The knife scraped along the whetstone, its noise echoing in the still morning air.
"If you sharpen the blade any more, there will be none left," said Kraloch.
Urgon smiled, holding up the weapon to examine the edge. "One can never be too careful with such things. A sharp knife could make the difference between life or death."
"You are nervous about your ordeal."
"I am, although it is some time yet before I must undertake the task."
"Yes, at least two seasons, yet you fret. Why?"
"I remember well the words of the Dwarf," said Urgon. "I have a lot to live up to."
"You mean your mother? It is not your fault she is the shaman of the village."
"It is my father"s memory that I must live up to." He pointed to the monument. "That is a constant reminder of all he accomplished."
"You put to
