The clang of hammer on anvil echoed through the shop, louder than the thumping in my skull from last night's ale. Another day, another bloody sword. Not that anyone in this half-wit village could tell the difference between a sword that could chop wood and one that could slice through a goblin's skull. Hell, most of 'em didn't even want anything sharper than a butter knife.
"Blast it," I muttered, swinging the hammer with all the grace of a drunken ox. The metal rang out, and I knew the sword would turn out just fine. But fine wasn't good enough for me. Not today. I wanted something that'd make the whole damn kingdom sit up and say, Now that's a weapon!
I swung the hammer again, letting out a frustrated grunt. "Maybe I'll get around to that inferno-frost axe idea today... if I don't pass out first."
My hand reached out, fumbling for a bottle of whiskey. Just a quick swig to take the edge off. I didn't care if it was breakfast or lunch or whatever meal in between. A dwarf's gotta drink, especially when he's workin' in a shop hotter than a dragon's backside.
I tilted the bottle up, feeling the warmth of it burn its way down. "Aye, that's better," I mumbled to myself, then gave the sword another whack. "Nothing like fire water to start the day."
Just as I was about to give the weapon another strike, the shop door creaked open. Now, in this town, that was either someone who'd wandered in by accident or some poor fool who thought I could fix their rusty old plow. But this guy? This guy looked like he hadn't seen a hard day's work in his life. Not a speck of dust on his boots, not a wrinkle in his fancy robes. I immediately knew he wasn't here for a real weapon.
"Oi!" I shouted without looking up. "What do you want? I ain't got no shiney trinkets or dainty daggers here. If you're after somethin' to impress the missus, try the market down the street."
The man's voice, all high and polished, floated over to me. "I've heard you're the best blacksmith in the land. They say you can forge weapons that can turn the tide of battle. Are you the one they call Odin Ironsoul?"
I didn't even need to look at him to know what he was. The way he talked, all stiff and proper, made me roll my eyes. Another noble, I thought. "Aye, that's me. The name's Ironsoul. And if you think you're gonna get a fancy sword to decorate your wall, you've come to the wrong place. You want something useful? Stick around. But, I'm warning ya, I don't make no kiddie toys here."
He stepped closer, his boots clicking on the floor, and I finally looked up at him. Fancy fella—tailored coat, a rich man's haircut, and an attitude that screamed, "I'm too important for this." My eyes narrowed. "Alright, what is it you're lookin' for?"
He squared his shoulders, trying to look brave. "I'm going to war. I need something that will make sure I survive. Something... special."
"War, eh?" I grunted, wiping my brow with my sleeve. "Well, don't come in here expectin' to find some delicate little thing for prancin' around with. If you're lookin' for special, you've come to the right place." I turned and grabbed something off the shelf—a thick, menacing axe that looked like it had seen more than a few battles.
I slapped the Inferno-Golem War Axe down onto the counter with a clang that made the whole shop rattle. The firestone handle glowed faintly, the ice runes sparkling at the edges. "Here. This'll do the trick. Fire from a Phoenix. Ice from a Golem. You swing it, and you either freeze your enemy solid or roast 'em like a pig at the feast. Both at the same time."
The noble's eyebrows shot up, his fingers twitching as he stared at it like it was gonna bite him. "This... this can't be real."
"Real as my beard," I said with a smirk, scratching the stubble on my chin. "You think I'm messin' around? This here'll do more than just cut the air. I don't waste me time on kiddie blades. This here's for someone who knows how to handle a weapon."
He picked it up carefully, like it might explode. "But... it's heavy."
I chuckled. "Of course it's heavy. You think fire and ice just come light and easy? Nah, mate. This here's got enough weight to it to knock a grown man on his arse without breaking a sweat. It's meant to hit hard, not float in the air like a sissy sword. You don't want heavy? Then maybe you should just stick to your pretty little rapier there."
He looked from the axe to me, then back at the axe again. "I'm not sure I can handle it..."
"Pfft. That's not my problem, is it?" I waved him off. "I make the weapons, not the fools who swing 'em. You want it to work, you better swing it with intent, or it'll freeze your hands off or roast you to a crisp. Ain't my fault if you can't figure it out."
He set the axe down, clearly rattled. "It's... it's too much. I just need something reliable."
I leaned back, taking a long gulp from my mug. "Aye, that's the thing. This is reliable. Fire and ice don't care about your fancy status or what you think you can handle. You swing it, and it'll do its job, no questions asked. You can trust it. Just don't go cryin' to me if it burns your eyebrows off."
The noble was silent for a moment, staring at the axe with wide eyes. Finally, he sighed. "How much?"
I tossed my mug onto the counter, sloshing some whiskey out onto the floor. "You think I'm gonna let you walk out of here with that axe for a handful of coins? Nah. That thing's worth more than your fancy suit. But I'll make a deal with ya. You take that, and if it doesn't turn the tide of your little war, you can come back and I'll make ya somethin' even better. Maybe a hammer with a dragon's breath in it."
He didn't say anything for a long moment, just looked at the gold in his pouch and then back at me. Finally, he nodded and placed a hefty pile of coins on the counter.
I grabbed it, then tossed the pouch back to him. "Alright, it's yours. Don't forget to swing it, not pet it. Fire and ice don't care about your feelings."
He nodded, taking the axe with both hands and walking toward the door. "I'll be back if it works."
I laughed, louder than I should've, considering my head was still a bit fuzzy. "Aye, sure. If it doesn't, I'll have another one ready. Just don't be so shocked when it works—that's what I do."
As he left, I grabbed my mug again and leaned back. "That's the thing about fire and ice... they don't care who's holdin' 'em. You mess with 'em, they'll burn you or freeze you. And me? I just make sure they do what they're supposed to."
With that, I kicked my feet up and took another swig, already thinking about my next creation. Maybe a sword that could turn anyone into a sheep. Now that'd be fun.