My chat with the guildmaster left me with plenty to mull over. However, as I returned to the comforting familiarity of my workshop, the least serious but most pressing of considerations came to the fore; what to do with the rest of the morning? I'd need to get a nap after lunch if I was going to stay up most of the night, but I had plenty of time until then. The prohibition on any of the more immediately relevant projects complicated things, but still left a plethora of options. Too many in truth.
My eyes instinctively moved to where the pattern and notes for Ha-Na's outfit rested, but I couldn't work further on the pattern until she returned, and the leather was on its way to the tanner. There was some metalwork needed, and associated alchemy, but it would be better fabricated once the leatherwork was complete.
The pounding rain turning packed earth to sticky mire was more than enough to rule out anything involving going outside. I felt a brief surge of sympathy for Kete and the many adventurers braving the weather, voluntarily or otherwise.
I wanted to make something, but the question was what? Xia prowled into the room as I was trying to decide, sweeping an imperious gaze at her surrounds before curling up on her favoured workbench. She hadn't joined me in a little while, perhaps she was gracing me with her presence today because of the trouble yesterday. Then again, I might be overthinking it. With everyone cooped up, the guild had certainly been noisier than her preferred ambiance - stony silence broken by occasional awed fawning at her magnificence. She was incredibly cute, acting all uncaring and imperious but clearly basking in any attention. Naturally I began petting her, earning a satisfied purr in return. It was then it came to me, the key to what I should make, was first to ask, for whom?
Taffy really saved my bacon yesterday; it would be nice to make him a present to say thank you. What did a present for Taffy look like though? He already had a collar, and given the years he and Kete adventured together, I'd assume most other outfits or gear he might need. Something consumable might be better, but I wasn't confident enough in alchemy to adapt something for a canine, and I certainly doubted I could make a treat that could compare with Bartan's. Some sort of toy perhaps? I'd seen him with balls, but a flying disc would be something different.
Now, what to make it out of? Wood could provide structure being light and strong, but I didn't want it to splinter when he caught it in his teeth. A harder wood might fix that, but I didn't want to damage his teeth either. What about a wooden frame wrapped in leather? That seemed, plausible. It would also be good practice with leatherwork before working on Ha-Na's outfit. Given my trouble sewing fabric, I could probably use whatever practice I could get.
My direction set; I moved with purpose. Letting my instincts guide me I found a short length of log in the storeroom and hefted it into the workshop. It was lighter than I'd expected, which helped confirm it was a good choice. I was slightly disappointed that the pale wood with a warm tint radiating from the grain wouldn't be visible once it was wrapped, and I made a mental note to use this wood for something more decorative at some point.
Placing the log on its side with one end resting just off the workbench, I retrieved a large saw and began to carve off a thin round. The finely crafted tool bit into the wood quickly and my muscles began to strain as I pushed and pulled in long smooth motions. Back and forth I kept the blade steady, mindful to keep the thickness uniform. The strangely soothing scent of sawdust seeping into the air. The blade meets air as the almost circular slice drops free.
Picking it up, it’s lighter than I expected, but still too heavy for my needs. Moving to the lathe I fasten it in place, the rings within the wood guiding me to a centrepoint. Putting my feet to the treadle, the slice began rotating faster and faster as I built up speed. Bringing the blade in shaved off the dark bark and a ribbon of pale wood beneath, rounding off the slice into a perfect disk. Now for the hard parts. Moving the blade carefully, I carved at the edges of the spinning disk. Slowly adjusting the angle of the blade as I attempted to round them off. Once I was satisfied, I set the blade a few inches more towards the centre of the disk, carving a shallow trench then repeating the process on the other side. I released a breath I hadn’t realised I was holding as I managed not to carve all the way through.
More confident now, I attempted to fillet the outer edge of each trench to mirror the rounded outer edge of the disk. I was mostly done when a mispositioning of my knife carved too deep, the outer ring of the disk dropping free. My feet immediately stopped the treadle, gloved hands catching the hoop before I raised it close to critically examine. The other edge of the hoop was nicely rounded while the internal edge was a little rougher, but some sanding would refine both to the desired standard.
Retrieving a few strips of scouring rush from near the grindstone, I settled onto a stool and got to work. Rubbing the strips of scouring rush around the rim of the hoop had the rough edges flaking away, leaving a sprinkling of sawdust across my lap. I'd have to brush up later, but for now the combination of the easy repetitive motion for my hands, with the warm, woodsy scent, was incredibly therapeutic. Just stimulating enough, without being truly taxing. All too soon I had to admit, the hoop was ready.
