Day Three of the Odinsleep - A Dwarf Always Pays His Debts Part 2

Day Three of the Odinsleep – 9:52 am – NOON

As Ivaldi leads the party back toward the city, Raven pauses and looks out at the battlefield, unsure of leaving their position before replacements arrive.  The dwarf, without slowing or looking back, calls out, “It will be fine, lad.  These battles been waged fer a-thousand years ‘n more.  You bein’ or not bein’ there won’t make a bit o’ difference.”

 

Grog gathers up the chain, thinking perhaps that it can still be made into bullets for his sling and falls in line behind the dwarf.  Niklas slings his bow, Blaze, over one shoulder and scoops up what goods he can.  Ra’ziir oversees the collecting of everything to make sure that nothing is left behind before joining the line of adventurers heading back inside the city’s walls.

 

Kysek shrugs, “They are opening the gate so I guess it’s alright.”

 

“I hope you are right, Kysek,” Morn replies, “Although we have not been given a reason to distrust such, I admit more curiosity about that wager.”

 

Raven falls in at the rear of the party, trudging along slowly at the back of the group.

 

The golden doors swing open just wide enough for the group to pass through single file.  Cedron mentions that he could use a meal and a bit of rest and then asks Ivaldi where he is leading us.  The dwarf smiles and holds up one stubby, calloused finger to forestall any questions and grabs a fur and armor clad warrior just inside the gate, “We make fer the home of Völundr the Smith.  Clear a path fer us or tell Thor that I be taking back all that was made by me and me kin and that he’ll be waking up to a wife as bald as newborn babe’s backside!”

 

The warrior pales and then runs off, shouting for pedestrians to get out of the way.  Ivaldi yells after him, “And make sure there’s food and drink ready for us when we arrive!  I won’t be workin’ on a empty stomach!”

 

“And what might ye be working on anyway?” the bard asks.

 

“That skinny lad killed the giant.  That means I owe him.  I’ll be improving that blade of his with this!” he replies as he holds up the flanged wooden rod he picked up outside.  Ra’ziir hears the dwarf’s response and is intrigued by the bold claim and looks around to the other veterans for signs of dissent.

 

Grotto walks at the front of the line alongside Ivaldi.  “Are you a follower of Hanseath?”” the war priest asks, “Honoring Hanseath in battle is treasure enough but this new gear is all very nice!”  The smith laughs, spits again and says, “I ain’t ne’er met a god yet worth me worship.”

 

“Well, what about this Loki fellow?”  Grotto asks.

 

Ivaldi’s mood sours, “That one is a snake in the grass and a no-good cheat!  Me son won Loki’s head in a bet but when he tried to collect, the other gods found a loophole!  Says me boy could have Loki’s head but that he couldn’t damage his neck in doing so!  Pah!  That whole mess outside could have been avoided if these ‘gods’ had kept their word.  Always looking to find some way to use you and then not payin’ when the time comes!   Not this dwarf!  Not me!  No way!  Ain’t gonna happen to this dwarf again!  Someone wants something from me?  They’re payin’!  It be like people find out I be a smith and want me ta make things fer them.  Just like when you have a wagon folk want ya to help them move!  Happens everytime without fail.”

 

Korbin flits up beside the two dwarves as they are talking and glides along, keeping pace with them.  “Hey, so you said that you make gear for warriors and such.  Do ya think you could forge me a dagger that is light with a slit for poisons?  All I have is this,” he says as he holds up his own weapon.

 

Ivaldi raises one brow and gives Grotto an “I told you so” look before speaking to Korbin, “I be owing ONE of you One crafting.  Rest of ya’s want work, ye can pay fer it!”

 

Before long, the group reaches the home of Völundr.  The smith is away but his wife, Ygrid, has a fire burning in the hearth with a brace of rabbits on several skewers being tended by a young girl in braids.  The warrior Ivaldi ordered to run ahead is finishing tapping a keg of mead as Ygrid brings out some salted fish to get the group started on.  Ivaldi bows his head to the woman and thanks her for her hospitality, passes her some coins, and informs her that he will be in the forge.

 

Within minutes, a fire is burning and Ivaldi calls Raven in and asks to see his sword.  The dwarf unscrews the black pearl pommelstone and sets it aside and then pulls the wooden handle off of the tang.  “We’re gonna have ta hammer this a bit, make it longer fer what I have in mind.  Start heatin’ the steel.  I got ta find a vise and a drill fer this.”

 

While Ivaldi works, Ygrid brings around rabbits for everyone with some pan-fried potatoes added a few minutes later.  The spellcasters begin the process of cleansing the looted items’ magical auras in preparation for the identification process.  During this time, most of the group’s ongoing spells expire and Ra’ziir’s summoned elementals depart for their own plane of existence.

 

Ivaldi hammers Nightwatcher’s tang, drawing out the metal until it has reached a length he is satisfied with.  He then takes the wooden rod and puts it in a vise, carefully positions the drill above it, making tiny adjustments for several minutes before drilling down through the haft of the rod.  Once that is finished, Ivaldi slides the hollowed out rod over the extended tang and screws the black pearl pommelstone back into place before returning the sword to Raven.  “Take that out to yer wizards ta get the commands fer the rod – but my debt to you is cleared as far as I be concerned.”