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ysabetwordsmithThis story fills the "meet the parents / family" square in my 1-4-16 card for the ![[community profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/community.png)
trope_bingo fest.
This story belongs to the series Love Is For Children which includes "Love Is for Children," "Hairpins," "Blended," "Am I Not," "Eggshells," "Dolls and Guys,""Saudades," "Querencia," "Turnabout Is Fair Play," "Touching Moments," "Splash," "Coming Around," "Birthday Girl," "No Winter Lasts Forever," "Hide and Seek," "Kernel Error," "Happy Hour," "Green Eggs and Hulk,""kintsukuroi," "Little and Broken, but Still Good," "Up the Water Spout," "The Life of the Dead," "If They Could Just Stay Little," "Anahata," "When the Wheels Come Off," "Against His Own Shield," "Coming in from the Cold: Saturday: Building Towers," and "Coming in from the Cold: Sunday: Shaking Foundations," and "Coming in from the Cold: Monday: Memorial Day."
Fandom: The Avengers
Characters: Tony Stark, Howard Stark, Master Tom, Obadiah Stane, Master Ewan.
Medium: Fiction
Warnings: Howard Stark's A+ Parenting. Child abuse and neglect. Rebellion. Tony Stark's misspent youth. Brief references to underage drinking, sex,and other unwise activities. Obie. Because Obie Is Always a Warning.
Summary: According to canon, Tony Stark is a blacksmith. This is how that happened.
Notes: Craftsmanship. Competence. Gentleness. Trust. Creativity. Friendship.
Begin with Part 1. Skip to Part 4.
"What Little Boys Are Made Of" Part 2
[June 24, 1987]
Tony spends two weeks busting his ass in the smithy. This isn't like his classes where he's read all the textbooks and the recommended reading, then finished his homework in half an hour. Every minute of this job is hard labor, backbreaking work, and a world of pain. He doesn't give up, though, because ... he's not bored. Tony literally cannot remember the last time anything held his interest for two solid weeks and remained challenging. Because Master Tom isn't just working Tony's body, but also his mind.
Every part of the smithy has its own name, and Tony has to learn them all from scratch. He can recognize many of the tools, but Master Tom won't let him near them. Instead it's all about the forge and the anvil, the metal and the coal. Tony learns the names for the colors of hot metal and the temperature of each. He learns the names for the tempering colors and the temperatures they indicate.
It isn't something he can figure out in five minutes, but something he has to practice, and he stares at the glowing metal until his eyes water and Master Tom sends him to the well with the yoke and buckets. Tony soaks it all up like a sponge.
His fingers itch to hold a hammer, but he knows better than to sneak a touch. He wants this to be good. He wants to be good. Tony's hands stop bleeding and the blisters heal, his little welder's calluses spreading to protect more of his hands. They're nothing like Master Tom's, of course, hard as hooves and nearly as big. Tony even has little cords of muscles starting to show on his arms. It's all good.
It doesn't last, of course. Nothing good in Tony's life lasts. But it's not Howard who comes for him. It's Obie.
Tony feels his face crumple into a furious scowl. Howard couldn't even be bothered to come himself. Tony must not be trying hard enough to piss him off. Well, there are ways to fix that.
Oddly enough, though, Tony doesn't get a chance.
Master Tom takes one look at his expression and the large man in the open door. He stands up. All of a sudden, Obie seems ... smaller. Master Tom is half a head taller and quite a bit broader and so much more muscular. It's like seeing a fireplug beside a furnace.
"What can I do for you?" Master Tom asks in his deep, booming voice.
"I am here to take Anthony home," says Obie. He cranes his neck, trying to see into the dim smithy. The sunlight is bright and the inside is dim. Besides, with only one door open, Master Tom takes up most of it.
"Sorry I can't help you with that. My new 'Prentice is working out just fine," says Master Tom. It's not praise from Howard, but it's still praise, and Tony's belly warms just a bit to hear it.
"I can make it worth your while," Obie says. Rustle of cloth, leather, and finally paper: he's writing a check.
"If you'll excuse us, it's time for lunch. The smithy is closed for now," says Master Tom. He simply presses Obie back onto the walkway, firmly shutting the door behind him. "Will you look at that, now it's dark as the Devil's backside in here." Master Tom hands Tony a little rolled-up bit of paper and a long pair of tongs. "Go light the oil lamps."
