Next came a set of five throwing knives, each one thin, incredibly light, and perfectly balanced at the dead centre of the steel.
Grindelna set up a fresh target across the wide room and gave a simple command. "Throw."
Morwenna had never actually thrown a knife properly in her entire life, and holding the weapon by the tip of the blade felt entirely wrong in her grip. When she finally threw it, the knife tumbled awkwardly through the air and clattered uselessly against the stone floor barely a meter in front of her.
She tried again, managing to get closer this time, but the blade still landed nowhere near the intended target. Her third attempt finally hit the dummy's outer edge, sticking poorly for a brief second before falling sadly to the floor.
Grindelna walked across the room to retrieve the scattered knives. "Your aim is extremely poor. Your wrist snaps entirely too early in the motion, and the physical weight is clearly unfamiliar to your muscles."
She returned to the table and set the set aside permanently. "Mastering throwing knives requires countless hours of dedicated practice. Every single day. For years on end. Do you actually want to commit to that?"
"I'm not sure," she admitted. "But if my aim is poor, then I want to train it. Spells still need aim, after all."
Grindelna studied her for a moment, then gave a small nod. "Then you will train your aim. Train with throwing knives is also fine."
They moved on to test the needles next. They were long, impossibly thin, and practically invisible against the dark stone, stored carefully in a rolled leather wrap containing twenty individual slots.
"Needles," Grindelna announced, carefully handing the girl a single piece of the deadly metal. It was so impossibly thin that it almost disappeared completely between her pinching fingers.
"Throw it."
Morwenna flicked her wrist in a quick, almost purely instinctive motion, and the tiny projectile vanished completely into the dim lighting of the room.
Grindelna walked over to the distant target and pulled the weapon free, revealing that it had sunk deeply into the thick leather, remaining completely invisible unless someone knew exactly where to look for it.
"The primary problem with throwing needles," the old goblin explained, turning the tiny sliver of metal thoughtfully between her calloused fingers, "is the delivery method itself. They carry absolutely no blunt force. To use them effectively, you need flawless precision, and you absolutely need to coat them in lethal poison. Without both of those elements working together, they are practically useless."
She walked back and handed the girl another needle from the leather wrap. "Try it again. Aim specifically for the throat."
Morwenna adjusted her footing to find a better stance and threw the weapon again. This time, the tiny weapon struck much higher, catching the leather dummy right near the collarbone.
"Better," Grindelna acknowledged. "But perfecting this particular art takes immense time. It requires thousands of mindless repetitions to build the necessary muscle memory."
She didn't return the thrown needle immediately. Instead, she crossed back to the stone table and picked up a different leather wrap, unfolding the heavy fabric to reveal perfect rows of similar needles. These were equally long and exceptionally fine, sitting almost invisible against the dark material.
"These specific ones aren't meant for throwing," she clarified, delicately selecting a fresh needle and placing it securely in Morwenna's hand. "These are meant purely for direct contact. They are designed for precision work on targets that are close enough to touch."
She pointed toward a solid block of wood nearby that was marked with several tiny painted dots. "Hit the centre."
Morwenna stepped closer to the target. The needle felt completely weightless between her fingers as she pressed the sharp tip forward, watching it slide effortlessly into the dense wood. She struck again, and then again, with each precise strike landing perfectly true as the point found its designated mark without a single moment of hesitation.
Grindelna watched the display very closely, her sharp gaze tracking the steady movement of the girl's hands, the even rhythm of her breathing, and the eerie, quiet stillness that settled completely over her whenever she focused.
"Your fine motor control is truly excellent," she finally concluded. "There isn't a tremor in your grip, and you don't try to rush the strike."
She gently took the deadly needle back and folded the leather wrap securely closed.
"But, unfortunately, needles are highly limited in combat," she warned. "At any real range, they fail. Against hardened leather or metal armour, they fail completely."
She set the dangerous tools aside. "They are highly useful as a secondary option, but they shouldn't ever be your primary weapon."
