Forging: Part 1 or Tiny Adventures in Foundling Sitting: Part 1

("Baby Yoda" and The Armorer) (spoilers for chapter 8)


"What brings you back so soon, Din Djarin?" The Mandalorian Armorer glanced at him as she spoke, before going back to her smelting.

Din stood silent, unsure how to proceed, his silver armor gleaming in the forgelight. He still wasn't used to being called by name, even after earning his signet, thus passing that rite. "I... I stopped in for supplies, and..." Truthfully, he had no reason to visit. His armor was in good condition, and his weapons cache full.

The green baby in his arms cooed, patting his breastplate with a tiny three-clawed hand, as to reassure him.

"You came to check on me?" The Armorer asked, turned her gold-helmed head to look at him fully. "I am well, but the thought is appreciated," she said kindly.

"I saw the stormtrooper helmets piked outside. I had to be sure, after..." He looked away, trying to hide the painful sorrow in his voice as the helmet hid his face.

"I know." The mournful silence weighed heavily on both their hearts.

Din fidgeted, and his foundling purred soothingly, resting its head against his chest. "How did you shatter them like that?"

She gestured, and her forge hammer flashed red in the firelight.

Din nodded, all too easily imagining what else had stained it red. Her battle prowess was legendary among the tribe. She was not their leader for nothing. "I should go," he finally said, breaking an uneasy silence.

"Stay," The Armorer crossed the room, laid a hand on his arm, "You are tired. Rest here for the night."

"I'm fine-"

"Stay." Her voice was soft but held the command of her rank, "I can see it in your stance. You've nearly dropped your son twice now." She pointed to her quarters in an alcove just off the smithy.

The silver Mandalorian sighed heavily, knowing it would be pointless to argue about taking her bed. He wrapped his cape around himself and the child and laid down on the cot. "Thank you." His voice finally revealed his exhausted state as he closed eyes she couldn't see.

The Armorer nodded, returning to her work. Another slain warrior's armor piece went into the crucible, and the molten beskar was poured into ingots. It was a slow process, but she would salvage them all, no matter how long it took.

A touch on her leg made her pause, and she looked down to see the Foundling staring back at her. The alien child wiggled it's large ears and cooed, raising hands in the universal plea for "up".

"I cannot play with you, little one," The Armorer said, giving him a gentle nudge with her boot, "You should be sleeping as well. Go back to your father."

The baby giggled, clinging to her leg as she moved. Setting aside her tools, she gently lifted the child into her arms, marveling at how light and fragile he was. The little one cooed again, claws tracing the etched design of her helmet and tugging at the fur of her short cape.

The Armorer smiled approvingly. She intimidated battle-hardened adults with ease, yet this creature held no fear of her whatsoever. A shame he was too young to be trained as of yet. He would make a worthy Jedi if Din could find them, and if not, well... He wouldn't be the first Mandalorian with such powers if the ancient songs were true...

The boy returned her smile, though he couldn't see her face. She noted his pointed teeth and talons on his fingers, and a thought entered her mind that she knew wasn't her own.

Hungry.

She took a ration bar from her storage and offered it to the baby. The child took a bite, made a disgusted face, and pushed the rest away. The Armorer chuckled softly, putting the food back for later. There was no sense in wasting it. "I know it tastes like bas neral," Animal fodder. "But there is no meat here. Unless you wish to help me hunt?" She was teasing, of course, but the baby's ears perked up at this offer, and she wondered just how much he understood.

The Armorer looked over at Din, searching for any sign of wakefulness, but found none. He was sleeping deeply, and she was glad of it. She did not blame him or his foundling for the tribe's death in protecting them, but part of her knew he blamed himself. It wouldn't surprise her to learn that his sleep was troubled by such thoughts, and the constant need to keep his child safe from their enemies.

A gravelly croak caught her attention, and she sighed in annoyance, looking towards the hallway. Not one, but two, lava frogs from the nearby underground river hopped into the room. The creatures had glowing red eyes, and flame-colored skin protected by a layer of stony black warts. When sitting still, they resembled cooling lava bubbles. Now that the Mandalorian covert was gone, Nevarro's wildlife was retaking the habitable sewer tunnels below the city. The frogs must have been chased from the river and drawn to the heat of her smithy.

The Armorer put the child on the floor, reaching for a broom to shoo the creatures out-but the Foundling reached them first. How had he moved so fast?

The green toddler pounced on one of the fleeing frogs and had it half-way down his throat before she thought to stop him.

The Armorer stared in stunned silence as the animal's kicking back legs vanished down the baby's gullet, and then the child laughed at her unseen confusion.

She considered making the child throw up the frog, but quickly decided that would do more harm than good. Besides, the ease with which he had eaten the creature indicated that it wasn't the first time this had happened. She hoped the boy normally ate better fare, or else she would have strong words with Din Djarin about raising Foundlings... Still, this would certainly make their relationship as father and son more interesting. While Din was human, they had no idea what species his adopted son was.

The baby made a lunge for the second frog, and missed, squeaking in annoyance. A different squeak answered him, and a black-furred lava otter appeared in the doorway. It froze, staring at the child with bright red eyes. The child stared back with his large brown eyes, and the frog kept perfectly still between them, trying to hide.