Ron pointed out somewhat of a weak spot with me... fact is, I make a lot of knives. Noone wants to buy them, and many have a story that is quite personal, so I would not sell them. So I am left with a huge pile of metal.
You might ask, why is this guy THAT weird? ;-)
Let me try to shed some light on that. Ever since I was a kid I had those dreams that some kids often had once upon a time.
Let´s say I found a mythical sword that would be given to me and then I would be like the heroes of Yore, or whatnot. I dreamt about having a Balmung, Mimung or Escaliburnus (Excalibur) sword. Very early, however, maybe at the age of seven, when I forged my first knife with my father, I realized I did not want to just have it. I wanted to own it for sure, but I then realized I´d rather wanted to be able to make one myself. At the age of some nine years, I then realized, okay, that could provide some difficulties... so to say;-). But being that stubborn kid I was (and am) I decided to make myself a knife out of that steel.
What steel? What was it that made those swords that special?
So I started to read literature not commonly read by nine-year-old slightly overweight kids. Made me a bit weird, and most of the kids at school did not quite like the fact that I spoke Middle High German, Gothic and Old German and my heroes were not Take That, Milli Vanilli, Nena or whoever, but rather Sigurdr, Parzival, Erec, Thidrek or Dietrich von Bern, or especially Volundr (Wieland, Weland).
I made knives from every piece of scrap metal I could find. And I was always looking for steel in the woods, for that made sense to me. All these adventures took place in the woods, and where else should I look for steel for a mythical sword (or knife for that matter). Always there was one element missing. I completed school and was off to work... suffice to say, this did not turn out too well. I learned the metalworking skills I refined okay, but okay, suffice to say I went to the University to study literature. I learned a lot there, and it was that idea of a sword nagging at the back of my brain all of the time, or, more realistically speaking, to make a knife that sang. And while some of my tutors gave me great insight and really promoted my thirst for knowledge on that matter, others even mocked at me while denying me a rational or even academical reason to stop studying it, even when I asked for it.
Okay, zoom into the year 2016. I still haven´t found the ideal sword, at least not as a blade. The lady of the lake has not yet offered me Excalibur, because -as I understand now- that´s not how it was offered. Not in that manner, because this is metaphorical. I wasn´t strolling through the woods and there it was, the elven sword stuck into a stump shining in just one ray of moonlight.
No, I haven´t found the magical sword. I have made a lot of knives (and some few swords) that sing, and some that chant. Some sit on my shelf, some I have given away, some have been buried in the forest.
But on some strolls through the forest I found some steel. Some special and rare steel with properties that in the time of those legends would have been seen as legendary. The fact that you can easily explain these properties with simple metallurgy does not lessen the magic, as does the fact that you could produce a good blade, maybe even close to the "magical" properties of Yore with junkyard scrap steel.
What remains is knives like Úlenkláwe, Úlenfang, and this Nessmuk. They are practice pieces, if you look at it this way, on a path that will end with the forging of a sword and a knife that will become a myth in itself.
Yeah, as any human I know deep in my heart that I will die. Nothing I do will prevent this. But I hope to leave some positive impacts and traces on this world. Fact is, we live in a shitty world that has disenchanted itself into a state that is more similar to a manmade hell. They have told us a whole pile of rubbish, such as "no progress is regress", "innovate or die", "constant growth is the motor of social welfare". They are telling us lies and shit and the sorry thing is, they believe that crap themselves. We can´t make heads nor tails out of the idea of the sword. It´s the tank, the whip and the credit card we live by. We don´t worship God, or the old Gods. We worship Mammon, the God of money and the underworld, Mammon-Pluto. No wonder the world he rules looks like hell. But it´s not his fault, it´s ours.
The "magical" steel I have found in the woods actually is crap. It is junk discarded in the woods, for the woods are not sacrosanct either. They are to be exploited, and according to human reception, it is a mere coincidence that they still are a place where the "aventiure" can take place, the adventure, or just some breathing and peace are allowed, a place where serenity still reigns. It is never as important as making money. I like to test Christians by asking them, if their employer would ask them to dismiss religious service in favour of a Sunday´s work (with extra payment and the alternative of losing their job), what they would do. I asked maybe a hundred people who claimed to have a strong belief (and of course trying to pick at the splinter in my eye) that question. Not one of them did NOT ask me if I was insane, and of course they would go to work, and dismiss religious service, for you HAVE to make money. Spirituality is for wellness and leisure and BLAH.
My boss once made fun of my spirituality. She did that exactly ONCE. I still work for this corporation.
No, a "magical" sword would not make a shitty world right. No, violence is not an option. To really understand the spirit of the sword, you have to make it. You have to handle it. And then, with the spirit of the sword you will be able to destroy the idea of tank, whip and credit card in yourself. This is why I make knives and swords.
The lady of the lake will not reach out from the water to hand me over some flimsy chi-chi blade from these Hollywood movies. But there is this lake in the South of Germany, where a "kingdom was smitten" (The lay of Sir Gawain). In creeks and the lake itself you still find meteoritic ore and Fullerene crystals which at the time of Yore were used to forge weapons of excellence. This is where I am headed.
The Nessmuk is a myth come true... but it is but a waystone on the trail.
Those are the adventures of Mr. Fimbulmyrk, in bushcraft and blacksmithing, mountainbiking and hiking, reenactment, writing, singing, dancing, stargazing and having a piece of cake and a coffee. Pray have a seat and look around you, but be warned - the forest´s twilight is ferocious at times.
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