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. "I have been called
many things, young dwarf. Some call me Glenshadow
the Wanderer. If you want a name for me, that will do."
He stepped doser to the still-glowing forge and spread
his hands as though to warm himself. He glanced at the
new hammer. "Have you set a crest or a device upon
that? Have you named it or made it yours?"
Again the dwarf edged away, but he took the hammer
from his belt and turned it in the light. "I've only initialed
it. See for yourself. What device would I use?"
The wizard squinted at the hammer. "Ah, yes. I see. C.
F. Chane Feldstone. It is truly your hammer, then."
"What do you want of me?"
"Why, I am going with you. I thought you would
know that."
"Why would I have known any such thing?"
"You're right, of course," the man admitted. "Well, first
we must go see the Irda."
"The who?"
"The Irda."
"Why?"
"We will know more about that when we get there.
Come along, now."
"Come along nothing!" Chane's whiskers twitched
with exasperation. "I have a sword to make."
The wizard looked at the ancient, rusted metal bar.
"That isn't the stuff of your sword, Chane Feldstone.
There's better along the way. Come on, now. This valley
is not a happy place for me, and I don't want to spend
more time here than I have to."
Chane shook his head violently, clenching his teeth in
frustration
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