The Metal of Will
...The Dawi found it first, Vaul's mercy on them, and examined it deeply, this, the Elqenyi, the stuff of will. Karu Tuk-Azul they named it, those mountain folk, and they did not understand it; now, millennia later, they still do not. If they did, they might ask themselves why they found it in the burrows of rabbits rather than in the mountain deeps.
--
Karstah flailed as she heard the sound of her f- Master's footsteps on the hard rock, the Adamant of his gauntlets scraping and thumping and thudding on the stone. She flailed as she tossed herself into bed, trying to make sure he didn't realize she had past out at her desk, writing down her notes on Karak Izril, the riddle Thungni had given them, the possibilities waiting for them down there in the deep places, where glory and knowledge in equal measure waited.. She did not want to imagine the disappointment, the shame, the lecture her master would give her for such behavior, not to rest properly as a wise, well-educated Runesmith ought (She, quite charitably, ignored a few thousand instances of her master managing behavior even less healthy and even less restful than sleeping in a chair). One thing to eschew sleep for a time; but to sleep and not sleep properly, well that was the worst of both worlds, offering neither the restorative clarity of good rest nor the sheer, brolic, rolling effort of keeping herself awake.
She was just barely in bed by the time her door slid open. "Apprentice, I have work for you." Her master's voice was like the door that slid across the stone, a smooth, heavy stone weight gliding with some efficiency and little grace. She wearily sat up, feeling her heart beat a little less than a million-miles-a-minute as her master seemed to buy her little deception. He walked to her bed and handed over a metal that was the shade of bronze, and felt, even, like bronze.
It was no bronze.
Her sense for magic was not quite as developed as Master Snorri's, but she could feel it stiffening in her braids. Magic. Not particularly potent, at best equal to the Dronril in this, its unworked state; but then, on the other hand, it was unworked. And even if it was never better than that, more reagents meant more Runes, meant less Dwarfs dying.
Meant fewer foundlings.
"One of Get-Gold's people found it while he was hunting for some softer fur for a collar, hidden in a rabbit's burrow. It was a small seam of the stuff all things considered but he thought there was likely more peaking about, it just hadn't been noticed yet. He's been examining it but we do have a reputation. Thungni's riddle is to be top priority, but work on it when you can, alright?" He walked away from her bed, leaving her with the metal. He paused at the door, and turned his head around some. "Oh, and the bed's for sleeping, not the chair." Karstah sputtered out apologies, promises and more as Snorri walked away. He shook his head as he walked away, drawn to some Runelord business. "I swear, the youth these days..."
--
Survival.
That was it. That was what was bound, nurtured, captured in the bronze. The will to survive, red-toothed and slick-clawed, in this world. To last, and last, and keep lasting; to survive and thrive because that was their duty. Their pleasure. Their desire and their law: to live.
The simple Rune of Stone she had bound in the helmet, the shield, and the breastplate, all passed out to less well-off warriors in return for notes and examination, told it so, each a variant of Magic Breaker, given varying quantities of the bronze: only Stone itself in the helmet; Stone and Warding in the shield; Stone, Warding, and Spellbreaking alike in the breastplate. All had become survivors, thrivers, their natural instincts sharpened to a bestial level. Aye, it gave them the strength--the strength of a beast. The strength of the enduring. The strength of some Antediluvian thing, existing since before there were two moons in the sky.
But there were, of course, consequences. The bearer of the helmet had become animalistic to be sure, detached and as brutal as she needed to be for the sake of victory, who allowed instincts to take over and survived as a wild animal would survive. But this was less than came to pass with the shield, whose bearer become clear-minded, singularly focused and all but cruel in battle.
And both paled in comparison to the bearer of the breastplate. He was as much animal as warrior in a fight, trying to assert dominance with every move, no matter whether it was a friendly spar or a duel to the death. It was not always so serious an attempt at dominance to be sure, but always jockeying to show he was the alpha, the best, the most furious. And even outside of battle he was more paranoid, more aware, more instinctive, though natural discipline and his own efforts leashed it down.
It was fortune beyond fortune that all were temporary, a stopgap, to be replaced with something more proper after sufficient data had been acquired for the material, for only the strength of an oath seemed absolutely sure to cut through the sheer arrogant, animalistic fervor that filled them, the desire to remain strong.
Of course, further testing needed to be done before deeper conclusions than "Magical animal metal affects people" could be drawn--this was at most preliminary testing to preliminary testing for the preliminary testing, the kind of thing that justifies a pilot study to see whether effects could be replicated. Could be this was nothing more than unfortunate resonance, could be an over reaction. But if nothing else for the time being she could recommend with a clear conscience not using more than a bar of the stuff to feed the Runes themselves, for who could even begin to guess what the effects could be if too much of the bronze was used?
She shuddered to imagine, particularly for more esoteric Runes.
"I'm going to build the whole thing out of it, Thinat."
--
Learn Eltharin:
Elqenyi- The Defiance of Death, formed from the Eltharin Runes Elui and Kenui.
