Frosted Iron

Things couldn't return to normal, but the lorekeeper was no longer hiding himself away from the world, whether from sickness or shame or guilt or fear. Not that all of those things weren't still with him, but he had wallowed in them long enough, and had finally begun to move forward again. Or at least, to try to.

Sometimes the trembling in his hands and the snarling whip of his increasing anger made it hard. Knowing what caused it, though, gave him a means of resisting those darker impulses, and he did his best to rein them in when he could.

One of the side effects was a chill to his skin that he couldn't seem to shake. Even when he was wrapped in Rory's arms it lingered, and he dreaded the coming of Deepfrost for entirely new reasons this year. There was one place that was guaranteed to be warm, however. A place he was long overdue to visit, for a multitude of reasons. He pushed open the door to Smitty's forge, sighing and releasing the tight hold on his cloak as the heat of the coals hit him like a dry blanket, and he slowly began to ease out of the grey furred garment while Isuma flew gracefully to land on the countertop.

"Smitty? Caiside ?" he called into the shop, looking around for the either of the smiths, in the hopes that one or both would be there.

The anniversary of his arrival in Caido was fast approaching. It was not something Caiside wanted to let his mind dwell on, in fact as the days grew darker, he found himself growing more bitter about the fact, so much time had passed and he had not accomplished anything. In fact, he seemed to be suffering. There was a tremble in the once gods hands, growing more noticeable with each passing day, as undeniable as the snows approaching on the wind. It was a sign of his failure, his mortality. The forge had become a double edged sword, a place to work, and feel useful, yet where his ailment was more noticeable than before. Simple things seemed to take twice as long, his fingers now too shaky to even attempt his more delicate pieces. At least, that was what he was finding. He had been playing with a piece of metal for the better part of the day, heating and reheating with no concern for how brittle it would become, and just as he had possibly worked something out, a voice called out from the front of the shop, completely ruining his concentration. With a huff, Caiside all but threw down the piece he had been working with, sending it clattering against the work table, and rose up, anger simmering on his tongue like a hot coal. Long gloves were slipped off as he went, placed on the counter when he stepped in to see he was being visited by a very sorely missed friend. Almost immediately, his face fell out of the twist it had been in, and the red haired man forced a smile to his lips. It was less than convincing, pinched and too wide, too many teeth on display. "Jigano!" Despite the look on his face, his voice was warm, and he walked around the counter to greet his friend with a firm shake of the hand. "I'm glad to see you, all in one piece. It's been... exciting times." Caiside I have never been allowed to be Holy, I have never been forgiven for Wanting;

He had been hoping for a warm greeting, but the strained smile that twisted Caiside's lips gave Jigano pause as his friend stepped through the door. He didn't think he had enough in him to handle another fight of wounded hearts and wounding words, and for a moment he faltered. But his friend's voice was warm, even if his expression was strange, and the bard relaxed far enough to reach out and clasp the offered hand with relief, his trembling fingers tightening on the smith's briefly.

"You've a talent for understatement," he spoke, a wry smile in his voice as he hung up his cloak and Isuma made her own greeting, sitting up on her hindpaws on the counter and peeping mournfully at the red-haired smith to come scratch her ears, all big eyes and fluffed up feathers. "Perhaps you'll become a bard as well as a smith." And gods least fortunate, but Caiside looked almost as bad as he felt. Jigano hid a wince of sympathy as he eased towards the warmer part of the room, rubbing his hands distractedly over his arms.

"I heard you'd had a warrant out," he said, wry humor and shared rebellion flickering in his blue eyes. "What's happened with you since monarchy arrived on Caido?" The last time he'd seen the smith was just before Zariah had become Queen. After that things had gotten... hectic. For everyone.

