The Blacksmith
By Andrew Soliday
Western Michigan University
Spring 2007

Inside this decrepit looking abode is the Blacksmith of the village. He has been with this occupation for a large portion of his life. The Blacksmith is currently unmarried and has no children, both of which he never wants to have; he prefers his lifestyle the way that it is, independent and free to spend his time the way that he wants.

The Blacksmith has always been a happy man. Always serving the locals with the tasks that they give him. He knew no other pleasure in his life, he was part of his steel, and he was part of his tools. Why would he want things any other way? In his spare time, he often sat outside in his favorite chair refurnishing all of his tools as he watched the world around him pass by with all its cares gracefully falling behind him.

Often times while he was outside he would watch the children play their games. The Blacksmith didnt need children. He had the joy of watching the towns children play all around him as he sat outside working on his tools. He could enjoy the company of the children without the responsibility of being a parent. This was good enough for him. Sometimes the children would approach the sitting Blacksmith, and ask him to tell stories about the steel that made his hands hard, cracked and rough looking.

What else could he have asked for in this life? He had it all his tools, his hands, and his chair. He was getting older these days. The Blacksmith was somewhere in his late fifties old by the standards of the day when most men died before they reached 35. By this time he felt that he had seen the world and all the beauty that comes with the sunrise and sunset each day. He has seen many people come and go, children grow up and steel crack under the pressure of his hammer.

Inside his house is the main workspace where he spends most of his time. Tools are what have always mattered most to the Blacksmith, for they are what have allowed him to wield the power over the metal that is gripped in his vice and rests upon his anvil. This workspace has always nourished him since his apprenticeship as a young boy. His tools are always neatly arranged on the wall, being ordered from smallest to largest.

In the middle of the workspace lies his giant anvil. He believes that this piece of equipment is what best represents himself as a person passive, humble and still. Everyday he slaves over the anvil pounding his heated metal with his hammer.

The glow that comes from the heated metal fills him with a certain pride, he can see rays of the glowing sun stuck in the rod. He feels as if his arm contains a higher form of energy that glows brighter than the metal that he holds in his hands. The Blacksmith knows his place in the world and the world knows the place inside of him.

Sometimes the local children come inside and watch him shape the metal with his hands. The children watch him awestruck and wonder how he has gained the God like power to bend and shape the rock hard metal. For he is the shaper, he is the one the children believe has more power then any other mortal on earth.

The Blacksmith remembers the first time he saw the Pied Piper come into the village. He carried himself in such a way that seemed almost flirtatious. Pied Piper was brought to town to eliminate the rat problem. The Blacksmith couldnt understand the rat problem in the town, for he never had rats in his abode. When one scurried across the floor, the Blacksmith swooped down upon the furry creature with his great hammer and ended the great run across the dirt floor from one dark corner to another. The Blacksmith was weary, therefore, of the purpose for the Pied Pipers visit. Could he be causing the rat problem in the town to begin with? The Blacksmith has a feeling the Piper is here for another reason, as yet not revealed.

The Blacksmith watched the Piper with close eyes, scrutinizing the Pipers every move. One day, the Smithy was working at his workspace shaping a horseshoe. He saw the Piper through the open window gathering the children around in a large circle. As the Blacksmith looked out his window, he wondered what the Piper was saying to them. The roaring fire behind him blocked the sound of the Pipers voice from entering in through the window. The Smithys hands became more and wearier as the curiosity over what the Piper was up to worried the Smithys mind.

One day, the Blacksmith heard a flute from afar when he was outside sitting in his chair. One by one, he saw every child in town pass by with their arms outstretched, and dancing in the same little two-three-two step pattern. Not one child in the village even glanced at the Blacksmith as they passed by. These were once his friends, the ones who used to idolize him. Now they were in some sort of trance, dancing aimlessly, but also with purpose as they advanced through the town. Flute playing was moving all throughout the village, moving as gracefully as the soft breeze that came from the west. Every note was sliding along the dirt road, moving every child in the dance two-three-two step in a trance-like state.

The Blacksmith followed one of the children who were dancing down the street. He saw the footprints on the beaten path. They were scattered at strange angles, suggesting that every child walking down this path had indeed been in a trance, unable to break free from it. The sound of the flute still carried throughout the town, but the Blacksmith had no idea where it was coming from. He looked all around him to find signs of the manipulative Piper. It was no use, though. His flute sounds were everywhere, which meant that the Piper was everywhere as well. He was something higher than a human being. He was an outer worldly spirit that moves through the tones of high pitched flatted notes.

He moved faster in order to catch up to the child he had been following. Blacksmith turned the child around, but the child continued to move in his trance. The Blacksmith placed his hands on the childs shoulders in an attempt to shake him out of the trance. Listen to me, he said. Where are you going? What is happening here?

The child was unable to break free, his feet kept moving in the two-three-two step dance, constantly pushing forward and not looking back. His eyes were rolled to the back of his head, the whites were all that the Smithy could see. Where are you going> he said once more.

The child looked at him once and drool began to fall from his mouth. The child appeared as if he had been drugged, or even drunk.

These notes, said the Blacksmith. What are they doing to you?

With his hands flailing, the childs feet stopped moving for one second and he looked at the Blacksmith with a sinister smile. We, we, w, ar- Transyl- said the child before his eyes glazed over again and his feet picked up the two-three-two step dance as he moved forward again. He could barely get out these partial words. Forcing them out seemed like a great discomfort to the child.

What did you say? The Blacksmith shook the child gently again, but to no avail. The child began to dance down the beaten path again. The Blacksmith looked behind him and noticed about fifteen more children coming up the dirt tract. Tears began to form in his eyes as he looked off in the distance and noticed a vast amount of children dancing out towards the fringes of town. He glanced down at his hands and noticed how cracked and untreated they were.

He watched as they danced, and they danced, and they danced.

For Reflection:
Can you write a story from the childrens point of view?

Andrew indicates that the Piper is magical. Or that the children have been drugged in some way. Can you write a story that describes the way the Piper gained his magic, or one that describes how the Piper wielded his magic over the children?

There have been lots of theories about what happened to the children of Hamelin. One theory is that the children suffered from Ergot poisoning, which can constrict the blood vessels in the legs and feet. It is speculated that the Pied Piper may have been hired to play tunes for the children to dance to, because by dancing the blood was forced through the blood vessels to the feet. Can you write a story with this as the basic plot? Another author, Gloria Skurzynski writes the book, What Happened in Hamelin. She explores the use of Ergot poisoning as a means to an end for the Piper and his mysterious ways. You can find out about Ergot poisoning at http://www.botany.hawaii.edu/faculty/wong/BOT135/LECT12.HTM

The incidence of rye fermentation might also be tied into the cold damp weather of The Little Ice Age, which spans a time frame of approximately 800 1850.