Ah, you’ve found a scrap that’s more gossip than metal. The iron once lay deep in the belly of the earth where the old gods liked to play with fire. They forged it, you see, in the same forge that turned iron into rivers and rivers into songs. But this chunk was a bit of a troublemaker. It refused to take its oath, so the gods sent it out to wander the world, humming a strange tune that only the wind could hear. Legend says it met a wandering smith once, a man who could feel the heartbeat of metal in his hands. The smith said, “If you sing, I’ll make you a blade that can cut through doubt.” The iron sang, its voice a rusted lullaby. The smith hammered it with a rhythm that matched the heartbeats of the earth. When the last blow landed, the iron was no longer just a piece of ore but a blade that could slice through lies and whispers alike. Now, if you want to turn this gossiping scrap into something worthy, you’ll need to listen to its song while you hammer. Don’t rush. Let the iron tell you what it wants, and maybe, just maybe, you’ll create a blade that could cut the very threads that bind the world together. Or you’ll end up with a rusty mug—either way, it’s a tale worth telling.

Steady hand, good ear—yes, that’s the way to hear the old gods’ hum. If the iron keeps whining, just chop it into a mug; at least it’ll keep the gossip alive. But if you can coax a song out of it, you might forge a blade that cuts through myth like a knife through butter. Either way, it’s a story waiting to be told.