Skirmish (Hagan): Imperfect

Skirmish (Hagan): Imperfect

Follow along each week for Skirmishes of characters of the Orcblood Legacy Series. These are real events that take place during the story’s timeline but are not detailed in the book.

Wrapping his fingers around the worn, iron tongs, Hagan clamped down onto the thin steel and pulled it from his forge. The metal glowed a deep orange as he set it down onto his anvil’s horn to work out the curve of the pauldron just right. Down came his hammer, nothing more than a light but steady tap. Then another, and another. As the armor’s glow began to fade, the dwarf’s arm pumped in calculated bursts, clapping against the heated steel. 

With the pauldron growing too cold, Hagan lifted it to his face. Carefully, he scrutinized every detail. The edges were smooth, having worked out all of the nicks. The curve made perfect after this last cycle of working the piece. Continuing to trace the steel with his eyes, Hagan frowned as he came across the smallest of dimples. To anyone else, such a minor imperfection would have been meaningless. In truth, it offered no functional vulnerability at all. But, letting out a small, patient sigh, the dwarf lowered the pauldron and slid it back beneath the coals.

 As he waited for the blazing forge to reheat the steel, Hagan wiped his face with a rag before folding it into a neat square and placing it on the table. Taking hold of his trusty tongs once more, he pulled the pauldron from the fire, this time it came out a dull red—exactly as needed.

Bending as low as he could to put his face near the heated metal—and taking great care not to singe his beard—Hagan scanned the plate until he found the same dimple as before. Without needing to look, his hand reached out to the side and retrieved a tiny hammer. Clamping the piece in place with the tongs in his left hand, he slowly tapped the steel with his right. Little by little, the minuscule dimple began to flatten. It took nearly a hundred soft blows from the diminutive tool, but eventually the crease had been erased completely.

Once more the pauldron was raised to the dwarf’s face for final inspection. He was ready to quench it and be done, having worked the same small piece of armor for the last three days. Again, Hagan traced his scrutinizing gaze over the smoothed steel as it cooled in the air. Pleased with the result, he set the pauldron down onto the anvil. But as he released it from his tongs, he realized that he had clamped down onto the metal slightly too forcefully, as a new marking had been introduced from where it had been held.

With naught but another small and patient sigh, Hagan slid the pauldron back into the coals.