Fit for a Queen - Part I
Posted: Wed Nov 20, 2024 10:00 pm
24rd Searing, 124
Torin had never been one to settle for the simple when it came to his crafts. Had always pushed himself beyond what his teachers demanded, sought paths beyond what was already known. Here in Sol'Valen, he had spent the first month of his training doing the opposite. The teachers at Tavárinoikos had demanded that he move slowly, that each of his skills be proven, starting with the most basic possible, and, while a part of him had chafed at their reins, another part had enjoyed it. He had always longed to prove himself, to be forced to prove himself, to teachers whose skill and ability he could acknowledge as greater than his own.
His first teacher had had his full respect but barely enough ability as a Runesmith to be called such. His second had more raw ability but had either been born without a single spark of initiative or had lost it somewhere before Torin had come into his life. Only once before had he studied under a teacher that he believed could truly teach him anything beyond what every Runesmith alive already knew. The Runesmith of Starfall was exceptional, but also restrained, unable or unwilling to take him on as a true student for reasons that Torin did not fully understand but did respect.
Here in Sol'Valen, there was knowledge beyond his wildest dreams, ancient magic abounded from the paving stones he walked on to the skies. So while he had felt the pull to do more than his new teachers had initially allowed, he had restrained himself, unwilling to jeopardize what they were offering him. Even if all he ended up learning was different ways to do the things he already knew, it would be worth it. Each new technique taught him something about Runeforging as a whole, adjusted his understanding of the craft, allowed him to see new possibilities.
Thankfully, after twenty days of mostly menial labor and showing his basic knowledge, it seemed his ability was at least worth testing. And what a test, it was. To invent something new for a member of the royal family had not even been within his scope, yet, here he was, sitting at the Runesmith’s Workbench that had been allocated to him, his thick leather-bound sketch and idea book open before him. Aurin called it his 'book of tricks', Sivan joked that it was his spell book, and neither was exactly wrong. It was where he worked on ideas and, when they were complete, where he recorded his schema to be recreated later or, now that he had an apprentice of his own, passed on, in time.
Having the boy, Bastion, working under him, absorbing his every word and movement in the Runeforge as though it were his air was frightening. How could he be responsible for something so important? This fear was significantly relieved, or at least pushed too far away to feel, by taking back on the mantel of a student himself. Seeing himself through the same lens made him realize how similar he had been to Bastion when he had been the same age; quiet, shy, desperate to learn. It made him want to wrap the apprentice in wool until nothing could harm him, but that wasn't what he needed. Torin would give him what he needed, him and all the others now under his care and protection. At the moment, that meant throwing himself into his current tasks, which, conveniently, was also exactly what he wanted.
It had been three days since the Princess had come to Tavárinoikos and tasked him with creating something worthy of elven royalty. The new direction had thrown a wrench into his original plans to spend his time working on a set of swords for his own elven prince. Sivan wasn't actually a prince, but Torin wanted to treat him like one. But there was no deadline for the weapons, he could spend years on them if he had to, though he hoped to have them completed by the end of the year at the latest. Anything that ensured the protection of his loved ones was better finished, but Sivan had other swords the chance he was being offered would not come again.
The project needed to be approached with thought and care. Runeforging did not just create objects; each creation was something more than a 'thing'. There was something more to them when he got them just right. It felt more like giving birth than it did like blacksmithing, like something was being pulled out of him into the world. Torin couldn't explain it in words, though he thought that sometimes Sivan understood, and sometimes Kala.
He needed this project to be like that, to be more than the sum of the aether and material components. He also needed it to fit the person form whom he was creating it, that, he had learned, was essential in all the very best of his work. Unfortunately, he did not know the woman who would make use of it, the best he had was the idea of her need. Maybe that was enough, and maybe, if it was enough it would teach him how to make items of his highest caliber for people that he wasn't strongly connected to. A part of him resisted this idea, but, he reasoned, the worst that would happen was that he would create something useful, but not miraculous. The problem with this reasonable thought was that he had grown used to creating little miracles, and while he downplayed himself in public, in his own mind, he would fight against being lesser than he knew he could be.
