Young Writers Society

As soon as I was certain that Father and Myrond couldn’t see me, I set my basket down and rubbed my back, gently. Father’s footrest had done a thorough job of stripping the flesh from my shoulders and upper back, and the raw flesh was burning and throbbing, begging me to cool it.

I desperately wanted to lie in the creek for a few minutes, to let the cool water soothe my back, but I knew I couldn’t. I knew that Father and Myrond would want to know why I had been in the creek, and they both knew me well enough to know that I would go swimming when they had given me a task to do- unless I had a reason.

They’d figure out that my back’s hurt, in, about, three seconds- regardless of the story I tell them...then Father will worry and fret about the scrape, and Myrond will feel badly for causing it.

I rolled my shoulders, determined to be strong, to deal with my pain without anyone comforting me- I strode into the blacksmith’s shop, ducking under a long beam of iron the smithy had hanging from a string.

“Mr. Drakan?” I called softly.

“Who’s it?” He asked gruffly from somewhere deep within his forge.

“It’s Tasia,” I replied.

“Ah yes, I recognize the voice now,” Drakan said, as he rose from behind a large table some yards off.

“Yes sir,” I said, as I moved towards him. “How are you today?”

“I’m still kicking, how about yourself?”

“I’m well, thank you,” I replied with a grin.

I squinted in the darkness at the thin piece of iron lying on his work bench, glowing orange- he picked the metal up with tongs, and held it over his anvil. He struck it a few times with his hammer, and then dropped it into a pail of cool water-sizzling and spitting; the water cooled the scalding metal.

In a moment, Drakan pulled the metal out of the water and laid it back in the edge of his fire pit; letting the low flames lick at the wet iron- crackling as the fire dried the water and began to reheat the metal.

I grabbed hold of the handle to the bellows and began pumping it up and down, air teasing the embers into flame once more. Drakan and I watched as the flames quickly turned the bent iron to a glowing reddish orange color once more.

“That’s enough,” Drakan said gruffly.

I let the handle go and watched as Drakan carefully lifted the iron in his tongs, beating the scorching metal into a crude arch- his hammer ringing loudly as it struck the metal time and again. In a moment he dunked the iron into the bucket of water, carefully keeping his hands clear of the scalding steam.

He tossed the arch into the fire. “Go ahead.”

I began pumping the bellows once more, watching the flame dance around in his fire pit- quickly reheating the iron, making it glow and shimmer in the darkness of the forge. Drakan took a long, metal poker and stirred the embers, sending sparks in all directions.

“Alright,” he said, as he grabbed his tongs.

I let go of the handle, and watched as Drakan pounded the metal down into a flat arch- a perfect horseshoe. I grabbed the punch lying on the end of the workbench, and handed it to Drakan as he turned towards me.

“Thanks.” He turned back to the horseshoe, and punched a few small holes on either side, spacing them perfectly.

He tossed the finished horseshoe into his pail of water, and then turned towards me, rubbing his hands on a rag. “You know, you make me wish you were a boy.”

I giggled, smiling. “I wish it too, sometimes.”

“Aye, you’d make me a good apprentice,” Drakan said as he wiped his soot-covered brow with the rag, smearing the mess more than cleaning it. “Anyway...what was it you needed, Lassie?”

“I’ve got eggs,” I replied, as I lifted the basket from the ground to his work bench.

“How many?” Drakan asked, as he moved the towel a bit and peered into the basket.

“Three shy of five dozen,” I replied.

“You are looking to sell them, then?” He asked.

“Yes sir.”

“Well- come on,” he said, as he walked towards the side door of his forge. “I’ll tell you. You know I like your eggs an awful lot, but I don’t have any money.”

“I know.”

“You were looking for a trade, then?” He asked.

I nodded. “That’s fine.”

“What are you trying to get?”

“I’d like to get a block of cheese, for lunch,” I replied.

“I don’t keep any animals.” Drakan said slowly. “But...but Dastan does. He’s got goats, if I remember right.”

“He does,” I agreed. “But he’s also got chickens.”

Drakan grinned as he wiped his brow with the back of his hand, keeping the sweat from dripping into his eyes, covering his forehead in a black slime of coal dust. “Aye, but he doesn’t have a horseshoes...I was actually making that set for him.”

I looked at Drakan calmly.

