"You see a mithril greatsword, I see a mithril dagger," Vannaka would say. He would then pick two up from Doric's forge, one in each hand, and try not to register effort. It was a routine, a little play, between Vannaka and Doric.
This time, however, the joke was on Vannaka. Doric had made his mam's rock cakes, and folded some mithril round them - one for each hilt.
Vannaka wobbled. "Cripes," he said.