The hammer fell against the red hot iron, finally flattening the metal out before he set it once more into the burning coals of the forge. The dwarf sighed a bit in satisfaction, the horse shoe coming along quite well. His pale Blonde hair was shaved up into a Mohawk, while his beard was neatly and tightly braided down along his chest. He wore a well kept apron,, that protected his well built frame.
But the dwarf's mind did wander as he stared into coals. The flames being stoked with the small gusts of wind, only causing his heart so sink slightly.
---
A Dark tower, in the fiery lands. It stood tall, as small shadows and shapes moved around it. Some with whips and in armor, others in slave garb carrying barrels or weapons or stones and pick axes. They worked hard, the whips cracking and echoing from the towers through out all the stories down even into the forge. The same dwarf slaved away, a crude nearly finished orc blade in his hand.
He sat in front of a grind stone, grinding the edge onto the black blade. He grimaced at it, hating the design and metal he was forced to use but knew better than to complain. Around him other dwarves worked themselves, hammering blades flat or fitting armor to the cut outs that were made.
Another loud crack came, followed by a scream.. Normal, another day. Until more shouts took up the call, speaking in the dwarvish tongue in chants and cries to fighting and freedom. The dwarves looked at each other, as Goblins and orcs ran past their level up to the next.
They didn't hesitate, grabbing the closest thing next to them that they had for a weapon and rushed to join their brethren, the flame in their eyes igniting with a new purpose. The whips and hammering noises soon gave way to the clash of steel, the cries of the dying and finally the cries of freedom.
---
"Farlrik!" The Dwarf blinked from his small vision of the past, looking off towards the road as his friend guided his horse towards him. Gheomar of Rohan, the first friend he had met and made since his escape from the fire lands.
"Ay laddie! Yer shoe wil be don in jus' a wee bit!" He grinned before returning to his craft, his grey blue eyes reflecting the flames of the coals once more.
