It Bends [Rhuryc]

[Belgar]

Spring 50, 511

A set of neatly folded clothes hung from a support beam at the head of the smithy. They were too clean to belong to someone who had worked there for very long, and they seemed out of place among the old icestone and blackened tools. Otherwise, the place happened to be empty at this hour: while the sun still hung in the sky, it was perhaps it was too late to begin or finish any worthwhile task. For the giant white beast that had wandered into the forge-house yard, the late afternoon was usually a time for napping. Today, his paws padded the compacted snow with unmistakable restlessness.

On the outer wall, there was stacked a mound of scrap metal. Broken and bent pieces of weapons, armor, furniture and art-craft leaned gingerly against one another, waiting to be melted down and reborn. Maybe they should have piled the things inside, where the elements would not compromise them, but maybe there was no room inside. Maybe there was a big project in the works, and the first step was to transport the raw material to this very spot.

Belgar did not consider any of those things as he began to rummage through the pile like a nosy wolf. They were not his to take and yet he had convinced himself that the people would not mind a trash thief, so long as he did not leave things too disorganized. With his great maw, he pulled out a piece of scrap sheet, the size of four of his paws, made of iron or tin or some sort of silvery metal. Having only ever fought with his teeth and claws, the bear could not recognize it. Nonetheless, he dragged it into the yard for examination.

There he discovered that, with a little effort and noise, it folded over itself happily, bending between the ground and his paw. He picked up the same corner and doubled it over again and again until he had rolled it into a sort of lop-sided cylinder. He subsequently unrolled it, stomping it until it was sufficiently flat. Then he stared at it, curious. With a history in the Skyglow Hold, the bear’s bestial mind attempted to comprehend the art of it; while he could certainly appreciate the value of the creations of others, he was not familiar with the feat of creating.

He bent it at the middle, then in a mockery of the human form stood on his hind legs to prop the thing up on its edge. Falling to fours seemed to rock the earth around him, loosening the snow and sending his toy wriggling for balance. There he steadied it, circled it, and contemplated it. The black of his eyes churned blue with thought.

[Rhuryc]

"Having fun?" Rhuryc offered the bear a friendly tone. A Kelvic, no doubt, he was accustom to the wandering beasts after some time in the city and finding one so interested in his scrap was nothing uncommon. It was scrap, after all. He pushed himself from the side of the iceglaze where he was leaning, a humored countenance eying the bear in his quest to fold metal. In truth the man was interested to see just how far it would go. Only once it seemed that the project was at its end did he speak up. There was surely a moment of examination between the two. Rhuryc found it hard to tell the bears apart. This one seemed just like all the rest; big, white, and bear like, though he possessed a curiosity that was wholly unusual. Rhruyc was less of a spectacle. He dressed differently than a large majority of the city - even now, he spurned any furs on his person, instead gallivanting about in a thick, leather coat, common breeches, and heavy boots with soles that clomped over the snow after every step. It was this clomping that followed him now as he made his way over and past the bear, stopping once he'd reached the scrap pile. He offered the stranger a curt nod, his vision flicking between the now useless scrap and the bear. Well. It was not entirely useless. It could be metaled down, but so much for that wire he was intending on. With a shrug, he turned and dug through the heap. After a few moments he produced a long, iron rod and held it aloft. He took his time to examined the metal. Had he spoken in common? Hah! He almost forgot. Switching to Vani, Rhuryc turned his head and met the bear's gaze once more. "Forgive. I forget few speak common here. If you want more play," He paused and thumbed over at the scrap pile for emphasis. "Take what you want. Pile most trash. Maybe you want more interesting?" His language was not perfect, but over the days he was getting much better at the sing-song tones and lighter pronunciation.

[Belgar]

For a moment, he thought an animal had murmured in the adjacent wilderness. Then the delayed recognition of an unfamiliar language woke him from his thoughts. The bear tipped his head toward Rhuryc, the spark of curiosity barely detectable in his long white face. He recognized the words, but did not understand their meaning combined. His black nose followed the odd man as he approached and passed, huffing of warm moisture into the cold air to voice his acknowledgement. Still, his attention reached out to his piece of unfinished art.

With less noise than the Syliran’s boots, he padded forward a few paces as the pile was stirred again. If he were another creature, he might have flinched at the thick piece of metal as it moved in the air. But he only stared at it, pensive and patient. The stranger held the bar like she had held a piece of wood for carving, but Belgar was also reminded of the way she held a sword, as if it was in a warrior’s arm to hold a thing for fighting. He wanted to see what he would do with it.

Play. The foreigner obviously knew little Vani, but the native wondered what he meant by the word; to him, it connotated a childish frivolity that did not seem appropriate to the situation. And interesting. There was no further explanation as to which option among the pile was more so. Dismissing the words for now, Belgar shifted his gaze to examine the piece of trash Rhuryc chose. He stared at it for nearly a chime, then he turned slowly towards his own.

He lifted a paw to shove the scrap to its side and, in the same motion, bent it again. After a few moments of creaking metal, he had folded and rolled it so that it was approximately proportional to the rod in the man’s hand. Then, with most of the appendages at his disposal, he moved it before the human. Only then did he become human himself, once he was done using his ursine strength to mimic what he had seen. “What do you mean, more interesting?” he replied in Vani, nude but for the mark on his chest, “Do you play with the pieces, as much as you make with them? What do you like to make?”

He glanced at his own work, wondering what the man thought of it, whether he had any expert opinion on its worth. Then he decided it would probably be decent of him to put on his clothes.

