The Smith

The Smith

Everything we elves craft, we bring it to perfection. And so we mend and adorn that which was broken millennia ago.
Gelion sees to the heat of the fire while I, the master wield the hammer, beating the precious dwarven metal. We were summoned to re-forge it, making it greater than it ever was.
Made whole again, the sword glows a fiery red.
We engrave moon and star and sun into the blade. And as I carve the runes of blessing, I make my own little prayer to the One.
I look at the blade one last time in wonder and the only thing that comes to mind is “perfect”.