I never thought much of myself, just a page to the local blacksmith. Spending my life learning how to pound molten metal into shape. In my village, I only really got the chance to make chains, bolts, hinges, and farm tools. Using the same rough iron scraps to make the clunky essentials. But I’d always wanted to make something truly remarkable. Something that would make people stop and say. “Aint that a genuine Porkrum piece! What I’d give fer one a those!”

That’s my name by the way, Porkrum. I was named by an orcish friend of my paw’s. And by friend, I mean friend. No clue who my mother is, there’s always been Paw and Uncle Rog, his friend who gave me an orcish name. It’s memorable at the very least. And if I ever do get the chance to make something amazing, people will never forget the name of the one who made it. That’s exactly why I found myself crashing through the trees in the middle of the night. Searching frantically for the thing that just crashed in the distance. Right from the sky, what looked like a piece of a star landed somewhere in the mountains. 

I spent days making my way to where I saw it land. I’d barely explained myself to my teacher before gathering up some food and running out of the forge. Five days it took me to finally crest the hills and spy my prize. The earth was obsidian, melted by some incredible heat that I could not fathom. In the very center of the crater, was a luminous piece of metal. Glowing like a tiny sun. I approached carefully, wary of any remaining heat. Though, as I approached there was no great heat to be found. There was simply a revitalizing light from the shard of strange iron. 

I held it with shaking hands, the glow filling me with inspiration for a blade that would cement my name in history. With my renewed vigor, it only took me three days to get back to the forge. I didn’t spare a moment. Immediately I began my work. Melting down the glowing metal and beginning the process of making the mold. I dug through my private materials for anything I thought would compliment the blade. I begged my master to spare bits of gold and silver for decoration. I cleaned out my savings box to buy a few small sapphires to grace the hilt. I shaped the guard to resemble the setting sun and the hilt was to be wrapped in the finest blue silk from my grandmother. 

Tiny quarts crystals surrounded the luminous sapphires, which reflected the shimmering gold filaments. As the metal cooled, the glow diminished to nothing. But with each strike of the hammer, ripples of starlight seemed to dance across the steel. When I finally cooled the blade, the water erupted with sunlight. As it finished, the sapphires began to glitter blue and white. I ran my fingers along the broad side of the blade, and watched as shimmering starlight danced upon the metal. The sword seemed to sing as I tested its balance. When I swung it as the testing dummy I truly thought I had missed the target. But a moment later, the dummy split into two pieces and tumbled to the ground. 

My master, an old dwarf by the name of Finnegan, dropped his tools at the sight. He held his rough hands out for the blade and I barely hesitated as I passed it to him. He stared at the blade in silence, tested its balance, its weight, the length, the design, and after a moment gently set it down on the nearby table. He walked over to me, and I was for some reason rather frightened. I was surprised when he suddenly wrapped me in a bone crushing hug. 

“This is the single most beautiful metal work I’ve seen since leaving home, lad.” Finnegan said. I took great pride in pleasing him so. I showed the blade to my father and uncle, to all of my regular customers, to my friends. It wasn’t until that night that I truly understood the kind of blade that I had forged. As the moon rose overhead and the stars began to shine, so too did the blade. Shimmering luminance danced up the blade from where it was proudly displayed. The sapphires erupted in blue flame as blinding light filled the forge. Gentle chiming filled the air composing a song of joy and hope. 

I stared slack jawed as the blade rose from its place on the wall. Light erupted from it and soon the blade was held by a slender, pale hand. A slender figure stood with the blade in their hands. Garbed in sheer blue silks and golden chains. Hair and skin as pale as the stars. Eyes like glimmering sapphires bore holes into my soul. Their head was crowned by dripping clear gemstones that reflected a thousand colors on the walls. I knew, in my heart, this was the spirit of the star. 

“Have you given the blade a name?” He asked. His voice was milk and honey. He held the blade out to me, and with shaking hands I took it. It was strangely warm in my grasp. The glow had faded once more yet it still shimmered slightly in the low firelight of the forge. 

“Shimmerought.” I said, my voice sure and strong. The star smiled, his expression soft and radiant. 

“It is a good name, I will carry it.” He said softly. “I will be called Pollaris Shimmerought. I thank you for freeing me from my celestial shard.” He said. I could not take my eyes away from him. He was, in a word, magnificent. “Tell me, what may I call you?” He asked. My face was as warm as the blade in my hands. I swallowed and told him my name in a stuttering voice. “Ah, a strong name. Orcish. It suits your strength and courage.” I nearly dropped the sword as he spoke. 

“What will you do now?” I asked. He surveyed the room, running delicate fingers over the wrought iron fittings and shovels. His silks flowed behind him like the trails of a comet. They seemed to defy gravity and darkness, glittering with soft blue twinkles. 

“I am a wishing star, rather, I was.” He said, distractedly “I suppose I would help you fulfil your wish. After all, it is so loud.” He beamed at me, and I felt myself go weak in the knees. He laughed, a sound as clear and pure as a church bell. “That is a new wish, and one we shall certainly discuss. But I meant the old wish, the rough and beaten one that has held its ground since you were young.” He said, smile never leaving his face. My gaze wandered down to the sword still in my hands. Taking in every detail and shimmering ornament. My savings, all of my materials, and some of my master’s went into it. I had nothing to my name save that sword. 

“Do you really think I could, do it?” I asked, eyes not leaving my creation. I was startled when his hands rested over mine. I looked up only for my gaze to be captured by his azure eyes. His gaze was gentle and kind, holding wisdom I could not possibly fathom. 

“You woke me from an endless slumber and created a blade from a piece of starlight.” He said, warm and full of affection. “I truly believe you can do anything.” 

The next day, I packed my meager belongings. With Finnegan’s blessing and a letter of introduction in my pocket. I bid goodbye to my father and uncle, who shared a look when I introduced Polaris to them. Both wept at my departure, wishing me well and holding me to my promise to write. We set out, hand in hand, for the city. To show off my craft. To make my old wish a reality. The name of Porkrum would be known for the finest smithing in all the land. And hopefully, to indulge in my new wish. To one day, kiss a star.