A New Life

I was reborn into the body of a baby dwarf. Not exactly the best afterlife experience out there, but it was still better than anything written about by Dante, or talked about in Sunday school. Needless to say, it was an extremely jarring experience, going from a fully ambulatory and rather strong adult’s body, to an infant who couldn’t even hold up his own head. However, it was better than having my soul disposed of to avoid filling out the paperwork for an errant soul. 

The name I got saddled with upon my rebirth was Kvalinn Ekgorsson. It didn’t exactly roll off the tongue, but it could’ve been worse. Occasionally I’d overhear my father mention people with ten syllable names in passing conversation with his friends. Those were names I most certainly did not want to have attached to me, spelling them would doubtlessly be a nightmare!

As for the language, I learned the same way any infant learns. Papa, mama, baba, ect. Although unfortunately I didn’t get to use the word ‘mama’. Apparently my mother in this world had died in childbirth, leaving the raising of me entirely to my father, Ekgor Blazingbrand. He did his level best to take care of me as a single dad, but sometimes I feared for my brand new life due to his preoccupation with work.

My father in this world was a bit on the older side, having recently celebrated his two hundredth winter, with a graying beard that stretched down to his waist and a grizzled face that only seemed to come alive when he was working. He was completely dedicated to his craft as a master weaponsmith, with the majority of his time being spent in front of his forge. 

When I was around two years old, and had finally mastered walking again, vainly hoping there was some electrical outlet to walk to that would indicate that electricity was used. I received a tiny hammer from my father that he had made just for me. “Listen well, Kvalinn.” He said in a serious tone. “A dwarf’s hammer is his life. It is both a weapon and a tool. It is a symbol of the purpose given to our race by the gods. Our clan has followed their teachings and crafted weapons for the world since its beginning. Starting today, I will teach you everything I know about forging weapons worthy of the weapon clan.” He then walked off while motioning me to follow him.

“Yes, father!” I said enthusiastically. I wanted to grumble a little about how weaponry and tools were not the best gift for a toddler, but living in the body of a toddler is extremely boring since any toys meant for that age are extremely…infantile, so I followed with the hope that I would get to see some form of technology. In my previous life I had been an IT specialist and an avid gamer, and the lack of screens in this world was killing me!

I followed my father to his work area. It was the very picture of a dwarven forge, with a forge fire that was stoked to a low burn, numerous tools hung up on the walls, and piles of weapons stacked in the corners of the room.

Once I toddled into the room, he set me down in front of a box with a scrap metal ingot on it and began my first lesson. “The very first step to making a weapon is learning how to use your hammer. Give your new hammer a swing.” I did my best to follow father’s instructions, and hit the ingot with my hammer, but since I was still stuck in the body of a two year old my attempt was less than impressive. 

“No! Not like that!” Father yelled out. “Watch me closely and imitate what I do.” He then took a piece of iron from the fire and began shaping it with his hammer. 

“But why do we need to use a hammer?” I asked petulantly while he worked. “Can’t we just use a machine to shape the metal?” My millennial instincts to find an easier way to work were evidently still strong, even in a new body and a new world.

Father glared at me with fierce anger flaring from his eyes. “Only lazy humans, and those rock brained mechanics in the engineers guild use machines for their work! A true dwarf only uses their hammer and the sweat of their brow to make the finest weapons in the world. Now copy my movements exactly!” He returned his attention to the iron on the anvil and began hammering away, as if taking out his anger on it. 

I watched him work for a few minutes, still mentally sure that a machine would be way more efficient and easier to use. Eventually though, I stopped making mental arguments and began paying attention to the lesson. Something new inside me felt drawn to the rhythmic blows of the heavy hammer. Soon, I felt that I had the movements memorized and could at least give it a try. 

Stepping up to the little station that had been set up for me. I planted my feet in imitation of my father, and with all my strength, I hit the metal with my hammer.

The instant the steel and iron connected, I felt an insane rush of satisfaction! It was the same joy you get from successfully fitting the last piece of a huge puzzle in its rightful place. For some reason, hitting the metal directly with my hammer just felt extremely right, it was so much more fulfilling than rebooting a computer. I could see now why my father was so passionate about his work. With a smile on my face, I hit the metal again, and again, and again, until I had completely run out of energy.

As I leaned against the wall, panting for breath, I could see my father grinning at me. “Well done, Kvalinn. Get yourself a drink and keep practicing. I began toddling off to the kitchen when he shouted to stop me. “Where do you think you're going?”

“The kitchen? Isn’t that where the water tap would be?” I asked. That was the direction my father had always come from when he brought me milk when I was a helpless baby.

“A water tap in the kitchen? Only the king could afford such luxury! Besides, you’ve passed your second winter. You should be able to drink the beer I keep in here.” Father gestured towards a keg in the corner that had a couple dirty mugs next to it.

I knew giving a toddler beer was illegal, as well as a really bad idea, but that was my old world. Plus, I was a dwarf now, they could probably handle beer a lot better than humans. Or at least they could in all the fantasy games.

After cleaning the rim of one of the mugs with my shirt, I reached as high as I could to pour myself something to drink. It was not the first time I missed my former height from my previous life, nor would it be the last, but since I was only a foot tall at most I did my best to reach what I could.

