Completed Temporary Striker(Taln)

[Mittle]

52 Fall 522 AV

Mitt swung his arms casually as he walked to the Commons area and smiled. Mathias had promised him a tireless worker to be his temporary Striker. Seeing as Artik did nothing, he couldn't just keep using a swage block for the heavy stuff and not having someone to assist was slowing down his work tremendously. He'd been warned that it wouldn't be the ideal teen age to learn, but as long as he was a reliable working body, that should do the job nicely.

They're late, whoever they are. The young blacksmith stood idly, his hands in his pockets and rocked bath and forth.

Someone stumbled out of the bushes bare assed and backwards-with shaggy copper hair.

"Rain give me my clothes back, you already made late! Again!" A woman's hand threw some black shorts in Taln's face and laughed loudly.

"Heartless woman! I don't think anyone's gonna appreciate me giving them an eyeful."

Mitt glared hard as the tall ginger turned around about three paces from him. Taln grinned back and bent to put on his shorts.

Looking down, Mitt rolled his eyes and instantly thought, 'Oh. That's the secret.' He snorted with irritation. 'That scrawny oversexed know it all soulless ginger is my Striker for the day? Gods dammit.'

The tawny haired man crossed his arms hard over his chest and glared down ferociously at Taln.
"You always late? So far I"m not impressed. Did you even eat breakfast? Whatever. Follow me." The smith's stride was enormous, soon leaving Taln far behind, still struggling to get the other leg in his shorts.

As if the roles were reversed, this time Taln jogged after Mitt, trying to catch up with him. The guy walked like a monster!

The young blacksmith walked yet still faster toward the Foundry, fuming at this scrawny pathetic excuse for help. How could Mathias tout -him- as a reliable and tireless worker? He can't even dress himself or show up on time! Smithing was no joke.

Taln finally caught up to Mitt just in front of the Foundry and he was no longer smiling.

The tawny haired man frowned down at Taln, all trace of youth or inexperience entirely vanished from his features.

"Does that piece of cloth you're wearing cover your arms and legs fully? Do you have solid boots that cover your feet?"
"No to both. I can roll the lontev down to pants but I don't have any long sleeve shirts or boots. No shoes actually."

Mitt's face was an impassive mask as he turned to Arty and started dragging him outside to the rest against the driftwood. He turned back to Taln and ordered,

"Take his shirt, apron, gloves, boots, belt and hat. No one steps in here without protection when the forge is going. Period."

Taln bent to start removing the passed out guy and dressed himself, covered from literal head to toe. The shirt hung off him like a dirty rag, so he tucked it inside his pants, standing awkwardly.

"Safety rules first. Get in here. Always use those tongs over there for -any- short iron that's not cold. The longer tongs.." Mitt pointed to almost three foot long ones on the wall, "are for turning and shifting anything heavier than twenty pounds or longer than a three by three of more than a two inch diameter. Got it?"

"Diameter is around an object?"

"No." Mitt picked up a round iron and held it at eye level and pointed as he explained, "The diameter runs from edge to edge and cuts through the center of the object."

Taln nodded and listened intensely and watched as the young smith continued.
Mitt set the pole back down and walked to a valve on the bottom of the forge that had a flap in the front and a connective pipe on the side.

"This valve can get a build up of yellow oxide so you use," he paused to reach for the long wire brush, "this to clean it each night. Each morning we need to check that nothings crawled into the valves, pipes or forge overnight."

He stepped back and watched. "Now you check each valve and pipe that they're clear and have an open line to the bellows."


