Day 3, Harald's gift

My father, Harald, taught me today in the arts of blacksmithing. We started with the easier metals, bronze and gold. My first project was a bronze anvil necklace matching the one my dad wears around his neck. The molten bronze sizzled as I poured it into the same clay mold my dad used to make his anvil necklace. The cooling process was nothing but anticipation. I waited for what seemed like a whole season for the metal to cool. The grooling anticipation was short lived, for there was one more honor my dad had in store for me. He picked a dull piece of iron which looked like the color of the darkest moors just outside Fyrkat. What could possobly come of something so drab and uninspiring? It was plunged into the furnace until it was glowing brighter than the sun. He then lied it upon the anvil clanging his hammer down hard upon the sun laden metal. Sparks gently danced from the iron celebrating with every strike from his hammer. *CLANG*.... *CLANG*.... *CLANG*.... the sound echoed with every swing creating a musical hum for the sparks to dance to. I was shocked at the beauty this once stodgy metal produced. After many long hours of aweinspiring work it was finished. It was hard to believe that the dark iron had become as brilliant as anything I had ever seen. The blade, though hiltless, stood as bold as the strongest men in Fyrkat, and it was to be mine.