The beer tasted surprisingly good, even though it was watered down and extremely warm from the forge fire. “Father, is there any way to make the drink cooler?” I was hoping that since this was a fantasy world with dwarves, there might be some magic or tech that simulated a refrigerator. Sadly, that was not the case.

“I once heard that the king has a box powered by runes to keep his food and drink cold. And when I was younger, I visited some cities nearer the surface that use winter ice to preserve food.”

“Do we have any ice here?” I asked, looking around for an ice box or door to a cellar. “Or can we get those rune things? What are runes anyway? Aren’t they just letters?” I stopped when I realized that I was beginning to exhibit traits that parents traditionally associated with the terrible twos. Fortunately my father didn’t seem to mind too much.

“To answer your questions one at a time. No, we can't get ice. Our city, Nurnwuhr, is too deep and far away from the surface to get ice here. Rune powered devices are exceptionally expensive, only kings can afford them. As for runes, you’re mostly correct. Runes are indeed letters that we use for writing, but a few dwarves have the knowledge to infuse those runes with magic. It’s a very dangerous job, but the runes that they make can be extremely powerful. If you want to see an example of runes, then look at the back of your hands.” 

I turned over my hands to look. There were a bunch of lines and squiggles that I had always assumed to be weird birthmarks. Evidently they were runes.

“When you were born, those runes, and the one on your back, glowed with a magical light. The one on your right hand is the rune of forging, and the one on your back is the rune of protection. As for the one on your left hand, I’ve never been able to identify it.” 

I stared at the runes in awe for a few minutes. Up until now I’d been too busy trying to survive infancy to think about it, but I really was in a magical world with dwarves, and possibly other magical races too! When I grew up I’d have to look around to see if I could find an elf girlfriend! Before I let my imagination go though, another question popped into my head.

“Do all dwarves have these runes?” I asked. “What are your rune's, father?” Father just shook his head solemnly. 

“No other dwarf that I have heard of has magical runes like yours. Sure, some dwarves tattoo runes on their skin to invite their protection, but none of them have any magic flowing through them like yours do.”

Before I could ask any more questions, Father held up his hand. “That’s all the information I will tell you on runes. If you want to learn more, then you’ll have to wait until you go to school in a few years. Elder Thrikrondromm has been teaching about runes there for centuries and should be able to answer all your questions. Now enough talking, I need to get these swords ready for sale by next week!” 

Father then put the iron that had cooled back in the fire, and took out another rod to work on. He then began singing a work song, using the pounding of his hammer to keep the beat. Since I wasn’t likely to get any further answers from him, I decided to follow his example. 

After putting my mug back on the shelf, I stepped up to my own tiny workstation and began hammering at the metal again. At first, I attempted to follow my fathers pace set by his song, but I soon found out that an experienced smith with over two hundred years under his belt has way more stamina than a two year old toddler. So I was forced to set my own pace. 

Once I had recovered my breath, I started hammering the iron again. This time though, I sang a song from my previous life that was a bit slower and more relaxed. As I worked, I thought to myself how I’d like to make a blade just like the ones piled in the corner. As soon as I thought that though, the rune of forging on my right hand seemed to respond. 

The next time my hammer connected with the metal, I let out an involuntary yelp as I felt a painful sensation, like a very cold ice pack being pressed directly against the skin along the rune lines. The rune also started glowing with a bright blue light, and the unshaped metal on the box in front of me transformed into a blade similar to the one I had been looking at!

“Kvalinn!” Father dropped his hammer when he heard my cry of pain, and rushed over to me. “Kvalinn! Are you ok? What happened?” 

“I’m ok, father.” I looked at my hand in awe. The rune wasn’t glowing blue anymore, but there was still a slight stinging from when the rune had activated. 

“Hm, what’s this?” Father picked up the blade that was resting in front of me. It had been made out of a single small piece of metal, so the blade was only six inches long and was basically a pocket knife in my father’s large and callused hands. “So this is the power of the rune of forging. Not bad.” He noticed my crestfallen face and rushed to clarify. “It’s not too bad for your first blade. But it’s only superficially similar to the one over there. This blade will chip and break easily due to its poor materials, the core isn’t there, and overall it’s pretty weak.” 

Father’s critique was harsh, but probably fair. I was willing to bet that like a lot of magic I had read about in fantasy, using my rune of forging would require me to thoroughly understand the principles behind whatever I was crafting in order to make it perfectly, and not just have an image in my head. However, if that theory was right, then my road to possibly making 21st century tech had become a lot shorter. 

My imagination began to take flight. I’d be able to make cars, trains, airplanes, lightbulbs, batteries, radios, and all other sorts of gadgets and tech! I could be the Edison of this world! My years as a book nerd in my past life would finally pay off!

As I let my imagination roam though, I happened to glance at my father. His eyes were as eager as mine were. “Hjerouhrdinn’s hammer, Kvalinn. I think I’ll need to speed up your lessons and get a proper workstation set up for you if you. If you can make blades like this with your rues, just think of what you'll be able to do with some training.” It seemed that due to my accidental prowess with weapon crafting, my dreams of satisfying my tech cravings were going to be put on pause for the foreseeable future. Or at least when my father was watching.