Jaekob Visits the Smith

   Early in the morning, the Druid crept quietly out of the small cottage below Calenhad, the cottage he shared with his human mate, Amethyst. He had donned his usual attire: a simple pair of black breeches and black boots and a brown tunic, laced in the front. He grasped his staff tight in a hand as he made his way through the lush forest of Calenhad toward the port city of Cheshire.
   As he neared the Elven Bridge of Remembrance, he stood quietly, his eyes cutting toward the Shadow Lands. Throughout this time of crisis, he had lived in a well of silence, sharing his thoughts only with those closest to him; the Elven Council and the Druids.
   And again, he moved on, crossing the bridge, sticking to the paths in the forests. He passed  a farmer with a cart pulled by a burly ox, a cart full of supplies: heading homeward, no doubt.. He passed rangers, Elven and Human. To everyone he gave a smile and a nod and spoke softly, "Vedui my friend," he would say, his steps moving in a steady stride. And they in turn would pause a moment and nod their head in recognition of the Druid King of the River Lands.
   "What is the King doing here?" he heard one ranger say to another.
   Once through the gates, he made his way through the quiet streets of Cheshire toward the great docks where craftspeople had their shops. He stopped when he came to the Smith's shop. Something akin to a fever attacked his flesh as the extreme heat of the smith's fire pushed outward and filled the area.

Jaekob Visits the Smith

   "Vedui Aonghas," he said softly, his brows furrowed a bit as in deep in thought. The smith turned abruptly hearing the familiar voice. He quickly laid down his tools and wiped his hands on his apron. "G'day Majesty," he said scooping his head a bit. "What can I be a'doing for ye?" he asked nervously.
   "Aonghas, I have need of your great skills," he said, his face a bit impassive from worry about the evil which had befallen his lands. He reached into his rucksack and pulled out a rolled piece of parchment. He moved over to a small table and unrolled it, nodding to Aonghas.
   The smith looked at the parchment his eyes wide, "It will be a'taking me some kinda time to make those for you, Majesty."
   "But, you can do this hmmm? This is the only way we can defeat the.....well. I need them as soon as you can, Aonghas. And look here at this drawing of a Druid rune hmmm. The blades must be of the finest steel available and THIS rune must be carved into each blade on both sides. The rendering MUST be perfect and have no flaws. Can you do  this?"
   " Aye, Majesty. I can be a'doing this fer ye. I will get started this very day, Majesty. How many of these do ye be a'wanting?'
   "Six Aonghas, I need six of the blades. Four should be of normal size and two... well two should be smaller as to be wielded by a hobbit or a halfling."
   "Aye, Majesty. Six it will be," he says dipping his head yet again to the King.
   The Druid laid his hand on the smith's shoulder for a brief moment. Then he offered a bit of a smile, turned and walked down the dock toward the bowyer and the fletcher. He gave them similar tasks before moving toward the Cheshire Cat Inn for a bit of a meal before he began the trek homeward toward Calenhad.