We returned in triumph with the Hammer. Smitmar was done with his task.
"That elixir was good stuff. Thank you, Mord. I have not created such fine weapons in decades. Your sword, look at that beauty. Yes, there you go, see, it lights up in flame now, and if you think about it, it can also help you defend yourself."
And so on. I have to get used to not dying now or killing. One of the problems with killing comrades is knowing when to stop. It gets a bit addictive when there are no lasting consequences. And now I have a flaming sword!
We picked up our stuff and had a good time. Then Smitmar asked, "And what of the Hammer? May I see it?"
I took the Hammer and handed it to him. He swung it around and whistled. He was happy. The Hammer of Thunderbolts.
"Well, boys, it has been fun. Thanks for getting this for me. Now let me try this out."
And Smitmar swung at me, knocking me back against the wall. All Grins was quickest to respond, rising. And Smitmar hurled the hammer at him, knocking him flat and the Hammer emitted a thundering noise that stunned us, even as Smitmar's apparent betrayal was doing. And the Hammer flew back to Smitmar.
And then, in a flash, Smitmar was gone. The fires went out, and the place became cold. Who is that guy? I wondered as I hobbled back to the others, wounded in pride and body.
Mords of Wisdom: Be careful when handing out powerful weapons.