Shield

The sound of hammer against metal rang throughout the room, each strike a passionate and unyielding force. Heat saturated every part of the cramped room, clinging to the blacksmith's tools and skin. The only relief was through a small, squared window, open to the cool night air.

Sweat beaded toward Nolrian's brow, wiped aside by steady hands. The metal before her was taking much longer to yield than others, its shape grudgingly yielding. Hours upon hours had passed, and what was once an intimidating pile of material had been refined and crafted into a curved plate the size of a wagon wheel.

Midswing, hunger struck out at her. Attempting to shrug it off, Nolrian continued with her craft, yet this time the pain could not be ignored. Nolrian suddenly felt the sap of fatigue hit her like a mace. It brought her movements to a painful slow, the endurance she held onto for so long now crumbling.

Dropping her hammer to the stone floor, Nolrian stumbled backward, landing on a nearby stool, the rhythmic beat against metal replaced by gasps for air. Slouched backwards against the wall, she looked outside and observed the stars, still shining after all these years.

After several minutes, the blacksmith struggled to her feet and began to shut down the forge. Picking up an iron rod, she spread out the charcoal in the furnace, each piece letting out glowing ash as they began to cool. Slowly but surely the lights of the forge faded into the night. Dousing her face with water from a bucket near the door, Nolrian looked around to make sure nothing was forgotten. Her tools were placed neatly on the table, the forge was silent, and materials were properly stored. Nodding contently to herself, she stepped inside the house.

After taking her boots off, Nolrian picked them up as she cautiously closed the heavy door behind her. She tiptoed across the wooden floor of the house, passing the kitchen and family room until she finally reaching the front of the house. Nolrian placed her boots next to three other pairs of shoes, a set of large dusty loafers, and two sets of boots, one set made of leather and roughly about the size of hers, with the other being a wider set of fur boots. An old sword laid against the wall, chipped in some places but still proud, a memento of a time long past. Her stomach growling again, she headed towards the kitchen.

Moonlight streamed through glass windows, glancing off mismatched sets of pots and pans. The windows themselves were cracked in some areas.

Feeling around the kitchen wall, Nolrian smiled as she soon found a handle. After opening the door, she reached in and touched several cool yet still soft loaves of bread inside. Taking several of them into her hands, Nolrian closed the pantry door behind her, and leaned on the worn wooden countertops. With nothing to judge nor stop her, she ate, biting and tearing away piece after piece, satisfying her hunger, a feeling she had not had for days. Leaving nothing but the smallest of breadcrumbs on her fingers, she dusted off the rest.

After washing and changing out of her blacksmith attire, Nolrian entered her bedroom and soon she found herself in a bed much too large for just herself. As she closed her eyes for much needed rest, she let the comfort of sleep take her away.

“Mother”

…

“Mother!”

Sitting up slowly, Nolrian began to adjust to the morning light, rubbing her eyes and letting out an extended yawn. Looking to her side she saw her daughter standing there in a white shirt and a blue denim skirt held up by suspenders.

“Jade? What is it dear?” Nolrian said as her feet met the cold morning floor.

“The tax collector’s come. He’s waiting for you at the front door.”

“Okay, you can tell him that I’ll be there soon. Let me get ready first.”

Simply nodding in response, Jade made her way out of the room, closing the door behind her.

Moving as quickly as possible, Nolrian threw off her nightgown and put on a white tunic and tan pants. Grabbing a handful of hair behind her, she tied it into a rough ponytail, looking more like a bundle of wheat than a hairstyle. Smoothing out any wrinkles, Nolrian took a swift look into an old bronze mirror the same length as her. Nothing seemed out of place.

Opening her bedroom door, she looked toward the front to see a balding middle-aged man waiting on their doorstep toting a brown cloth satchel. He was chatting, and from the looks of it laughing, with her daughter who seemed to respond with both nods and ‘mhmm’s. The man seemed to spot Nolrian and gave a hearty wave.

“Greetings Nolrian! It’s a fine morning isn’t it?”

Hurrying to the front, Nolrian smiled and returned the greeting.

“Good morning to you Mr. Cain! I’m sorry for the wait. I overslept a tad.”

“Ah, you don’t need to bother yourself any. Jade here entertained me for a little; she has the funniest sense of humor. Not to mention that I personally enjoy these morning runs, even if others aren’t quite so fond of the morning as I am.”, said Mr. Cain giving a chuckle.

Seeing that her work was done, Jade disappeared back into the house.

“But anyway, I suppose I should get to the point; I don’t want to keep you for too long.” Mr. Cain fumbled around with his bag for a brief moment before pulling out several slips of paper.

“Oh, is there something wrong Mr. Cain?”, Nolrian said as she looked at the unfamiliar forms.

“I’ll be blunt with you Nolrian, recently the lords passed a new tax on businesses, and yours is among them I’m afraid. This means that on top of your normal taxes, you’re going to have to pay an additional twenty percent from every sale.” Pausing for a moment he handed Nolrian the forms. “You will be required to fill these forms out with all sales from now on and turn them into me whenever I make my rounds again. I know this may sound unorthodox, but please be understanding.”

Nolrian just stood there trying to comprehend the situation. “Twenty percent, of all my sales? I’m sorry Mr. Cain but I don’t know if I’ll be able to pull that off. You can understand, can’t you? Is there any way that we could come to an agreement?”

Frowning to himself, Mr. Cain stood there pondering the situation. “Nolrian, you have my greatest sympathies, but you also know that I don’t make the laws. Your situation is unfortunate, and while I may not be able to directly assist you financially, I’m willing to help in any other way possible.”

“I… I understand.”

Rubbing the back of his head, Mr. Cain said, “You don’t have to pay now. Well, I suppose that normally you would have to, but I think I can cover you for a week or so. I wish I could do more.”

