“Enough! Be off, wanderers’ brat!” cried Potpan’s crew. “Begone, and never let us see your face again!”
So now Aileel bade his dear foster-father farewell, entrusted Ailinda to his care, and fared over hill, over dale, to the Kingdom of Iron in the Land of the Fiery Mountains.
When Aileel arrived there, it was twilight; the east behind him was already dark and blossoming with stars, and the immense plain at his feet lay full of earthy vapor and vague gloom. Night was gathering behind, night was gathering below, but beyond the vast sweep of dark the western sky was still aglow with a great splendor of the purest emerald-green. Rising steep and solitary, each one, from the dark of the plain, a thousand black mountains towered to the green light, their heads crowned with rosy glows of fire. Some from their burning craters tossed great showers of golden sparks; some were crowned with huge tongues of many-colored flames; some poured forth rolling smoke; and over others hung clouds illumined with the red of fire deep below. Presently the green of the sky deepened and died, and night came to the Land of Fire.
These Fiery Mountains, I must tell you, were the forges of the people of the kingdom, who were sturdy smiths, armorers, and artificers, one and all. Their royal city stood half upon the plain, half upon the slope of the greatest of the burning heights, and everything within it was of iron made. Of iron were the king’s palace and his throne, of iron the royal crown, of iron the money, of iron the houses, of iron the walls and towers, and of iron the motionless and shrill-tongued trees along the way.
And now Aileel took service with the Lord of the Royal Forge that he might learn from him all the world’s wisdom of iron and of fire. The great iron halls of the royal forge were built in the caves of the Fiery Mountains, and within them toiled Aileel from daylight to the dark, his ears half deafened with the music of a thousand anvils, and the rumbling-grumbling of the great forge-fire. Presently the Lord of the Forge became so pleased with the skill, the industry, and the good spirit of the comely young smith, that he took him to lodge in his huge iron house.
One morn Aileel said to his friend and master, “Honored sir, it is in my mind to fashion something never yet seen in the Kingdom of Iron. Grant me, I pray, the great chamber beyond the black cave to be my very own.”
“It shall be yours, worthy Aileel,” replied the Lord of the Royal Forge. “Here is the key.”
From morn till night, behind the locked door, the people of the royal forge heard Aileel toiling at his secret task. Now they heard him at his anvil, now they heard him carrying his iron to melt in the fires of the mountain, now they heard him whistling snatches of a tune.
“What can he be making?” said they, and they peeked through the keyhole, but could see nothing at all.
But now you must hear of Potpan and Ailinda.