The last time we saw Freryn, he was surrounded by goblins, and inebriated beyond repair. Exactly how he got out of that scrape he could not remember, but when he came to, he was in the snow by the frozen river, his weapons gone. A few yards away lay a severed goblin hand.
The sickly green hand was a poor trade for the axe Lord Dwalin had given him in gratitude for his services. But with the goblin vermin long gone, there was nothing to be done about it. At least Freryn could find a replacement for what he lost. Good luck to the goblin!
The Master of Smiths laughed when he inquired how much it would cost to forge a suitable substitute. Unfortunately, procuring a weapon of equal quality would require gold.
Since coming to Thorin’s Hall, he had amassed a very meager fortune making and selling armour, but it was not a lucrative trade, what with his patrons being at relative peace with their neighbors.
Despite current prosperity in the Vale of Thrain, after several generations of poverty, the inhabitants were wary of frivolous embellishment. He found it dull work turning out pieces concerned only with function, and rarely with form. But there was nothing to be done if buyers were unwilling to loosen their purse ties for more intricate armour.
So it came as a shock to the frugal dwarves of the Blue Mountains when news that a great cache of gold had been discovered in the hills nearby. Many scoffed, saying they would never have missed such a vein after a hundred years of mining the area.
But even the naysayers packed up their gear and trekked to the rumored source of riches. Freryn possessed more hope than most. Erosion by wind and water could often uncover an area which did not look promising before, and he saw no reason to doubt the reports. Some folk were showing off coins newly minted from the ore which had been found, and testing proved they were made of nothing less than the real deal! Continue reading