3rd of Spring, 515 AV
Baelin’s arm was tired. No two ways about it, this sucked. Actually, no. It blew. That would be more appropriate to say, considering he was literally just blowing hot air. Typically, the forge could hold its heat better, but today it was refusing to cooperate. Baelin wasn’t sure if it was because winter’s chill was still lingering, even in these early days of spring, or if it was because of some deficiency in the forge itself. He was inclined to think it was the latter, considering that this same forge had worked perfectly fine several days ago.
Whatever the problem, he could diagnose it later. He would diagnose it later. If he was a betting man, he’d wager that there was too much accumulated gunk at the forge’s bottom. It would block the air flow from the bellows and make it a bear to keep the coals at temperature. An easy enough problem to fix if he hadn’t already started the heat treating process. Now he was committed to a solid bell of bellows pumping to keep his metal red hot. He had at least fifty small, steel rings nestled in the coals. They were all threaded on a long wire, its ends hooked over to keep the rings from falling off. If he shifted his view, he could just see the links tucked in place among the coals. They were indeed still red hot, so at least that was working.
If he was gauging his time correctly, he was about halfway through the heat treating. But time was ticking by slowly, and it felt as if the Watchtower’s bell would never come. The coals seemed to be fading again, letting their heat seep away far too quickly. Gritting his teeth, Baelin gripped the wooden handle of the bellows and yanked it up. The chambers filled with air as he lifted, and when he pushed back down it expelled its contents into the forge. A tendril of smoke rose from the coals, indicating that at least some air had gotten to its target. He pulled the handle up again and tried to ignore the slight tremble in his arm, fatigue threating to undermine his heat treating.
This had to be the stupidest thing. A well banked fire could stay lit for bells at a time, yet here he was pumping the bellows every few chimes. If he had remembered to clean out the blasted base of the forge before starting, then this all could have been avoided. But no, he had to go and be an idiot.
The red coals looked to be dulling again, so Baelin once again pulled on the bellows and thrust down. They flared with life, smoke spilling from the forge. He pumped the bellows a few more times to keep it going, then let go to give his arm a bit of a rest. As the chimes went by, Baelin continued the maddening fight to keep the forge lit. Until, blessedly, he could hear the ring of the bell announcing the end of his heat treatment.
Baelin’s arm was tired. No two ways about it, this sucked. Actually, no. It blew. That would be more appropriate to say, considering he was literally just blowing hot air. Typically, the forge could hold its heat better, but today it was refusing to cooperate. Baelin wasn’t sure if it was because winter’s chill was still lingering, even in these early days of spring, or if it was because of some deficiency in the forge itself. He was inclined to think it was the latter, considering that this same forge had worked perfectly fine several days ago.
Whatever the problem, he could diagnose it later. He would diagnose it later. If he was a betting man, he’d wager that there was too much accumulated gunk at the forge’s bottom. It would block the air flow from the bellows and make it a bear to keep the coals at temperature. An easy enough problem to fix if he hadn’t already started the heat treating process. Now he was committed to a solid bell of bellows pumping to keep his metal red hot. He had at least fifty small, steel rings nestled in the coals. They were all threaded on a long wire, its ends hooked over to keep the rings from falling off. If he shifted his view, he could just see the links tucked in place among the coals. They were indeed still red hot, so at least that was working.
If he was gauging his time correctly, he was about halfway through the heat treating. But time was ticking by slowly, and it felt as if the Watchtower’s bell would never come. The coals seemed to be fading again, letting their heat seep away far too quickly. Gritting his teeth, Baelin gripped the wooden handle of the bellows and yanked it up. The chambers filled with air as he lifted, and when he pushed back down it expelled its contents into the forge. A tendril of smoke rose from the coals, indicating that at least some air had gotten to its target. He pulled the handle up again and tried to ignore the slight tremble in his arm, fatigue threating to undermine his heat treating.
This had to be the stupidest thing. A well banked fire could stay lit for bells at a time, yet here he was pumping the bellows every few chimes. If he had remembered to clean out the blasted base of the forge before starting, then this all could have been avoided. But no, he had to go and be an idiot.
The red coals looked to be dulling again, so Baelin once again pulled on the bellows and thrust down. They flared with life, smoke spilling from the forge. He pumped the bellows a few more times to keep it going, then let go to give his arm a bit of a rest. As the chimes went by, Baelin continued the maddening fight to keep the forge lit. Until, blessedly, he could hear the ring of the bell announcing the end of his heat treatment.
