Rating: mild profanity
Disclaimer: Tolkien’s world – Kortirion’s doodle in the margins.
The hammer came down true, but within a few strokes the metal sheared with an ugly whine.
The Smith snarled blistering profanities, before slinging the offending ingot towards the scrapheap.
“Orcish shit!” he muttered, mentally vowing to take the metal-collector to task.
After the War, Pelennor Fields held metal for the taking – Rohirric, Southron held true; discarded pieces from Dol Amroth fetched good prices. Folk believed they contained elf-metal, which made items worked from them lucky.
But from orc-litter… nothing worked properly - hinges squeaked, bolts failed, horse-shoes drove stock skittish-mad.
“No… let it all rot to rust!” he grumbled.