The Smith.
Written for the HA group's Memorial Day challenge.
He remembered the last time he'd seen this blade up close, the blade he was now reforging. It was a great honour to be asked to do this, but Master Elrond had made it clear he had been asked to do this as much for the fact he was one of a handful of elven smiths who had seen this blade before it was broken an age ago as for his skill.
Now it would have a new name, this broken blade. As the Smith hammered and reshaped the metal he remembered the day Narsil was broken. He had been a mere lad of 35, a message runner in Elrond's following and the youngest elf present in the hordes making the Last Alliance of men and elves. His father and grandfather had been there too, for his grandfather swore allegiance to King Turgon in Gondolin, and the family kept faith with Elrond, Turgon's great grandson.
He remembered the long years in Mordor, waiting. He remembered the final battle, and the blood, and death, the pain of the dying. He remembered the High King Gil-Galad, his nobility, his kindness to the smith who was then but a mere lad. He remembered the mortal King, Elendil, a man of great wisdom and strength for a mortal.
He remembered the horror of the death of both Kings, and seeing the blade he now worked on broken as it sheered off Sauron's fingers, wielded by Isildur, Elendil's son. He remembered thinking it a hollow victory with so many slaughtered, and he remembered the violence of his grief when he discovered both his father and grandfather dead.
So, as he worked, he sang to the blade, sang the smith's working songs his grandfather who had been one of Maeglin's smiths in Gondolin had taught him. He sang of war, and death, and he bid the blade remember the death of he who borne it, and to remember he would bear it in yet another war. He sang to it to remember it's enemies and it's friends, and then it was done, and as he plunged the reforged sword into the deep bucket of water to cool it, the sword screamed as it touched the cold water and released it's heat, and it sang back to the Smith, it sang it's name, and the Smith heard.
Anduril would be it's new name, and it would remember.
Author's notes: I know it is said in FoTR that Aragorn renamed the Sword that was Broken, but in my view, the Smith heard the name the sword wanted, and passed it on to Aragorn. He knew enough not to argue with an elvish Smith, and agreed to the name.
Written for the HA group's Memorial Day challenge.
He remembered the last time he'd seen this blade up close, the blade he was now reforging. It was a great honour to be asked to do this, but Master Elrond had made it clear he had been asked to do this as much for the fact he was one of a handful of elven smiths who had seen this blade before it was broken an age ago as for his skill.
Now it would have a new name, this broken blade. As the Smith hammered and reshaped the metal he remembered the day Narsil was broken. He had been a mere lad of 35, a message runner in Elrond's following and the youngest elf present in the hordes making the Last Alliance of men and elves. His father and grandfather had been there too, for his grandfather swore allegiance to King Turgon in Gondolin, and the family kept faith with Elrond, Turgon's great grandson.
He remembered the long years in Mordor, waiting. He remembered the final battle, and the blood, and death, the pain of the dying. He remembered the High King Gil-Galad, his nobility, his kindness to the smith who was then but a mere lad. He remembered the mortal King, Elendil, a man of great wisdom and strength for a mortal.
He remembered the horror of the death of both Kings, and seeing the blade he now worked on broken as it sheered off Sauron's fingers, wielded by Isildur, Elendil's son. He remembered thinking it a hollow victory with so many slaughtered, and he remembered the violence of his grief when he discovered both his father and grandfather dead.
So, as he worked, he sang to the blade, sang the smith's working songs his grandfather who had been one of Maeglin's smiths in Gondolin had taught him. He sang of war, and death, and he bid the blade remember the death of he who borne it, and to remember he would bear it in yet another war. He sang to it to remember it's enemies and it's friends, and then it was done, and as he plunged the reforged sword into the deep bucket of water to cool it, the sword screamed as it touched the cold water and released it's heat, and it sang back to the Smith, it sang it's name, and the Smith heard.
Anduril would be it's new name, and it would remember.
Author's notes: I know it is said in FoTR that Aragorn renamed the Sword that was Broken, but in my view, the Smith heard the name the sword wanted, and passed it on to Aragorn. He knew enough not to argue with an elvish Smith, and agreed to the name.