Tony takes both. His fingers recognize the expensive checkbook paper that Obie favors. Grinning, Tony fits it into the end of the tongs and catches a spark from the forge. Then he touches it to the wick as Master Tom holds up the delicate glass chimney. As the chimney goes back into place, the room lights up startlingly bright. Master Tom tweaks the tiny wheel to settle the wick so the flame doesn't flare and jump. It never ceases to amaze Tony how someone so powerful can handle such fragile things without ever dropping or breaking anything.
"Fetch our lunches, 'Prentice," says Master Tom, waving toward the antique icebox that holds an actual hunk of ice.
Tony fetches their lunches. Each lunchbox basically consists of a bucket with a lid containing a sandwich, a hunk of cheese, and a piece of fruit from the village kitchen. Today they have ham, Swiss, and peaches. The cooks here make great food, plain but rich and filling. Alongside the lunchboxes are two bail jars full of whatever the home brewer has dished out for the day. It turns out to be root beer, which still tastes flat to Tony because it has only natural carbonation, but oh, the flavors are so much more complex than commercial soda.
It's hard to concentrate on the good food, though. Tony's head fizzes and sparks after Obie's visit. He's gotten attention, all right, but not the kind he wanted.
"Heads up," says Master Tom. "See that rack there?" A long wooden block holds tools that look like strangely shaped chunks of metal. "Those are hardie tools. Each one has a square shaft that fits into the hardie hole in the anvil. The square hole locks the shaft in place so the tool can't turn when you use it. Starting from left now, there's a cutting wedge, a swage, a turning tool ..."
Tony crams the last of his sandwich into his mouth and leans forward, utterly captivated.
* * *
[July 1, 1987]
Tony spends the next week learning the names of all the tools and what they can do. There are hammers in different shapes and sizes, tongs with various lengths and jaws, even the hardie tools come in a range of sizes. Once Tony can name them all accurately, Master Tom sends him trotting back and forth across the smithy to fetch them. Tony still isn't allowed to use any of them, but at least now he gets to touch them.
Master Tom works his way through the entire set. Some tools he uses all the time, like the tongs and the hammers. Others only come out for odd jobs, like the 7/8" acorn spring swedge that does nothing but put a decorative nut shape on the end of bar stock. Master Tom makes easy things like dinner triangles and rings made of horseshoe nails, intermediate ones like corkscrews and roses, even advanced ones like custom-fitted horseshoes and an elaborate horse-headed fire grate with matching hearth tools. It's then that Tony begins to see the art of blacksmithing, as well as the craft.
For the first time, he isn't entirely sure he can do all of the things that sees. Sure, he could bend rings and triangles in his sleep. He's pretty confident that he could do a corkscrew, because he's made much harder things when welding. He's less certain about the rose, so delicately furled that it looks alive. The horses dancing above the fire grate somehow evoke a sense of motion, of wind, even in the iron. Tony doubts he could capture that. He's completely sure that if he tried to hot-shoe a Clydesdale, he'd wind up getting kicked in the crotch. This is an experience he can do without, even in the interest of upsetting his father.
Well ... it still hasn't been a waste of a summer. Even if Tony never gets any good at this, he's learning the most amazing things. He can take all that back to metallurgy class in the fall and finally do something interesting with it.
That, of course, is when Howard arrives: the precise moment when Tony most doubts his abilities.
The man stands precisely in the middle of the open doors, his back ramrod straight. He is not very tall or very wide, but his personality is so large that he seems to fill the entire opening anyway.
Tony struggles not to slump in place. He will not let Howard see him in a posture of defeat, even if the dancing horses seem to mock him with their iron grace.
"How may I help you, sir?" asks Master Tom.
"I've come to collect my son," Howard says.
Peevishly Tony takes a single step sideways into the light, letting the afternoon sun show off how utterly filthy he is. The water bucket in his hand weighs a bit, but he hardly notices it anymore. It still shows off his slowly growing muscles. What a pity the breeze always blows into the smithy, instead of blowing his sweat into his father's face.
Thin lips twitch down at the right corner, betraying Howard's disgust. It isn't the show of attention that Tony wants, but he'll take what he can get.
"So it's your work I've been cleaning up after?" says Master Tom. "Well, that's good to know. I wondered what idiot had been ignoring the hell out of a bright young man."
Tony rocks back on his heels, stunned by the little speech. Nobody talks to his father that way. Nobody would dare. Well, aside from Tony, but he's such a disappointment that it hardly counts.
