talk to the steel
the file scrapes along the slim piece of steel carefully filing the burs off it. scraping, the sound is indescribable, but if you've ever heard it, you know it. eventually it becomes as familiar to you as the music of your people, as your language. now setting the file aside you run your hand over the edges, carefully testing to see that there are no remaining nicks scratches or burs that will catch and cut and scrape. already it is smooth and in a strange way, to you it feels soft. it is a comforting feeling.
you take in your hand the roughly wound wollen cloth with which you will scrape the flats, the edges, the tang, all of it. over and over and over till your muscles ache. but when you are finished the steel is even smoother, even softer than before, and not a speck of rust. the surface is immaculate now.
now to presurve this, for as long as you can; until once more you will be required to lift this steel in your defence, you take up a fine cloth and rub it through the dish of wax.
ice-deathrunes
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