Author's Note

This is an OLD brainchild that finally reached completion. I've gotten help with it from Illua in the past before her passing and her brother's subsequent inheritance of her account, so I've been struggling with a lot of personal feelings over it, and other reasons as well, admittedly, to my silence for so many months this year and last, but I'll leave that for another time. Sorry for the huge delay in updates, everyone ^^;;

Made with help from Illua, I hope you all enjoy this long-time coming chapter!

P.S.: The old line break was causing some issues on Night mode, so I'm keeping it off future chapters until I can find a new one. Sorry for the sudden blindness it caused! ^^;;

-Timeless Lord Slayer

2 - The First Strike: A Resolve Like Steel

Snow falls on the Shrouded Peak.

Hammer falls sound from unfathomable depths.

The Artist forges his works.

Slam.

His hammer falls.

Slam.

His hammer falls.

Works of legend and myth line the halls.

Flames spout from the forge.

Slam.

His hammer falls.

The Shaperate's form gleams in the dim light.

His baleful, fiery orange eyes blaze like his forge.

Relative silence reigned in the chamber, broken only by the roaring of the forge and the faint bubbling of the strange lava. The Smith stared down at Flashfire, the mare sweating bullets as she waited for his answer. Finally, he spoke.

"I have no interest in taking on an apprentice," he said, voice akin to the howling whistles of a train. He picked up his sledgehammer once again, and continued his work. "Unless you wish for equipment, then our business is done."

Flashfire's heart sank at these words, head shooting up. "B-But-!" He slammed his hammer down, and she winced. "B-But I can-!" Another slam interrupted her, and again she winced. "J-Just let me-!" Another slam. Another interruption. Flashfire grit her teeth, then took a deep breath, and let out, "WILL YOU BUCKING HEAR ME OUT?!?"

The Smith stopped mid-swing. He slowly looked down at her, the fiery Earth Pony returning his gaze with a stare like that of steel. He slowly put his hammer down, then crossed his massive arms.

"Speak, then. Say your piece, then leave," he instructed.

Flashfire bit back a growl as she took a few more deep breaths to calm herself. Once she was done, she placed a hoof to her chest. "My name is Flashfire, and I want to be your apprentice."

He stared at her for a short moment, then gestured for her to continue.

"I've been studying smithing since I was old enough to hold a hammer, and my grandpa taught me everything I know," She reached into her saddlebag and pulled out a weathered, steel-grey tome, it's pages old and tanned with age. "When I was old enough, grandpa gave me this."

The Smith hummed. "I see. So Star Swirl gave one to your family at one point, then." He sighed, shaking his head. "Old codger."

Flashfire decided to file that information away for later, instead continuing where she left off after she put the tome away. "I lost count of how many times I've read it over, but..." Her gaze fell to the floor. "...I couldn't let go of my ambition. And I'm not breaking my promise to grandpa." The Smith's 'eyes' disappeared for a split second at those final words, but came back swiftly as she turned her gaze up to meet his own, golden eyes meeting blazing balls of flame. "I want to be your apprentice. I want to learn from the best of the best, and be as good as you."

The Smith stared hard at Flashfire, eyes seeming to stare into her very soul. Flashfire stood tall under his gaze, even though she was shaking like a leaf. Eventually, the Smith sighed.

"Very well," he conceded. Flashfire jumped for joy, letting out a squeal of happiness, but he stopped her cold with his next words. "I will consider the idea, should you manage to make a piece of equipment that meets my standards." Flashfire went still, staring at him like he'd just asked her to jump into lava after being in a sauna.

She gulped audibly. "R-R-R-Really?"

He simply hefted his sledgehammer over his shoulder, picked the massive blade he'd been working up with one hand, and marched away from his anvil and over to her. After placing the blade and hammer against a massive machine on his way, he stopped in front of her. The teenage mare was shaking and shuddering even more now as she felt his gaze piercing her soul like a javelin to the heart. She felt like she was back home on her first day of school, with her parents watching her expectantly. Only now, she had her hero looking at her expectantly instead of her parents.

The Smith broke her out of her thoughts. "Well? Get to it then." She started a bit, looking first to him, then to the anvil, then back to him, as if she couldn't believe what was happening. The Smith tapped his metal foot impatiently. "I do not have all day. Either show me what you can do, or leave." Flashfire swallowed the lump in her throat as she turned her gaze to the anvil. She shook herself, even slapped her cheeks with her hooves, before marching stiffly towards the anvil.

When she got behind it, she noted once more that the anvil was taller than her. Wider, even. She peeked her head around the side of it. "U-Umm, I can't really, um, reach the top..."

The behemoth of metal looked to her as if she were an imbecile. "Then improvise." He gestured with one hand to the materials, machines, and objects around them. "I am not here to help you. Only to watch, and observe."

Flashfire's ears lowered at this, the mare letting out a nervous giggle. "R-Right..." With that, she desperately looked about herself for something to use as a stepping stool. 'Quick quick quick quick! Gotta find something to use for a stool! Gotta find something to use for a stool!' Her eyes locked onto a block of metal in between the workings of a strange machine.

She bit her lip, looking to him. He didn't do anything nor say anything, only crossed his massive arms across his similarly massive chest. 'I'll have to take that as a sign he doesn't mind!' She reasoned, before galloping off to the machine.

