The Lost Vanguard

The garnizon buzzed with activity as preparations for the journey to Harrow's Hollow began. The clatter of armor and weapons echoed through the stone walls, mingling with the low murmur of voices and the occasional barked orders. I stood near the central courtyard, watching as men and women moved purposefully, their expressions grim yet focused.

Kaldar placed a heavy hand on my shoulder, drawing my attention. "We've got an hour before we set out," he said. "Follow me."

I nodded, falling into step beside him. His pace was steady, his demeanor calm, but I could feel the weight of his thoughts in the way his eyes scanned the surroundings. We wove through the crowd, heading toward a low building nestled near the edge of the garnizon. Its stout structure stood apart from the others, smoke curling lazily from its chimney and the faint glow of firelight visible through the open doorway.

As we approached, the unmistakable sound of hammer striking metal rang out, sharp and rhythmic. The scent of burning coal and heated iron filled the air, growing stronger with each step. Kaldar stepped inside without hesitation, and I followed, my eyes adjusting to the dim interior.

The forge was a chaotic yet functional space, tools and materials scattered across sturdy wooden tables. Racks of weapons lined the walls, their edges catching the flickering light of the roaring forge at the center of the room. Behind it stood a figure, broad and stout, his silhouette unmistakable.

"Thorin!" Kaldar's voice carried over the din. The figure turned, revealing a dwarven man with a thick, braided beard and arms corded with muscle. His skin was weathered, his face lined with the marks of a lifetime spent working the forge. Despite his gruff appearance, his eyes sparkled with a sharp intelligence.

"Kaldar!" Thorin's deep voice boomed, his expression splitting into a toothy grin. He set down his hammer, wiping his hands on a sooty cloth as he stepped forward. "What brings you to my forge? And who's the pup?"

Kaldar chuckled, clapping Thorin on the shoulder. "My son, Alaric. He's joining us on the journey to Harrow's Hollow."

Thorin's eyes appraised me quickly, his grin fading into a thoughtful expression. "Hmph. Needs a blade, then."

"That he does," Kaldar replied, his tone serious. "Something he can grow into. And a knife, too."

The dwarf scratched his chin, his fingers weaving through his beard. "I've got just the thing," he muttered, turning toward one of the racks. He scanned the array of weapons before selecting a sword, its hilt wrapped in dark leather. The blade was long and slender, its surface polished to a mirror shine.

"A hand-and-a-half sword," Thorin said, holding it out for me to see. "Good balance, light enough for a beginner but sturdy enough to hold its own in a fight."

I reached out hesitantly, my fingers curling around the hilt. The weight was heavier than I expected but not unmanageable. The leather grip felt cool against my palm, and as I lifted the blade, it felt almost… natural.

"Go on, give it a swing," Thorin urged, stepping back to give me space.

I glanced at Kaldar, who nodded in approval. Taking a deep breath, I shifted my grip and swung the sword experimentally. The blade whistled faintly through the air, the motion smoother than I anticipated. It wasn't perfect—my movements were awkward, untrained—but there was a strange satisfaction in the way the weapon moved in my hands.

"Not bad," Thorin said with a nod. "You'll need practice, but the blade suits you.

"He returned to the rack, selecting a smaller weapon, a knife with a curved blade and a simple hilt. "And this," he said, handing it to me. "A good knife can save your life as much as a sword can."

I took the knife, its weight insignificant compared to the sword. The blade was sharp, its edge gleaming in the firelight. I slid it into the sheath Thorin provided, fastening it to my belt.

"And this," Thorin added, reaching under the table to produce what looked like an intricately crafted scabbard. It wasn't an ordinary scabbard; the metal bands along its surface gleamed faintly, runes etched into the leather glowing softly in the dim light. "Magnetized system," he explained. "Locks the blade in place until you give it a firm twist and pull. Perfect for carrying on your back without it sliding out unexpectedly."

Curious, I inspected the scabbard. As I slid the blade in, a faint hum resonated, and I felt a gentle pull as the sword settled into place. Testing Thorin's words, I gave the hilt a sharp twist, and the blade came free smoothly, ready for use. The mechanism was seamless, almost intuitive.

"It'll hold even if you're running, jumping, or climbing," Thorin assured. "You won't lose it unless you mean to."

"Thank you," I said, the words feeling inadequate for the gift I'd just received.

Thorin waved a hand dismissively. "Bah, don't thank me yet. Just don't lose them, or worse, break them. I put good work into those blades."

Kaldar placed a hand on my shoulder again, his grip firm. "He won't," he said confidently. "We'll see to that."

The dwarf grunted, a faint smile tugging at his lips. "See that you do. Now go on, you've got a journey ahead of you."

We left the forge, the cold air biting at my face once more. The sword and knife felt strange at my side, their weight both reassuring and daunting. Kaldar led the way back toward the center of the garnizon, where the others were beginning to gather.

The hunters were checking their gear, adjusting straps and testing blades. Elryan stood apart from the group, speaking quietly with Myrial. Their polished armor and pristine weapons stood in stark contrast to the rugged equipment of the northern hunters. Myrial caught my eye briefly, her expression unreadable, before turning back to Elryan.

Kaldar nudged me, his gaze following mine. "Don't let them intimidate you," he said quietly. "They're here for the same reason we are—to survive."

I nodded, gripping the hilt of my new sword. The fire from my dream flickered faintly in my chest, a reminder of the path I had chosen—or perhaps the path that had been chosen for me.

"Ready?" Kaldar asked, his voice breaking through my thoughts.

"Yes," I said, the word carrying more conviction than I felt.

"Good," he said, motioning toward the others. "Then let's move out."