The Swordsmith in the Mountain

Once upon a time, which is the way all good stories should start and most of them do, Rupert the Fearless was pulling his sword out of a dragon’s foot. Unfortunately, the foot is not a vital organ, and his sword was stuck. The huge red dragon had made a mistake and tried to crush Rupert with his claws, and Rupert had jumped out of the way just in time. He had spun around and sunk his strong sword through its foot, into the hard ground. Now he was pulling at the sword, while the beast was roaring. Rupert knew what was coming next.

The dragon sucked in a large breath and exhaled fire and smoke and death. Rupert scampered up and ran. He was Rupert the Fearless, not Rupert the Stupid. He had fire and sparks on his heels when he got to the trees. The fire blasted a tree right behind him, while he dove behind a fallen log. With a terrible smell, the fire stopped and Rupert looked up. The slit in his helmet showed him a couple burning trees and beyond that, a very angry dragon. The dragon roared again, and with a sword still stuck in his foot, wrenched it free from the ground and expanded its wings. Rupert ran out of the trees, without a real plan except to retrieve his sword. Too late. The dragon took off and flew to the East Mountain and to the safety of its lair. Rupert stayed there standing for quite a while, realizing that he didn’t have a sword and he failed to defeat the dragon. Bummer. After a few minutes of silence, Rupert the Fearless took off his helmet and whistled. His horse came from the forest. “Well, Horse,” he said “that wasn’t really successful.”

Horse snorted.

“Yeah. Well, I need a new sword and we’ll try this again.” Horse started trotting in the direction of the village. “Good idea. Let’s go to the village. I need a bath anyway.”

At the village, everyone was about as helpful as a hole in the head. Rupert decided to go to the tavern and think. He dropped Horse off at the stable and got some food. While he was there, he overheard a group of old men. One was with a long white beard, skinny muscles and a scratchy voice.

“I told ye, I saw the swordsman! Last week a’chasing mah stubborn sheep up thar!” The man pointed out the window to the west where there was a huge towering mountain. Another man with worn clothes and a bald head piped up in a gruff tone “I saw ‘im too! He ain’t no legend to me. I’m tellin’ ye, that man is out there turnin’ a sword like none other.”

Rupert’s ears perked up and he leaned back to listen.

“That a’ true,” the skinny man grunted. “But don’ nobody talk to ‘im.” His eyes narrowed and he whispered “if a man dare’n to go up there to the West Mount’n, he’ll fin’ the world of danger that man can be.” The bald man grunted and nodded.

Rupert got up from his chair and left the tavern. He walked across the road and to the stable. Horse woke up when Rupert arrived in the stable. “Come on Horse, the bath’s going to wait. We’re going to the West Mountain.” Horse jumped up, shook his head and whinnied.

As they approached the misty foothills of the mountain, Rupert reined up on Horse and they trotted up to a sheer face of the mountain. It was straight up. “How the devil did that man chase his sheep up this bloody cliff?” Horse didn’t comment. Rupert shouts “Hello!” No answers except ghostly echoes came from the fog around them. Horse gave a sudden shake.

Rupert dismounted and climbed the face of the cliff until he sat on a ledge, looking down at Horse. “Hello!” There was no answer as the wind blew through his thick black hair.

Rupert stood up and kept climbing. He climbed so high, it became difficult to see Horse through the fog below. Rupert was exhausted, breathing heavily. He sat on the small ledge of the cliff with his feet dangling above the tops of trees. “Gasp…gasp...Ughh...what kind of mess have I gotten myself into? There is no swordsmith up here…gasp…I’m a fool for listening to crazy stories from drinking old men!” Rupert slammed his fist against the rock behind him. Then he stood up and faced it.

“I’m an idiot!” Smack! “Aaaa! I need a sword!” Whack! “What kind of Fearless knight doesn’t have a sword!” Bam! At the third strike, the ground began to shake. The whole mountain moving reminded Rupert of Horse shivering beneath him. Rupert braced himself against the rocks. “Aaaa! What is going on?!” The rocks turned and some fell. The ledge Rupert was standing on started to slide underneath his feet, and the boulders gathered together around Rupert. They wrapped around his waist like fat fingers and twisted him around and pulled him up into the air, up past the clouds. He was brought before a massive pair of stone eyes, as if carved out of the mountain. Then they moved suddenly, sizing up the little knight before them.

A heavy, deep voice growled from beneath the beard of clouds. “Before the time of men, I have slept here.”

“Umm…I am Rupert the Fearless. Can you help me find the mysterious swordsmith?”

“I am…the swordsmith.”

“Woa.” The mountain WAS the swordsmith! So Rupert told him all about the evil dragon plaguing the land and how he had lost his sword in mighty battle. The mountain listened and when Rupert had finished speaking, the mountain nodded slowly and Rupert found himself zooming down to the ground, carried by the great hand of the mountain.

“UMPH!” Rupert was set down with a plop. Then the hand vanished up into the clouds. Rupert looked at horse when loud grinding and crushing noises came from the mountain. Lightning and fire seemed to set the fog alight. Late in the evening the giant hand returned, closed around something. Rupert and Horse approached it slowly and it opened to reveal a stunning sword. Silver blade and black handle. Razor sharp on double edges with a large red jewel in the pommel. The mountain spoke “It’s name is Tagasi. Your voice will call it to you. It will never be dulled in battle or lose its luster.”

Rupert approached and took the sword. It seemed to sing when he picked it up. Then he knelt down. “This is the most amazing sword I’ve ever seen. Thank you, great swordsmith in the mountain.” As the hand left, the mountain groaned “…and you need a bath” and was silent. Rupert looked down at the sword, then up at Horse. “Horse, let’s go dragon hunting.”

In front of the dragon’s lair, Rupert heard it moaning. He had all his armor on, with Tagasi at his side. He bent his head around the opening and saw the large red dragon belching black smoke at his foot still oozing green blood, eyes glowing in the darkness. Rupert pulled away.

“What did he mean that I can call it to me? Oh well, if it never gets dull that’s good enough for me.” Rupert turned to plan out his attack and there, staring him in the face, was a giant yellow eye. “GAA!” Rupert jumped back and pulled Tagasi out. The dragon snapped and missed when Rupert jumped back. Its long red tongue whipped out and around Rupert’s foot, and then back to pull Rupert off balance. Rupert fell on his back, losing his grip on Tagasi. It spun in the dirt, a few feet from his grasp. “No!” The dragon snatched up Rupert sword, and with a smooth motion swallowed it. “Gaa! No! My new swoooord!” Then he thought. He wondered. He looked up slowly and as the dragon was ready to strike again, Rupert whispered softly “Tagasi.”

A strange gurgling sounds came from the dragon’s throat. The dragon grabbed its neck and backed up, shaking his head. Then with a tearing and slicing noise Tagasi blew out the insides of the dragon, green slime and goo covering Rupert. The dragon fell with a THUD! Tagasi flew into Rupert’s hand, and he stood there, stunned and dripping.

“Wow.” He said after a long time. “I think…I need a bath.”