Howard narrows his eyes, shifting from annoyed to furious. "Do you know who I am?" he snaps.
"Don't know, don't care," drawls Master Tom.
"I am Howard Stark! I could have you thrown in jail for kidnapping my heir," the rich man says. "This is no fit place for him."
Master Tom shrugs. "Door's open. My 'Prentice here is free to leave any time he cares to quit his job."
Tony does not move.
"I could buy this entire farce of a historic exhibit today and bulldoze it tomorrow," Howard says.
"You could," Master Tom says with a little nod. "But then you'd lose, because it would mean you couldn't win in a fair argument, you had to cheat."
A snicker bubbles up from Tony's chest, warm and bright.
"Then you bring him out to me," says Howard.
"No." Master Tom crosses his arms, like a tree trunk tying itself in a knot.
Howard storms into the smithy. Tony expects Master Tom to deflect this invasion of his territory. Instead, Master Tom lets Howard in without further attempt to dissuade him. Howard lashes out and grabs Tony's arm, hard.
But Tony's arm is harder, now, and Howard's fingers can't dig in like they used to. Howard yanks, but Tony plants himself just like he does when working the bellows, and doesn't budge. Howard yanks again, his expression turning from anger to confusion.
Tony shrugs. It takes surprisingly little effort to slip free of his father's grip.
"You come with me right now--" Howard begins.
"Actually, no. I'm busy," Tony says, striving for a firm tone. "You could always come back later and see if I can fit you in. Or I know -- you could make an appointment."
Howard opens his mouth. Closes it. A minute later he grits out, "I don't have time for this." He shakes his head and walks away.
Tony lets out the breath he's been holding, suddenly dizzy with relief.
"You okay there?" asks Master Tom. His hand cups Tony's elbow, very gently, as if to offer support.
"Stark men are made of iron," Tony mutters.
Master Tom leans forward and sniffs him, then opens his mouth. For a moment Tony thinks the older man intends to lick him, which had happened once with a pervert professor it had been necessary to get fired, but no -- Master Tom is just using that trick with accessing his taste buds to let him smell better. Why he'd want a better whiff of unwashed Tony remains a mystery.
"Not just iron," the blacksmith says thoughtfully. "Titanium, it's lighter and stronger. Me now, I'm plain old wrought iron. You're made of finer stuff, like a jetliner, sleek and shiny. Yes, shiny, something else in there too. Gold, maybe. Or platinum. Hard to tell this young. You're like metal that's not done heating yet. You need more time in the forge before you can climb out onto the anvil and find out what you really are."
Tony thinks about the burning forge and the beating hammer and suppresses a shiver. Master Tom can be weird sometimes, even if he doesn't lick anyone.
Tony's hands still want to fidget. He's fizzing over with restless energy. It's hard to hold still after all that stress. He doesn't want Master Tom thinking it's disrespect, though. "If you say so," he replies.
His master's fingers slide down his arm and turn over his hand, prodding the tough layer of callus. "That'll do," Master Tom says cryptically. "Get on over to the anvil."
Tony gets. To his amazement, Master Tom hands him a two-pound cross-peen hammer and says, "Take a few test strokes to get the feel of that, while I find you something to hit."
"Yes, sir," Tony says. He taps the hammer tentatively against the anvil. It gives a flat, pathetic tink. Tony frowns. He swings the hammer again. Ting!
"That's more like it. Put your shoulder into it," Master Tom advises. He puts a big wooden box on the floor nearby.
Eagerly Tony dives into it. Then he slumps. "This just looks like ... a box of scraps."
"Now 'Prentice, let me tell you a thing. When you grow up having exactly what you need for every least little job, it makes you lazy," says Master Tom. "When you get out in the world, the conditions aren't always perfect, the right tools and supplies aren't always there when you need them. Sometimes you just have to make do with whatever you can find. You might be surprised what you can make with a box of scraps. So dig in there and show me what you can do." His encouraging pat on the back almost knocks Tony into the anvil. Almost.
Tony bends down to rummage in the box. He finds tag ends of bar stock, a badly bent ingot of what could be bronze, a whole mess of wire, and a carton of horseshoe nails. None of that really suits his purpose; he needs to learn how to use the hammer.