WC 712

[Taln]

Taln struggled, hopping on one foot to get his leg into the shorts and sliding in the sand. Finally dressed, he poured on the speed to take off at a full out run. Was that really the same kid from last night?! So Mitt was a Dek by night and an Endal by day? Maybe work was his only comfortable niche? How did that guy walk so big when they only had an inch difference in height?! If he actually had confidence, that guy would be unstoppable! Ah. That was a thought! It looks like someone beat him down to Dek level treatment early on and he doesn't yet know his enormous, unrealized potential. That made a lot of sense. And if so, Sunberth sounded like a place Taln wouldn't ever want to willingly visit. As they stood in front of the Foundry, he got a big time dressing down that made him look covertly at Mitt. He felt uneasy at the way Mitt just dragged the drunk Artik out and told the redhead to just strip away ninety percent of his clothes. Something went off in the back of his brain, that Artik was far more than the drunk to be instantly dismissed. As a Dek, providing the very bare basic of clothing was considered enough. Shoes cost money and who would waste their hard earned pinions on shoes or boots for a Dek? For this job though, it looked like the bare necessities were far more than the redhead had ever dreamed of owning. The concept of so much had simply never occurred to him to want or need more than he had. Until now. Clad in large protective gear, he felt insanely awkward and heavy with even the slightest movement. Hey-that must be why the big guy walked so heavily! Mitt literally wore a lot of weight to carry around all day and the muscle memory carried over. The mathematically engineering mindset was entirely foreign to Taln and he made an extra effort to keep up. The wordage and precision were a different way of thinking that was another step in learning. He'd never been given the golden opportunity to learn knowledge and physical labor at the same time. Taln's eyes gleamed as he took in the series of highly detailed and thoroughly shared information. At first, everything about Mitt had rubbed him the wrong way but now he found himself giving a grudging respect in the reevaluation. 'To purposely, savagely scorn and instantly dismiss someone as not good enough to deserve normal human respect or compassion was cruel and merciless. The hateful lack of empathy and sociopathic ruthlessness would make you cold, dead inside beyond any redemption. It would isolate you with only your misery to cling to.' Taln thought, strongly pitying those with such a bleak outlook. It was a lifetime lesson on the true depth of character and human nature. It was that ugly irredeemable corruption of the spirit that could never be saved. That would be a genuine bully. But Mitt was a young and misguided man from Sunberth learning new ways. He'd give Mitt the common courtesy and dignity that every living creature should be given. "Am I supposed to look inside the valves or feel around the pipes? Is there a tool involved in this?" he crouched as he asked, looking up at the blacksmith. He was surprised at Mitt's nod of approval and handed him a slim rod to poke into the valves and pipes. He opened the valve with the rod and a salamander scurried out, rousted from his warm retreat. The smith's large boot guided the small lizard out the door and yelled to his Ixam hatchling, "SNACK STOKER!" A gold and crimson creature raced past the door, scooping up the quick meal on the run and paused outside the threshold to see if anymore might be running his way. Taln winced at the sudden yell but pushed on with checking the connecting pipes to the bellow. A large unidentified insect instantly buzzed angrily out of the pipe at the prompting and the hungry young Ixam snapped it up less than an inch from Taln's face. He fell back in instant reflex, putting up both arms across his head to protect himself. WC 702

[Mittle]

The rest of the day passed uneventfully as they worked, broke for lunch, chatted a little, went back to work and finally stopped at just after the eighth bell. Mitt was tired, but it was the good, satisfying tired of a long day's work. Granted Taln had made a lot of beginner's mistakes, but that was bound to happen. All in all it didn't go too badly. But flickers of their lunch conversation still stuck in his mind, not quite making sense. Something didn't add up and he couldn't figure out just what it was that was bothering him.

"How about you get something to eat." He gestured Taln over to the Commons after they'd removed the pounds and pounds of protective clothing and gear. "Although, I dunno why I'm not really all that hungry tonight. Or lately."

The redhead nodded and they both sat down at the table together while the young blacksmith frowned pensively. He waited for the other guy to sit down, start eating and get comfortable first.

"So we were talking earlier at lunch about some of your life in Wind Reach right? I was thinking on that a little bit."

Taln nodded but kept his shaggy head over his plate, eating voraciously.

