The group gathers around the blacksmith's workbench, where tools and weapons are scattered in an organized chaos that only Garin seems to understand. The warm glow of the forge shines on their faces, casting a golden hue that seems to soften the edges of their determined expressions. Thorbek, with his innate understanding of metalwork, approaches Garin, his eyes gleaming with an idea. "Garin," he begins, his voice low and serious, "we need something special." Garin pauses, his hands resting on the cold surface of the workbench. He studies Thorbek for a moment, then shakes his head slowly, the spark of creativity igniting in his eyes. "A hybrid tool, you say? That's an interesting challenge," he reflects, rubbing his chin thoughtfully. Elara watches Garin closely, her attentive eyes catching the subtle changes in his expression. "It's not just about practicality," she adds, her voice thoughtful. "It needs to be balanced, something we can rely on in the dark, cramped tunnels of the mine."
Garin's gaze shifts to Groth, who remains silent but attentive, his presence solid and reassuring. Without a word, Groth reaches out and picks up a piece of metal, its surface gleaming in the firelight. He hands it to Garin, a silent suggestion that speaks volumes. With a nod of understanding, Garin takes the metal, weighing it in his hands. "I can forge something like this," he says, confidence in his words. "But it will take a few hours. You might want to rest while I get to work." Pippin, ever optimistic, smiles broadly. "I knew you were the right man for the job, Garin." "We'll be in good hands." The Halfling's joy is contagious, and even the stoic Groth allows a small smile to appear on his face. The blacksmith rolls up his sleeves, already envisioning the tool he will create. "Leave it to me," he assures them, turning to the forge. "I'll have something ready by morning, just wait." As the group prepares to leave Garin to his work, the rhythmic sound of the hammer striking the metal begins again, a comforting promise of the craftsmanship to come. They step out into the cool night air, the stars shining above like a thousand tiny lanterns guiding their way back to the Whispering Wood.