The not-immortal Blacksmith

In a place not quite out of space and time, three women sat around a nice table sipping tea. An elderly but spry lady, a middle-aged but quite attractive woman, and a young woman of immense beauty. They sat and sipped, and chatted lightly about things going on in the world. Finally, the youngest spoke up. “Mother, Grandmother. I am disappointed in my daughter. She should have landed that fool by now. Instead? Instead, we handed him off to that welp of an elf.”

The eldest spoke, “If not for that, I don’t think the two of you would have survived the encounter.”

The middle one nodded. “That and your friendship with the lady of shadow, mother.”

“I doubt that made much difference. As I understand things, ‘Sarah’ and ‘Ghondish’ are the only old ones left on the world.” The eldest took a sip of her tea, “And even with the power of the three of us, there was very little chance of beating him.”

“Is he really that powerful, grandmother?” The youngest asked, draining her cup and pouring another.

“He is all but a god himself at this point. And that is just from the belief of those around him. If you count the power he has inadvertently drained from the gods themselves? I’m surprised he isn’t sprouting accidental miracles every other day.”

The younger two ladies stared at the eldest. “You can’t serious?” The youngest finally asked.

“Quite.” The eldest took another sip. “This is quite excellent tea, by the by. Where ever did you find it?”

“There is a bakery and bar in a small town not far from here. The place where those of ‘Repute’ hang out?” The youngest replied. “They have an exceptional selection of tea and coffee, as well as the best bread in the realm.” She stopped for a moment, “Please don’t distract from the conversation, grandmother.”

“Very well.” The eldest said with a small sigh. “Have you not heard the silver bell?”

“Yes?” the younger pair replied without a pause.

“Do you know what it means?” The eldest asked.

After a moment and a glance at each other, the younger pair replied, “No.”

“It only chimes in times of great importance.” The eldest said. “And how many times has it chimed lately?”

The younger pair again looked at each other, eyes wide. “OH.”

*-*-*

Maxwell sat in the office of the well-appointed suite he shared with his wife and stared at the paperwork. Paperwork. Why does it have to be paperwork? He stared at the papers for a while longer. At least it isn’t tax forms.

From the living area Brianna called, “Maxie! Time for dinner!”

“There in a moment.” He replied, then placed the papers on the desk and stepped out from the office. “What are we having tonight?”

“Fish, chips, and mixed veggies.” Bri smiled as Max shuddered. “You know they try their best. Don’t sulk about the soggy vegetables.”

Max harumphed and sat at the table with his wife, and smiled at the comfortable silence.

*-*-*

Grendel Repute sat on the back of the wagon as it slowly trundled through the snow. He had seen the strange, and honestly scary, man several times since the first encounter. Each time he had fled, and this last time had actually told someone. Sadly, when they had gone to investigate, they had found nothing. So, he sat, and felt disturbed.

In the midst of his nothing he felt the magic stone in his pocket vibrate. Oh, good. Someone to mess with! He smiled, retrieving the stone from his pocket, and slid his finger across the surface. “Prince Lancil’s answering service! How may I help you?”

From the stone a deep inhuman voice sounded. “You can tell me where all the snacks you had disappeared to, you insolent little puppy!”

“I’m sorry sir, but if you decide to be rude, then I will be forced to disconnect and block all further messages from your stone.” Grendel smoothly replied, honey dripping from his voice.

“Fine.” The other side grunted, “Tell your boss that if he values his life, he will tell us where the puppy and kitten snacks are. I won’t believe that he let them all go!”

“Very well sir.” Voice still dripping honey like venom, Grendel responded, “But of course, I will need a name for the message?”

“I am Demon Lord Rastafaun the Gorged!” The stone yelled. “You will deliver this message immediately!”

“Demon lord Rastafaun the engorged? Got it.” Grendel replied.

“Gorged! Rastafaun the G-O-R-G-E-D” Rastafaun growled into the stone.

“And what is the message exactly?” Grendel asked, ignoring the correction.

“THE MESSAGE IS---” Rastafaun yelled before being interrupted.

“SIR! If you yell, I will have to disconnect!” Grendel said.

“Fine.” Rastafaun grumbled. “The message is: Tell me where the snacks are, or I will have you boiled alive in the lava pits!”

“Are you sure, sir?” Grendel asked. “Lava pits sound more like a spa day than a punishment.”

“Fine. I will have him stoned, then punted off a cliff.”

“I believe he would enjoy the altered state of being stoned,” Said Grendel, “and I believe he enjoys flying?”

“FINE! I will have him killed!” Rastafaun nearly yelled.

“Very good sir.” Grendel smiled at the stone. “So, the message is: ‘Tell me where the snacks are, or I will have you killed’; Do you want an exclamation point at the end? Or just a simple period? I must warn you that the exclamation point is more expensive. But we do offer a complete grammar, spelling, and punctuation package, if you pay for a dozen or more messages up front!”

“Um… How much more?” Rastafaun asked, eyes starting to glaze over.

“Half of an imperial gold crown.” Grendel said, making up a currency and giving in to a wicked grin. “But the package of twelve waives the extra costs and is a steal at just 23 crowns!”

“Fine. I will take the package. Just get the message to him as soon as possible.” Rastafaun said with a deep sigh. “And thank you.” Rastafaun ended the conversation, and teleported a small sack of gold to the location of the other rock.

Grendel looked at the bag of gold that suddenly appeared next to him on the wagon, and laughed.