355 lines
5.7 KiB
Plaintext
Executable File
355 lines
5.7 KiB
Plaintext
Executable File
1
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GrailHeart presents:
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2
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“The Quirky Blacksmith”
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3
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00:00:20,433 --> 00:00:21,833
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The village blacksmith
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4
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00:00:21,833 --> 00:00:24,600
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was a man of steady heat and hand,
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5
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00:00:24,600 --> 00:00:28,733
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with a few quirks no one quite understood.
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6
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He spoke little,
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7
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but often
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8
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00:00:31,066 --> 00:00:33,500
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muttered to the coals, as if the forge
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9
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00:00:33,500 --> 00:00:37,233
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were an old friend with a temper.
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10
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00:00:37,233 --> 00:00:40,033
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Sometimes he sang to his hammer.
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11
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00:00:40,033 --> 00:00:43,000
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Always the same five note tune,
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12
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fragile and a little sad:
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13
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00:01:03,633 --> 00:01:07,333
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He wore one iron boot and one leather one.
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00:01:07,333 --> 00:01:09,500
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No one knew why.
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15
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00:01:09,500 --> 00:01:11,200
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When asked, he'd
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only say “Balance!” and go back to work.
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00:01:15,833 --> 00:01:18,600
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Crows followed him to the village.
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00:01:18,600 --> 00:01:20,200
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He never called them,
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00:01:20,200 --> 00:01:23,033
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but he left bits of bread
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on the windowsill
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00:01:23,033 --> 00:01:25,966
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and smiled when they took it.
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00:01:25,966 --> 00:01:28,666
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He refused to take silver coins.
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00:01:28,666 --> 00:01:32,633
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He said they made the scales lie.
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00:01:32,633 --> 00:01:34,400
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His name was Arren,
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and he had the kind of presence
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that made children
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curious and adults uncomfortable.
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To some, he was a local legend,
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a living charm against misfortune.
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To others, he was the village oddity.
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Reliable, yes,
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but not to be invited to dinner.
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When asked a question, he answered it.
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00:02:00,600 --> 00:02:02,066
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When asked for help,
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he gave it, though never gently.
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He wasn't cruel, just unsanded.
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00:02:10,300 --> 00:02:13,400
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The weaver said he was touched
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in the head.
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The merchant said
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he was touched in the hands.
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00:02:16,866 --> 00:02:19,566
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The healer said he was touched by
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something
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the bones remember.
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40
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And yet,
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when the bridge collapsed
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in the spring floods,
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it was Arren
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who devised a curious brace for the beam
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and fitted it beneath
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a dozen feet of icy water.
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47
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When a child went missing in
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the mountains,
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Arren was the one who searched
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through the sleat
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through the night, in places
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no one else thought to look,
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until he found her
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half frostbitten beneath a pine tree.
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And when the village well ran dry,
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Arren built a strange pulley
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rig from old iron and driftwood.
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And water flowed again.
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00:03:01,200 --> 00:03:02,366
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Though no one quite
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understood how it worked.
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60
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He never asked for praise.
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He never explained the things he did.
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He never once tried to smooth his edges.
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People came and went in the village.
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Some admired him,
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some avoided him. Some,
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66
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a few, loved him as he was.
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One evening,
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long after the forge had cooled,
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an old friend sat beside him
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70
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by the fire and asked,
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Doesn't it bother you
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71
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that half the town thinks you're too much?
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72
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00:03:41,866 --> 00:03:45,800
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And the other half
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thinks you're not enough?
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73
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Arren shrugged.
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They're not wrong, he said.
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But they're not right either.
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He fed a scrap of bread
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to a crow that had landed
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on the edge of the bench.
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79
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I'm not here to please the village.
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80
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I'm here to hold the shape I was given
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81
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until it's time to return it.
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82
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The fire crackled.
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83
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The sky grew soft.
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84
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The anvil dreamed in silence.
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85
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And in the village a child fell asleep,
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feeling safe,
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not knowing why.
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