An
Afternoon With The Blacksmith
by Jennifer
Leigh Crandall
In the days of our remote
ancestors, one man stood out among all the others. He was
the village smith. A man who could change rock and
charcoal into plough shares and sword blades was a man who
possessed great magic. These men were revered by one and
all, not only for their great magic, but also for their great
strength. It is said there are still men who can bend the
hard iron and fire to their will, men who can
still work the ancient magic. In the land Leif the
Lucky named Vinland, we found just such a man.
On a warm summer's day we made our way to the small shop
on the outskirts of the city. We were welcomed by a young
man with immense shoulders and a grin to match. The
thing that really hits you about Glenn Parrell is his enthusiasm
for his work. Stacked against the walls of the shop were
over a dozen projects in various stages of completion. There was
everything from restaurant chairs to a broadsword, from art work
to a variety of kinves. He makes candle holders, jewellery,
and wrought iron gates, coffee tables, bed frames, and just
about anything else you might think of, but one can easily
see that his favourite is blades and armour.
While we were looking through his photo albums of
interesting projects, he pulled out a three foot length of
frayed cable. "It is from an old logging
operation," he said with a grin. "It is of no
use whatsoever to anyone else but me."
"What are you going to do with that?" I asked
innocently.
"Make Damascus steel," he replied gleefully.
With a flourish he thrust it into the forge. As the
afternoon wore on, I watched in fascination as he pounded the
metal into submission. Into the fire and onto the anvil
went the steel. I lost count of how many times he worked
the metal. I also lost count of how many gallons of water
he drank as he sweated through the day. At length he had a
bar of fine steel for his
efforts. "In a few days this will be a sword
blade," he announced as he laid it aside.
There followed a demonstration of every tool and hammer in
the shop. Glenn spoke at length as he worked, explaining what
every tool was for and why he took each step that he took in the
fashioning of the steel.
"Wait, you can't leave yet," he said as we made
ready to leave. He seized up an iron bar and thrust it
into the forge. Pulling it forth, he pounded, beat,
twisted and bent the bar into a shape like a coiled rattlesnake.
Swiftly he sharpened the upper end then beat a huge washer into
a cup which was fitted over the snake's sharpened head.
"A gift for you," he proudly announced as he handed my
companion the huge candle holder. That Candle holder now
has a place of honour in our living room.
Yes the magic still survives, and so do the men who can
wield it. He calls his shop Viking Metalworks and
can be reached at 709-685-9633 in St. John's Newfoundland.
There is still a Viking smith in Vinland.
Jennifer Leigh Crandall
copyright November 03/1998
