Hadrun is a broad, compact dwarf with the dense posture of someone built around an anvil rather than merely standing beside one. His movements are economical until danger appears, when he becomes startlingly quick, turning his whole body like a counterweight. He wears a soot-darkened leather apron over a faded blue wool coat, and a small brass bell hangs from the apron cord. The bell is nearly silent because its clapper has been wrapped in red thread, yet Hadrun touches it whenever he lies. His beard is carefully forked at the chin but left rough everywhere else, as if he trims only the part he can see without a mirror. The unexpected contradiction is his hands: they are enormous, callused, and scarred by work, but he handles delicate objects with the gentleness of a jeweler. Within a minute of meeting him, people notice that his breath whistles softly through his nose when calm, then becomes almost noiseless when he is frightened.