Then he turns up a thick piece of steel plating that looks like it might have come off a stove. Tony grabs it with the tongs and lifts it onto the anvil. He wiggles it to find a secure position. There are curved parts and flat parts on the plate. This will be perfect for banging around to get the feel of how the hammer behaves on both ends. Later on, he can stick the scrap metal into the forge and see how that changes the feel of it.
"Well chosen," says Master Tom, his voice deep and smooth.
Tony grins and takes his first real swing. TING-ting! sings the hammer. TING-ting!
It isn't AC/DC, but Tony thinks he could learn to rock this beat.
* * *
Notes:
See a Color Temperature Chart and a Tempering Color Chart. Learn about the process of tempering.
Child abuse and neglect can have devasting effects into the teen and adult years. Based on canon, Tony Stark is a poster boy for those effects. There are ways to deal with past abuse and move on. Know how to parent or mentor an abused child.
The history of the lunchbox includes some fascinating models. Bail jars have a wire to hold the lid securely, like this image, and you can still find them.
Natural root beer comes in a variety of styles, in bottles or barrels.
Historic recreation often relies on seasonal produce for verisimilitude, especially at a long-term site that includes a garden or farm.
Blacksmithing equipment includes such things as hardie tools. Spring swages are kind of like tongs with a mold on the end, available in various styles such as this acorn.
Blacksmith projects range from beginner (nail jewelry and triangles) through intermediate (corkscrews and roses) to advanced (horseshoes). Master blacksmiths can produce functional artwork such as this firegrate with horse heads, and matching fireplace tools.
AC/DC is a band whose music appears in Iron Man's grand entrance in The Avengers.
[To be continued in Part 3 ...]
trope_bingo fest.This story belongs to the series Love Is For Children which includes "Love Is for Children," "Hairpins," "Blended," "Am I Not," "Eggshells," "Dolls and Guys,""Saudades," "Querencia," "Turnabout Is Fair Play," "Touching Moments," "Splash," "Coming Around," "Birthday Girl," "No Winter Lasts Forever," "Hide and Seek," "Kernel Error," "Happy Hour," "Green Eggs and Hulk,""kintsukuroi," "Little and Broken, but Still Good," "Up the Water Spout," "The Life of the Dead," "If They Could Just Stay Little," "Anahata," "When the Wheels Come Off," "Against His Own Shield," "Coming in from the Cold: Saturday: Building Towers," and "Coming in from the Cold: Sunday: Shaking Foundations," and "Coming in from the Cold: Monday: Memorial Day."
Fandom: The Avengers
Characters: Tony Stark, Howard Stark, Master Tom, Obadiah Stane, Master Ewan.
Medium: Fiction
Warnings: Howard Stark's A+ Parenting. Child abuse and neglect. Rebellion. Tony Stark's misspent youth. Brief references to underage drinking, sex,and other unwise activities. Obie. Because Obie Is Always a Warning.
Summary: According to canon, Tony Stark is a blacksmith. This is how that happened.
Notes: Craftsmanship. Competence. Gentleness. Trust. Creativity. Friendship.
Begin with Part 1. Skip to Part 4.
"What Little Boys Are Made Of" Part 2
[June 24, 1987]
Tony spends two weeks busting his ass in the smithy. This isn't like his classes where he's read all the textbooks and the recommended reading, then finished his homework in half an hour. Every minute of this job is hard labor, backbreaking work, and a world of pain. He doesn't give up, though, because ... he's not bored. Tony literally cannot remember the last time anything held his interest for two solid weeks and remained challenging. Because Master Tom isn't just working Tony's body, but also his mind.
Every part of the smithy has its own name, and Tony has to learn them all from scratch. He can recognize many of the tools, but Master Tom won't let him near them. Instead it's all about the forge and the anvil, the metal and the coal. Tony learns the names for the colors of hot metal and the temperature of each. He learns the names for the tempering colors and the temperatures they indicate.
It isn't something he can figure out in five minutes, but something he has to practice, and he stares at the glowing metal until his eyes water and Master Tom sends him to the well with the yoke and buckets. Tony soaks it all up like a sponge.
His fingers itch to hold a hammer, but he knows better than to sneak a touch. He wants this to be good. He wants to be good. Tony's hands stop bleeding and the blisters heal, his little welder's calluses spreading to protect more of his hands. They're nothing like Master Tom's, of course, hard as hooves and nearly as big. Tony even has little cords of muscles starting to show on his arms. It's all good.
