Legend 61 - the Black Sword

Legend 61 - The Blacksword (From Fables & Legends from the Shadow Clan)

A long time ago when the world was young and all of the forests were
still joined as one great forest, there lived in the region of Vendor
a Dwarven Smith. Derindar son of Danarion was his name, and his works
were matchless even by the most skilled of the Dwarven runemasters. He
wrought many rings, some of which graced the hands of the
princesses of the day. His necklaces and amulets adorned many necks in
the great nobility, and even (it is said) the slender
necks of several queens. His jewelry was indeed very fine, but
Derindar's heart lay not in these pieces, but instead in things of
power. Often he retired to the forest and his secret hut with it's
great forge. No one was permitted to come there, save his son Deraldar
once he had grown near to manhood. Derindar brought few things from
this hidden forge to the wider world, but even these items had
considerable power. There were some that gave the power to command
great magical energies, and rule over arcane knowledge; others gave
dominion over the hearts and minds of others. At this time Derindar was
generous with his gifts, for he had no reason to deny them to anyone who
asked. And for his abilities and his generosity he was highly esteemed.

In time Derindar became proud, for his creations were unequalled across the
North Island. He desired that others praise him, yet had hardly a kind
word for any other. As the years passed he gave away fewer and fewer things,
and then only to those whom he personally favored.
No longer was he willing to create a powerful item for anyone that might
ask for one. His work became joyless, and showed only the cold beauty
of his technique and not the natural beauty of the earth. Not long
afterwards Derindar began to forge weapons, for was it not perfectly
understandable that his family should be able to protect themselves? In
reality he hid his creations in his secret forge in the Vale, and in a
short time this became the greatest collection of powerful items in the
known world. His home, was never in danger of any
attack but his heart was corrupted through the
love of the works of his forge, and he believed that many would gladly
lay covetous hands on his hoard, it they only could. The the forge
fires of Derindar burned long and hot, and with the help of Deraldar he
began to make chain and plate mail. These were cunningly wrought, so
that the wearer was able to move lightly, and the armor felt like
clothing on the skin. When these shining suits of mail were finished
Derindar gathered together forgotten materials and began to hammer out
great swords and shields on his anvil. Dark, swift blades he made for
himself and his family, using no small amount of power in their creation.

Derindar knew a great deal about swordmanship, for he had practiced long
years in secret. So he instructed his family in the handling of swords,
and then gave to them the blades. When their work was done, Deraldar
turned to his father: "You have no sword of your own. Don't you want to
defend house and home with us when the time comes?" At this, Derindar
laughed. "Indeed, indeed my son! We have weapons, but now I will bring
forth a weapons such as the world has never seen! Come, lend you hand -
I have prepared a long time for this working. You shall help me, and
the world shall tremble when this blade is drawn from it's sheath!".
Thus he spoke, and brought many ores and materials forth that he had
kept hidden even from his son. He built up the forge fires hotter than
ever before, and threw mystical substances into the flames. The flames
burned with a dark shadow at their core. Eight days and night Derindar
and his son worked on the great blade. Three times threw it back into
the fires of the forge because of a slight flaw in the smithwork. The
dark fires burned themselves into the as yet unfinished blade, and it is
said that since that time one can see the ancient dark fires of the
secret Vale forge burning in the sword, whenever it is held near a
very hot flame.

Finally the great deed was accomplished. Derindar quenched the blade in
the cold water of a nearby stream, and a cloud of black steam and vapor
rose into the air. When it had cooled, he took it from the brook, and
the blade was black as midnight. Deraldar extinguished the forge fires,
and together they laid the blade on the pitchblack scabbard they had
wrought for it. Then Derindar raised the finished weapon over his head,
and it was wreathed in a nimbus of unearthly power. And he called out
with a loud voice that this was Valkyari, the Blacksword. Then he
laughed again, and spoke to his son. "See! Even now the blade is
thirsty for work. Truly it is made for battle; whoever uses it will
take many lives. He will find great glory in battle, and fall in battle
as well. This is the sword's doom." He locked the blade in his great
storeroom, and rested from his labors.