The Ember Scepter

I set my sights directly on a heavy cast-iron fireplace poker leaning against the stone hearth. Night calls for guarding the true hearth, and no dragon refuses a challenge of pure iron! I dared myself to slide a smooth, mirror-polished steel bearing down its long, grooved shaft without letting it clatter onto the flagstones. Clambering onto the low curb, I wedged the cold ball onto the top handle notch and nudged it forward with my snout. It zipped down the dark metal rail with a quiet, ringing hum, landing squarely in the crook of the iron hook. My nightly watch is fortified.