It doesn't last, of course. Nothing good in Tony's life lasts. But it's not Howard who comes for him. It's Obie.
Tony feels his face crumple into a furious scowl. Howard couldn't even be bothered to come himself. Tony must not be trying hard enough to piss him off. Well, there are ways to fix that.
Oddly enough, though, Tony doesn't get a chance.
Master Tom takes one look at his expression and the large man in the open door. He stands up. All of a sudden, Obie seems ... smaller. Master Tom is half a head taller and quite a bit broader and so much more muscular. It's like seeing a fireplug beside a furnace.
"What can I do for you?" Master Tom asks in his deep, booming voice.
"I am here to take Anthony home," says Obie. He cranes his neck, trying to see into the dim smithy. The sunlight is bright and the inside is dim. Besides, with only one door open, Master Tom takes up most of it.
"Sorry I can't help you with that. My new 'Prentice is working out just fine," says Master Tom. It's not praise from Howard, but it's still praise, and Tony's belly warms just a bit to hear it.
"I can make it worth your while," Obie says. Rustle of cloth, leather, and finally paper: he's writing a check.
"If you'll excuse us, it's time for lunch. The smithy is closed for now," says Master Tom. He simply presses Obie back onto the walkway, firmly shutting the door behind him. "Will you look at that, now it's dark as the Devil's backside in here." Master Tom hands Tony a little rolled-up bit of paper and a long pair of tongs. "Go light the oil lamps."
Tony takes both. His fingers recognize the expensive checkbook paper that Obie favors. Grinning, Tony fits it into the end of the tongs and catches a spark from the forge. Then he touches it to the wick as Master Tom holds up the delicate glass chimney. As the chimney goes back into place, the room lights up startlingly bright. Master Tom tweaks the tiny wheel to settle the wick so the flame doesn't flare and jump. It never ceases to amaze Tony how someone so powerful can handle such fragile things without ever dropping or breaking anything.
"Fetch our lunches, 'Prentice," says Master Tom, waving toward the antique icebox that holds an actual hunk of ice.
Tony fetches their lunches. Each lunchbox basically consists of a bucket with a lid containing a sandwich, a hunk of cheese, and a piece of fruit from the village kitchen. Today they have ham, Swiss, and peaches. The cooks here make great food, plain but rich and filling. Alongside the lunchboxes are two bail jars full of whatever the home brewer has dished out for the day. It turns out to be root beer, which still tastes flat to Tony because it has only natural carbonation, but oh, the flavors are so much more complex than commercial soda.
It's hard to concentrate on the good food, though. Tony's head fizzes and sparks after Obie's visit. He's gotten attention, all right, but not the kind he wanted.
"Heads up," says Master Tom. "See that rack there?" A long wooden block holds tools that look like strangely shaped chunks of metal. "Those are hardie tools. Each one has a square shaft that fits into the hardie hole in the anvil. The square hole locks the shaft in place so the tool can't turn when you use it. Starting from left now, there's a cutting wedge, a swage, a turning tool ..."
Tony crams the last of his sandwich into his mouth and leans forward, utterly captivated.
* * *
[July 1, 1987]
Tony spends the next week learning the names of all the tools and what they can do. There are hammers in different shapes and sizes, tongs with various lengths and jaws, even the hardie tools come in a range of sizes. Once Tony can name them all accurately, Master Tom sends him trotting back and forth across the smithy to fetch them. Tony still isn't allowed to use any of them, but at least now he gets to touch them.
Master Tom works his way through the entire set. Some tools he uses all the time, like the tongs and the hammers. Others only come out for odd jobs, like the 7/8" acorn spring swedge that does nothing but put a decorative nut shape on the end of bar stock. Master Tom makes easy things like dinner triangles and rings made of horseshoe nails, intermediate ones like corkscrews and roses, even advanced ones like custom-fitted horseshoes and an elaborate horse-headed fire grate with matching hearth tools. It's then that Tony begins to see the art of blacksmithing, as well as the craft.
For the first time, he isn't entirely sure he can do all of the things that sees. Sure, he could bend rings and triangles in his sleep. He's pretty confident that he could do a corkscrew, because he's made much harder things when welding. He's less certain about the rose, so delicately furled that it looks alive. The horses dancing above the fire grate somehow evoke a sense of motion, of wind, even in the iron. Tony doubts he could capture that. He's completely sure that if he tried to hot-shoe a Clydesdale, he'd wind up getting kicked in the crotch. This is an experience he can do without, even in the interest of upsetting his father.