“...So,” he continued. “I’ll trade you my shoes for your eggs, and then you can trade him the shoes for his cheese.”

I nodded. “Everybody wins that way.”

Drakan nodded. “That’s right...alright, how about you give me four dozen? A dozen per shoe sound fair to you?”

“You can have them all,” I said.

“That’s not fair,” Drakan argued.

I bit my lip, thinking. I had very little use for nine eggs- but I knew that he wouldn’t accept them, unless he felt he had traded me something of equal value. “How about you give me some nails, then, and take all the eggs?”

“Nails?” he asked.

“Yes sir nails, so Mr. Dastan can put the shoes on his horse, or mule, or whatever he needs them for.”

“Nails don’t cost much,” Drakan said slowly.

“Neither do eggs.”

Drakan looked at me for a long moment. “I don’t know...I don’t want to cheat you.”

“I know you don’t, sir, I don’t want to cheat you either.”

“You’re not cheating me.”

“That’s how I feel too,” I said, as I stuck my hand out. “So it sounds like we’ve got a deal.”

He chuckled and shook my hand; his large, calloused hands hurting my small, tender one, even though he was trying to be gentle.

“Alright, I’ll get you the shoes,” he said, as he walked back into his forge.

“Do you want me to take your eggs into your house?”

“That’s alright,” Drakan said, as he fished the shoes out of the pail of water. “I’m going in there in a minute, anyway. I can take them.”

Drakan wrapped four shoes in a rag and handed them to me, along with a small bag filled with horseshoe nails.

“Thank you,” I said sweetly, as I tucked the shoes under my arm and slipped the nails into my pocket.

“No, thank you,” Drakan said. “I always like it when you come bearing eggs.”

I grinned, as I moved towards the door. “I’m glad...well...Father is waiting for me...”

“Oh! Is he in town?” Drakan asked.

I nodded. “Yes sir. He came with Mr. Myrond to make people settle down.”

“Yeah, the idiots,” Drakan growled. “I didn’t have the patience for them. I just stayed in my shop.”

I giggled, unsure of how to respond.

“Where is he?”

“Mr. Myrond’s house...well, I really should go. It was nice talking to you,” I said, as I stepped out into the daylight once more.

“I enjoyed talking to you as well, g’bye Tasia.”

“Bye!” I waved and then trotted down the road, further out of town, towards Dastan’s house.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Before I could see his little house, I heard Dastan’s voice. I gently climbed over the small bank that hid his house, and looked down on his smallish farm. He was standing in front of his house, his eyes wide with excitement, his hands moving quickly, acting out his story, his voice loud and energetic- two kids sat in front of him, mesmerized.

I quietly walked up on him.

“-That’s when he saw me, his red eyes locked on mine, his yellow fangs bared, his mouth watering- expecting me to be its next meal.” Dastan looked up and winked at me, before turning his attention back to the little kids, who were horrified.

“What did you do?” One of them asked eagerly.

“What did I do?” Dastan repeated in a ridiculous accent. “Why, I just stared it down, and crouched. I was ready for it... He watched me for a long time before he could build his courage up, but then he leapt towards me!” Dastan jumped towards the kids, his eyes wide, his hair unruly, his hands above his head, his fingers bent like claws.

The kids squawked and fell over themselves, trying to retreat.

“He tried to take my head off!” Dastan shouted, as he playfully swung his hand towards the little boy’s head. “I had no choice! I just pulled out my knife, sharp as a razor, and I ripped his guts out!” He began cackling like a madman, waving an imaginary knife through the air.

I started laughing; laughing at his story, laughing at the emotion he poured into the tale, laughing at the reactions of the little kids, who believed his every word- laughing at the memory of him telling me stories when I had been little, and me believing them.

The kids jumped and looked between Dastan and me, nervously laughing.

“Alright, you kids had better get home,” Dastan said, mussing up the little boy’s hair, switching back to his normal accent, “before your Pappies get on me for keeping you here.”

“Yes sir,” they replied in unison, and then trotted off.

I laughed and shook my head.

“What?” He asked.

“Was any of that true?”

“Not a word,” he replied, chuckling.

“You’ve got quite an imagination,” I commented.

Dastan shrugged, brushing his gray-streaked hair out of his face. “It’s not hard, really. I thought up most of my stories before half of the township was born, you included...you can sit down.”

“Really?” I asked, sitting down on the stool he gestured at.

