The Blacksmith

The red shimmer of burning hot steel breaking into sharp shards of light, the thundering sounds of hammer meeting iron on anvil and the hiss of thick steam rising from the watered metal. In the cryptic darkness of a blacksmiths hovel, a genius was at work, crafting slender edged daggers, as thin as silk, with ornate hilts that the hands of a wielder would welcome. he was a craftsman of true skill. The power of each blow would bludgeon the blade, the precise interval within each rise of hammer would balance the thickness, his cold eyes would target the steel on his anvil, and his hammer would strike where he would want it to. Days on end, tirelessly he would work, and as sure as his skill, he would create, a blade worthy of gods.