Well ... it still hasn't been a waste of a summer. Even if Tony never gets any good at this, he's learning the most amazing things. He can take all that back to metallurgy class in the fall and finally do something interesting with it.
That, of course, is when Howard arrives: the precise moment when Tony most doubts his abilities.
The man stands precisely in the middle of the open doors, his back ramrod straight. He is not very tall or very wide, but his personality is so large that he seems to fill the entire opening anyway.
Tony struggles not to slump in place. He will not let Howard see him in a posture of defeat, even if the dancing horses seem to mock him with their iron grace.
"How may I help you, sir?" asks Master Tom.
"I've come to collect my son," Howard says.
Peevishly Tony takes a single step sideways into the light, letting the afternoon sun show off how utterly filthy he is. The water bucket in his hand weighs a bit, but he hardly notices it anymore. It still shows off his slowly growing muscles. What a pity the breeze always blows into the smithy, instead of blowing his sweat into his father's face.
Thin lips twitch down at the right corner, betraying Howard's disgust. It isn't the show of attention that Tony wants, but he'll take what he can get.
"So it's your work I've been cleaning up after?" says Master Tom. "Well, that's good to know. I wondered what idiot had been ignoring the hell out of a bright young man."
Tony rocks back on his heels, stunned by the little speech. Nobody talks to his father that way. Nobody would dare. Well, aside from Tony, but he's such a disappointment that it hardly counts.
Howard narrows his eyes, shifting from annoyed to furious. "Do you know who I am?" he snaps.
"Don't know, don't care," drawls Master Tom.
"I am Howard Stark! I could have you thrown in jail for kidnapping my heir," the rich man says. "This is no fit place for him."
Master Tom shrugs. "Door's open. My 'Prentice here is free to leave any time he cares to quit his job."
Tony does not move.
"I could buy this entire farce of a historic exhibit today and bulldoze it tomorrow," Howard says.
"You could," Master Tom says with a little nod. "But then you'd lose, because it would mean you couldn't win in a fair argument, you had to cheat."
A snicker bubbles up from Tony's chest, warm and bright.
"Then you bring him out to me," says Howard.
"No." Master Tom crosses his arms, like a tree trunk tying itself in a knot.
Howard storms into the smithy. Tony expects Master Tom to deflect this invasion of his territory. Instead, Master Tom lets Howard in without further attempt to dissuade him. Howard lashes out and grabs Tony's arm, hard.
But Tony's arm is harder, now, and Howard's fingers can't dig in like they used to. Howard yanks, but Tony plants himself just like he does when working the bellows, and doesn't budge. Howard yanks again, his expression turning from anger to confusion.
Tony shrugs. It takes surprisingly little effort to slip free of his father's grip.
"You come with me right now--" Howard begins.
"Actually, no. I'm busy," Tony says, striving for a firm tone. "You could always come back later and see if I can fit you in. Or I know -- you could make an appointment."
Howard opens his mouth. Closes it. A minute later he grits out, "I don't have time for this." He shakes his head and walks away.
Tony lets out the breath he's been holding, suddenly dizzy with relief.
"You okay there?" asks Master Tom. His hand cups Tony's elbow, very gently, as if to offer support.
"Stark men are made of iron," Tony mutters.
Master Tom leans forward and sniffs him, then opens his mouth. For a moment Tony thinks the older man intends to lick him, which had happened once with a pervert professor it had been necessary to get fired, but no -- Master Tom is just using that trick with accessing his taste buds to let him smell better. Why he'd want a better whiff of unwashed Tony remains a mystery.
"Not just iron," the blacksmith says thoughtfully. "Titanium, it's lighter and stronger. Me now, I'm plain old wrought iron. You're made of finer stuff, like a jetliner, sleek and shiny. Yes, shiny, something else in there too. Gold, maybe. Or platinum. Hard to tell this young. You're like metal that's not done heating yet. You need more time in the forge before you can climb out onto the anvil and find out what you really are."
Tony thinks about the burning forge and the beating hammer and suppresses a shiver. Master Tom can be weird sometimes, even if he doesn't lick anyone.
Tony's hands still want to fidget. He's fizzing over with restless energy. It's hard to hold still after all that stress. He doesn't want Master Tom thinking it's disrespect, though. "If you say so," he replies.
