Chapter Six: Forging a Home
The sun rose behind the trees, washing the hollow in gold. Smoke drifted lazily from the fires that now burned in neat stone rings, and Kael could see movement all around him—goblins busy at work, carrying wood, stacking stone, and tending to drying hides.
It had been a fortnight since Durgan Stonehand arrived, grumbling and muttering under his breath, yet with a hammer now firmly in his hands.
Kael walked among them, Umbra padding silently at his side. Children dragged small logs, laughing at each other's mistakes. Raguk and the elder supervised, shouting instructions, while adults dug foundations, wove roofs, and hammered nails with steadily improving skill.
"Look at this," Kael said, pointing toward a frame of logs hewn neatly into a square. "A proper hut, strong enough to weather storms. Not a bent shelter. Not a lean-to."
The elder nodded, wiping sweat from her brow. "Even the youngest helped. They are learning."
"Good," Kael said. "But learning is not enough. Watch them, Umbra. Watch them and see if they understand why we build this way."
The black direwolf's golden eyes followed the workers, head tilting as if analyzing.
The forge had become the center of the settlement, a low stone building with a chimney sending smoke high into the sky. Durgan bellowed over the clang of hammers.
"Come on! Bend it! Strike it! Not like a toddler smashing mud pies!"
Several goblins moved under his watchful eye, working iron with tongs and hammers, sparks flying in arcs that lit their eager faces. Their hands were raw and blistered, yet they moved with purpose.
Kael observed quietly. "See their progress?" he asked the elder. "A week ago, these weapons would shatter in the first fight. Now, they are strong. Useful. They could sell these for gold or silver. Or keep them to defend themselves."
The elder nodded, voice soft. "And you did this, War-chief. They trust you."
Kael's jaw tightened. "They trust each other now, too. That is as important as any hammer or blade."
Even the wolves were being integrated. Umbra and his pack patrolled the outer boundaries of the hollow, communicating in low growls and subtle gestures that the goblins were beginning to understand. Children ran near them, fetching water from the small stream without fear, while hunters relied on them to alert to predators.
Raguk called out, laughing. "Hurry! Don't get caught under a paw, or Umbra might mistake you for lunch!"
The black direwolf's ears twitched, and he growled once. The goblins laughed, and Kael allowed himself a rare smile.
By the third day, the village had added a well, dug with careful guidance from Kael and the elder, ensuring clean water would flow year-round. Food stores were organized into a stone building, divided for grain, salted meat, and dried herbs. Roofs were reinforced, chimneys added, and simple bridges built across small streams for easier movement.
Durgan supervised the forge with relentless energy, teaching goblins to make nails, iron fittings, knives, and spearheads.
"You strike too hard! You'll shatter the iron!" he yelled at one apprentice. "No, no, feel it. Let the metal speak!"
The goblin blinked, then tried again, sweat dripping, teeth clenched. Sparks flew, and the iron bent under his hammer properly this time.
Kael approached, placing a hand on the goblin's shoulder. "See? You listened. You learned. That is why we are building a home. Not for comfort, but for strength. For survival. For them," he said, nodding toward the village.
The goblin beamed, pride in his small eyes. "We are… strong," he whispered.
Kael's red eyes glimmered. "Stronger than you know."
Days passed in this rhythm. Kael planned the layout of the settlement: homes clustered around the forge, storage, and well; paths cleared for easy passage; a central firepit for gatherings and announcements. Workshops for carpentry, weaving, and tanning were begun. Every hut had a purpose; every goblin knew theirs.
Evenings were spent in discussion around the central fire. Kael taught strategy and leadership. Durgan, still grumbling but growing fond of the goblins, gave lessons in smithing theory, metallurgy, and design.
Raguk, proud and loud, announced: "War-chief, our spears are ready. Our arrows fly straight. Soon, nothing will challenge us in these woods!"
Kael allowed a faint smile. "Soon," he agreed, voice soft but certain. "And when we are ready, the world beyond these trees will notice us."
Umbra growled, as if in agreement, and Kael could swear the wolf's golden eyes shone with intelligence far beyond any human's.
By the end of the week, the hollow had transformed completely.
Huts were solid, square, and weatherproof.
Forge operated from dawn to dusk, hammering out tools and weapons.
Well provided fresh water.
Storage houses kept food and supplies organized.
Paths and bridges made movement easier.
Wolves patrolled, keeping the village safe.
Kael stood on the hill above the settlement, Umbra at his side. Smoke drifted from chimneys, children laughed, goblins carried tools and hides, Durgan shouted instructions from the forge.
Kael surveyed it all, and for the first time, he did not feel like a survivor.
He felt like a builder.
He felt like a king.
And this was only the beginning.