"Now you said that every single -pure- Inarta in Wind Reach has red hair." Mitt stated carefully.

"Uh huh."

"But you don't know who your parents were for sure, with exact names."

"Nope. Everyone's raised in a crèche together."

"So no one keeps track of who's parents are whose...?"

Taln shook his head and looked at him inquisitively.

"And the Inarta people don't like outsiders...?"

Mitt was trying to lead Taln to the obvious but he wasn't getting anywhere! Impossible! No! No one was that dumb about basic science right? Not an entire race of people. Was it on purpose?

"So you're telling me that honestly, realistically, that every single so called pure Inarta has the exact same -recessive- red haired genetic trait? No exceptions? Ever?"

"Um, yea we all have red hair."

"So before the Ivaky stuff, let me guess-your eyes definitely weren't brown..?"

"They were green."

"A second recessive gene. Which by natural statistics is highly improbable."

"And?"

"It would take countless generations of..." Mitt stopped himself from finishing that thought, both out loud and mentally. Well that would most definitely explain why he's so damn crazy.

The tawny haired young blacksmith shoved back his chair from the table and stood abruptly. He gave Taln a very long, searching look but his expression grew more distant with each chime.

"What?'

"Buddy if you don't know the blatantly obvious even when I've spelled it out for you, well..." Mitt shrugged and turned to walk away. "I'll see ya around. Or maybe not."
Was Taln's ignorance, truly bliss? At this point, the young man felt he'd given more than enough scientific evidence to spell it out for even a ten year old dimwit to follow. How could the guy not even notice or know?

WC 501 Total WC 1,213

[Taln]

Taln's head was a mass of agony after spending over ten bells listening to hammering over and over again. The work day had had its good and bad like any other. He'd definitely learned more about blacksmithing and its meticulous mindset and how well it suited Mitt. He hadn't worked that hard in a long time and he had missed it even more than he'd realized. So much free time didn't quite feel right some how. The ginger's arms and legs were weary from the heavy lifting, holding and ugh.. the endless hammering. Maybe some food would help the horrific pounding in his head. But the kid was blathering about something. What's with the interrogation? Hadn't they already talked about it at lunch? Taln sighed at his comments and finished the last of his food before turning to answer. "Hold up. So because you know things from your life that makes you smart about everyone else'? Do you know everything because you have a mechanical way of thinking? Is that it?" "No its because you're overlooking something everyone else knows." "How do you know what 'everyone else' knows something because you do? Why is it if you don't know something, then that's different and totally okay for you?" "I at least paid attention in school." "I didn't go to school." Mitt stared at him for a very long few chimes in total silence. And blinked. And stared some more. Taln's molten gaze never wavered from Mitt's face, almost hearing the judgments aloud. His reply was calm and factual. "My eyes were... screwed up early on in life leaving me with half the sight of regular people and I had no depth perception. I don't have any formal schooling. I wasn't educated until I was twenty, and that was very briefly and mostly verbally in the 52nd and 57th of Summer 511. It wasn't until 512 that I regained my full sight. That was a bit ago. I don't know what some of those words were that you used. I'm still learning to read, write and do sums. I speak Nari, Common and Ancient Tongue fluently. I can speak and understand a little Svefra, Tawna, and Symenos. I won't apologize for my past or my upbringing because it's simply my personal history. If not going to school is your reason for not talking to someone, then that's your choice. Do as you will." The redhead left Mitt to his thoughts and walked along the beach quietly, grateful for the surcease of hammering, thundering and banging. It was peaceful with only the soothing and gentle lap of the ocean waves against the sand. His path veered here and there, seeking the magma deep beneath, but his tread was much heavier and slower than usual. WC 462 total wc 1,163

[Mittle]

'No school at all? No reading? No maths?! He couldn't even begin to imagine not being able to read! How could he have kept up with me today if he didn't know basic science? That was impossible wasn't it?' Taln followed every direction given down to pure precision and used the exact same phrases and terms that Mitt himself had used all damn day and half the night! Was he lying? It didn't seem like he was. Even apprentices needed half a brain to navigate the Foundry safely or they'd get hurt doing the most mundane things.