The strange smile on Caiside’s face grew more genuine upon hearing Jigano’s voice, on shaking his hand. Despite what the world threw at him, whatever the ailment plaguing him was, Caiside had a friend, and that was worth his real smile. As he stepped back, Caiside gave in to Isuma’s pleas, burying both hands in her downy feathers. ”I always thought bards were supposed to have a talent for overstatement?” He quipped back quickly, golden eyes lifting to look at his friend while his hands still worked over the gryphlet on the counter. ”Though perhaps with some training? We could trade skills.” The mention of the monarchy, drew a deeply exaggerated sigh from Caiside (perhaps he would be a better bard than he thought) and he rolled his eyes. ”It was not the first warrant I have had out for me. I doubt it will be the last.” There had not been so many he couldn’t count them on one hand, though the crimes he was accused of with them were far more extensive. ”The warrant was actually the second time I was nearly put in jail, just under our tyrant. After that...” ...I started getting sick. ”...I tried to keep my head down, lest it be removed from me. I had heard you received much of the same treatment though. I hope you fared better than I.” Caiside I have never been allowed to be Holy, I have never been forgiven for Wanting;

Isuma chirruped happily at the attention, and Jigano relaxed a little as he let his companion's happiness ease some of the weary tightness in his chest. He even managed a chuckle at Caiside's witty quip, giving his friend a tired wink. "Ah, therein lies the secret, you see. A good bard must be capable of both! And overstatement is so much easier than under." He tilted his head in a welcome nod, pleased at the idea of trading skills with his friend and colleague.

And fellow rebel, as it had turned out. He grinned in spite of his lingering chill at his friend's theatrics, unsurprised to hear that Caiside had found himself in trouble with authority before. "Nor my first, either," he admitted with a wry grin. "Not without reason, as it turned out... I wasn't very healthy for the old Sovereign to have around, though the one who took his place was more fond of me after that." He had been a little bit in love with her, though only from a distance, and it had been entirely one-sided.

At the mention of faring better Jigano's grin faded, tension seizing up in his chest. "Ah... not exactly, no." If Caiside hadn't heard of the whole king debacle, Jigano wasn't sure he wanted to bring it up again and reopen wounds still fresh with shame. "But what was the first time you nearly ended up in the Penitentiary?" he asked, honestly curious - and also hoping to nudge the conversation back towards the handsome smith.

”And here I was thinking you were the very pinnacle of a model citizen.” Caiside teased gently, trying to coax Isuma onto his shoulder. ”Though I would say your old sovereign was the unhealthy one, seeing as you outlasted them.” He moved around the counter, stopping beside Jigano and considering. Jigano was a friend, the first he’d made since coming here, and the only person to earn even a little of Caisides trust. Enough that he felt safe in revealing more details of his past. ”Before this world, my crimes were... exaggerated. I had the gall to be on the losing side of a war.” He smiled tightly, not offering more, but hoping his friend would understand the gravity behind the admission. Whatever he’d said seemed to have distressed the bard, which had not been his intention. There was a flare up of irritation in his chest that he tried to keep from crystallizing into anger. Caiside was normally so careful with his words, but the sickness creeping upon him seemed to have robbed him of his silver rogue, in addition to everything else. ”The first time I was caught entering the Greatwoods.” Caiside sighed, and shook his head, lamenting his misstep. ”The Left Hand caught up with me. If I’m being honest, I don’t know how I managed to avoid repercussions then.” Caiside I have never been allowed to be Holy, I have never been forgiven for Wanting;

Isuma was perfectly happy to be coaxed (and pampered and petted and fussed over) and made the leap to Caiside's shoulder on gentle talons, rubbing the side of her face against his cheek while purring her approval. Jigano chuckled at both his friend's teasing and his companion's cheerful display of affection for the smith, though the sound was subdued. "All a mask, I'm afraid," he joked back. "Turns out I'm terrible at following orders I disagree with, and I'm petty enough to ignore even the ones I do, if someone I don't like is giving them!" Not exactly true; he wasn't going to cut off his own nose to spite his face, so to speak, but he also wasn't inclined to follow anyone mindlessly just because they had a fancy hat, either.

