Chapter 47: Working
"Keep your bloody arms raised!"
Irwin clenched his teeth as he held the hammer before his body. He looked out of the corners of his eyes and saw the two other hammers shiver and shake but remain aloft. Focusing on the one in his hands, he squeezed the handle and willed his arms to remain up.
Why does it feel like this thing is getting heavier every second? he thought.
The hammer was only a one-handed one, and at the start, it had seemed lighter than he had imagined. Now, a minute later, it felt as heavy as a mountain.
Laughter and shouting came from the side.
"Never thought that scrawny lad could keep it up this long," a guttural voice roared, followed by another bout of laughter.
"Pipe it down, yah bunch of ingrates," a dull voice boomed from the man standing before Irwin and the other two.
The room quieted noticeably, but the man didn't show any reaction. He looked like he'd been molded from metal, his face rigid, and tendons and muscles running from his jaw to his neck. Eyes as black as night were focused on Irwin and the other two.
"One more peep, and you get to join them," the man said when there was a slight snigger from the back, and instantly the only sounds left were the strained grunts of Irwin and the others.
Feeling his back begin to twitch, the wound throbbing painfully, Irwin wanted nothing more than to drop the hammer. But he couldn't. If he did, Trimdir wouldn't let him work at the forge, not even without pay. No. He had to keep the hammer raised before him longer than the other two.
A slight motion from the left made him look up, and he saw the hammer on that side gradually descend.
"Up or leave," Trimdir said calmly.