The wooden hoop was rigid with a little flex, it should hold up well to the stresses of play. Now to find some leather capable of holding up to Taffy's bites. I'd need something with a decent weight so Taffy could chew on the toy a bit. Huh, evidently I thought of the thickness of leather in terms of weight. I understand the two are related, but at first blush, it's an odd choice. No doubt there was a reason for it, probably something to do with how it was traded if I had to guess.
Letting my skills guide me to pick the leather proved a little trickier than the wood. There were a lot of hardwearing leathers in varying quantities, but none of them truly stood out to me. Hoping that was a sign that most of them could work, I veered towards a medium weight leather in small sheets that we had a good quantity of. I was pleased to find a selection of offcuts and laces of the same leather atop the stack. Checking the tag, I discovered the leather was from a type of two humped camel from the dungeon. They were a popular option for beginner adventurers given their relatively low threat level, though more than a few had cursed their tendency towards opportunistic bites. Everyone was naturally wary of their feet or the group stampeding, and apparently that was how they got you. As I recalled, the single humped variety were generally better money makers, their hide softer and more suitable for luxury use. That suited me just fine, it meant the thicker variety I was considering was cheaper. Not that I minded using quality materials for Taffy, but I didn't want to push my luck with anything too expensive.
Examining the offcuts, I found a few that I thought I could use, admiring the supple, slightly oily leather as I did so. Grabbing those and a few laces, like those used on tack or saddles, I returned to the workshop. I was about to mindlessly lay one of the offcuts flat on my cutting board, when my skills gave me a jolt something was off. Taking a closer look, it was immediately obvious one side was smoother than the other. I figured the smooth side was what I wanted visible so I placed that side face down. Setting the wooden ring atop what I suddenly knew was the grain side, I rested my knife at an angle on the rounded edge of the ring carefully following that around, having to apply significant force to cut the leather despite the blade's sharp edge. Replicating the effort around the other edge produced a ring of leather slightly wider than the wooden ring.
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A quick check confirmed that the leather ring could wrap up around more than half of the thin wooden disk. I thought there was enough room for the stitching as well, but it was hard to tell how much room to allow. Too much would get in the way, but too little and leather would be wasted. Still, I was committed now and moving the wooden hop and repeating the process I slice free another ring of leather of the same size.
Retrieving a small awl and a mallet I set about punching a ring of small holes around the periphery of the leather rings. I could always make the holes bigger if needed, but I couldn't make the holes smaller again if I started with too thick an awl. Keeping the wooden hoop in place, centred on the leather ring, helped me judge the distance from the edge of the leather to punch each hole. I wasn't sure how much was ideal, but I knew they should be consistent. Keeping the distance from one hole to the next the same as I dotted them around the circumference was harder. A single firm blow from the mallet on the back of the awl punched most of the holes, only a few required a second, they were the messy ones. Not that most people would notice once the whole thing was assembled, but they were a niggling frustration and a motivation to improve.
It was only as I reached three quarters of the way around the ring that I realised my mistake. I'd managed to keep the distance between the holes reasonably consistent, but I hadn't thought about the angles. If I kept going as I was, my final hole would be far too close to the starting one. I could adjust the distance to fix that, but it would be asymmetric with what I'd already punched. Perhaps I should keep going and tie off the stitching at that point? It didn't feel like a great plan, but it was the best I had without starting over, so I continued.
Sure enough, the starting hole and the final one ended up much closer than any of the others, but otherwise it looked good. At least it did until I lifted it up. The holes were less clean on the other side of the leather, the points where I'd taken a second blow more obvious, and I realised with frustration that this was the smoother side which would be visible. I knew it wouldn't really matter for the purpose I had in mind, the whole frisbee would get scuffed up as it was used, and Taffy certainly wouldn't care about such a small detail. But I cared, dammit! If I'd slowed down and thought things through, I would have realised that it was a possibility. At least I'd know for the next project. It would have been horrible if I'd done it on something like Ha-Na's armour.
Learning from my mistakes I thought a little more about the second leather ring before punching holes. It was less important that they were evenly spaced on this one than that they matched the other ring. Thankfully that was a problem with an easy solution. Meticulously lining up the leather ring that had already been punched atop the smooth side of the pristine ring, I then poked through a thin sliver of charcoal to mark the positions of the holes on the ring below. The fiddly process gave me plenty of time to appreciate the smoky scent of the charcoal blending with the fresh earthiness of the leather and the lingering autumnal notes of sawdust. It all had a warm nostalgia I couldn't quite place, catching me off guard. I wasn't about to get all blubbery or burst into tears, but feelings rose thick in my chest.
