No context, just fun.
OK, *some* context, it is from the new book.
“In, in, in, don’t let the heat out shuffling in here, old man!” The voice startled Till, being unlike any she’d ever heard before. It had the ring of steel striking steel, the hiss of a beaten rod being quenched. When she stared up at Grandfa, he just snorted and pushed the door open.
“Cantankerous old bastard, that’s what you are,” Grandfa replied good naturedly as he drew Till into the room, closing the door firmly behind them.
Except for the glowing embers in the center of the forge, the room was dark, with just the barest edge of a chill. Till looked around, puzzled and wondering who could dare be so disrespectful to the old warrior. She spun around, taking care to keep far from the fire. Seeing the child’s confusion, Grandfa took her hand and laid it carefully on the stone workbench.
Till felt a slight tingle, at once welcomed but with a shaken finger too, for absenting herself for so long. Then, a drawing back as though surprised before the strange metal voice spoke again.
“Liar! This is not my Maddie. How dare you bring another to me!” Away all the good warm feelings Till had been awash with went, and the room was cold and dark again.
“Na na, spirit, if we had our Maddie, you know she’d be right here. But this is Till, and I bet if you will settle yourself down…” Grandfa’s voice was soothing and wheedling in a way Till had never heard before. Grandfa didn’t have to ask for anything from anyone ever.
Before another word could be spoken, the door whooshed open, and it seemed to Till that she could almost see the faint impression of a leather aproned woman, fist on hip, pointing the way out. Till looked to Grandfa, ready to scurry out as fast as she could. He gently placed his hand on her shoulder and laid a finger alongside his nose.
“Alright, missus, it’s a surprise, I know and I maybe caught you not at your best. It is awfully dusty in here. Mayhap we shoulda gone over to Clan Mareith’s forge, it’s maybe more suited to spotting the gift in the younguns, what with so many Smiths being brought up in the ways, like.” Only then did Grandfa very slowly begin shuffling towards the door, leaning much more wearily on his gnarled stick than he had on the long walk through the passages. “You know, Tilly pet, that’s exactly what we ought to have done, but that you begged and begged so to see the family forge, and with ‘em pretty blue eyes I just have the hardest time saying no.”
Something in Grandfa’s eyes told her this was a game to be played. Acting like she’d received that scolding that Auntie had started, Till hung her head and whispered softly. “I’m sorry to make you come all this long way, Grandfa. The Mareith forge is ever so much closer, you were right.”
The outline of the apparition became more solid even as the firmly set jaw became less so. The owner of the voice had no color, but it looked to be an oddly transparent shape of a woman. She was taller than both Auntie and Grandfa, taller than even the Champion. Her face was long and thin in a way that made Till think of the murals from the before times, yet she was undeniably one of the dwarven people. Even without color, Till could see the spirit was as uncertain as Auntie making up her mind over whether the soup could be stretched another day or not.
“I suppose you did come all this way,” she said, with the air of one considering a great favor.
“Na na, don’t be troubling yourself, we’ll just whisk ourselves out of your way and leave you to,” Grandfa twiddled a finger around the floor, “well, whatever it is you do these days besides sit and wait.” Till noticed he was suddenly able to put on a bit more speed as he nudged her towards the still open door. It wasn’t until she’d put a foot out of it into the hallway that the spirit relented, flinging her hands in the air with exasperation.
“Damn you to seven bloody hells, old man! Bring the child here and set her upon the bench so we can see what’s what.” As Grandfa hastened to obey while hiding a grin, the spirit rummaged through her apron pockets til she found a most unlikely contraption and placed it upon her head. It looked like a warrior’s helmet, only instead of guards to catch and turn aside a blade, it erupted with so many long, thin appendages that it made Till think of a spider.
The mental image was only reinforced when the slender legs began moving of their own accord, becoming more solid and filled with detail every second. One of the legs held a seeing glass to the spirit’s face, and as she peered through it to observe the child, Till gasped to see her eyes were the same blue as Grandfa’s.
The same shade as her own.
Whatever she saw through the glass did not appear to please the spirit much. She drew back, humming deep in her throat, casting dark glances at Grandfa and the banked forge in turn. Meanwhile, more appendages sprang forth from the helm, one pair with a measuring stick, another plucking at Till’s hair before yet another set turned her around on the bench to face the wall while it unbraided Auntie’s work of a week ago. Before Till could so much as blink, her hair was rebraided into a grand coronet, with yet another appendage holding up a mirror for her approval.
Curiouser and Curiouser 