a faded map and a water skin. Stronric inspected the old map, which appeared to be of the local area. The mountain hold was marked as dwarf ruins. There was a nearby town called Millstone that looked to be a three days journey or maybe five. He couldn’t tell. The humans were terrible at making maps. The mountain was larger and smaller in some place, so referencing anything on it was a lost cause. It was something though, better than nothing.

The coins spilled out next, most of them were bronze coins, silver and a gold coin. In total there were thirty three bronze, five silver and one gold coin. He guessed between the sword and these coins it would be enough for most of what he needed. The symbol on each coins were different. The bronze had a gnome raising his hand with the palm facing forward, the silver had a human and the gold, Stronric spit on the ground, displayed an elf. If what the beast had said was true, and his people were mostly slaves, he would have a reckoning with the elves.

He slid all of the coins into the coin purse, and placed it back inside of the backpack. Along his way to take the water-skin to be cleaned he checked on his mushrooms. The mushrooms were growing in nicely. The corpse really aided in the growth. I would normally never eat corpse mushrooms but I am getting low on mush corn. Most of these mushrooms will be ripe for harvest when I get back from the town. He flicked some of the mushrooms he had left to spore, they shot out spores and he waved his hands to get the spores to settle in the area he chose for the next harvest.

I can’t wait for mushroom cake, patties, bread and so much more. His mouth watered at the thought of not having to eat hardtack. Maybe I will pick up some meat and the things needed for cheese when I am in town as well. He ran back down stairs to add them to his list of goods to pick up from the town.