As he stepped further into the forge, Jigano gave his friend a sympathetic grimace, nodding in understanding of Caiside's unfortunate 'faux pas' in choosing the wrong side. "History is never kind to the losers of such wars," he agreed somberly. "Especially when it is rewritten to better accommodate the winners." There was rarely such thing as truly unbiased history, not when it came filtered through the pen of anyone who had a stake in its outcome. And who witnessed and recorded a conflict without having a preference for one side or the other? Not impossible, perhaps, but highly improbable and rare as rooster teeth.

The bard reached for a pair of work gloves, grimacing as his hands shook and tried to betray him. He tilted a glance at Caiside, brow raised at mention of entering the Greatwood in approving humor at the other man's little act of rebellion against the ex-crown. The smile slipped at the use of Edrei's title, and he bit his lip as he turned away to catch his breath at the sharp twist of grief that spiked through him. "Edy... I can't condone what she did for the Tyrant, but I think she did what she could to mitigate some of her cousin's jackbooting. She was loyal to a fault but... that was true for her friends as well as her family." His tone was softened by the mourning note in it, and Isuma gave a quiet chirrup of comfort for her companion as he took a deep breath and tried to push the grief back so that they could get to work.

"Ah... sorry. My moods have been... volatile, of late. Did you have a project you wanted us to begin with for the lesson today?"

As the gryphlet gently clambered onto him, Caiside turned, hiding his weak smile on the softness of her feathers and reaching up, both to keep her steady as he moved and to keep stroking her. Jigano’s words drew an amused snort and a shake of the head from Caiside. Of course the bard was the rebellious type, in his own way. ”It’s a wonder you haven’t been in more trouble.” They moved deeper into the workshop, the heat of the forge comforting instead of overwhelming. He hummed, a frown twisting his lips, and looked away from the bard. ”There is... an amount of stigma that I think is... justifiable. The things you do in war...” In his minds eye, he saw bloody battlefields, deals made with demons and gods, and the fiery maw of the world. Then, he shook his head, clearing away old memories. ”But it doesn’t matter anymore, not here or anywhere else.” Pulling his gloves on as well, Caiside grabbed an apron for his silver headed friend, handing it over once the borrowed gloves were put on. He noticed the smile slip away from Jigano’s lips as he spoke though, and furrowed his brow, remembering too late the fate of the Launceleyn. ”I harbour no ill will towards her. You do what you have to in a situation like that, and while I didn’t like it... I can’t blame her either.” He wished he had been closer to her, perhaps he would have earned an even lighter deal than what he got, but at the moment he was simply thankful to have been dealt with as easily as he was. Jigano was ready to begin, and Caiside was ready to move past the awkward blip in their conversation. He clapped his hands together, relishing in the loud smack his gloves made. ”I know you are somewhat acquainted with a forge already, so we won’t start with nails.” He laughed, and reaches into a bucket to pull out some long, twisted iron puns he’d scavenged from a ruin in anticipation of this. ”I was thinking we could clean these up into workable blades. Go through the basics and make something useful.” Caiside I have never been allowed to be Holy, I have never been forgiven for Wanting;

Oh, he had been in more trouble, but he didn't have the emotional strength to go into detail about it at the moment. He would need to eventually, maybe even later today... But not right now. Not with things so fragile and just waiting to snap within him. "The same could be said of you," was all he murmured instead, a flicker of a smile on his lips that was barely a shadow of his usual lively expressions.

Into the forge, and a turn back towards Caiside's past that had the bard nodding in sympathy. "The problem is, the stigma is only justified if it applies to both sides equally," he pointed out. "The winners rarely have less blood on their hands than the losers in those situations." And didn't he know that a little too well? He glanced at his hands as he pulled on his gloves, half-expecting to see a tell-tale shadow of red there, but it was just the reflected light of the forge coals.

Wasn't it?