This was a challenge, literally a figuratively, issued to him by a princess, and by his teachers, and my his own mind. The worst thing he could do was fail.
With this in mind, he had began working on a schema, simple in design, simple even to explain, but the magic required to make it work would be as complex as anything he had yet done. Knowing this sent thrills of anticipation and determination through him even at this early stage.
The ingredients he would need were readily available, if not at all inexpensive. He might be paid for the work, but even if he were not, the cost in coin was far outweighed by what he would gain from the making.
The first thing to do was choose the form that the item would take, the physicality of a thing was no less important to it's practicality than the magic that went into it. There were exceptional smiths in the school, and while he had come to learn Runesmithing, they were also available to him if he was willing to give the sweat of his brow and the strength of his arms to save them the time in their own work that they would spend on teaching him and answering his questions. Torin loved the blacksmith's forge as much as he did the Runesmith's, and it was not common for him to be able to spend extended time with this simpler, though not simple, craft. It settled his mind, the rhythm, the alloys, the solidity of working with metal.
For the schema itself he requested access to several books of Runeforging knowledge kept within Tavárinoikos, which he was granted, under supervision. This stipulation proved useful when he needed help with translation or to have concepts explained that he did not understand. Earning enough respect from the teachers and workers of the school that they would speak openly with him about what he was attempting was a project of its own, requiring no less care and intention than any working of metal or magic. As the weeks passed he wasn't always the first one to speak, not always the first one to offer an idea or worry over a complication. His meal times stopped being spent alone or with only Sivan for company when his friend was available. The other apprentices began to explain to him what they were working on. He listened more often than he offered advice or suggestions, but, as he knew from his own work, often having someone listen, especially someone who understood all the concepts of what you were saying, was all it took to untangle a knot in one's thought process. It was a more interactive version of the Hammer Solution that his first master had taught him: If you can't figure something out, explain it to your hammer. Three times out of four, you'll find the answer before you're done.
So, while the project was his, by the time he was ready to go out and buy the ingredients he would need to make it, it felt collaborative. The whole school knew some of what he was up to, and while he was mostly still ignored by the masters, he no longer felt like he was alone in a room full of strangers.
Torin had never been one to settle for the simple when it came to his crafts. Had always pushed himself beyond what his teachers demanded, sought paths beyond what was already known. Here in Sol'Valen, he had spent the first month of his training doing the opposite. The teachers at Tavárinoikos had demanded that he move slowly, that each of his skills be proven, starting with the most basic possible, and, while a part of him had chafed at their reins, another part had enjoyed it. He had always longed to prove himself, to be forced to prove himself, to teachers whose skill and ability he could acknowledge as greater than his own.
His first teacher had had his full respect but barely enough ability as a Runesmith to be called such. His second had more raw ability but had either been born without a single spark of initiative or had lost it somewhere before Torin had come into his life. Only once before had he studied under a teacher that he believed could truly teach him anything beyond what every Runesmith alive already knew. The Runesmith of Starfall was exceptional, but also restrained, unable or unwilling to take him on as a true student for reasons that Torin did not fully understand but did respect.
Here in Sol'Valen, there was knowledge beyond his wildest dreams, ancient magic abounded from the paving stones he walked on to the skies. So while he had felt the pull to do more than his new teachers had initially allowed, he had restrained himself, unwilling to jeopardize what they were offering him. Even if all he ended up learning was different ways to do the things he already knew, it would be worth it. Each new technique taught him something about Runeforging as a whole, adjusted his understanding of the craft, allowed him to see new possibilities.
Thankfully, after twenty days of mostly menial labor and showing his basic knowledge, it seemed his ability was at least worth testing. And what a test, it was. To invent something new for a member of the royal family had not even been within his scope, yet, here he was, sitting at the Runesmith’s Workbench that had been allocated to him, his thick leather-bound sketch and idea book open before him. Aurin called it his 'book of tricks', Sivan joked that it was his spell book, and neither was exactly wrong. It was where he worked on ideas and, when they were complete, where he recorded his schema to be recreated later or, now that he had an apprentice of his own, passed on, in time.
