Something in Gryffin's spirit would not let him walk blindly into indentured servitude. The young blacksmith searched for any chance to evade this onus. There, on the anvil, was the brand new blade his father was working on when he ventured into the woods in the morning. An amber glow told him that it had not yet cooled.
"NO!!" Gryffin cried out as he dove for the sword. His desperate ploy startled the veteran knight for merely a moment. Aeric knew that while the boy had no equal in crafting such weapons, his proficency in their use was slight. He drew his own weapon from its scabbard and waited patiently for Gryffin to make his move. He felt it was a shame that he would have to disgrace the lad this way but the need for his services was too great to let him go.
Make his move Gryffin did, but not the one expected of him. As he went through the motions of circling Aeric, he reached his true target. Turning suddenly, he thrusted the sword into the dry hay which served as his bedding, embedding the tip in the ground beneath.
When the older men realized what he had done, plumes of smoke were already rising from the smoldering straw. Both knew that if they did not put out the flames quickly, the entire house would soon be engulfed. As Aeric and Donner grabs buckets of water that were kept near the forge, Gryffin sprinted for the door.
It took only minutes to drench the flames, but when they were done, Gryffin was gone. Without saying a word, Aeric took off into the woods. He would not fail at such a simple task as this.
"I knew his spirit could not be tamed." Donnor muttered to himself. "Just too much of his mother in him." The old blacksmith fell back into a chair as he reminisced about that fateful day of his youth when he stumbled upon the fey lands.
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