"Hey wait a chime!!' Mitt called out to the retreating back. This mystery needed solving!

"Why did you give me the scrap angler that you did?"

"Because you said if it's less than a quarter of an inch thick, one inch, it was useless or needed welding to add."
"And when I said to adjust the vise grip?"
"Because it's a misnomer. Twisting wrought iron is technically wrapping so it has to be kept tight to hold the tension despite the angle before it cools to red."

"You've got an eidetic memory!"

Taln looked over his shoulder at the young blacksmith and nodded, not sure how to respond to Mitt's comment. Yes, he could parrot things back when he heard it and try to learn from them. Remembering something you hear isn't a learned school thing. What was he even talking to him again? He still couldn't read or write very well or do anything more than simple mathematics.

Mitt smiled at figuring it out. 'Mystery solved!' he thought with satisfaction. So that's why he was able to get things done in there today. But wait, there was still a noticeable difference between repeating what you've heard and actually knowing what it meant. The guy had accurately applied what he'd heard today and tonight. The tawny haired young man gave Taln a long searching look, obviously contemplating something.

It was a huge comprehension chasm between the men with vastly different ways of thinking. One was an engineering and mathematical style and the other was an almost entirely auditory kinesthetic.


WC 356 Total WC 1,569

[Taln]

Uh oh. No way. Hells no. Taln remembered that exact same look all too well. With Elder Valintar and Rista. There was no way he was going to fall sucker for that old trick again. Pretend you're 'helping' the poor dumb Dek. The redhead changed direction rapidly and stalked away from Mitt, with a very large stride. He was -not- hanging around to see Mitt think he was the first to throw pity at him and he was supposed to lap it up like some stupid grateful dog. Just so -Mitt- could feel even more superior than he already did. As if that were even possible! In fact forget running. The tall redhead stopped in his tracks and spun on his heel to directly confront the rapidly approaching young man. When he was about ten paces closer, Taln said firmly and loudly. "NO. Just no no and no. Stop even thinking it, don't you DARE say it." None of it helped the massive headache but this needed stopping now. The young blacksmith slowed his stride but was determined to voice his thoughts so he continued walking toward him, with an index finger and hand raised. "Don't even open your mouth kid. I suggest you keep it shut." "Hey I could help you read an-" Taln plowed directly through Mitt like he wasn't even there and started running toward the ocean leaving a trail of burning sand beneath his feet. There was no practical solution or any way he knew of to control this reaction. The more the fire rose, the more his rage kept building on into an endless feedback loop. That madder he was, the worse the fire. Flames erupted as the redhead's temper roared to life and at last he reached the water. His anger turned to a raging fire that he didn't want to show. Now Taln was like a glowing beacon of stupid temper that he still couldn't always keep hold of after all this time! The water dragged heavily at his knees and he shifted gears to walk out further into the ocean. Increasing waves crashed over his raging hot body, steaming and boiling as they made contact. He struggled to rein in his fury and put even more distance between himself and Mitt. The steaming ocean was hot and seething around him and he flung the water from his eyes as he finally stopped and stood. Chin deep in the boiling water around him, he kept his fiery eyes fixed sternly on the surface trying to slow his breathing. Each wave broke and slammed directly into his face and he welcomed the blatant distraction. He couldn't, wouldn't let this consume him. Taln would not be able to escape the fire within. You can't escape from yourself. The fury and temper seemed to control the fire most and he couldn't afford feeling things too much any more. He needed to have some damn self control and discipline already! There was no way to learn control if he stayed isolated, but strictly limiting his contact with others would only make it worse. Mitt still sat there on the sand where he'd landed and just stared. He'd seen enough, stood and left swiftly. "I'm outta here. That's a nope from me." WC 544 total WC 1,707