Blacksmith
Written by: BandE
The boy watched intently as his father worked on the tiny metal pieces laid out on the heavy anvil.
“Bellows, boy, bellows” barked the father. The flames whooshed up through the charcoal, intensifying the heat as the son pumped the leather lung.
Many times the boy had watched as his father with the massive biceps and forearms glistening with sweat from the heat of the forge hammered large pieces of metal into horseshoes, wagon wheel rims and weapons for battle. This time the ham-sized hands ending in sausage shaped fingers was creating the most delicate iron links imaginable.
“Whatcha makin, Pa?”
“Goin’ away present for yer ma.”
“Ma never said nothin’ about goin’ away.”
“No, my slow lad, I’m goin’ away, not your ma. As you may know, I’m in the Blacksmith’s Reserves and my unit has been called up for another Crusade into the Holy Land. These fine lords and clergy keep tryin’ to teach the heathen the error of their ways. So I’m makin’ this for your ma to remember me by while I’m gone.” He held his creation up for his son to see.
Staring, the boy’s mouth opened and closed a few times before he blurted out, “Dad, you made Ma some metal underpants!”
“Yessir, boy, thread these links through some velvet tubing and it’s gonna be real comfy for her to wear. Called a chaztity belt. All the rage now. Don’t know why it’s got the same name as that kid those two troubadors, Sunny and Pro Bono just had. Anyway, this lil’ garment will make sure that you’re an only child, leastways till I come back with the key.”
With a wink of his eye, he turned back to his anvil and forge, “Bellows, boy, bellows!”