She realized all too late, however, that it was also too tall for her to reach. She scrambled for a way to reach the block, and found a conveyor belt that wasn't in motion. With little choice left, she jumped on top of it, then leapt across from it to the opening in the strange machine where the block lay.

She tried to push the block off, but it budged little. Gritting her teeth and sparing a glance to the Smith, she saw his eyes watching her, like a teacher did when a student had gotten a bad grade. She turned her gaze back to the block, and pushed with all her might.

Slowly, it inched forward, until it finally slammed to the floor with a weighty GONG. Panting, Flashfire hopped down, then continued to try and push the cube over in front of the anvil.

When she managed to get it over there, the Smith spoke, "Pick up the pace, pony."

Flashfire tensed, sweat pouring down her neck at these words. "R-Right," she stuttered. After getting the stepping stool in place, she pulled her pack off and started to take out her tools and equipment. Her pace was hurried and frantic as she did this, and all the while the Artist simply stood by and watched, his fiery gaze almost seeming to make her sweat more.

When she started to pull out materials to use, he spoke once more. "No. You will not be using your own materials." He gestured to the materials all around the chamber. "Improvise, pony. I will not say it a third time."

Flashfire squeaked. "U-Um, right, sorry!" After all but shoving the bars of metal she'd taken such pains to bring back into her bag, she galloped away from the anvil and back towards the conveyor belt. As she did, she grit her teeth harder. 'Dammit...! After all the trouble I went to get and keep those bars, too...!' She shook her head, swiftly making it to the conveyor belt again and looking through the assortment of metal bars that were arrayed along it.

Sweat beaded down her forehead as she agonized over which one to choose. She'd never seen most of these metals, all of them far beyond what she normally worked with. It was like telling a child to choose from a selection of candies they'd never tried before.

Hefting a near-golden looking bar up, she immediately felt a hum of warmth from it, as well as it's weight. Rapping the edge of her hoof against it a few times, she found it rather solid. She looked to the Smith again, biting her lip. She looked back to the bar in her hoof. '...Screw it, I'll try a second metal too!' With that thought, she grabbed a snow white ingot, then ran as fast as her hooves could carry her back to the anvil and forge.

After her scrambling around, she could finally get to forging. Grabbing a set of heat-resistant boots and slipping them on her hooves, Flashfire grabbed the two ingots with a set of tongs and walked over to the forge, before pausing. "Um, may I be allowed to use some flux...?"

"...Granted," The Smith nodded after a brief pause.

Smiling in relief, Flashfire turned her attention back to the forge before placing the ingots inside it.

The Smith's eyes blazed brighter at this. 'She has creativity and knowledge...but does she have practice?'

Flashfire was less focused on him, however. Her eyes remained locked on the ingots, examining every inch of them, her eyes unusually unbothered by the heat, for once.

A few moments passed as the forge heated her creation, Flashfire swearing a few times she'd almost heard her own heartbeat, before she swiftly pulled out a vial of white powder, placing it to the side as she pulled the ingots out.

Biting the cork off, she coated both ingots with the powder, taking care to only cover the portions that would join.

Settling onto her haunches, she once again observed the powder as it seemed to almost caramelize on the glowing red metals before grabbing a file and carefully scraping unneeded remnants off. Nodding to herself, she placed both ingots back into the forge and resumed her vigil, though not without a glance to the apparent dials nearby, noting them for later.

The Artist watched as the magma of the forge gleamed rhythmically, and slowly turned his gaze back to the young mare currently working his forge, a new fire blazing within him at the sight.

And then, it pulsed. The mare shuddered as she stared at the ingots, focus broken as she finally noticed the gleam of the forge, the thrum, the oddly comfortable heat, and the strange, steady rhythm of her heart.

"What the-?"

A massive hand landed on her head. "Do not lose sight. Focus. Your work is not done." The Smith removed his hand. "It still needs life. Breathe it. Shape it."

She turned her head to look at him, surprise on her face, before grinning wide and nodding. "R-Right!"

The dagger placed on my anvil was shoddy. Naive.

Smithed with two metals she did not know, and made to marry with flux and the heat of my forge, the edges sharp, but unclean. And of separate metals.

The hilt was unfinished. Lacking a guard, a pommel, or a true design.

But in all the ways it burned with failure, it burned with ambition, pride, inspiration, and love.

The hilt was smooth, easy to grip, and without too many blemishes, fractures, or cracks to strain or cut the hold of a wielder. The edges, while not made of a single alloy of their constituting metals, allowed the advantage of both with no sacrifice to the damage either could provide the weapon.

It was shoddy. But it was a weapon made with attention and care.

This would do.

I looked to the pony's tired, anxious, sweating form, waiting for my verdict, and nodded.

"You pass, mortal."

"I...I did?" I nodded. "I did?! I really did?!?"

A huff of amusement. "You did." I watched as she pranced and celebrated, then looked to the Heart. It's thrum had lessened, the glow of it's magmatic blood dimmed, but it still held a reaction. I looked back to the pony. To the child, crying tears of joy as she hugged herself with glee, relief, and utter delight.

I allowed her to indulge. She was the one mortal to succeed at a challenge a desperate withering mage had concocted. The one who proved me wrong.

She had right to be happy. As did her granfather, wherever he watched from.