"Hidden weapons," Grindelna announced, laying the intricate devices out on the table one by one.
There was a leather belt featuring a metal buckle that split apart to reveal a blade as thin as a sheet of paper, a heavy ring fitted with a tiny concealed needle, and a thick bracelet designed to house a lethal spring-loaded dart.
"These are strictly last-resort tools," she continued. "They aren't meant to be your primary weapons. You only use these when absolutely everything else is gone and you have no other choice."
Morwenna picked up the heavy bracelet, turning it over once to examine the craftsmanship before slipping it onto her wrist. She pressed the hidden trigger mechanism experimentally.
The small dart snapped free instantly, shooting cleanly across the testing room and striking the leather dummy perfectly in the eye.
She stared blankly at the ruined target for a long moment. "That was an accident."
Grindelna's white brow lifted slightly in dry amusement. "Perhaps."
She moved on without further comment, retrieving a completely different set of equipment from the wall.
"These," she said, holding up a pair of intricate bracers, "are much closer to what you will actually rely on."
She carefully strapped one of the metal mechanisms to each of Morwenna's forearms. The design was incredibly compact, the goblin metalwork fine and flawlessly precise against her skin.
"Now, press your wrist down toward your palm."
Morwenna did exactly as instructed.
Morwenna followed the instruction, and a wicked blade immediately slid out just past her knuckles. It was a short, brutally clean piece of steel barely longer than her own fingers.
She blinked in genuine surprise.
"Again," the smith prompted.
She pressed her wrist down, and the lethal blade vanished instantly back into its housing. She practiced the motion several times, sliding the steel out and pulling it back in, finding the mechanical action incredibly smooth and nearly effortless. The intricate mechanism responded eagerly, as if it had always belonged exactly where it was
"Walk around the room," Grindelna ordered, gesturing toward the open floor. "Don't consciously think about them being there."
Morwenna walked slowly across the wide chamber. The leather straps held the metal bracers firmly against her forearms without restricting her natural movement in the slightest, and within just a few short steps, she stopped noticing the added weight entirely.
"Now strike!"
She spun around quickly, and the hidden blade snapped completely out just as her arm moved forward, the lethal motion flowing perfectly without a single second of hesitation. It was a brilliantly clean slash through the empty air, tightly controlled and utterly precise.
She paused to catch her breath, then slowly lowered her arm to her side.
Grindelna watched the display carefully before offering a very slow, satisfied nod.
By the time all of the physical tests were finally finished, Morwenna stood exhausted in the very centre of the testing ground. Her arms ached deeply from the repetitive motions, her small fingers were undeniably sore, and while her right hand still lagged slightly behind her dominant left, she had quickly learned how to properly compensate for the weakness.
Grindelna began to walk around the girl, maintaining a slow, assessing, circular pace.
"You are incredibly patient," the old goblin noted thoughtfully. "You don't try to rush the process. When I first gave you the dagger, you took the time to watch and measure the distance before you ever committed to a throw."
Morwenna didn't offer an answer, simply letting the smith speak.
"You are also remarkably precise," the smith continued her evaluation. "Your third throw was significantly better than your very first attempt because you naturally know how to adjust your technique."
Grindelna finally stopped her slow pacing directly in front of the young witch. "But you are also dangerously impulsive. When you stopped overthinking the mechanics, you became much more accurate, but the moment you started trying to think your way through the strike, you immediately hesitated."
Morwenna looked down at the scratched stone floor, absorbing the critique.
"The Lethifold magic in your blood perfectly suits your natural style." the goblin decided. "It gives you the stillness and the total silence you need. It means you will be able to hide in the shadows, to wait patiently, and to strike the moment your target isn't looking."
Grindelna picked up one of the dull practice daggers from the nearby table, turning it thoughtfully over in her heavily scarred hands.
