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. "What do you want to make?"
"A hammer, of course. The only thing I know of that
can be made without a hammer is a hammer, though it
won't be a very good one, without a hammer to work
with."
"A hammer," Chess nodded, taken with the logic of it.
"Then what?"
"What?"
"What are you going to make once you've made your
hammer?"
"Another hammer. Once I have a rough hammer to
use, I can make a perfectly good hammer with it. Then, if
that rod there will stew out and take a temper, I'll make a
sword."
"Is this part of your plan for becoming rich and
famous?"
"I don't have any such plan," the dwarf growled. "I
don't have a hammer or sword, either, so first things
first."
"I have a feeling this is going to take a while."
"It will take as long as it takes."
For the rest of the day, Chestal Thicketsway prowled
about, exploring the silent forest, becoming more and
more impatient. At nightfall he returned to the wreckage
heap, took fire from Chane's now-operating forge and
made a meal of cured cat meat and bark tea, then went to
sleep to the sound of dwarven craft echoing in the night.
At first light of morning, the kender awakened,
stretched, and strolled over to watch the dwarf again.
Chane now had a serviceable - if crude - hammer, and
was using it to make a better hammer from a chunk of
iron he had found
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