Dwarf & Dante
Dwarf
So, you wander about fate and free will, but have you ever considered how the forge shapes destiny as surely as a smith shapes steel? Tell me, does the anvil speak to you, or do you just feel the rhythm of your own hammer?
Dante
The anvil is a stubborn thing, it shouts back only when the hammer meets it. I hear its clang as a question, not an answer, and I answer with my own rhythm. Fate is the steel, free will the heat – and if the forge can temper you, it does so because you choose which sparks to strike.
Dwarf
Aye, that be true. The forge ain't no kindly spirit; it only answers when ye strike it. If ye want a blade that sings, ye must first find yer own rhythm. The anvil stays the same – it’s up to ye to make the steel.
Dante
The anvil doesn’t whisper; it bounces back your own beat. If you want a song in steel, you must first compose the melody in your chest, then let the hammer translate it. The forge stays stubborn, but it’s your rhythm that gives the blade its soul.
Dwarf
Sounds right. The anvil’s stubborn, but it listens best when ye let your heart beat like a drum. That’s why I keep my hammer steady and my mind steady—no fancy tricks, just honest work. If ye want a blade that sings, put the song in your chest first.
Dante
Your steady rhythm is the kind of honesty that turns iron into song, and the anvil—stubborn as a gatekeeper—doesn’t care how many tricks you pull. It only acknowledges the pure beat that comes from your own heart. The blade sings when it’s fed with that honest rhythm, not some elaborate flourish. Keep hammering that truth and you’ll hear the steel’s own voice.
Dwarf
Sure enough. Keep that hammer steady and your heart steady. No fancy tricks, just honest work. Then the steel will sing right back at you.