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Flint had learned a lot of what he knew about blacksmith-
ing from the old craftsman, whose burn-scarred arms and
chest had both frightened and fascinated the young hill
dwarf. Flint and other harrns would sit in the grassy yard
outside Delwar's shop and barn to watch the smith through
the open end of his three-sided stone shed; Flint enjoyed the
smell of smoke and sweat as Delwar hammered hot metal al-
most as much as he liked the taffy treats and cool apple
drinks the smith's robust wife would bring out to them.
But Delwar and his wife had long since passed away, and
a menacing, seven-foot high stone wall had been built
around that once-friendly spot. Someone had told him -
Tybalt perhaps - that a "modern" forge had been built on
the western edge of town, and Delmar's had been long aban-
doned until the mountain dwarves had bought the rights to
its yard and forge as part of their agreement with Hillhome.
The derro had built the wall, which Flint estimated enclosed
a thirty-by-twenty-yard area. There was one entrance into
the yard: a sturdy, wooden ten-foot gate stretched across
the southern edge along Main Street
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