Several young goblins hovered outside the main door into the hillside forge. And several more by one of the windows nearby. A young girl peeking into the window whispers, "Is he at it again?" As if to answer her one of the boys nods. Punctuated by the resounding clang of a hammer on steel. Many of the young globlins maybe 2 years old all told gasp at the sparks kicking off the piece of iron that the old dark haired goblin within the forge works at. One of the girls gasping. It's not the hot metal she's watching but the ripple of the old goblins muscles. She and maybe a few others watch as Koglan Ironweaver, one of the tribes smiths, works at a length of iron.

One of the boys leans over the sill and whispers, "What do you think he's working on this time? It's not the sword like two days ago. I think that's the one in the corner there." Another boy whispers, "It's too big for a sword, and not thick enough for armor. Think it's an..." They go quiet and quickly hide as the weathered face of the goblin, streaked with sweat suddenly turns, his scarred face peering at the door and windows. Koglan grunting and hissing softly, he's not a surly sort, but he is known to be a little gruff every now and then. Again he goes back to work. The thunder of his hammer before he lifts the piece of iron up and back onto the fire.

The young goblins return to watching. One of the boys leaning forward, "I wonder if I could do that someday. Koglan needs an apprentice someday...and none of his kids wanted to be a smith." A roar booms from inside the hill forge as Koglan works the billows heating the metal up again. The young male goblin gasps, "The flames...look at them...you can feel the heat from here!" Lost in the flames he's not prepared to duck back when Koglan turns, and with two scarred hands drags several of the girls and boys into the forge through the window, "If you're just going to babble then get in here and watch closer!" The old goblin growls seating the three he managed to catch, two boys and a girl, down on a stone bench near the wall of the forge. He looks at the doors and windows, "If you've not got lessons with the shaman or your mothers then get in here and sit and watch. Maybe you'll learn something!" He returns to the forge, and pulls again, the children coming to sit down gasp in awe as the flames and heat in the forge rises. From the outside the top of the hill shimmering and spitting sparks into the air.

The old Goblin pulls the iron piece from the fire again and starts to thunder his hammer against it again, calling to the children, "I make an axe today. And maybe tomorrow. I intend to gift it to the young chieftain at some point. It's no master work, but perhaps he'll take well to a gift." His hammer falls again as he shapes the metal, "I am called Ironweaver for a reason. I read the shape of the metal, and bring it to the surface." He brings his hammer down, "Blow by blow." He shifts the metal flipping it and thundering his hammer again several times, "Moment by moment..." He looks at it then returns the axe head to the fire, "I bring out what the metal was meant to be." He points to a side of the forge, "There, a shaft of oak. Strong wood. Well grained. And hefty. Once the axe head is shaped, I'll shape the haft. Chisel and blade to whittle out the shape of the haft." he pulls the rope for the billows again, shoulders, back and arms rippling, "This is the work of a weapons and armor smith. Maybe one of you will get the urge to try it. And I may teach you." Some of the boys look interested. A few of the young girls, on their way to maturity have eyes only for the rippling muscle of the old goblin.

The old smith grins at them all, "Who knows in the end." He turns and pulls the billows again, sparks and flames rising high. Thse young goblins would stay for a few hours later to watch Koglan work. The old smith would gladly show them how he works the entire time. Hoping one of them girl or boy would catch the urge to learn how to weave iron like he did.