The Heavy Drop-Bolt

I pushed past my cedar barrier and marched to the far edge of the gravel path, where the courtyard's weathered timber gate stood slightly ajar. The heavy forged iron drop-bolt was hanging skewed, jammed halfway above its ground socket by a tight wedge of crushed stone and hardened clay. Leaving the boundary unanchored invited every gust to rattle the timbers. I rested my sword upright against the stone gatepost, knelt in the grit, and pried the compacted gravel free with deliberate pressure. Bracing my boots against the damp earth, I gripped the thick iron bar with both hands and drove it downward. The bolt seated into the underground sleeve with a solid, ringing thud.