Urist McBeardface and Urist McMuginhand sat at the entrance to their Fort, perched on the very edge of a large granite slab which jutted out from the top of a towering precipice, overlooking a river winding through the deeply forested valley below. The rush of the wind and the murmering of water over distant river rocks were an orchestra for the glorious landscape, a Toast be unto Armok!
But Urist was restless, fumbling with the tavern's +granite mug+ in his hands as he contemplated the scene laid out below his swinging feet. He felt distinctly uneasy in this position, but perhaps this was the right way to be, given the depth of the question bothering him.
Urist took a sip from his ☼obsidian goblet☼, hewn from a shard lifted from the very heart of the mountain, and laid a comforting hand on his shoulder.
What is troubling you, Urist? You seem worried, even agitated. Aren't you sleeping well in your ≡cherry wood bed≡?
I am glad you asked, Urist. The words slipped out over his ale like a gasp of pressure from the deep caverns. I have been thinking a lot lately..
You really shouldn't do that, it is neither our place as dwarves nor particularly productive, it is far better to simply take life as it comes without a single thought as to where you step or where you should go next. This is the way of dwarves since Armok created us..
Well, yes, agreed Urist, tugging his beard, but it is precisely that which is bothering me. Our creation, or rather, the First Anvil.
Ah well, yes ok, this is a natural thought for every dwarf. Urist took a long, wise draught from his goblet. He was particularly delighted at the distinct notes in his raspberry wine. A blissful look spread on his ruddy face. Armok, a Toast be unto him!, created the First Anvil, just as he created us. There is nothing more to it.
Well, yes, of course! agreed Urist, exasperated, but where is the First Anvil? There is no record of it in any of the known civilizations, I mean its location.. it only exists in legend! Nobody even knows where it was lost, Armok knows how such an artifact could ever be lost in the first place, a Toast be unto his name! It doesn't make any sense! If there was a First Anvil, we would not have lost knowledge of it, but without a First Anvil, there could be no second anvil! We don't even know the name of the second anvil, how was it created? Where? The First Anvil must be, but it seems it cannot be! It is like the surface of a well which does not know which way to flow and merely sloshes back and forth for all of time!! Urist shook his fist as he cried out at the clouds, spilling some of his ale.
Calm down, Urist exclaimed Urist, You seem angry! Let me relieve you with the wisdom of my faith. There is a First Anvil. And we know exactly where it is.
We do? But where, how do you know?! And why do you keep such knowledge secret?!!
Look around you, all that you see..
Urist drank the world with his eyes, and seemed relieved if still confused.
What happens, when you set your pick down, Urist?
What? I should never do such a thing, I sleep with it of course and..
Yes, yes, ok.. but what about when Urist sets his pick down?
Oh, yes he is certainly sloppy like that.
Yes he is, I am in awe that Urist still lives. But what of his pick?
Oh, well he forgets where it lies, the daft fool! And then he has to go begging Urist to make him yet another...
Indeed. And so his pick lies on the ground, and is forgotten, and the earth covers it and claims it and it is buried away from the minds of all dwarves, a lost stone for the moss to grow upon. Look again at the world, Urist.
Urist took a long draught of ale to chase the heady words of his friend Urist, and gazed across the valley. As he did so, he remarked bemusedly to himself that the mountains looked as though they were stones covered in cave-moss. The giant trees were so far away, if he stretched his leg out he felt he could crush them with his foot. And then it dawned on him... his eyes went wide and he looked at Urist in amazement.
The First Anvil! It is right beneath our very feet this entire time! But why do you tell no one?!
Yes, Urist. The First Anvil was brought here by Armok, a Toast be unto his name, and the world you see is the moss that has grown over it after he left it, forgotten, after forging the dwarves and the rest of his creations upon it. The second anvil was struck on the First Anvil by the first dwarves, and while the story was forgotten, the First Anvil still lies there, deep below, at the heart of the world. Its place was forgotten, but it was never lost. How could it be? It is larger than any mountain and the world and everything we know rests upon it still. It has been here this whole time. As to why we tell noone, well we share with all who join our faith, but without a way to prove the truth, it is of little use to tell others. No dwarf can reach the center of the world to see for himself the First Anvil is there, and claiming so starts tavern brawls as easily as taking another dwarf's ale. So we leave it, as a matter of faith. Most of the time, our followers come to us with the realization themselves.
Urist got up so quickly he nearly lost his mug and had to snatch it from the air, almost falling to his death in the process. Whew! That was close, almost lost my mug! he exclaimed.
My beard, yes you did! But where are you going in such a hurry, Urist?
Urist, is it not clear? I am going to dig to the center of the world and touch the First Anvil! I will bring it back into our Legends, that no dwarf ever forget again the most incredible creation of Armok, a Toast unto his name! As proof, I will even strike a new anvil directly upon it! Such an artifact!! I need adamantium!!! Urist cried out, suddenly taken by the strangest of moods, the words coming over his shoulder as he rushed back into the Fort in his hurry to reach the mines. I know how to get there! I know a way past the great magma sea!
Urist chuckled. Good idea, Urist, I am sure you will succeed and your name will be forever a legend to all dwarves, and this Fort in particular, as the dwarf who brought Armok's treasure back to the surface from the center of the world, a Toast be unto him and unto you! He sipped the last of his wine and looked back over the valley. Yes. A very good idea indeed, no bother thinking any more about it. Ho! I am nearly out of wine... he mentioned to noone in particular. Today was going to be a good day, indeed. Urist stroked his beard, pleased that he was so wise and very satisfied that he could help his good friend Urist in his time of need.
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Topic: A Short Creation Story: The Anvil of Armok (Read 879 times)