[Rhuryc]

Kelvics were always endearing to him. Whether they were giant, frightening polar bears, ferocious tigers, or adorable dogs, they possessed a keen edge to an otherwise animalistic mind that made them a point of curiosity. Smart enough to not see everything as a threat, but primal enough to be almost innocent. When the bear huffed his way over and watched Rhuryc offered him a grin. At least that was universal. The two shared a moment of staring. Each wondering as to the other's actions. The mind of such a creature was lost on the man. Though he did manage to enjoy the interaction nevertheless. A few chimes passed and the bear was off again. Rhuryc continued his vigil. His eyes flickered from Belgar to the scrap as it was offered for inspection, curious still to the intention. He shrugged and lowered himself down, a gloved hand reaching out and grasping the now useless piece of scrap. Huh. For a bear it wasn't too bad. "Ah. Forgive, language still learning." He glanced up at the now nude human before him. That was not the most comfortable of positions. And yet he remained unphased. Instead, Rhuryc stood with both the rod and "artwork", inspecting and comparing both in their way. Neither were particularly useful for anything. Maybe they could be reshaped for something else. "Meant offense none. Rod shapes larger. Can bend. Frame. Flat metal good only for wire and base. Needs thick bottom." His head bobbed with the words, believing his choices of dialog to be correct. At least he did not pause as much any more. That had a way of turning the locals off. Damn those locals. The mark on the Kelvic's chest was almost a brazen taunt to Rhuryc, that ability to remain warm even when it was so very cold. "No play for me. Too much things to hit." He chuckled and motioned a few hammer strikes with the rod. Maybe, though, he could manage some time off. Any time away from the forge was good time. "You needed from forge?" Rhuryc did his best to give his voice a questioning edge. One of these days he would better learn all the blasted nuances of Vani.

[Belgar]

Belgar found himself mirroring Rhuryc’s nods, partly because he thought it might be customary in the culture of his descent to emphasize words with such a gesture. He donned a set of thick cotton clothes, similarly furless but absent of leather. The spring air allowed for light attire on a body blessed by Morwen; the Kelvic, too, was conscious of their difference in dress. He relished in the dissimilarity of foreigners, who always seemed to know so much about so many things, but he would have felt dismayed to learn of Rhuryc’s envy.

A conscious smile pulled at the edges of his lips to compliment the joke which he did not understand. Belgar knew he sometimes came across as stern and stubborn, when in fact he only had a face that did not respond well to emotion. He peered at the rod as it rose from its invisible nail, hesitant confusion wrought in the faint crow’s feet of his eyes. “I am not needed, no. And I need nothing. Are you needed in the forge?”

It was impolite to dwell too long on semantic mistakes. He changed the subject. “Frame and wire,” he repeated in Vani, then switched to Common in order to show his willingness to accept the foreigner, “Why?” He said it almost too quickly and disjointedly as he overcompensated for his own accent.

He searched for more words, frowning, and was ultimately forced to add what he wanted in his native tongue, “For what use?” As the question left his mouth, he hoped that he had not missed the point. Was he talking of sculptures and design or of weapons and gear? Belgar could never tell.

If he let him, Belgar would have taken the iron to examine it for himself, trying to match the comparison of the two objects to their weight and feel. “You said it is trash, but you can still use it.” He looked up. “Do you use it for art?”

[Rhuryc]

Rhuryc let loose a wily guffaw. No matter how bad his Vani was it never failed for the locals to absolutely suck at Common. There was no better way to put it. He mulled the words of his friend about in his mind for some time, weighing the ideas presented in such a way to make sense of them. Now if only they had a translator. There was no hesitance when the Kelvic made for the rod. Rhuryc had no use for it. Except maybe to hit things with. He shrugged and watched, his eyes flickering about the man's actions as he in turn both observed and examined. Was it really trash? A question for the ages. "No needed." He stuck to Vani. Better that than the bear misunderstanding his words. "But that," Rhuryc motioned at the rod as he spoke. "Has many shapes. Bend, twist. Turn. Can flatten. Make bad sword, table, hold things."[b] He shrugged. [b]"Many uses for items. No art, no trash. Scrap. No metal trash. Always can be heated and used." He motioned hitting the spare iron with a hammer. He could not recall how many times he'd reshaped products others had deemed useless. There was no such thing as wasted material in the forge. Besides, ore was too damn expensive as it was. "Always have use. Anything work same." His head bobbed in tandem with his words. "Just need proper forge. You want to see inside?"

[Belgar]

“Scrap.” Belgar repeated, satisfied with the description. His eyes remained focused on the rod. He felt the inclination to bend it the same way he had bent its brother, but he knew his human arms could not fathom it. There were other ways to change the metal, to reuse the scrap. Heat, he’d said. He wondered naively what that meant. Then he recalled a single conversation between a pair of Icewatch Vantha, something about a broken sword, and whether to fix it or invest in a new one. A knowledge of smithing was, perhaps, long overdue for the warrior, no matter how useless metal was to his thick coat of fat and sharp claws.

The man laughed a lot: an admirable trait. While Belgar appreciated that happiness, he had not recognized that his sad attempt at another language had inspired it. He answered the human’s question in his native tongue, filling that same absurd accent with the universal tone of curiosity, “Yes!” Before he traversed the short distance to the forge, he offered the rod back to Rhuryc, should he have wanted to reshape it, specifically.

[Growl]

Appreciation Time! Name: Belgar Experience: +1 Socializing, +1 Interrogation Lore: Digging Through the Trash, Finding Scrap Metal Name: Rhuryc Experience: +1 Socializing, +2 Observation Lore: Letting a Bear Have His Trash, Trying to Speak a Foreign Language Additional Notes: A cute little thread. Sorry I couldn't find more to award for it though. PM with questions or concerns.