Laugavegur, A Hinterland Journey

Chapter 9 - Moonglass

Ongrad's shop was tucked in beneath a rocky ledge on the far side of the lower market. It was not the sort of place that you would stumble upon, but rather you had to seek it out. A small sign, Glassware, neatly etched in stone above the sole door provided the only indication of the shop's offerings. There were no front windows or display cases, just a stacked-stone building, nearly indistinguishable from the rock wall it abutted.

"With so terrible a location, it is amazing he is still in business," observed Anja.

"Once you see his work you will understand that it is really no surprise," assured the Dwarf.

A bell tinkled softly as they entered through the front door. "A moment, please!" came the call from the back room. Even in the muted light of the peat sconces, the workshop shimmered in dancing, crystalline reflections. From the ceiling hung a hundred glass orbs of various sizes and colors. They glowed as they caught and dispersed the light of the sconces. The dull greens, blues, and purples bathed the whole shop in cool colors. Shelves near the door were packed with goblets, chalices, bowls and platters and beneath them sat an ornate throne of glass; one that any number of jarls would have paid a thousand drakes to have in their longhouse. A nearby shelf held a menagerie of small glass animals; white bears and foxes, horses and sheep, reindeer with disproportionately large, ornate antlers. Tokki was, of course, drawn to these immediately. He ran a finger across the back of one of the horses. It was surprisingly warm, vibrant, as though it might at any moment kick to life and canter across the shelf.

"Do not touch a thing," Anja hissed at her brother.

Tokki scowled at her.

"These are the real beauties," the Dwarf said motioning toward the opposite wall where several different glass-forged weapons were displayed. Stone racks held numerous longswords and war hatchets. A bucket on the ground contained a dozen daggers with leather wound grips, sheathed in reindeer hides. These pieces, while truly unique by Human standards were just the basic form in Ongrad's shop. His showpieces sat upon heavy, wooden plaques attached to the wall. There was one sword, (Abyss, the placard below it so indicated), that had a long sweeping blade of glass so blue it was nearly black like a stormy ocean in winter. The blade was streaked with white that bubbled on the spine of the blade like foam on a breaking surf.

"What a blade!" Anja gushed, reaching up and running a finger along the spine. "Imagine what you could do with a sword like that." Tokki thought it a wondrous tool visually, but not one that enticed him practically. It was too flashy, its utility solely devoted to the taking of life. It would not suit to clean a fish nor baton kindling. He contentedly patted the small dagger he kept at his hip.

"Ah," said the voice that had called from the back earlier; a resonating tenor touched with the grit of age. "Abyss. She can be yours for but 220 drakes." The merchant wore overalls and a heavy apron. He was slim for a Dwarf, his face tall and narrow with a thin, manicured mustache. His clothes and bare arms were covered in filth and grime, but his hands were clean.

"That seems a fair price," replied Anja, stroking the back of the sword once more.

The Dwarf-merchant looked genuinely surprised, almost offended. "No, no, no. I give you a price, you laugh at it, ridicule the sword's craftsmanship, and offer me half; a third if you are of noble birth. You are not of noble birth, are you?" he asked, eyeing Anja skeptically. She shook her head. He pulled Abyss from its pegs and handed it to her. "So, my dear. What do you think this fine weapon is worth?"

Anja looked at the sword and then back at the merchant. "To me, it still looks to be worth 220 Drakes."

The merchant wiped his face in frustration. "It is tradition," he said, the words becoming emotional. "A celebration of commerce. The dance of transaction! Are you so rich, the price does not matter?"