^^ The Knife Max Makes ^^

When I turned to ask him if we were ready to Leave, he was gone, and I laughed as I saw him running with his cart. I followed at a walking pace.

---

I giggled as I ran away, leaving mama at the docks. She never let me into the forge without Grumpy, so I needed to get there before her.

I opened the door, and grinned. "Grumpy!! I have a project! The Jarl commissioned a knife from me! Can you open the forge?" I asked.

He hummed and nodded, unlocking it and opening the furs for me.

I hauled my cart in, watching the steps, and set the iron and coal into the cauldron to melt.

I re-started the fire from the embers, and pumped the bellows, jumping on them to get enough air into the fire to get it hot.

Soon enough, I had the metals melting into each other, and so I started stirring, after pulling on the apron and gloves that Gramma Sadie had made for me.

After they had melted completely, and the useless rocks drifted to the top, melted, I scooped them out, and dumped them into the second vat, made specifically for the scraps of useless metals or stones.

I pumped air into the molten iron and carbon, and kept mixing it, squinting to see past the glow of the metals.

After a short while, it reached the color I wanted, so I snuffed the fire under the cauldron, to let it cool down enough that I could pull it out.

I sat down at the back of the forge, and hugged my knees, slowly falling asleep.

---

I woke up to a bowl of fish and potatoes next to me, and a small rabbit pelt rolled up behind my head.

I ate the fish and potatoes quickly, smiling, and checked on my metals. They were cooled down now to the consistency of tree sap, so I pulled it out and placed it on the anvil.

I picked up the biggest hammer I could swing comfortably, and the tongs, and folded the metal slowly.

Then I started hammering it flat, grinning in exhilaration.

"Tighten your left hand. The tongs are just as important as the hammer." Grumpy rumbled, sitting down on the steps and watching me.

I nodded and tightened my grip, hammering again. The metal cooled, so I pushed it into the forge, burying it in the coals.

I pumped the bellows attached to the main forge, and the coals turned white, heating up my metal quickly.

I pulled it out, and folded it, hammering, then repeating it until the metal cooled again. I stuck the metal into the forge coals, and shoveled more coals into it, layering them evenly.

I pumped the bellows again, settling into a rhythm, hammering, Folding, hammering flat, folding, heating, shoveling coals, and repeat, over and over, until the metal was folded to the basic shape of a long Dagger, big enough for Grumpy or Mama to use.

I leaned back, and pushed it into the sand trap, then pulled it out and pushed it into the oil. It steamed, and quickly cooled.

I pulled it out, grinning, and set it on the anvil. I pulled a detailing hammer from the wall of hammers and tools, and started giving the blade its defining shapes, such as the incline to the edge, and the point, the smaller incline on the back of the point.

I grinned again when I noticed the design on the blade like the lines in a tree. Grumpy leaned over my shoulder, and hummed. "Very nice. How'd you get the lines?" He asked.

"I just folded it for a lot longer than usual." I shrugged, and took a whetstone to the blade adding a razor-sharp edge. I picked up the long block of wood I'd haggled for the handle.

Grumpy blinked his eye, and leaned closer. "Is that... Frankish Walnut?" He asked, amused or impressed, I couldn't tell.

"From Paris." I smirked, and nodded.

"Where'd you get it?" He asked.

"The man down at the docks who sells wood. He agreed to give one of the biggest pieces of it to me for my last silver, provided I tell the Jarl where I got it. He didn't really want anything else." I hummed.

He nodded. "Interesting... well, I could have your mother look at it, wood carving is her brother's point of expertise, after all."

I shook my head. "No need. I need you to make a mold of your grip, however. So I know what to cut it down to."

He nodded. "Easily done." He picked up a chunk of clay, and rolled it into a tube, then closed his hand easily.

Once it was comfortable tightened, he held it out, opening his hand to reveal a set of grip-able rings around a perfectly circular inner tube.

I nodded. "I see... easy enough."

