About Me

Me In My Workshop

I arrived on Skye in 1991, after several years of playing in a band and having various jobs. I had an interest in History and Mythology which led me to thinking about making swords. I taught myself entirely from books and application over a period of three years while working from a friends garden shed in the day and making my living working in hotels at night. I didn't plan to become a Professional Bladesmith, it just happened. People came by and saw what I was doing and insisted on buying from me so nowadays I have a good reputation and a long waiting list. Initially I was interested in finding out how to make the sword in an authentic manner using as many locally sourced materials as I could. I get some iron from the island of Raasay , digging it out of the old peat bogs, or local wood for the grips. Whalebone washed up on the shores of the island that myself or friends collect on sea kayaking trips.

I use high quality carbon steels for my blades and hand forge the pieces in my fire here at Strathaird, Working alongside Garth Duncan, renowned Goldsmith and knife maker. All my work is to commission only these days. Usually a wait of around ten months to have a custom made sword or knife. If you are interested please enquire as to the current times. The blades are all 'working' pieces, hand forged, tempered and hardened to produce a superior and strong blade, tough enough for battle re-enactment or cutting tests.

A Blade In The Belt Grinder

My Mark On The Blade Of A Damascus Piece

Everything is made entirely from scratch, forging and pattern making, moulding and casting, leatherwork and wooden scabbards, all made here in the shop to your exact specifications. I try to maintain an attention to detail in all the authentic Historical pieces that I make. I hope that you enjoy your look around the site, there are updated pics of current projects, a forum to chat to other enthusiasts and videos amongst the other things. For those familiar with swords and the terminology used this will hopefully provide some inspiration for those new to the subject.welcome. Remember, this is a custom sword making service, I can make pretty much anything to order, so don't be afraid to ask. Head over to the "Contact Me" page to order or inquire.

I would now like to share with you a article written by Andrew Spooner of The Independent newspaper.

Andrew Spooner is a widely published freelance writer and photographer - his
work can be viewed at www.andrewspooner.net

Beneath a dramatic, jagged black ridge of vertiginous mountains the sword smith toils. With each punch of hammer on forged steel incandescent sparks spray out into tiny arcs of light. The sword smith wipes the sweat from his brow and plunges the tempered steel back into the ferocious heat of the forge. In the distance a mist is gathering along the shores of a magical, green isle and mighty sea eagles swoop and soar. The sword smith looks intently into the flames, retrieves the sword and once again the sound of metal hammering metal drifts across the mystical landscape.

No, this isn’t a scene from a Tolkien-inspired fantasy. For Rob Miller (39), who lives and works beneath the mighty Cuillin mountain range on the Isle of Skye, it is a daily routine. But it’s a routine that he’s had to forge from the travails of life as much as he transforms blank slices of rusting steel into shimmering blades.

“When I arrived on Skye about 12 years ago, I’d lost everything,” explains Miller, as he tends the forge at his mountainside workshop, Castle Keep. “My relationship had ended in complete disaster, I’d lost my house and family. Then, to top it all off, I destroyed the last thing I had left, my motorcycle, in a terrible accident which left me in hospital for several weeks. I knew things had to change.”

It hadn’t always been so tough. Back in the early 1980’s Miller (and brother Chris) had formed the now legendary punk-metal doom merchants, The Amebix. The first UK band to sign to the Alternative Tentacles record label – set up by infamous American radical, raconteur and singer of the Dead Kennedys, Jello Biafra - The Amebix, and the Bristol punk scene that spawned them, have now achieved cult status among the present day swath of punk crossover bands that fill the charts.

“I still get letters from fans,” says Miller. “I even had one guy turn up on my doorstep, here on Skye – god knows how he’d found me.”

As a band that was often affiliated with the anarchist punk scene of the 1980s, The Amebix eschewed obvious political musings and focused, instead, on the profound mutterings of the soul. The sound they produced was guttural, heavy and dark while the lyrics explored the deep-rooted atavism of structure and symbolism. “I’ve always been interested in psychology and the power of archetypes,” clarifies Miller. The Amebix ran out of steam in a mire of heroin and frustrated ambition as the 1980’s drew to an end. “If we’d held on a little longer maybe we could have made it, but we had nothing left to give,” says Miller.

With his life and limbs shattered, Miller dragged himself up to the small Skye village of Dunvegan where his parents had settled. He would have been easily forgiven for sinking into depression. Miller had other plans.

“Just after the final bitter argument that ended my relationship, I jumped on my motorbike and sped off to clear my head with a blast of fresh air,” says Miller.  “This is going to sound new agey and hippy but I felt like I was having some kind of re-awakening, like my spirit was being filled with energy.” It was at this profound point of enlightenment that an oncoming car hit Miller.    “When I arrived here on Skye, after leaving hospital, I found I’d retained that sense of empowerment. I felt I was being given a second chance.” After spending some time living with his parents and working in local hotels, Miller’s interest in the arcane, inspired by the drama and magic of the Skye landscape, began to fully develop.

