Once, in a small town surrounded by thick forests, there
lived a young blacksmith. All day long
he laboured, turning out horseshoes, railings and all manner of metal goods for
the people of the town. He loved his work and could think of no better way to
spend his time than beating hot metal into useful things.
One day, hard at work in his smithy, he looked up and saw a young
woman standing by the door. When she
smiled, he recognised her as one of the two young women who had moved into a
house in the forest just outside town earlier in the year. The townspeople kept
away from them believing them to be witches or – worse – lesbians, but the
blacksmith was an easy-going soul and always had a kind word for everyone.
“Good day, Miss!”, he said cheerfully. “Were you looking for
something?”
The young lady was fingering some of the chains hanging in
skeins by the doorway.
“These are very good” she said admiringly. “Did you make them?”
“Aye Miss”, the blacksmith replied, puffing out his
(considerable) chest in pride, as making chain was a time-consuming task in
those days without machinery and the hanging chains represented several weeks
of work.
“I think I’d like to buy some”, she said with a smile. “Always useful to have chains – especially in
the forest with so many wild beasts about.”
“Aye, Miss” the blacksmith replied again, and they took to haggling
and soon the young lady was the proud possessor of several lengths of chain of
different sizes.
“Can you make anything, from iron?” she asked.
The blacksmith paused.
“Almost anything, Miss” he replied, cautiously, for he was an honest
fellow.
“Could you make…say… a collar? An iron collar, with attachments
for chains, and thick flanges for a padlock?
And shackles too, the same but already connected to one another with
chains?”
“Aye Miss” the blacksmith replied uncertainly. “But a dog’s
better off with a leather collar, you know?
Iron collar’d be powerful heavy.”
“Oh, this isn’t for a dog.” the young lady replied
hurriedly. “It’s for a… a beast. A big,
fierce beast that we trapped. A good
heavy iron collar is just what it needs.
And shackles, like I said.”
“Aye, very well Miss” nodded the blacksmith, secretly rather
uncomfortable as he did not believe in cruelty even to big fierce beasts. “But you don’t need flanges and padlocks: I
can do you a catch that no beast’ll ever be able to work.”
“No, padlocks are best.” the young lady replied
earnestly. “Can’t be too careful.”
So the blacksmith agreed to make collar and shackles, and lengths
of chain between them. He tried to make them as light as he could, but iron
working in those days was a crude business and the collar with its great thick
flanges weighed many pounds.
Nonetheless, the young lady professed herself delighted with
them, and struggled off along the path into the forest carrying her heavy load,
the blacksmith standing watching her outside his smithy, thinking her a winsome
creature and desperately wishing he had offered to carry the heavy restraints himself.
 |
| These look rather unpleasant. Poor beast. |
Several weeks passed, until one day the blacksmith heard a
soft knock on his door and opened it to see the young lady again.
“Good day, Miss!" he greeted her. Not a problem with the ironmongery, I hope?”
“No, no!” she replied brightly. “No, the beast is thoroughly under control. They’re just right for him. And actually, that’s what I wanted to talk
about. You see, we were thinking of
going hunting. To catch a few more
beasts… just as big and fierce. And we were wondering if you could make…. Oooh,
shall we say three more sets? Like
those? Maybe a little heavier, if you
can…”
“Hunting fierce beasts, Miss?” he replied, his brow furrowed
with concern. “That doesn’t sound very
safe, for a pair of young – “
“We’ll be fine” she said, decisively cutting him off. “It’s what we do. But we need the chains and shackles and
things. Can you make them?”
“Of course, Miss” he replied, proudly. “It will be an honour
and a pleasure.”
When the work was completed, it filled a large sack that the
blacksmith could barely lift. So with
much clanking and clashing, he heaved it onto the back of his cart and set off
for the young ladies’ house. Along the winding
path his horse trotted, before pulling up in front of the cottage. As he
dismounted, he fancied he could hear some muffled cries, but when he paused and
listened more intently, they stopped, so he decided it must have been only the
wind.
He hauled the sack down and dragged it across to the door,
knocking gently.
The young lady opened the door with a startled look.
“Oh, hello!” she said.
“Who is it, Melissa?” came a voice from inside. The blacksmith peeked around the door and saw
a dark-haired woman, hurriedly closing a trapdoor in the floor.
“Just the blacksmith, Harriet” the young lady – Melissa –
replied. “I think he’s brought the
things I ordered - for the beasts, you know”.
Harriet came to the door and looked at the sack. “In there? What
things?”
“Oh, you remember!” Melissa replied brightly. “You know: chains and stuff. For the hunt. When we go and hunt beasts?”
“Oh yes, the beast hunt” Harriet muttered and with a curt
nod, she went back into the house. With
a certain amount of effort, and still more awkwardness, the blacksmith managed
to get the sack into the house, took his payment and departed, kicking himself
for not finding some excuse to be invited in by the lovely Melissa.