Finally managing to force her eyes off of the tax forms, Nolrian looked up, “Thank you Mr. Cain.”

He nodded in response. “It’s the least I could do for Steve. He was a good man.” Pausing for a brief moment he looked down at his watch. “If that’s all, I suppose I shall bid you a good day. Remember to take care of yourself.” Mr. Cain gave a slight bow and walked out their yard toward the main street.

Closing the door, Nolrian placed the papers down on the dining room table and headed toward the kitchen. Jade was already beginning to stew together something for noon dinner, throwing in small slabs of beef, chunks of potato, and chopped carrots into a steaming broth. Looking around, she could find no sign of her son. There were no sounds from the yard or the forge. All but the kitchen was silent.

“Jade, where is Andre?”

Keeping her eyes on the pot, Jade replied, “He was out in the back the last time I saw him.”

“How long ago was this?”

“Probably an hour or so.”

“What was he doing?”

“I don’t know, probably practicing hitting trees with that wooden stick he calls a sword.”

Walking toward the window, Nolrian peaked out toward the back where their land met the thick line of forest. Nothing met her gaze except for the towering presence of the trees. Concerned, Nolrian scanned the room until it fell toward the front door. Only three sets of shoes were there, and the sword was gone.

Snatching her boots, the mother dashed toward the back. Bursting through the back door, Nolrian slammed her feet into her shoes and grabbed hold of her blacksmithing hammer. Picking up the unfinished shield by a thick strip of leather on the back, she dashed out the forge and toward the tree line. The forest around her blurred, leaves melted into a stream of brown and green.

“Why did I let this happen? I should have known. Why didn’t I see the signs!”

Hurdling over a log, Nolrian frantically scanned the forest looking for any sign of her son.

“Perhaps I’m overreacting; he would never have done that. Yeah, he’s probably at a friend’s house, or maybe he went to see the barracks. He always wanted to learn how to use that sword.”

A thundering roar shook the ground around her.

Adrenaline pumping, Nolrian sprinted toward the noise. The crunch of leaves fading into the solid indicator of dirt and stone.

Suddenly she could hear a voice, a familiar one.

“Murderer! You’re just a murderer!”

In front of Nolrian stood the largest bear she had ever known. Tromos, a massive bear made up of nothing but muscle and rage. Compared to it, her son looked like stick.

“Come at me! I’ll tear you apart!”

Andre held nothing save for their family’s sword. Tears streamed down his face, each drop splattering against the hard earth.

Before Nolrian could react, the beast charged forward and barreled toward her son, the ground trembling as each paw struck the ground. Andre held a wide stance, his knees bent. As the bear swiped toward him with horrifying power, he tried to jump out of the way, launching himself toward a nearby tree.

Nolrian could only hear a scream as the bear blocked her view.

“ANDRE! RUN!”

Hearing nothing in response, Nolrian charged at the bear, yelling with as much strength as she could give.

It turned.

Up close Nolrian could see the many broken weapons and innumerable scars that lined the bear’s body. Decades of battle and pain glared at Nolrian through raging red eyes.

“I said RUN ANDRE! Get away from here NOW!”

Glancing over, she could see her son struggling to get up.

“MOM, what are you doing!?”

The bear seemed only to acknowledge the presence of Nolrian as it charged. Soon the monstrosity stood directly in front of her, an arm the size of a tree trunk swinging towards her. Holding up her shield toward the claw, Nolrian jumped sideways, bracing for impact.

She found herself hurdling toward her son. Landing with a soft thud upon the ground, she got to her feet quickly, preparing herself for another attack. Looking behind her, Nolrian could see her son leaning against a pine tree, bleeding from his left arm, and his right barely holding onto the sword.

“Andre! You need to get out of here now!” Her son could give no words but a nod and began to sprint back toward the town.

Looking back towards the bear, she could see that one of its claws had snapped against her shield. It growled before barreling once again toward Nolrian. As the bear closed in, Nolrian took cover next to a tree, aiming the shield toward the anticipated attack.

As the blow hit, Nolrian found herself once again hurling through the air. She heard the crunching of leaves beneath her as she landed. Dazed, she looked back towards the bear, its left paw was bleeding against the splintered trunk of the massive pine it had hit.

Glancing down at her shield as she ran away, Nolrian saw that it was dented in some places and torn in others. Many of the new reinforcements that she had not been able to properly weld had fallen off, exposing the old metal of the original shield and a singular hole had appeared in one of the weak spots.

She heard another roar.

Nolrian looked behind her to see Tromos still in pursuit, crashing through trees and stomping through brush. Every second the noise of death grew closer and closer.

A piercing sound filled the air, the sound of the town’s alarm.

Pushing onward, Nolrian focused her movements toward the horn. She heard yelling in the distance.

“Just a little more”

Bursting through the tree line, she suddenly found herself looking down a wall of archers. A woman clad in chainmail yelled out to her. “Nolrian, get behind us. Quickly!”

Making one last dash, Nolrian ducked behind the soldiers, her shield outstretched toward the ground. As she collapsed, Nolrian could barely move. Every effort to look for her son sent her head spinning. Breathing felt heavy, every intake of air felt like lifting dead weight only to drop it again. With one last attempt, she lifted her head before all went dark.

***

The sound of hammer against steel echoed throughout the forge. Time itself had succumbed to the rhythmic beat of the blacksmith. The new metal, while still somewhat separate, had managed to form itself into a more coherent piece. Sighing to herself, Nolrian looked at the old shield. It still bore the marks of the past and had gained new ones as well. It may never be as full as it once was, nor would it ever return to its military service, but she wasn’t about to give up on it.