“Really- you can sit. I don’t mind.”

I narrowed my eyes. “I meant is it true you thought up your stories before most of us were born?”

“Yep,” he replied, as he sat on a stool opposite me, and pulled a pipe from his pocket. “I thought most of them up when I was a kid, and practiced telling them to my friends. The older boys delighted in teasing me about them.”

“That wasn’t nice of them.”

Dastan shrugged as he lit his pipe. “Eh, well, I knew they didn’t mean it. They’d be the first to listen to my stories- and they were just as captivated as everybody else...besides, they’ve more than paid for their sins.”

“How?”

His eyes burned with a mischievous passion as he blew a mouthful of smoke into the air. “They’re what the rest of my stories are about.”

“Do you have any stories about my Father?” I asked hopefully.

Dastan smirked. “I’ve got lots of stories about your Pappy.”

“Will you tell me?” I asked eagerly.

“I would, but I can’t.”

“Why not?” I asked, the smile falling from my face.

“Because, your Pappy told me years ago, right after Kyan was born, that I wasn’t to tell you kids stories of what he did when he was younger- unless I wanted hurt; and I believe him.”

“Oh, he won’t hurt you, tell me,” I begged.

Dastan shook his head. “No, I ain’t tellin’.”

I sighed. “Fine...but how do you remember all the stories you thought up so many years ago?”

“I don’t have all that many stories, to be honest. I just tweak stories every time I tell them.”

“You never told me that story you were telling them.”

“I did too- only in the version you heard, I stalked a bear, if I remember correctly. It never saw me coming, so its red eyes didn’t lock onto mine,” Dastan smirked.

“...I don’t remember it.”

“Of course not- that’s the beauty of it all. I can tell every kid in every household the exact same story, and, when you’re that age, you’re not likely to remember it ‘til dinner- so the next time I tell it, it seems new.”

“That’s clever.”

“What did you expect from me?” Dastan laughed.

I grinned. Dastan had always been my favorite person to talk to. He could turn the most mundane task into a captivating story- almost making you want to clean the chicken coop, to give the dwarves a chance to kidnap you, so you could see their halls of stone that Dastan described with such enthusiasm.

His voice had accompanied me nearly all of my waking hours when I was a younger- his stories and strange accents buzzing around in my head, making me search for adventures everywhere I went.

“So how may I help you, my dear? I know you didn’t just come out here to shoot the breeze, with an old man like me.”

“Why not?” I mused. “I certainly did it a lot when I was younger.”

“Yes, but I fear I’ve crushed your trust today- letting you know that most of my stories aren’t true-”

I laughed. “I’ve suspected that for a while now.”

“I doubt I’ll see much of her now,” he continued, talking to himself.

“Oh, you know I’ll still come around.”

“She’ll probably be scarred for life.”

“I don’t-“

“I’m a jerk. I give her hope and then yank it away.”

“Do you want to know why I came here or not?” I asked, laughing.

“Oh, the kind dear- she’s still willing to tell me, after all I’ve put her through.”

“I-“

“She’s so forgiving.”

“I am,” I agreed.

“What is it that you were going to tell me, dear?”

“I was going to see-“

“You can tell me. I want to know.”

“Okay, I was going to ask if you wanted-“

“Don’t be shy; just say what’s on your mind.”

“I was going to ask if you wanted to-”

“I swear I’ll do my best to give you a straight answer.”

“Do you want to-“

“You can trust me.”

I sighed and narrowed my eyes at him. Dastan smirked at me, and, after a moment of silence, asked. “Aren’t you going to tell me?”

“Are you going to let me finish?”

“Of course I will.”

“Alright, I was going to ask-“

“It’s rude to interrupt, you know.”

“Yes, I’m aware,” I growled.

“What were you saying?”

“I was going to ask if you wanted to-“

“I’m glad you don’t-“

“Trade horseshoes for cheese!” I finished, talking over him.

“My, you are rude.”

“I know,” I snorted. “Do you?”

“Do I?”

“Do you want to trade horseshoes for cheese?”

“Ah, I would, but alas, I am lacking horseshoes.”

“Well do you have cheese?” I asked.

“I do.”

“What a coincidence- I’ve got horseshoes.”

“You’ve got horseshoes but no horse?”

“I’ve got a horse- he’s just not with me.”