Having the boy, Bastion, working under him, absorbing his every word and movement in the Runeforge as though it were his air was frightening. How could he be responsible for something so important? This fear was significantly relieved, or at least pushed too far away to feel, by taking back on the mantel of a student himself. Seeing himself through the same lens made him realize how similar he had been to Bastion when he had been the same age; quiet, shy, desperate to learn. It made him want to wrap the apprentice in wool until nothing could harm him, but that wasn't what he needed. Torin would give him what he needed, him and all the others now under his care and protection. At the moment, that meant throwing himself into his current tasks, which, conveniently, was also exactly what he wanted.
It had been three days since the Princess had come to Tavárinoikos and tasked him with creating something worthy of elven royalty. The new direction had thrown a wrench into his original plans to spend his time working on a set of swords for his own elven prince. Sivan wasn't actually a prince, but Torin wanted to treat him like one. But there was no deadline for the weapons, he could spend years on them if he had to, though he hoped to have them completed by the end of the year at the latest. Anything that ensured the protection of his loved ones was better finished, but Sivan had other swords the chance he was being offered would not come again.
The project needed to be approached with thought and care. Runeforging did not just create objects; each creation was something more than a 'thing'. There was something more to them when he got them just right. It felt more like giving birth than it did like blacksmithing, like something was being pulled out of him into the world. Torin couldn't explain it in words, though he thought that sometimes Sivan understood, and sometimes Kala.
He needed this project to be like that, to be more than the sum of the aether and material components. He also needed it to fit the person form whom he was creating it, that, he had learned, was essential in all the very best of his work. Unfortunately, he did not know the woman who would make use of it, the best he had was the idea of her need. Maybe that was enough, and maybe, if it was enough it would teach him how to make items of his highest caliber for people that he wasn't strongly connected to. A part of him resisted this idea, but, he reasoned, the worst that would happen was that he would create something useful, but not miraculous. The problem with this reasonable thought was that he had grown used to creating little miracles, and while he downplayed himself in public, in his own mind, he would fight against being lesser than he knew he could be.
This was a challenge, literally a figuratively, issued to him by a princess, and by his teachers, and my his own mind. The worst thing he could do was fail.
With this in mind, he had began working on a schema, simple in design, simple even to explain, but the magic required to make it work would be as complex as anything he had yet done. Knowing this sent thrills of anticipation and determination through him even at this early stage.
The ingredients he would need were readily available, if not at all inexpensive. He might be paid for the work, but even if he were not, the cost in coin was far outweighed by what he would gain from the making.
The first thing to do was choose the form that the item would take, the physicality of a thing was no less important to it's practicality than the magic that went into it. There were exceptional smiths in the school, and while he had come to learn Runesmithing, they were also available to him if he was willing to give the sweat of his brow and the strength of his arms to save them the time in their own work that they would spend on teaching him and answering his questions. Torin loved the blacksmith's forge as much as he did the Runesmith's, and it was not common for him to be able to spend extended time with this simpler, though not simple, craft. It settled his mind, the rhythm, the alloys, the solidity of working with metal.
For the schema itself he requested access to several books of Runeforging knowledge kept within Tavárinoikos, which he was granted, under supervision. This stipulation proved useful when he needed help with translation or to have concepts explained that he did not understand. Earning enough respect from the teachers and workers of the school that they would speak openly with him about what he was attempting was a project of its own, requiring no less care and intention than any working of metal or magic. As the weeks passed he wasn't always the first one to speak, not always the first one to offer an idea or worry over a complication. His meal times stopped being spent alone or with only Sivan for company when his friend was available. The other apprentices began to explain to him what they were working on. He listened more often than he offered advice or suggestions, but, as he knew from his own work, often having someone listen, especially someone who understood all the concepts of what you were saying, was all it took to untangle a knot in one's thought process. It was a more interactive version of the Hammer Solution that his first master had taught him: If you can't figure something out, explain it to your hammer. Three times out of four, you'll find the answer before you're done.
So, while the project was his, by the time he was ready to go out and buy the ingredients he would need to make it, it felt collaborative. The whole school knew some of what he was up to, and while he was mostly still ignored by the masters, he no longer felt like he was alone in a room full of strangers.