I pulled out my knife, and started carefully cutting small chunks away from the block of wood, until I had something roughly the same shape and size. I got to work on a metal cross-piece, and nodded, finished rather quickly, as it was the simplest part of the process.

I moved the cross-piece up the thick core of the blades handle, then carved out the center of the circular tube. I hollowed it completely, and then poured liquid glue in, waiting for a moment, and then pouring it out, to leave a full coating. I poured ground iron grains into the hole, and then measured its weight against the blade, until they matched, so the blade was equally weighted.

I pushed the core into the hole, twisting to displace the iron sand, until it was firmly rooted into the core, when I poured more metal glue over the perfect seam.

I scraped off the excess after it had dried, and then grinned. "Now it needs a polish, and a final sanding before it's made shiny." I nodded.

Grumpy leaned over. "Well done... a little blade-heavy, though, huh?

I checked, and growled. "I forgot the weight of the Core... okay... a brass cap on the bottom should fix it just fine." I nodded.

He grinned. "Perfect."

I melted some brass, mixed with copper for color, and poured a gentle amount onto the hilts base, spreading it with a scraper. Once it was evenly distributed, I let it cool, and balanced the knife on a thin bar by the cross-price, to measure its distribution.

It tipped gently forward, so I added a tiny amount of brass to the bottom, flattening it and stamping my families crest into the liquid.

It was Thor's hammer, Mjolnir, with the runes for our family name around it. Before, it had held only three runes, 'Thor-Son', which meant 'Thor's Descendants' or 'The Thorn', but not it also held the three runes that meant 'Tyr's Descendants'. It was my personal rendition, as I was a child of both gods.

(I'm aware that's not what those runes mean, sry the internet can only comply so much.)

Once dried and cooled, I tried again.

It balanced perfectly, and stayed like that for a few minutes, until I removed it, and cut a nice leather sheath for it, along with a belt clip to allow it to be laced onto the belt.

I sanded the wood gently, then polished it, and sheathed it, then polished the leather too.

I handed the entire package to Grumpy, and he grinned, testing the edge on his thumb. It sliced right through, and he hissed. "Damn, didn't expect that... good work, definitely... well, take it to the Jarl, hmm? It's early enough, he should still be there."

He wrapped his thumb, then cleaned the blade, and polished it on a slicked oil cloth. He sheathed it again, and handed it to me.

I grinned and nodded, running out past mama and Sadie, who were speaking about sewing.

"Where are you going?!?" Mama called after me.

"I gotta place to be!" I laughed in response, and was out of earshot before she replied.

I arrived at the hall, and the guards crossed their spears, which did literally nothing, as I just ran between the little archway that gave me, and into the Hall.

I dodged people, and stood at the front of the crowd, looking around. The Jarl was giving judgement over a man who was kneeling on the ground, begging for his life.

I stomped over and kicked him, pulling him up. "Stop begging, its shameful!" I snapped, and stood him up fully. He was crying now, and I growled. "Stop that! Your ancestors are spitting on you, that's why water comes out of your eyes! Face your crimes like a Viking!"

The room had grown silent.

The jarl hummed. "Ahh, Maximus. I assume that knife is my order?"

"Yes, Jarl." I stepped forward and handed it to him.

He drew it, and grinned. "Well well well... you're going to be as good or better than your mother and grandfather... blessed by Thor indeed... ah, your payment. Arngir, what would you price this weapon at?" He handed the blade and sheath to an elderly man next to him.

The man hummed and looked at the blade, testing it on his thumb before I could warn him. He yelped as it passed right through his skin, and bound his finger quickly. "I would give his blacksmith eight gold pieces, if I felt cheap, but if I was being fair... I'd say 15 or so. But that's my own thoughts." He said simply.

I grinned. "I'm the blacksmith, old man!"

He blinked. "Oh? Ah! I remember, Maximus, the son of Thor and Tyr alike... yes, that explains this. My thoughts stand, Jarl."

