He began to try and angle it into such a shape, and glanced back at the Blacksmith at talk of molds. "I'm up for a challenge," he admitted, grinning. Both of them continued, Talys returning his attention to his work and the Blacksmith elaborating.

"Heated to liquid?" he asked, surprised. He knew that sometimes, if you tossed a rock with flecks of metal into the fire, they could melt off... but they always hardened so fast, at least in his experience. His tail waved at the offer, and he couldn't fight a smile. "That would be awesome. I could get something for hunting with, or defending myself."

Talys tilted his head slightly, continuing to hammer the metal into a shape he wanted. He paused, holding it over the fire again for a while -- he was getting the hang of this process, at least, although it wasn't an incredibly difficult one. "No, I don't know what flux is. That's a fun word, though. Flux." He paused to look at the white sand. Flux. Talys smiled at the offer. "Where do you get metal?" It wasn't as though he had ore and pickaxes.

He held up the blade, turning it over. It was thin enough, he thought, somewhat triangular, corrected into a more one-sided blade. He had a crude place to make a handle later, and it would certainly need to be filed and sharpened and refined, but it would work. It wouldn't be great, but it was, at least, a halfway decent first try. He grinned. "Do you think I'm done with this step, Blacksmith?"

He came over quietly to inspect Talys's work, head tilted gently to one side. "A crude blade... but servicable, and good work... for a first piece," he praised, and backed away again with a nod. "You may find... something to form a handle... from my scrap? If you wish." A soft gesture indicated the various metal chunks and so forth strewn about off to one side.

"As for metals... various places... When these caves were formed, there were... some few ores... that could be taken from the stone. Sometimes, metal is... delivered; and other times... what is damaged... or no longer needed... is reforged. I must work, now, but... you may stay and watch... if you wish. Come back to me... in time, and I will teach you of... alloys, and oils; of... grinding, and shaping. And if there are others... who hold interest... bring them, too. I can teach you... together. You may... sharpen that blade, and polish it... on the grindstone, if you wish." He gestured to the stone, off in one corner; it was held in place by metal, spun there by a foot-pedal, so that Talys could use it to shape and polish a knife without too much physical effort.

"Tell me if you have... more questions, for now."

@Talys

Talys felt warm, warmer than just the Forge would have allowed for. The praise... it was nice. He looked over at the various pieces of scrap, and beamed. "Thank you!" He would have felt weird about someone rifling through his stuff; in his mind, this was a sign of trust. He went over to start picking through the scrap while the Blacksmith talked.

He selected a piece of metal that would work well enough for a handle, but he didn't want to get in the Blacksmith's way, so he reasoned he would hold on to it and do the handle later. It was sort of already the shape he needed it to be anyway, so really he just needed to get it around the edge of his own knife.

Talys settled down at the grindstone and tested the pedal a few times, just to get a feel for it. "That sounds awesome, Blacksmith. I'll definitely be back once you're less busy. Thank you for taking the time to teach me all this!"

The elf began to work at the edge of his blade, getting a careful feel for it. After a while, he fell into a rhythm. Talys was not in any rush, and began to get engrossed in his task. The Blacksmith might have interrupted him eventually, but if not, he would have worked until he was finished -- either way, he would have then stayed a little longer to watch him work in the meantime before finally taking his leave with what he'd made once he began to feel drowsy from the heat of the forge.


/exit talys

The Blacksmith, meanwhile, sunk himself quickly into his work.

There was an urgency to it, a hurried speed that slipped fingers over metal from time to time, that did not allow for even a moment's rest.

Metal was poured and melted, or heated and hammered. Rings and collars were formed, and other, stranger things. He went back and forth to a grindstone, and polish, and flux, and a heavy scrap of leather; he buffed and shaped the pieces, working incessantly.

Time passed, and the objects eventually formed a small pile of their own--and in the meantime, kind as he was, the Blacksmith seemed to forget entirely of Talys's presence. Necessity was his Master, for the time being, and he had to obey.