Thunder, lighting, a hammer, and an iron anvil, the noise of all of these sounds together are what makes up the majority of my dreams. My precious hammer, I've had it for many a decade. That old anvil, finally rusting over, but still just as durable, just like me. Then the thunder and lighting from the forging of swords, axes, armor, and shields. Oh, how I could make everything for everyone, just as I would, and just for them. Then he came, took away our rights, stole our money, and forced his hand upon my work. But it matters not, because-
"Stephan!"
I heard my name being called to from across the murky barrier between the realm of the waking, and the world of my dreams. Luckily, it was able to pull me across the threshold, and I was there, grumpy, but awake now. I got up off of my tiny bed and began to limp down to the main room, as of my legs had not woken up yet. I had also noticed that the few lanterns in my home needed to be refueled.
That was later, now, the man calling me over from within my own home. For it was the mayor, he snuck into my house and sat on my one couch, again. What did he want to tell me this time?
"Stephan! There you are, finally! For a second there I thought death finally took away our old blacksmith. Or did I scare death away?"
There he was, Dr. Siegfried, the "Mayor" of this town. With his smug look and brutal stare that could scare away even the heartiest of fighters in this town. Honestly, though, he is only just a rich man that wanted to take over a town, and so he did. With his incredibly vast amount of money and gold, he bartered, blackmailed, and bribed his way to the top. Although no one actually cares about what he does as "leader," the people don't do anything about the absurd rules he has put in place.
Absurd laws such as, but not limited to; a ban on the trade with the other surrounding villages, a ban on hunting without his permission, ban on what people can and cannot use to hunt, and an especially taxing law about what I, as the town's only blacksmith, can and cannot create for the people I so dearly love forging for. Ah, it brings back memories, truly, before Siegfried came in and took over everything, although we were leaderless, we were much more free and peaceful. I would create some of the best, and most unique gear for everyone who wanted it, all completely handcrafted and custom made for the client. 'Twas the best feeling in the world, watching my clients be filled with joy at the sight of their new gear. But alas! All because of Dr. Siegfried's interference, I can no longer make my famously unique pieces of working art, as I am instead forced to make the same thing, over and over, until I, or he, dies.
Unfortunately, that was many, many years ago, and here I still stand, old and poor of sight, in front of the man who took away the right for me to create what I wish to. Truly, it's sad and disheartening, but being this old and weak, I cannot do anything about it. So I just cope with his pretend ruling like a king.
"Old man! Are you there? Or have you finally become senile?"
He was still here, as egotistic as ever.
"I am here Siegfried. I haven't lost my peace of mind just yet."
Keep pushing me and I might just be able to lose it.
"Uh huh, what'd I tell you old man? You're to call me 'Mayor Siegfried,' we are not friends you and me, and you have no right to call me by just my name."
I could do nothing about his insult to my humanity. I am too weak to fight him head-on, as is the reason no one has bothered to take him down. So for now, I must comply, yet I want to rebel.
So after a clearing of my throat, and say to the man stealing our lives;
"Yes, let me correct myself. Greetings, Siegfried, I am here. What do you have to tell me? Get it over with, so I can be done with your presence in my home."
"Tch tch tch, oh Stephan. That sort of attitude gets people killed you know."
His ego was showing again in his speech.
"I can tell everyone to kill off your family you know. I'm sure you'd like to apologize for your insult to my name, you know? As in, now."
Siegfried's only weakness, an attack on his ego, the only thing that could really get him upset. Then he had my only weakness, my own family. Luckily, though, they've already left this village, all of them. As the oldest living man in my family, it was a sad departure, but it was for their safety, to keep them as far away from this "mayor" as possible.
All of the above-mentioned facts renders his threat null and void.
"Siegfried, my family is already gone, Siegfried. All of them, you're threatening nothing. Now. Speak your mind, then get out."
I was making sure to make it crystal clear that I was upset about his presence in my home. I also guess that he was also pretty upset over my bashing of his "good" name.
Since he no longer cared for my presence, he took out one of his large cigars, lit it up with a match from his box of matches, and left. Of course, he left behind the empty box, like the uncaring man he was, leaving me to deal with his garbage. Predictable.
Oddly, though, the matches he was using was made by me, given to him on his first day in power. To think that he bothered to keep it after all this time.
But he left the box there anyway, then he turned back towards me from where he was nearby my front door.
"You better put away all of your belongings Stephan. I'm having your home burnt down tomorrow."
Then the coward left without another word.
Burn down my home? Is that so? So be it. I'm already old and weak, life has treated me well enough. If I die, I'll pass on doing what I love. No law can stop that. So I got to work, on my last set of equipment. Trinkets that are fireproof are easy to make and hard to destroy. So that's exactly what I did.
I worked all night, and by the dawn of the next day, it was finished. The best set of gear I have ever made. Or at least, it was the most wonderful thing I've made in the past several years, it's been so long, I can't actually remember the last time I made something of my own volition. But alas, the joy wouldn't last forever, I know that reality. Nothing stays pristine for eternity. I donned my final made circlet, my favorite pair of boots, and everything else that I had left. The anvil was cooling down, and so was the heat from the forgery.
Yet I smell smoke oncoming. But I just sat down covered in what I made for myself.
--------------------
"He was a kind man, giving his all for everyone else. His sacrificed time and energy inspires us even to this day, his kindness, and refusal to bow down to the man who took away his hammer. His death inspired us all, we took up arms. His, arms. The rich man stood no chance, and we regained control of our town, once again. This memorial commemorates his virtue of hope and determination. His collection of unique arms, gears, and weapons are now all gathered in the museum of where his original home once stood. May we inspired by the fortitude of the blacksmith who never gave up."
---------------------------------
It's been many years now, ever since the old mayor was thrown out of town.
Now a massive building stands in place of Stephan's old home, and now grave sight.
An old man approaches the building. Donned in a cloak, yet covered head to toe in unkempt armor. His glare, his sad grin, all of it spoke of a dangerous past. No one dared to ask why he was entering the building at dawn, and no one cared about what the mysterious man did inside the building either.
Later that day, one of the villagers had discovered, placed atop the blacksmith's famous old anvil, was an awfully ordinary, and terribly unpolished helmet, with writing inscribed onto the forefront of the helm using what looked like a used match.
It read:
"I'm sorry."
A story inspired by:
Well, actually nothing. Just literature for literature's sake.
And an ELA 11 grade.