Jancis beams then walks up next to Tausenadel Geispyrsyn and reaches up, patting his sleeve. "Do you feel inspired?" John takes a picture of Jancis and Tasenadel.
"I always am at these ev'nts, lass." "Mayhaps inspired enough to, ah, share one of your stories?"
Tausenadel grins wide, nodding once. "Aye, that I can do!" Tau rotates an arm and stretches as he clambers onto "The Speaking Rock". "Tausen, everyone!" The roedagyn gives a jaunty salute to the crowd.
A long 'while 'go, I knew a lass who wanted to be a smith. She had a dream to learn from the greatest smiths that ev'r lived.
Lass was barely fourteen cycles an' had the stubborness o' youth but she wasn't talkin' out her arse. She had a talent, any'un could see. She'd work the whole day without comin' up for air an' complain 'bout not havin' 'nough time for practice. Thing is, most o' those smiths are dead. So I made a point o' checkin' in on her whenev'r we were in port, see how she was comin' 'long.
'un time when we came back, I found that she'd rented a real shite spot down in Fisherman's Bottom for a smithy, her own space. I went down to congratulate her but there...wasn't much inside. A single anvil an' her tools, lots o' dusty wasted space. Doesn't matt'r how good yer work is, no'un's comin' all the way down there to buy from this rathole. I told her as such, 'cause I was young an' a bit o' an arse at the time.
She looked at me, smile as wide as the horizon an' shrugged. "I know what I'm doin'," she said, nodding knowingly. "I'm goin' to meet the smiths an' learn from the best. Ye'll see, ya green-tinted rolanb'rry." The slight 'gainst me honor was secondary to her revealed plan. Meet the smiths? The dead'uns? I pressed on that, conc'rn twitchin' at me brow.
She held up her hands for silence an' raised her hammer. Bringing it down in a steady swing, the metal rang out like a bell, echoing in the small room. Her face became rapturous, lookin' at me expectantly. I could only spread me hands in confusion and she scoffed haughtily. "Only a smith can hear Him."
"Hear who, lass?" "Byregot, ye daft blight'r! Who else?" Now, I've spoken at a few o' these pilgrimages, I ain't 'gainst the Twelve. But hearin' her talk like that...not usually a good sign. She waved off my off'r o' help, though. "I'll be fine. Come back next time an' ye'll see I'm the best there is!" So I left, promisin' to return.
♦♦♦♦♦
It was moons a'fore I could get back to Limsa an' while at sea I'd picked up a bit o' the hamm'r. Mostly to make rivets an' the like but I'd made a skillet or two I was sort o' proud o'. I was eag'r to see the lass 'gain an' tell her o' me new skills. But her door was barred, no sign out front. I peeked into the Fish'r's Guild, askin' iffin' they knew what had happened. A lalafell in a giant hat nodded up from spooling his line.
"That guppy hit the big time, lad! She sat in there for weeks just bangin' that hamm'r at all hours, talkin' aloud to folks I nev'r saw go in or out. Far as I know, she nev'r had a single custom'r until jus' a half-moon ago. Some posh hyur lad sauntered in an' paid her more gil than I ev'r seen for some sword she'd made. She was the talk o' the town right aft'r that!" Thankin' the lad, I went back to her old place.
Lookin' in the windows, I spied somethin' off. That same anvil was in the cent'r o' the room, the same I saw her use a'fore. Somethin' was atop it, a parchment. Thinkin' for a moment an' bein' a lad who was raised in the same room as forty oth'r folks, I didn't think twice o' forcin' the door a bit an' steppin' inside. I was right, there was a pap'r weighed down on the anvil.
"Tau, iffin' ye ev'r find this, I saw them. The smiths! They came jus' like He told me they would. I'm off to learn ev'n more, thank ye for yer friendship an' I'm sure I'll see ye 'gain someday. PS: Try the anvil 'gain!" It's true, she'd said 'only smith's can hear him' but...I can give it a shot. I'd fixed a chain link, I was jus' as much a smith as any'un! Fishin' me hamm'r from me pouch, I raised it high and gave a hearty slam.
I jerked me head 'round, no'un else was in the room. The clang was echoin' still, jus' as I recalled. But I was sure I'd heard a voice. Was that..? I tried it 'gain. Nothin'. Starin' at the anvil, I consid'red my friend. She believed that by practicin' an' workin' hard, she'd learn the secrets o' those that came a'fore her. Had she...somehow met them as well? I ain't sayin' I know the answ'r. Hells, I still haven't found her since.
The Twelve work in odd-arse ways an' Byregot Himself rewards hard work an' plannin'. Seein' things through. I'd like to think he showed the lass her dream, let those He'd taken into His embrace share their secrets, ev'n jus' for a night. Let the riddle o' steel pass down to anoth'r gen'ration.
'cause iffin' that ain't what happened, I'd spent moons meetin' a lunatic who was speakin' to anvils. Thank ye all for lis'nin'!