His master's fingers slide down his arm and turn over his hand, prodding the tough layer of callus. "That'll do," Master Tom says cryptically. "Get on over to the anvil."
Tony gets. To his amazement, Master Tom hands him a two-pound cross-peen hammer and says, "Take a few test strokes to get the feel of that, while I find you something to hit."
"Yes, sir," Tony says. He taps the hammer tentatively against the anvil. It gives a flat, pathetic tink. Tony frowns. He swings the hammer again. Ting!
"That's more like it. Put your shoulder into it," Master Tom advises. He puts a big wooden box on the floor nearby.
Eagerly Tony dives into it. Then he slumps. "This just looks like ... a box of scraps."
"Now 'Prentice, let me tell you a thing. When you grow up having exactly what you need for every least little job, it makes you lazy," says Master Tom. "When you get out in the world, the conditions aren't always perfect, the right tools and supplies aren't always there when you need them. Sometimes you just have to make do with whatever you can find. You might be surprised what you can make with a box of scraps. So dig in there and show me what you can do." His encouraging pat on the back almost knocks Tony into the anvil. Almost.
Tony bends down to rummage in the box. He finds tag ends of bar stock, a badly bent ingot of what could be bronze, a whole mess of wire, and a carton of horseshoe nails. None of that really suits his purpose; he needs to learn how to use the hammer.
Then he turns up a thick piece of steel plating that looks like it might have come off a stove. Tony grabs it with the tongs and lifts it onto the anvil. He wiggles it to find a secure position. There are curved parts and flat parts on the plate. This will be perfect for banging around to get the feel of how the hammer behaves on both ends. Later on, he can stick the scrap metal into the forge and see how that changes the feel of it.
"Well chosen," says Master Tom, his voice deep and smooth.
Tony grins and takes his first real swing. TING-ting! sings the hammer. TING-ting!
It isn't AC/DC, but Tony thinks he could learn to rock this beat.
* * *
Notes:
See a Color Temperature Chart and a Tempering Color Chart. Learn about the process of tempering.
Child abuse and neglect can have devasting effects into the teen and adult years. Based on canon, Tony Stark is a poster boy for those effects. There are ways to deal with past abuse and move on. Know how to parent or mentor an abused child.
The history of the lunchbox includes some fascinating models. Bail jars have a wire to hold the lid securely, like this image, and you can still find them.
Natural root beer comes in a variety of styles, in bottles or barrels.
Historic recreation often relies on seasonal produce for verisimilitude, especially at a long-term site that includes a garden or farm.
Blacksmithing equipment includes such things as hardie tools. Spring swages are kind of like tongs with a mold on the end, available in various styles such as this acorn.
Blacksmith projects range from beginner (nail jewelry and triangles) through intermediate (corkscrews and roses) to advanced (horseshoes). Master blacksmiths can produce functional artwork such as this firegrate with horse heads, and matching fireplace tools.
AC/DC is a band whose music appears in Iron Man's grand entrance in The Avengers.
[To be continued in Part 3 ...]
(no subject)
Date: 2016-04-02 03:02 am (UTC)Yay!
Date: 2016-04-02 03:15 am (UTC)eeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeee
Date: 2016-04-02 03:12 am (UTC)Re: eeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeee
Date: 2016-04-02 03:35 am (UTC)This line...
Date: 2016-04-02 05:17 am (UTC)A++++, 1000/10, will definitely read at some point when I need to feel... "smug" is the word I'm thinking of, but I'm not sure it's the one I mean.
Re: This line...
Date: 2016-04-02 05:46 am (UTC):D That is exactly the response I was hoping for.
>> And now I'm doing it again. Because fuck yes, Tony, give him the crap he's given you all this time.<<
Sauce for the goose is sauce for the gander. Suck it, Howard, you gigantic waste of carbon atoms.
>> And Master Tom standing up for him! <<
I figured that for Tony to be functional at all as an adult, he must have had some people helping him along the way. Not enough to keep him fully functional in light of all the damage, but they kept him from turning into a supervillain. Which is a thing that could have happened, Howard you asshole.
>> It's 10 at night and you live in an apartment building, stop bugging your neighbors by yelling about "in a cave with a box of scraps", heartsinger. <<
LOL
>> A++++, 1000/10, <<
Aww, shucks.