"Maybe I do need a break if somethin' as simple as this is gettin' me all emotional." I muttered to myself derisively. Waving off Xia as she poked her head up in response, "Sorry Xia, just thinkin' out loud. Didn't mean to disturb ya."
Shaking my head to clear the unexpected well of emotions, and dismissing them as the effect of warm feelings on rainy days, not noticing the rain had ceased, I got back to business.
The final marks were made, then it was a simple matter to punch the remaining holes. I could probably just stitch the wooden hoop between the two rings of leather, but my instincts were bugging me there was something I was missing. Then it hit me, the leather would have to be stretched tight against the wooden hoop to meet in the middle, and I didn't want it slipping around as it did so.
Poking around the leatherworking tools in the workshop, I quickly found some adhesive paste, a small paintbrush and a handful of clamps. Knowing time would count once I started working with the adhesive, I grabbed a couple of needles and threaded them with sturdy thread. I'd been considering using the leather laces when I brought them in, thinking they'd be more durable. However, as I'd been considering punching in the holes I also realised since they were significantly larger, I'd need bigger holes, and Taffy's teeth could get under and pull on the laces in a way that shouldn't occur with the thread. Only time would tell if that was the correct choice, my skills content to let me work this one out.
Taking a deep breath, I began. Dipping the brush in the paste, I diligently slathered it across the grain side of one of the leather rings with back-and-forth brush strokes. Moving with some urgency, but conscious that precision was important, I lined up the wooden hoop and pressed it down firmly into the paste, feeling the tacky substance ooze around the base. Not wasting a moment, I picked up the brush once more and began coating the top of the wooden hoop. Once I was satisfied with the coverage, I lined up the other leather halo, careful to keep the smooth side facing up, and pressed it down firmly upon the wooden hoop, trying to apply even pressure.
Despite my best efforts, I had to twist it slightly to have the holes line up with the leather below. It didn't twist freely. Taking a breath, I applied a little extra pressure and felt the burgeoning bonds break beneath the leather as I swivelled it into place. I'd noticed it quick enough and I gotten away with the adjustment.
Now I just needed to keep pressure on as I laced it up. Looking at the clamps I had a moment of panic as I realised my mistake. To put it in the clamps I'd need to somehow pick it up without any of it slipping and becoming unaligned. The paste was adhering quickly so I might get away with it, but it just seemed so risky. Then I realised I just needed something that could press down on top like I was doing, about as wide or a little wider than the frisbee itself to apply even pressure. My frantic gaze alighted on the remainder of the log, and immediately dismissed it, too unwieldy. My eyes darted over the workbench, past Xia slowly grooming herself, unaware or uncaring of my current predicament. Then they reached the forge, and the ingots of bronze and iron that rested beside it.
Dashing across I hoisted two of the ingots, glad I'd opted for iron rather than bronze as these were heavy enough, and carefully rested them on top of my soon-to-be frisbee. Working round them was going to be awkward, but by sheer happenstance, the section with the two holes too close together was one of the more accessible points, and that was where the stitching had to begin.
Taking up two needles, each threaded with separate lengths of the same sturdy thread, I managed to poke both needles through the same hole from opposite directions. When I stated to pull them through however, I hit a snag. The hole was wide enough for a thread and a needle, but it didn't seem like two lengths of this thread could fit. I'd been looking for a strong thread and what I'd found was just a bit thicker than the needle. A little more force might do it. Or I might rip the hole. I was already having to stretch the leather to get the points to line up, both pieces only holding steady because of the weight of the bonze pressing down on them. Taking a chance, I pulled a little harder on the needle and it slipped through! Threading the hole from both directions and pricking my palm in the process. Apparently I was destined to shed blood when doing any kind of stitching, but in the moment I didn't care.
I continued onwards, snaking both laces through each hole in opposite directions and pulling taut as I reached them. My thick dwarven digits manipulating the long thin needles in the cramped space beneath the ingots made the whole process awkward. The leather having to be stretched first to line up each of the holes, combined with using two needles made me wish for a third hand at times, cramped space or not. Yet I managed, returning triumphantly - if with rather pricked hands - to the hole I started.
I was fairly sure there was some neat way I was supposed to tie the whole thing up, but I didn't know it. All the aid my disjointed memories would provide were the words camel and stitch, which wasn't very helpful when I already knew I was stitching camel leather. So, I did the best I could. I pulled each thread taut, putting all of my not inconsiderable strength into it, then tied a neat knot between the two laces, trying to keep it as small as possible. Finally, I trimmed off the excess thread with a sharp blade. Looking at it critically, I had a deep sense it could be better, but given the knowledge I had, I was pleased with the results. More importantly, I was sure once it finished curing, Taffy would be too.
