Durin arrived from the East District to the end of Fourth Street in the West District, where there was a blacksmith shop, neither big nor small. The shop had no name, only a pair of iron hammers symbolizing craftsmen and a 'Now Open' sign hanging outside.
A burly, bald man, nearly two meters tall, was shirtless, wearing a pigskin apron, holding a small iron hammer in his right hand and iron tongs in his left, busily working at the workbench, covered in sweat. He paid no attention to Durin's entry, completely unconcerned, still monotonously striking the glowing red metal on the anvil, blow after blow.
The blacksmith shop was a single-room adobe house, with its overall structure facing the sun. The door was made of several vertical wooden planks joined together, with two horizontal cross straps, and the window had six panes, the top two open, and the bottom ones fitted with glass. The roof of the blacksmith's furnace room had a skylight, made of glass, for ventilation and rain protection.
Against the wall, there was a large earthen stove with a bellows buried inside. Raw iron was burning in the stove fire, and with each push and pull of the bellows, the stove fire flared up. Beside the stove, a triangular iron anvil was propped up, with iron hammers and tongs of various sizes scattered haphazardly.
Next to the anvil was also a large wooden basin full of water, the water thick and emitting a pungent gray-green smell.
Inside the shop, due to the high-temperature furnace fire, it was much hotter than outside. As soon as Durin approached, he could feel a wave of heat rushing towards him.
Bang!
Sparks flew, like brilliant fireworks. Clang-clang-clang, like a rapid succession of strings, as the raw iron gradually dimmed and took shape under the hammering.
Ding-a-ling!
Durin's entry disturbed the bell at the door, signaling that a customer had arrived.
On the display rack were various standardized weapons. Inside the blacksmith shop, there was also a young man wearing a headscarf who was maintaining each weapon. This young man's appearance bore some resemblance to the bald strong man.
"Welcome, customer. Welcome to Master Kang's Blacksmith Shop."
"If you need anything, you can tell me. I am Master Kang's son, the only apprentice in this blacksmith shop."
"If you like the products on the shelf right now, then we have clear prices, and you can take the goods once you pay. If you have custom requirements, please state them first, and we will give you a quote based on the difficulty," the young man greeted him with enthusiasm.
"I'm not here to buy anything; I want to be an apprentice here," Durin said politely and directly.
The young man immediately froze, his smile instantly vanishing from his face. He shouted expressionlessly, "Dad, someone wants to be an apprentice again."
"I don't take apprentices!" The bald strong man, referred to as Kang, put down his small iron hammer. His dark skin exuded a healthy glow, and his bulging muscles showed his robustness, as he unceremoniously refused.
Hearing this, Durin continued, "I have already saved up the eighteen silver lun coins for the apprentice fee. Moreover, I have become very strong."
Saying this, he rolled up his sleeve, revealing his developing biceps, proving that he was no longer the same as before.
If the other party still refused to take him as an apprentice, he would definitely turn around and leave. Zaun was so big, and this was not the only blacksmith shop.
He came here for only two reasons—first, he was more familiar with this blacksmith shop, and second, the standard of this blacksmith shop was relatively high.
"Hmm? Are you that Ionia man who wanted to be an apprentice a few months ago?" Blacksmith Kang washed his hands in a clean bucket, staring at Durin's distinctly Eastern face with a puzzled expression, and asked coldly.
"Yes, that's me."
Durin admitted.
"If you've saved enough for eighteen silver lun coins, I can take you as an apprentice. But I need to test whether you really have muscles or if it's just for show," Blacksmith Kang said in a deep voice, pointing to the small iron hammer lying aside.
A few months ago, when he saw Durin, the latter was still a frail scholar who couldn't even lift a hammer, looking fair and tender, thin and scrawny.
And he was particularly afraid of these red-hot iron materials, avoiding them at the time, let alone asking him to step forward and swing a hammer to forge iron.
"Good!"
Durin agreed on the spot.
He skillfully lit the furnace fire and stoked the bellows, making a whooshing sound, and the furnace fire became extremely vigorous.
It wasn't long before the iron material was heated.
Durin put on an apron, rolled up his sleeves, put on gloves, and expertly picked up the iron tongs, took out a piece of iron from the blacksmith's furnace, and placed it on the anvil.