15min fic #86
Dec. 22nd, 2004 03:43 pm![[identity profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/openid.png){kind=small}
annarti.livejournal.com posting in ![[community profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/community.png){kind=small}
yrae
Title~ Silver Yrae
Author~ Annarti
Disclaimer~ My own, my precioussss
Notes~ 15 minute fic, word 86. Nimay gets her sword~ =D
~ ~ ~
The market was probably no different to how it normally was, but to Nimay, it seemed as though the crowd buzzed with a sense of anticipation that they usually lacked. More people smiled than frowned, and even the shop keepers seemed more casual than usual.
She rode on camel-back behind the glistening chestnut stallion her new general rode as he let her through the crowd and off into one of the backstreets of the market, where he dismounted and tied his horse up. Nimay tapped her camel’s neck, urging her to kneel down and allow the swordswoman to climb off. She couldn’t help but think this was going to be one of the last times she would ride a camel. In a few days, a horse would be sent down from Kazin, just for her.
She followed the General into the blacksmith, instantly being hit by the sharp tang of white-hot steel and the musty, dry heat of the forges. A manner of weapons lined the walls, including various styles of daggers, and of course, swords. Most appeared to be standard-issue army swords, but there were a number of ornamental swords that appeared so flimsy they would be used for nothing but to decorate some rich man’s villa.
The smithy was at the back of the building, hunched over steel that glowed a sweet, cherry-red as he clanged a heavy mallet against it. When his assistant thrust it back into the forge to heat it some more, the General cleared his throat to gain the blacksmith’s attention.
The man held up a hand. “I’ll be with you in a moment.”
He clashed the metal for a while longer before nodding to his assistant and laying down his mallet and gloves. He wiped his hands on an already filthy leather apron and made his way to where the General and Nimay waited.
“This would be the new rider of the Own, I assume?” he asked, reaching up to lay one heavy hand on the girl’s shoulder.
Nimay nodded and returned the gesture. The smithy grinned and gestured to a side room with a jerk of his head, then led the two swordsmen in. He took a sheathed sword from the table and held it out to Nimay.
The swordswoman’s mouth dropped open when the beautiful sword was laid in her hands. Moulded to the shape of an yrae, the bird’s neck made the hilt, while its outstretched wings formed the guard. In its beak, it held a glittering sapphire.
“Well, out with it,” the smithy said impatiently. “Let me know how it feels. The balance should be right, but I can always tweak it if needs be.”
Nimay nodded and gripped the scabbard with her left hand, whisking the blade—the yrae’s tail—from it with a smooth motion of her right. The long length of silver steel shone golden in the warm light of the blacksmith. A smaller sapphire was fixed into the blade’s tip, imitating the magical stone at the end of an yrae’s tail.
She gripped the hilt with both hands and made a few experimental passes with the new blade. The black-leather grip fit her hands perfectly, and the blade was strong, but not too light so it wouldn’t shatter at the first sign of battle. It put her faithful army-issue sword to shame. She smiled warmly and nodded in appreciation. There were most definitely reasons why the palace relied on this man to craft the army’s blades.
The smithy nodded. “So I should hope,” he said, “Treat it well, girl, and should you need repairs, go to no other smithy.”
The swordswoman grinned and pressed her hands together in thanks, then sheathed her new sword and walked back out into the street while Rau negotiated prices with the smithy.
Now she had her sword, she was most definitely a part of the King’s Own.
Author~ Annarti
Disclaimer~ My own, my precioussss
Notes~ 15 minute fic, word 86. Nimay gets her sword~ =D
The market was probably no different to how it normally was, but to Nimay, it seemed as though the crowd buzzed with a sense of anticipation that they usually lacked. More people smiled than frowned, and even the shop keepers seemed more casual than usual.
She rode on camel-back behind the glistening chestnut stallion her new general rode as he let her through the crowd and off into one of the backstreets of the market, where he dismounted and tied his horse up. Nimay tapped her camel’s neck, urging her to kneel down and allow the swordswoman to climb off. She couldn’t help but think this was going to be one of the last times she would ride a camel. In a few days, a horse would be sent down from Kazin, just for her.
She followed the General into the blacksmith, instantly being hit by the sharp tang of white-hot steel and the musty, dry heat of the forges. A manner of weapons lined the walls, including various styles of daggers, and of course, swords. Most appeared to be standard-issue army swords, but there were a number of ornamental swords that appeared so flimsy they would be used for nothing but to decorate some rich man’s villa.
The smithy was at the back of the building, hunched over steel that glowed a sweet, cherry-red as he clanged a heavy mallet against it. When his assistant thrust it back into the forge to heat it some more, the General cleared his throat to gain the blacksmith’s attention.
The man held up a hand. “I’ll be with you in a moment.”
He clashed the metal for a while longer before nodding to his assistant and laying down his mallet and gloves. He wiped his hands on an already filthy leather apron and made his way to where the General and Nimay waited.
“This would be the new rider of the Own, I assume?” he asked, reaching up to lay one heavy hand on the girl’s shoulder.
Nimay nodded and returned the gesture. The smithy grinned and gestured to a side room with a jerk of his head, then led the two swordsmen in. He took a sheathed sword from the table and held it out to Nimay.
The swordswoman’s mouth dropped open when the beautiful sword was laid in her hands. Moulded to the shape of an yrae, the bird’s neck made the hilt, while its outstretched wings formed the guard. In its beak, it held a glittering sapphire.
“Well, out with it,” the smithy said impatiently. “Let me know how it feels. The balance should be right, but I can always tweak it if needs be.”
Nimay nodded and gripped the scabbard with her left hand, whisking the blade—the yrae’s tail—from it with a smooth motion of her right. The long length of silver steel shone golden in the warm light of the blacksmith. A smaller sapphire was fixed into the blade’s tip, imitating the magical stone at the end of an yrae’s tail.
She gripped the hilt with both hands and made a few experimental passes with the new blade. The black-leather grip fit her hands perfectly, and the blade was strong, but not too light so it wouldn’t shatter at the first sign of battle. It put her faithful army-issue sword to shame. She smiled warmly and nodded in appreciation. There were most definitely reasons why the palace relied on this man to craft the army’s blades.
The smithy nodded. “So I should hope,” he said, “Treat it well, girl, and should you need repairs, go to no other smithy.”
The swordswoman grinned and pressed her hands together in thanks, then sheathed her new sword and walked back out into the street while Rau negotiated prices with the smithy.
Now she had her sword, she was most definitely a part of the King’s Own.