Eirik lights the forge at six, before the valley is awake. By the time the coffee is ready the coals are white in the middle and the first bar of steel is already changing colour.

Heat, hammer, wait

He works in short bursts. Heat the steel, three or four blows, back into the fire. The rhythm is slower than you expect. Most of the craft, he says, is knowing when to stop hitting and let the heat do the work.

An axe head takes him most of a day. He forges the eye first, folds and welds the bit, then grinds and tempers the edge until it will shave the hair on his arm. Every one comes out a little different, and he gives each a name before it leaves the shop.

The last in the valley

There were five smiths here when his grandfather was young. Now there is Eirik. He does not sound sad about it. People still need things that last, he says, and there will always be someone who wants to learn.