On the Road to the Conclave
Snerra Magnasdottir internally lamented her poor fortune, When she first heard about how some of the elder runesmiths had decided to invite her, she was privately ecstatic, a chance to show runesmiths she hadn't yet met her work and, ancestors willing, receive feedback was a once in a few decades opportunity, and she quickly sought to make some showpieces as she usually made things to order. She looked at her barren storehouse with consternation. All that remained were a few small talismans she had made to try her hand at adapting other runes into talismanic ones and a few children's toys she had made just in case there was some grand runic secret in the process. It turns out that there was no such secret, but she wasn't one to begrumble Master Snorri his, well, anything really, but most especially his hobbies. Ancestors knew he was productive enough as is, and, after all she was hardly a paragon of focus herself, having taken a liking to both baking and eating Stonebread.
Her efforts to make pieces that would impress her peers and elders were stymied at every turn by dwarves commissioning items from her, as helping the hold regretfully took priority over her personal project. Of these dwarves, the most notable and frequent were indubitably those from Clan Bryggeroot. They were requesting contracts with her with great gusto and, for a reason she could not fathom, desperation. Contracts might be a bit of a strong word for it, in Snerra's opinion, because they failed to specify what they wanted commissioned, and in fact, frequently offered entirely one sided contracts. She could not offer a complaint, because insulting a clan's contracts would be tantamount to insulting their ability to perform their jobs, which by all accounts Clan Bryggeroot performed admirably. She had had to resort to using the traditional clauses for runesmiths going above and beyond to be able to actually give them things for what they had done for her. Surely they must know that failure to give recompense for goods and services rendered would bring shame to her. This state of affairs was, if she would permit herself a bit of strong language, very irksome.
Which brought her thoughts back to her current predicament. She needed to make a lot of runes very fast. Silently offering thanks to Master Snorri for his novel vision of the Rule of Pride, she began loading her tools and several stones of slate into the wagon.
"Bringing your tools, eh Snerra? I applaud your work ethic lass, but I don't think us Journeymen will be allowed the use of a workshop there." Dolgi Embermane says, carrying an assortment of runic equipment. Snerra couldn't help but feel a bit envious that the older dwarf had so many pieces on hand to bring to the Conclave.
"Actually, I was intending to work while we travelled, I believe these tools will be sufficient."
"Oh,were you planning on using slate for runework? You see, the problem with that is that slate just doesn't hold up the same as granite does you see, your strikes will be too deep." Dolgi replied, seeming a tad nostalgic from when he had lectured her when they were both apprentices. Snerra contemplated a way to express her opinion on the matter that paid proper respect to the elder dwarf
"I do not foresee that being a problem, Journeyman Dolgi."
"I see," Dolgi mumbled thoughtfully. "I don't suppose you have some slate to spare, by any chance?"
---
The sound of cracking slate followed by khazalid cursing were her only warning before a large chunk of debris slammed into the back of her head, causing a bruise. With practiced ease she finished the remaining 37 strikes of the rune she was working on, then began frantically looking around for the nearest broomlike object. She only paused when she realized that Dolgi was doing the same. Due to needing to be as far away from Master Snorri as possible, they were both crammed into a single wagon. This was not the first time on the journey that Dolgi's attempts at carving runes on slate failed spectacularly, in spite of Snerra informing him that all he had to do was stop the chisel at the proper depth. Dolgi had chosen to do his work near the center of the wagon, apparently so he would not have to bother adjusting for the local wind speed, but it seems that he was also unwilling to compensate for the miniscule bumps in the road which Snerra's perch at the front of the wagon forewarned her of.
"Ach, I'm sorry about that, Snerra, this damnable wagon keeps jostling. I hope I didn't muck up your work as well." Dolgi lamented, having cleaned up the debris of his most recent failure.
"No, my work turned out fine, but may I ask you how many more times you are going to try this on this journey?" Snerra asked, pleadingly.
"At least one more time." Dolgi declared, suddenly resolute.
These interruptions were really hindering her productivity, by all rights, she should feel irked, like she had in her workshop earlier and yet, between the sound of hammering and occasionally being pelted by rocks, she couldn't help but feel at ease.
