Sheemish

Conlan brings his hammer down onto red-hot iron. It’s much less of a smash, and more of simply letting the hammer fall and guiding it just right. At his age, it’s better to let gravity do most of the work.

Besides. This is a small piece.

He hits the iron again. Once, he had enjoyed the clang of metal on metal. These days, it seemed all he could hear was that ringing sound. Surely Halla or one of the Ilmatari can do something about his healing, but Conlan doesn't want to ask for anything more. Just having his boy brought home to him those years ago, that is enough blessing for a lifetime.

His boy…

"You know, Da… I've seen you do some hard things. You’re a hero too."

Conlan blinks his eyes. Clears his throat.

Then he gets back to work.

The next morning, Conlan watches as Sheemish finishes packing his belongings. "You got everything there, son?"

"Awmosth" Sheemish replied through clenched teeth as he worked another marking into the metal scrap he was holding. "Gaw Ih!" He said as he finished one last etching. He took the spare chisel out of his mouth he had temporarily secured there and tapped the piece he had been working on twice on its service.

"Ummm . . ." He started at the piece confused, "Well I thought I had it." He scratched at the stubble on his chin, leaving another Oil smear on his face. He finally shrugged "Bah, it’ll come to me in a second," he said turning to his father. "Metal work comes easy enough, but trying to remember these tricks from mom is harder than a barbarian keeping track of his loincloth," he said cheerfully.

Though Sheemish’s mother had been a mountain dwarf, and he inherited a good amount of her strength and attention to detail, it was obvious where sheemish got his height from. A few inches taller than his father, the young blacksmith was easily the tallest of the townsfolk. Tall but not awkward, Sturdy but not bulky, both of which came in handy for a lot of the work they had had to do in his years growing up. It wasn’t easy keeping buildings and people outfitted for the type of life out here, But Sheemish couldn’t have asked for a better friend and teacher for it.

"And what are you working on there you old Moop?" He said hefting his bag over his shoulder and peering at what his father was working on, "I told you I had finished the last orders yesterday, even had time to fill a special request for Zenni, at least I hope it turned out special. That last rune on it was pretty tricky . ." He trailed off as he looked closer at Conlans work.

Sheemish embraces his father in a solid hug, trying not to squeeze the aging man too hard but just hard enough to pass on his gratitude for, well, everything. "I think I have the perfect spot for it, I've been working on a new gauntlet" he pulled back and gave a wink, "not like the last ones though I promise, or at least I hope so anyways, fourth times the charm right? I'll get it right eventually, just needs the right touch and this just might-" He paused and then slapped his forehead adding once again to the many grease marks. "That's it!"

He unslung his bag and scrambled quickly through it, spilling bits of metal debris from its various pockets. Grabbing a different metal chisel, one that looked more like a sharp calligrapher's quill instead, he accented one more rune on the small piece he had been working on for his father. It was a metal orb, and this time, as his chisel/quill added the final touch, the orb began to spark. His grin turning to alarm both Conlan and Sheemish ducked in reflex under the blacksmith table (the old man was more nimble than he let on, or at least was forced to be by situations like this) and the orb spun and sparked chaotically. Rolling off the table it landed directly between them and gave out a hiss a smoke before it stilled. And then it began to glow. Slowly crawling backwards, Sheemish reached for a set of tongs on a crate behind him. The glow from the orb turned from a burning red to a burning white and then diminished to more of a daylight glow. Sheemish smiled, "Perfect" he whispered.

The orb is crafted from tinkering and now glows similar to a lantern. It is connected to Sheemish but is not bound by distance or time. It will only cease to glow if turned off by Sheemish or if Sheemish's life ends. He leaves it with his father as testament that its glow means Sheemish is safe and sound and will return in one piece. Hopefully.