He nodded and sent his friend a look of gratitude and relief at hearing that he didn't blame the dead. Edy hadn't deserved to die as she had, and her passage still hurt more than he could say. Not least because he hadn't been able to truly apologize to her before she went. It was a relief to them both to move on, however, and the bard managed a weak smile at the reassurance that they would be moving beyond nails today. His brow rose at the iron that appeared from Caiside's basket, intrigued and a little impressed. "Blades? Always more violence, isn't it?" he mused with a shake of his head. His smile was a little sad, but he reached for one as well, nodding his agreement. "Unfortunately, I fear they'll be more useful than plowshares in the coming season. Even if swords aren't much use against the Long Night monsters, they'll still do to keep the winter wolves and banshees at bay." He hefted his own pun thoughtfully, then moved to join Caiside at the forge, awaiting instruction on how to begin.

Caiside couldn’t help but laugh at Jigano’s words, if only because he might scream if he didn’t. ”Things are never fair like that.” There was an edge in his voice, the last stubborn weapon in a battle already long lost. ”Their evils are on my head, as well as my own. After all, there would never have been a war without us.” He laughed again, the sound hollow, and shook his head, his loosely tied hair flopping with the motion. It wasn’t really the time for his bitterness to rise to the surface. He focused his energy on the forge instead, on the metal in his hands that would become soft and malleable, changed into something else. It was one of the few things he still had some power over, though his shaking hands and fatigue were seeking to steal it from him along with his divinity. ”A blade can be used for more than violence as well.” Caiside reminded softly, his tone calmed back into a soft monotone. He set the metal into the forge basin to heat, directing Jigano to do the same, then moved to retrieve various tools from their homes around the shop. ”These will likely be most useful for violent things though.” The admission was a little sheepish, offered under Caiside’s breath before he launched into a brief explanation of what they’d be doing, the heating and hammering and heating and hammering, and then the sharpening and finishing, going through the tools they’d use and how to use them. He was sure much of it was redundant for the other man, but he was nothing if not thorough. Caiside I have never been allowed to be Holy, I have never been forgiven for Wanting;

"We were speaking of truth, not fairness," the bard spoke mildly. "And their evils are their own. What was it that they did, Caiside?" He had never heard the tale of the war on his friend's world, and even in his weariness he had to admit to some curiosity. Perhaps, too, a little selfish, petty desire to know that he wasn't the only soul so tarnished by a shadowed past. He still held enough of himself, however, to feel a pang of sorrow at the hard, hollow sound of his friend's voice, even as their bitterness seemed to call to one another.

"Oh?" There was a curious lift to his tone, and a dry note to it at the smith's assertion. "Attacking others or protecting them, it still results in blood in the end. Or did you mean something else?" The redhead was not the only bitter one, and he might notice that the rapier that Jigano always carried was conspicuously absent from his hip.

The basics, at least, Jigano still remembered, the rust already partially knocked off by their summer gift-making venture. As he moved through the first motions again beside Caiside his shaking hands grew more confident, if not any steadier. "My father didn't make swords," he admitted quietly as they began to prime and temper the metal. "So I never learned how, either. He preferred working in silver. There were many, many smiths in Torch who turned their hands to starmetal weapons. For the glory of it, I suppose, the chance to sell them to adventurers who might someday turn out to be heroes; but either way, the result was a market glutted with such things. My father preferred more delicate work when he could get it, making things that were as beautiful as they were functional, but he hammered out his share of horse shoes and plowshares, too."