"Good... Hral, pay the boy 16 gold pieces, and make sure he receives every single coin. No tax. This came from none other than a tax squabble of sorts, and so I think it only right he doesn't pay the tax again. 16 gold pieces, and not a copper less." He looked at his coin-counter.

"Of course, My Jarl." He bowed his head.

"Thank you, Maximus, for the blade, timely delivery, and also your treatment of Devan, here. He has committed a terrible crime you see, and awaits my judgement." He placed the knife and sheath in his lap, as his coin-counter, Hral, handed me a purse, which he placed 16 gold coins into, one by one.

"What crime?" I asked, tucking the purse into my shirt.

He hummed. "He is accused of the rape of this young woman, Helga, who gives her own accusation." He gestured to a woman who stood near us, arms crossed, glaring at everyone and everything around her, her eyes holding a sort of broken rage.

"What's that mean?" I asked, curious.

"It... means... Arngir, help." He asked the old man quietly.

"Ahem. Child, it means that he hurt her very badly, and in a way the gods condemn. Ask your mother for more details, but as of now, what is important is that he is a very damned man, and we are deciding his fate." He said simply.

I nodded. "Oh. Then why isn't he dead? Have you just not gotten there yet?"

"Not yet." The jarl answered. "Now. All men and women of my Lands in this Hall. Is this man Guilty?" He asked loudly.

"Aye!" "Yes!" "Guilty!!" Rang through the building, And he collapsed to his knees again, but I stabbed his foot with my claws, and he hopped up, yelping.

The jarl narrowed his eyes, and I stepped away subtly, hiding my hands. He smirked. "Then it is settled. He is guilty. What of his punishment, then? The traditional punishment for rapists is death, but a new, more painful way, has been found. A Frankish torture, if you can believe it, called 'Gelding', in which the man's-"

My ears were covered by decidedly feminine hands, and I looked upwards, curious.

Sadie was looking down at me disapprovingly. She released my ears, and sighed. "What are you doing in here?"

"Delivering my knife to him." I pointed at the knife in the Jarl's hand, which he was examining as the room deliberated whatever punishment he'd laid out, that I hadn't heard.

She nodded. "I see. Well come along, child, you shouldn't be in here when this happens."

"But I'm already here!" I complained.

She sighed. "Fine. But if your mother asks, I tried to get you to leave."

I smiled and turned around, facing the throne.

"So. All in favor of a simple beheading, raise your left hands... all in favor of torture and then burning alive, raise your right. It must be plain majority, so talk amongst yourselves if need be." The Jarl sighed.

The majority quickly raised their right hands, and he sighed again. "Then Gelding and Burning it is. Maximus, I think you should go now, but you don't have to."

I crossed my arms, and he nodded. "I figured. Freya help me when your mother hears..." he muttered.

He strode forward, and two men grabbed the guilty man, who was raging against them now, until the Jarl clubbed him with the brass hilt of my knife, stunning him easily. He hummed. "Multipurpose. Nice."

He ripped the mans dirty tunic, and sighed again, before slashing downwards towards the man's pissing stick.

I blinked, clenching my thighs. "Oooow..." I hissed, imagining that.

Sadie hummed. "Ow is right, grandson. That is indeed painful..."

The jarl dropped a handful of flesh into a brazier, and then stepped back, cleaning the knife meticulously. "Not what I wanted it's first use to be, but it's definitely sharp." He chuckled, sheathing it and lacing it onto his belt at the back of his right hip.

The man was taken outside, and tied to a post, before being soaked in grease, and the tinder under him was lit.

He lit up like a forge, screaming like a dying banshee. I gasped and turned, hugging Sadie, and she covered my ears, kissing my forehead, until it was over.

His screams echoed in my ears long after as I walked home with Sadie, confused and frightened. What was this 'Rape' that warranted such pain? What was it that he'd done, that no one had flinched from inflicting that much torture onto one man?

Did he deserve that much Pain?

Perhaps I would've slept better in the years to come, if I'd have known the answer.