Dastan laughed. “Why would you walk, if you’ve got a horse you could ride?”

“It’s good exercise.”

“Exercise...a thing to be avoided.”

“Maybe...” I agreed.

“So you’re just walking around with horseshoes?”

“Yes.”

“Why?”

“Because I wanted to see if you wanted to trade them for cheese,” I said, growing frustrated.

“My, my, puberty has cut your fuse short, hasn’t it?” Dastan asked. “You used to be able to spar words with me for hours.”

My face flushed red, embarrassed. “I-I don’t...I don’t know what you’re talking about.”

“I didn’t figure you did,” he laughed. “Alright, I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to make you mad.”

“I’m not mad.”

“You look mad.”

“I am not mad,” I insisted, clenching my fists.

“I see that,” he said patronizingly.

I sighed. “Fine, I’ll just steal a goat and throw the shoes at your cow.”

“That’s not nice.”

“I’m sure you’ll turn me into a story and get revenge,” I said crossly.

I shouldn’t be getting so angry with him. He’s only joking- we used to play like this all the time, when I’d come over here.

He laughed. “No, I wouldn’t do that to you.”

“I’m sure.”

“Why are you in such a hurry, anyway? You’re acting like you can’t wait to leave.”

“It’s not that I want to leave, though you are annoying me today, it’s that my Father is waiting for me. He’s was expecting me to go to Mr. Drakan’s forge to peddle my eggs, he doesn’t know I came all the way out here.”

“Ah, so you went to Drak’s first. “

“Where do you think I got the horseshoes?” I asked, calming myself.

“An insignificant detail, my dear- the big picture we should be looking at, is that you went to Drak’s place before you came to mine. You obviously like him better, don’t you? Go ahead, admit it.” He pretended to be deeply offended.

“Fine, I admit it,” I said flippantly.

He recoiled slightly. “Oh...alright...”

I scoffed, laughing at his reaction. “Don’t make such absurd accusations. It had nothing to do with my preferences. I just had eggs that I needed to peddle, and knew that Mr. Drakan always wants some...Today, though, he didn’t have food to trade me.

“Instead, he traded me the shoes he had made for you- and sent me out here to trade them to you for the cheese I want. Now is that acceptable or not?”

Dastan raised his eyebrows. “Yes ma’am, that is.”

“Thank you.”

“You don’t have to thank me, it didn’t sound like I had much choice,” he laughed as he went in his house. “I’ve learned that you do what a lady says, when she lays out orders like that.”

“I didn’t give any orders.”

“No, but you sure put the situation into perspective,” he laughed, as he emerged with a large block of cheese.

“Thank you,” I said, trying to be sweet, as I took the cheese from him and wrapped it in the cloth he offered.

He took the horseshoes from me and unwrapped them. “I don’t suppose he sent any nails?”

I pulled them out of my pocket. “Right here.”

“I don’t suppose you’d like to stay for tea?”

I smiled. “You still drink tea?”

Everyone else had given up the frivolous practice when tea had become too expensive to afford; everyone except Dastan- who began digging his own roots and drying his own tea leaves.

“I do. Would you like to drink a glass with me?”

I bit my lip. “I...I would, but I can’t. As I said, my Father is waiting for me.”

“Is he in town?”

I nodded. “Yes sir, at Mr. Myrond’s house.”

Dastan raised his eyebrows, sighing exasperatedly. “I thought I had broken you of that annoying habit.”

“I’m sorry. I can’t help it. Everyone else wants to be called sir.”

“I bet Yamani doesn’t.”

I smirked. “You’re right, she doesn’t.”

“There you go, tellin’ tales,” Dastan shook his head. “You say everyone when you don’t mean it.”

“I meant that all of the other men want to be called sir.”

“Well say what you mean and mean what you say.”

“Yes...” I trailed off when Dastan narrowed his eyes. “...Okay.”

“That’s better...”

“I’m glad.”

“I’m sure...alright, I don’t want you to get in trouble, so go ahead, but come back some day when you have time to stay, okay?”

“Okay,” I agreed, smiling. “I will.”

“Good,” Dastan hugged me and then gave me a push towards the road.

I quickly walked to the top of the little bank, and paused, turning back, right before his house would be out of sight.

“Bye!” I called, waving.

He waved. “Bye! Cause as much trouble as you can!”

“You know I will.” I laughed, and hopped down into the road.