It was only fair that Jigano asked after the details of a history that had been so carefully hinted at, but never revealed. Despite the time that had passed, the bond that grew between them, there was still a shot of ice that went through his heart. It was an old fear, irrational, but it was still potent enough to keep Caiside silent longer than he would be usually. If he didn’t tell Jigano now though, then when? He didn’t know what ailed him, how it would progress. If he would get another chance like this. ”There is much they did.” Caiside began, his hands moving stiffly. ”We... the North may have incited things, raided along the edges of its lands, but they were the ones who made it a war. And they didn’t even have the decency to end it.” He laughed humourlessly, and shook his head. ”It is a long story, if you want the details.” It was a cop out, but Caiside didn’t know how else to tell the story but from the beginning, and he couldn’t start that without giving the other man at least a chance to opt out. Working with the forge brought Caiside a simple comfort. It was familiar, despite the shaking in his hands and the irritation bubbling under his skin. He could be calm teaching, and working, and listening to his friend speak about his own history. Caiside stayed quiet, watching the colour of their heating metal while he listened. ”It sounds as if your father and I would get along.” He gazed sidelong at Jigano and smiled gently, before burning his eyes back to the fire. ”I taught myself to make swords, but blades were one of the first things I learned to make.” So saying he drew the piece of metal from its heat and began to shape it, moving slowly so he could show his technique. ”Dis you spend much time with him in his forge?” Caiside I have never been allowed to be Holy, I have never been forgiven for Wanting;

Jigano worked quietly beside Caiside as the other man began to reveal some of the history of a world the bard would never see. What was the difference between a raid and war to the farmers and townsfolk caught abed by the opposing side? To kings and nobles it mattered, of course; the pushing of borders, the raising of levies on grander scales. But to the common folk, those that he had been born into? Whether it was a raid or a war that killed a loved one, dead was dead. He had to bite back the question of whether those raids had been worth it, feeling the darkness prickling beneath his skin and seeking fault and blame and punishment for a conflict he had never seen and had no part in. He had asked for Caiside's story, and he wouldn't get it if he let the blight control his tongue.

"We will be here for awhile," was all Jigano said, voice mild but blue eyes sharp beneath the weariness that he wore as a cloak. He was curious after all, even as he sunk deeper into his affliction. "It would be a good way to pass the time, and I would like to hear more about you."

He almost smiled - wry and a little bitter - at the offhand comment about Caiside getting along with his father. His friend's smile was met with a cool shake of his head; not a judgment on the smith at his side, but on the father who had died in flames. "Perhaps," was all he said, without conviction. It was a little reassuring that the redhead had focused on tools at first, at least. That he had turned his hands to tools of aid and creation before contributing to death and destruction. Jigano followed the shaping of the pun with keen eyes before beginning on his own, grunting at the effort and frustration of his blows landing slightly askew from the shake of his hands. "No, as little as I could get away with. He wanted me to succeed him at his shop. I... wanted nothing to do with it, when I was young. I was a healthy boy, but never a strong one. Not strong enough to do or become what he wanted of me, at least."

Jigano was interested enough in his tale, and it wasn’t as if Caiside had ever needed much encouragement to talk about himself. There was still a pause though, as he considered his words, where exactly to start. “When I first came of age, I left my step fathers home. I... thought I was clever, I wanted to see the world.” Caiside paused his work to sweep his arm out dramatically, his sickness not stopping his flair for the dramatic. ”I had only been travelling for a few nights when I met a man, camped in the ruins of an elven settlement. We swapped stories, and he invited me to join him on his... quest to find his birthright.” It was strange to be talking about this all so casually, after he had spent so long keeping his past silent. It was safer to be a mystery, and easier too, here in Caido. But it was also freeing, in a strange contradictory way. These were the details no one had ever heard, the mundane before the madness he had had a hand in. Caiside paused to watch the bard copy what he had done, nodding approvingly and moving on. He felt offended rude up in him at Jigano’s noncommittal answer, a dark tidal wave that threatens to open his mouth and bare his teeth, but simmered it before he might do something he would regret. It was getting harder and harder to tamp down the anger though. I suppose it makes a difference when you’re able to set your own standards.” He agreed after a moment. ”Maybe I should have asked what you wanted to start with.” Caiside I have never been allowed to be Holy, I have never been forgiven for Wanting;