The focus of the village, though still rooted in the daily necessities of survival and maintenance, had shifted towards the future, towards the distant lake and the promise of trade. The planning for the expedition was no longer just a topic of conversation; it was a tangible project, one that required significant effort and coordination. The most visible manifestation of this was the boat taking shape near the riverbank.
Borin, with his innate skill and dedication, had taken the lead on the boatbuilding. It was a monumental task, far exceeding the complexity of huts or simple fishing dugouts. He worked tirelessly, his face often smudged with sap and dirt, his hands calloused from shaping the heavy wood. Several apprentices and other strong villagers assisted him, learning new techniques for cutting, joining, and sealing the large wooden planks.
Elias spent a considerable amount of time at the boatbuilding site. He wasn't strong enough for the heaviest labor, but he was the source of the design principles that guided the construction. He drew diagrams in the dirt, showing the importance of the keel for stability, the curved shape of the hull for cutting through the water, and the concept of reinforcing the structure with internal ribs. He explained, as best he could, the principles of buoyancy and hydrodynamics, using gestures and simple analogies involving floating logs and rocks.
Borin, with his deep, intuitive understanding of wood and structure, grasped the practical applications of Elias's ideas. He experimented with different types of wood from the forest, selecting those that were both strong and relatively light. He devised new ways to bend and shape the planks using steam from boiling water heated over a fire pit. He learned to use a sticky resin from certain trees, combined with animal fat and plant fibers, to create a sealant that made the joints watertight.
The boat grew slowly, painstakingly. It was a long, open vessel, designed to be propelled by paddles, large enough to carry a significant amount of trade goods and the members of the expedition. Each plank was carefully shaped and fitted, each joint sealed with meticulous attention. It was a testament to the villagers' growing skills and their collective commitment to the journey.
While the boat was being built, other villagers focused on preparing the goods for trade. The weavers worked diligently, producing a surplus of their finest textiles. They experimented with new patterns and color combinations, creating bolts of cloth and finished items like cloaks and bags that were both functional and aesthetically pleasing. Elara, a skilled weaver herself, oversaw this effort, guiding the women and ensuring the quality of their work.
The potters, too, increased their output. They refined their techniques for preparing the clay, shaping the vessels, and firing them in their simple kilns. They created a variety of pots, jars, and bowls, some decorated with simple incised patterns or colored with natural pigments. Their goal was to produce durable, useful, and attractive pottery that would be desirable to other tribes.
A significant portion of the recent harvest was set aside and carefully preserved – grains dried and stored in woven containers, roots and berries smoked or dried. The smoked creature meat, a unique and potent commodity, was also prepared in large quantities, its strong flavor and long shelf life making it an ideal trade good.
Elias continued to work with the children, incorporating the preparations for the journey into their lessons. They drew pictures of the boat, of the goods being prepared, and of the landmarks Zarthus had described on the route to the lake. They practiced counting and bartering with stones and sticks, learning the basics of exchange. He wanted them to understand the significance of the journey, to see it not just as an adventure, but as a vital step in the village's growth.
The planning also involved selecting the members of the expedition. Kaelen discussed this at length with the elders. The group needed to be strong, capable warriors and hunters, able to defend themselves if necessary. They needed to be skilled in navigating the river and the forest. They needed to be trustworthy and able to represent the village in interactions with other tribes. Lyra and Finn were obvious choices, their skills and experience invaluable. Other capable individuals were considered, their strengths and weaknesses debated.
The potential risks of the journey were never far from their minds. Stories of dangerous rapids, of hostile tribes, of unknown creatures in the deeper parts of the forest were recounted around the fire, a constant reminder of the challenges that lay ahead. But the desire for what the lake offered – access to metal, to new knowledge, to connections with the wider world – outweighed the fear.
As the days passed, the boat near the riverbank grew closer to completion. Its wooden ribs curved gracefully upwards, its planks were carefully fitted, and the process of sealing the seams with resin had begun. The piles of trade goods grew larger, bundles of textiles, stacks of pottery, containers of preserved food. The village was a place of focused effort, its people working together towards a shared goal. The dark metal panel by the entrance stood as a silent witness to their ambition, a piece of a past civilization hinting at the possibilities that lay in the world beyond their current reach. The sounds of the village filled the air – the rhythmic shaping of wood, the quiet hum of weaving, the focused murmur of voices discussing the journey ahead. They were a community building a vessel, both physically and metaphorically, preparing to set sail into the unknown.