"The Veela magic running through you is entirely different. It relies on sheer presence and overwhelming magnetism. It means people will always look at you, because they simply won't be able to help themselves."
She set the heavy metal blade back down.
"Those two extreme qualities should constantly conflict with each other. One desperate to be seen, and the other desperate to hide. But inside of you, they don't seem to fight at all. They layer together flawlessly."
Morwenna slowly looked up, her mismatched eyes locking onto the old smith.
Grindelna walked over to the main weapon wall and pulled down a specific pair of short blades. They were perfectly matched, completely identical twins, featuring grips made of deep, dark wood and blades forged from a steel so dark it was almost pitch black.
"The dual daggers suit your hands perfectly. Your left hand is undeniably stronger, and you naturally favour it in a fight. But wielding twin blades allows you to actively balance that disparity. It forces you to use both sides of your body together, meaning you don't end up crippling your weaker right hand; instead, you teach it how to properly support the stronger left."
She held the dark steel weapons up to catch the light.
"Your fine motor control is undeniably excellent, as your work with the throwing needles easily proved," she continued her assessment. "You possess the terrifying patience required of an assassin. You are perfectly willing to wait in the dark for the exact right moment to strike."
She set the dark daggers down gently and reached for a heavy pair of mechanical wrist blades from another nearby rack.
"These hidden weapons perfectly suit your Lethifold heritage." She noted, holding the heavy mechanisms up for inspection. "You don't want to be seen before you act. You want to strike lethally and then vanish into the shadows, leaving your enemy to wonder exactly where the fatal blade even came from."
She looked at the young witch then. She truly, deeply looked at her, and her pale grey eyes didn't even bother to blink.
"You're deeply arrogant," Grindelna stated firmly. "But not in a foolish way that makes you careless in a fight. You're arrogant in a way that makes you utterly efficient. You refuse to waste physical movement, and you refuse to waste breath on useless words.
You want the weapon to do its bloody job, and then you want it to disappear completely. You don't have absolutely any desire to stand in the middle of a crowded room and loudly announce your own presence to the world."
Morwenna didn't say anything to defend herself, because there was really nothing to say.
Grindelna finally turned her attention back to Threndak. "For her personal weapons, we will forge the dual daggers. For her official clan leader weapon, it was for ceremony and for war. It will be visible. It will announce you. We will discus this on next session."
Threndak offered a nod of agreement, officially recording the decision.
The old smith looked back down at the little girl standing before her. "The daggers will be meticulously forged together in the same fire to ensure they are a perfectly matched pair. They will be crafted light enough for your small hands to wield, and custom balanced to perfectly complement your stronger left side."
She walked back to the main wall and took down a specific practice blade that featured a short, curved edge and a grip carved from dark wood. She returned and set it carefully on the stone table directly beside its identical mate.
"These are merely practice versions," Grindelna explained. "The real daggers will be custom forged to your exact physical specifications. We will account for the steel type, the point of balance, the overall weight, and everything else. We will continuously adjust every single variable until they feel exactly like an extension of your own hands."
Morwenna reached out and picked up one of the practice daggers. It was noticeably heavier than she initially expected, but it fit into her grip perfectly, the weight settling down into her stronger left palm in a way that felt entirely natural. Her right hand reached out automatically for its waiting mate, and as she held them both, the delicate balance finally felt undeniably right.
"When will they be ready?" she asked softly.
"Six months for dual daggers," Grindelna answered firmly. "You will return to this forge in exactly six months. The finished weapons will be waiting for you, and the formal claiming ceremony will immediately follow."
The old smith walked over to the heavy iron door and pulled it open to indicate the first fitting session was officially over.
"We will conduct another testing session in exactly three months," she added. "By then, you will undoubtedly know far more about what your growing body is capable of handling, and what your combined magic can actually do under pressure. We will finalize the precise blade specifications then. Go home and rest now. You have certainly done enough hard work for one day."
Morwenna looked up at the old goblin smith with genuine respect. "Thank you."