Back at his smithy, all through the afternoon, he found
himself working metal into the shape of a capital ‘M’, with increasingly curly
and ornate serifs. He was in love.
 |
| Harriet and Melissa. I don't know why they're wearing nighties... it's ages until bedtime. |
Four days later, in the forest, Melissa again opened the
door to see the blacksmith standing there.
“Oh, it’s you” she said, immediately thinking it an
extraordinarily stupid thing to say. “Is
everything all right?”
“Well, yes and no, Miss”, said the blacksmith wringing his
leather cap in his hands. “See, I don’t
know if you heard the news in the town but… three young men went missing two nights
back. They were on their way back home from
the inn and they just vanished. Everyone’s
in a terrible state about it.”
“Yes, we heard about that.” Melissa replied
cautiously. “Very sad. I hope they’ll turn up… boys do run off from
time to time, though, don’t they?
Headstrong things.”
“But not these three, Miss!” the blacksmith responded,
earnestly. “One of ‘em was due to be married today – and another his best
man! Makes no sense they’d go a-running
away before the wedding.”
“But what’s it got to do with us?” Melissa asked.
“Well Miss”, the blacksmith said, wringing his leather cap
more than ever. “I was just thinking-like. With those three lads missing… missing in the
forest like as not, this forest where the two of you live…”
“Go on…” Melissa said, narrowing her eyes. Harriet appeared, standing silently behind
her. She seemed to be clutching
something behind her back, but the blacksmith didn’t notice.
“And… and then I got to thinking of all those shackles and chains
and things that I made you. Well, I thought…”
“Yes…?” Melissa said.
“Well, I just thought perhaps you could help look for them,
Miss. Being such good hunters and that.”
“Oh!” Melissa replied in surprise. “Oh, I see.
Because we… because we hunt things.
We could help look for them. Yes, that makes sense. Perhaps we
could… what do you think Harriet?”
Her friend looked equally surprised. “Yes, we’ll erm… we’ll certainly keep an eye
out. When we’re hunting beasts.”
“Yes, we’ll keep an eye out!” Melissa confirmed. “If we see any clues, we’ll be sure to let
the town know, all right? Good day, now!”
And she shut the door in the poor lovelorn blacksmith’s face.
A week later, the blacksmith was overjoyed to see Melissa
walk into his smithy yet again.
“Any news, Miss?” he enquired, eagerly.
“News… about?” she replied, somewhat perplexed.
“The missing lads, Miss.
I suppose you’ve seen neither hide nor hair of them.”
“Hide nor hair” she giggled, as if at a private joke. “No, I’m afraid not. No: I came with another job for you actually. Another set of shackles and chains… to collar
one more beast.”
“My pleasure, Miss” the blacksmith replied. “Same as before, then?”
“Maybe these ones… we thought…a little bigger?” Melissa
replied, looking up at the brawny young blacksmith. “Three more inches for the collar, I’d say.”
She glanced down at his hands. “And maybe an inch or two extra for the
wrists – forelegs. For the forelegs. And good and strong and heavy, please: this beast is the strongest of all.”
“Aye Miss” said the blacksmith, and when her lovely form was
no longer lighting up the darkened workshop, he set to work.
This time, he didn’t even try to make the devices lighter.
His kindliness towards animals had been quite forgotten, in his desire to
please the lovely Melissa. So he heated
iron and beat and pulled, and quenched and bashed and filed, until he had a set
of the most fearsome iron restraints imaginable. The collar alone weighed 15 pounds
and when the ensemble was put together, he could barely lift it.
He put out the furnace, left the smithy and carefully locked
it all up, as if going on a long journey, without even knowing he was doing
it. He was about to load the restraints
onto the back of the cart when he thought better of it, patted his horse on the
nose and set off staggering under the weight of the heavy irons, all the way
along the winding path to the cottage in the woods.
He paused to recover his breath once he’d reached the
clearing where the cottage stood. He gazed at the cottage, then took a long
look around as if taking in the fresh air, the trees, the sky and all of the
smells and sounds of the forest. Then picking up his sack once more, he strode
over to the door.
Melissa opened it, before he could even knock and stood
there smiling at him. A shaft of sunlight
through the forest canopy caught her hair and it seemed made of the finest spun
gold, burning in the sunshine.
“Who is it, Mel?” came Harriet’s voice.
“It’s the blacksmith.” Melissa smiled, delightedly. "He's brought his collar and chains."
Harriet came to the door and hugged her friend around the waist. “So he has. Isn't that sweet?"
“Isn't it just?” Melissa murmured.
“You’d better come inside.”
THE END
 |
| In the years that followed, the blacksmith got to put his expertise at forming iron into the letter 'M' to good use, although he usually had to add an 'H' to it as well. |
