Fantasy Metallurgy: Mithril

Or a continuation of monographs on subjects common and esoteric for the enlightenment of the common man.

Few of the exotic materials stir the imagination as Mithril does.  Known by a variety of names over the eons, in today's more cosmopolitan world we use the most common name for it from those said to have created it originally: the elves.

I am assured by those Dwarves whom I number among my friends that there is no Mithril to be mined anywhere in the world, it does not come from the ground, and no dwarf can, or will, work the stuff.  This is, to be blunt, an exaggeration as I am aware of several examples of dwarven craftsmanship that incorporate the stuff, if only in a purely decorative fashion.  

It would be more accurate to say that the Dwarves can not create Mithril, though if they happen to get ahold of some they are more than capable of reworking it for their own purposes.

There are a great number of mysteries about Mithril, to be sure, and I hope to shed light on a few of them, though sadly many remained hidden away from even my most tenacious inquiries.

There is one constant to all stories and legends of Mithril, one thread that connects even the provenance of every piece of mithril found today. It all comes from the Elves.  Accordingly I packed my bags and headed to several elven communities, many of which were reputed to be sources of the fabulous stuff.  Imagine my surprise when, after weeks of exploration, I found not a single forge or other proper metalshop, nor signs that any such things existed!  I was able, with some difficulty, to find small silver and goldsmiths who worked out of tiny clay kilns over stone lined fire pits, but none who could claim to have ever worked with the so-called 'Elven Silver'.

While most find the Elves to be a clannish and insular people, unwilling to speak openly with outsiders, I was able to loosen a few tongues using the traditional methods of wine, song and judicious application of silver coin.  Of course, even still the answers I received were couched in the typical fooferah of poetry and riddle.  As only a few pages might be spared for the entire monograph, I shall not waste them trying to relay the typically long winded responses I received.

Almost universally the elves tried to refer me back to their mythical ancestors and the great Elven migration from 'somewhere else'.  That somewhere else, as you may be aware, differs based on the community in question, ironically many of the more distant enclaves I spoke to referred back to one of the larger, older cities, who in turn pointed to more mythic origins... suggesting that my theories regarding Elvish migration patterns... but I digress.   In each case, they suggested that all mithril originated in the great and distant past, and were being slowly released from these ancient armories and treasuries as necessary.

This, of course, is hogwash.  Too many documented instances of tailor made artifacts, to many instances of bars of mithril being traded for everyday goods to ever support such a theory.  Confronted with undeniable facts they inevitably shrugged and point to the leaders of their communities as the 'source' of whatever mithril is available.  As, inevitably, the leaders of elven communities are among the oldest and powerful... and quite typically very learned in matters of magic and certain esoteric forms of alchemy, this seemed to me to be the ultimate source of mithril: Exotic magic and alchemical techniques.

Working from that hypothesis, as certainly no one would come out and admit such, I attempted to track sources of reagents and base materials to those communities that produced the most in mithril product.  Sadly, this proved nearly impossible, as Elves keep very poor records and, again, are reluctant to share what little they know.  Even speaking to those merchants that made regular deliveries gave me little to work with in this regard.

In the course of research, however, I stumbled across a well known, but little established nugget of fact. Elves have very good relations with the fey races, and in the course of their mythic migrations many have suggested that the Elves may have originated in some sort of fey realm, rather than our more conventional realm.  This is even more true of those ancient beings who inevitably lead the elves than the more common sort you might encounter out in the regular world.  As the outflow, no matter how restricted, of mithril was not matched in any way by the input of materials in, and inevitably any items produced exactly match the needs of those who receive them. The final piece of the puzzle was the utter lack of facilities and persons who could work the stuff.

I can only conclude, though final proof eludes me, that mithril is a product of the fey realms and is traded or procured by magical means.  As anyone should know, the fey realms work on different principles than our own, much akin to a dream state, where desires can be made manifest, removing the need for craftsmen or labor.  Unlike dream realms, however, such thing can be, if one is careful, fully real and even dangerously so. I can only assume that eons ago the Elves learned a way to reliably, though I assume with difficulty, create mithril goods that could be transported, used and traded as any other substance.

As I stated earlier, I was able to trace somewhat regular shipments of mithril bars from an elvish community to the outside world. Following that shipment I found they were disbursed into smaller, even trivial amounts and scattered between half a dozen high end human smithy shops and a few dwarven clanholds, where they were turned into finished goods for sale at exhorbent prices.  Assuring them I had no intention of stealing their businesses, I was able to learn a few thing about the metal itself.

Aside from it famous appearance, looking like a highly shined silver, and its use in weapons and armor (something silver is remarkably poor for...), not much has been done, metallurgically prior to this monograph.  

From those worked it I learned a few things, some of which I had known before, if only peripherally.  First, it is remarkably easy to work, almost as any soft, decorative metal. Once worked it becomes hard, slightly harder than steel, though much more flexible. It retains its shape remarkably well, recovering from most deformations almost instantly. Oddly, while it is easy to work, and even rework, once worked it becomes resistant to the same forces that can reshape it so easily in the hands of a skilled smith.  There are anecdotal stories of  children working the stuff with their hands like it was putty, and opposed stories of destructive children banging away at a half finished piece at the workbench for hours without effect.   One dwarven smith who was an expert said he worked it cold like putty, though he refused to demonstrate how he got the metal to that state, or how he fixed it when he was done.  There is some credence to the clay and putty stories, as I found that it act unlike any metal I've ever studied, its insulative properties, conductive properties and so forth are far more similar to ceramics and other earths than a metal.

That said, Mithril is not immune to tarnishing. While far more resistant than ordinary silver, or even conventional steels, so much so that it is often said to be immune, I have found numerous instances of corroded mithril.  However, it must be noted that mithril does not tarnish or rust as other metals do.  I myself was fortunate to bear witness to this very unusual, and rare occurrence myself on one occasion.  An adventurer of some low reputation had acquired from an ancient barrow some almost ruined antiques that he hoped to sell to a museum or university as relics of the distant past.  A fellow of mine happened to be searching for those very relics, which he had been prophesied to need to stop some terrible menace, and... when he lifted a particularly ruined mail shirt, so rusted that entire patches were gone, one could look right through the garment. As soon as my companion lifted it from the chest, however, a remarkable transformation occurred, no mere glamour, I collect several pieces of the discarded rust which I have to this day, but he held a whole, and untarnished mail shirt, which sadly failed to save his life in his tragic, but heroic, death stopping the Beast of Giban... but that is another story altogether.

Aside from its singular lack of conductivity, mithril is much like gold in that it can be rendered very thin, turned into an extremely fine wire. Of course, as I said earlier, once worked it is resistant to being changed, making it an excellent spring, though few would use such a valuable metal for such purposes.  It can be broken, however, and while such broken pieces can be salvaged and reworked, if left for any length of time unattended they tend to disappear in a process much like sublimation, evaporating into the aether. This too tends to occur to bar mithril, though at a far slower rate. Those who work with it admit that if they do not use it immediately, they often find they had less than they bought.

One last notable property I've learned of mithril, at great risk: Those species of lycanthropes who are vulnerable to silver are also, to a much lesser degree, vulnerable to mithril. Vulnerable is the wrong word, perhaps. While true silver, and certain magical silvers will actually burn their flesh on contact, and weapons made of them are as effacious as few other things, mithril will, over time, give a bad rash.  So too, unlike almost all other metals, mithril seems to lose its luster and ability when used by those of cruel and vicious temperament, though this effects the elves not at all, regardless of capriciousness or callousness.