>> will definitely read at some point when I need to feel... "smug" is the word I'm thinking of, but I'm not sure it's the one I mean. <<
Smug works for me. You might also consider "vindicated."
(no subject)
Date: 2016-04-02 10:41 am (UTC)Thank you!
Date: 2016-04-02 05:49 pm (UTC)I'm happy to hear that.
>> Seeing someone stand-up for Tony is a beautiful thing. And seeing Tony stand-up for himself, even better. :-) <<
I think it's important that they happened in that order.
(no subject)
Date: 2016-04-02 10:44 am (UTC)Oh yeah.. that's a song I know all too well, my whole life is a box of scraps! I'm not sure I'd know what to do with myself if someone just handed me everything I needed. [although, I'm betting I'd just up my scope of imagination.]
And yeah, I love the hints of things to come... I think Master Tom probably is right about what Tony is made of.
Thoughts
Date: 2016-04-02 05:40 pm (UTC)I know that feel, bro.
>> I'm not sure I'd know what to do with myself if someone just handed me everything I needed. [although, I'm betting I'd just up my scope of imagination.] <<
I do know how to handle that. It's inactive or dimmed down, not absent.
>> And yeah, I love the hints of things to come... I think Master Tom probably is right about what Tony is made of. <<
:D I love putting in these bits of backshadow that help explain how things turned out.
(no subject)
Date: 2016-04-02 09:28 pm (UTC)Well deserved and beautifully served.
Thank you!
Date: 2016-04-02 10:45 pm (UTC)(no subject)
Date: 2016-04-03 04:42 am (UTC)Yay!
Date: 2016-04-03 05:20 am (UTC):D I had fun designing Tom based on what I thought Tony would need to develop the way he has.
>> I love Tony finding something that actually keeps him interested and having to actually WORK at something rather than just getting it right instantly cause he's brilliant.<<
The key to that is simply that blacksmithing is a skill of the body as much as the mind. Tony can learn the concepts quickly, but it still takes weeks for him to build up enough muscle to start learning the physical skills, and then more time to acquire those. You can't get it out of a book, no matter how smart you are. Blacksmithing can only be learned by doing. Also, because it requires both mind and body, it occupies far more of Tony's attention than the purely intellectual skills or the not-challenging-enough shopwork he's been doing. For the first time, Tony has to exert maximum effort. And it feels fantastic, so he wants more of it -- wants it badly enough to be good in order to get it.
Neat!
Date: 2016-09-08 12:11 am (UTC)-Voxsar
Re: Neat!
Date: 2016-09-08 12:56 am (UTC)Woohoo!
>>I think my favorite was the blacksmith talking about sometimes having to make due with scraps. I wonder if his confidence in Tony's ability to make due with whatever is at hand had any influence in his building of the Mark I.<<
Absolutely. For viewers with any knowledge of smithcraft, Iron Man reveals a great deal about Tony. Those simply are not skills you can get out of a book or learn on the spot in a few days. They're body skills. Showing Tony with that much muscle, working a forge, reveals that he is actually a blacksmith -- which means that somewhere, somehow, he must have had a teacher and put in a great deal of time. He might be able to learn the theory faster, but that doesn't have any effect on his muscle mass or teach him what it feels like to swing a hammer.
Of course, smithcraft is a grimy, sweaty, blue-collar job that would scandalize old Howard. So how did Tony acquire this precious skill? Teenage rebellion seemed like a perfect fit, especially since I know that lots of modern blacksmiths work in historic recreation and will hire summer help. Tony's intellect does mean that he can learn the full foundation of a craft in a few months with a good teacher and a lot of backbreaking labor.
>> I'm looking forward to seeing what's next! <<
Thanks.
(no subject)
Date: 2018-01-16 11:00 am (UTC)Much later I knew a couple smiths in the SCA. Come to think of it, I also was apprenticed to a jeweler who did some SCA stuff for a year or so.
Good memories.
I wish I'd known some of the things I learned from them when I lived at home. We had a strong, fairly constant wind blowing *up* the hill some times of year. In medieval times they used that sort of place for forges and even blast furnaces. Oh the things I might have done.
(no subject)
Date: 2018-01-17 06:54 pm (UTC)(no subject)
Date: 2023-02-05 08:49 pm (UTC)Thank you!
Date: 2023-02-05 08:56 pm (UTC)Every blacksmith I've ever met has been a badass. You can't beat hot metal without getting some grit in you.