The Armoury

I pushed open the door and stepped inside. A chill breeze blew in as the door swung shut behind me. A slim amount of light slid through the few windows, glinting on metal. I stared around, wide-eyed, trying to hide the grin spreading all over my face. Blades covered every possible space. Claymores hung nobly on the walls, cutlasses shouldered one another aside in barrels, broadswords silently demanded respect. Knives, daggers, and sgian dubhs jockeyed for position on every shelf. The low ceiling and the vast amount of sharp objects made the room seem smaller than it was. I kept my hands tight in my pockets and felt as if I should duck. Tartans and furs hung here and there, seemingly the only source of warmth in this cave of weaponry. I walked slowly to absorb everything. There was a dark man in one corner, polishing a rapier. He was dressed all in black, from his shirt with gathered sleeves to his trousers and knee-high boots. I knew he was watching me. I stopped to look at a sgian dubh, still keeping an eye on the man. He turned to place the rapier in a stand and I noticed his ponytail.  Studying the knife - short blade, handle crafted from a deer's antler - I smiled to myself and knew I would have a story to tell.