“I became very interested in the potency of certain symbols at a Jungian and mythological level,” says Miller. “One of the most powerful of these archetypes is the sword.”

From the Arthurian legends through to the Samurai sword, the Masai knife and the popular imagery of the Lord of the Rings, the forged blade holds a prevailing and universal cultural position. Poems and tomes have been inspired by what is seen as this physical realisation of steely will. The Sikhs, for who the sword is an essential living spiritual and religious artefact, see it not as an instrument of offence but a symbol of independence, self-respect and power. The Sikh Guru, Gobind Singh Sahib delivered a lasting eulogy to the flashing blade - : Sword, you are the scourge of saints, You are the scourge of the wicked ; Scatterer of sinners, I take refuge with you. Hail to the Creator. Saviour and sustainer, Hail to you: Sword supreme !

It was this exploration of the energy of the sword as metaphor that begged a pertinent question for Miller – was anybody still making them?  “The only place I found in the UK that was still hand forging swords was Raven Armoury in Essex.”

The owner of Raven Armoury advised Miller to take a look at an obscure book called The Complete Blade Smith by American author and master sword smith, Jim Hrisoulas.  “I finally received an insurance payout from my accident, bought a whole load of equipment and began practising in a garden shed,” says Miller.

Using bits of recycled steel, a homemade forge and a considerable amount of self-belief, Miller began experimenting in his back garden. “At first, I made lots of mistakes,” he says. “I tried to forge the wrong kind of steel, over and under heated and realised that the metal remembered each hammer blow. My errors wouldn’t be revealed until I’d spent several days working on the blade.”

As Miller shows me around the shop that adjoins his workplace, it’s hard to visualise him struggling away in a shed, given the quality of the swords on display. Bright, shining cutlasses; fierce, beautiful Claymores; daggers and knives with elaborately designed handles. There are photographs of X-Files star David Duchovny being presented with one of Miller’s knives and a touching sequence of a Masai chief, with a real glint of admiration in his eyes, accepting one of Miller’s creations. “Apparently it was an important gathering of Masai warriors,” explains Miller. “All the men went into the chief’s hut later on to ask where such a fine blade came from.”

 
The process of creating these superb knives and swords is one Miller is eager to explain. “In earlier times, before the Renaissance, sword smiths were seen as dabbling in the dark arts,” he says, donning thick gloves and apron as he prepares the forge. “They were distrusted and venerated at the same time. These days we see the practice, quite rightly, as a scientific process.”

Miller places a lengthy piece of blank steel under a layer of searing coals. His forging tools are simple – hammers, a classic solid anvil, tongs and a long cylinder filled with virgin olive oil. “It’s not for cooking,” Miller clarifies. “It’s the quench and is where you place the blade after the forging is complete. Olive oil has a superb viscosity and cools the metal down at an optimum rate.”

The blank steel, white hot and glowing, is pulled from the forge and Miller begins gently tapping the metal with his hammer, angling each intricate stroke and slowly creating the edge of the blade.

“I see the metal as a living thing,” says Miller. “It becomes alive when you introduce the elements of fire, coal (earth), air to feed the fire, and water or liquid for the quench.”

After an hour of careful hammering, the blank is ready to go to the next stage – grinding. “There are a lot of people out there claiming to be sword smiths who just grind metal,” says Miller. “I believe the only way to master the process is to work the blade through the forge. That way you have a direct impact on the structural composition of the metal. It becomes tougher, supple and retains its edge longer.”

The grinding, using an array of angle grinders, sand belts and finished off, by hand, with fine sandpaper, shapes and moulds the blade. At this point, elements such as the makers mark – in Miller’s case an equal cross – decorative etchings and fuller (or blood-groove) are introduced. Then the first round of polishing begins.

“Once the initial polishing is complete I temper and harden the blade,” says Miller. “First, I’ll heat it red-hot in the forge and set it into the quench. The metal then becomes very brittle, scaly and hard. It’s then heated, once again, in an oven, away from open flame, until it begins to change colour. The blade will then vary, in what we call tempering colours, from yellow through to blue. I remove it when it reaches dark brown or purple, as this tempers the metal to hold a good edge, remain flexible and absorb an impact.”

The cross-guard, to protect the hand, is then fitted, as is the grip and, at the top of the handle, the pommel, which keeps the grip in place and acts as a counter-balance. The average price for a basic sword is £600, although Miller prefers not to produce generic pieces. “I want to make specific blades that suit each client’s needs, “ he says.  “My clients range from re-enactors, collectors and those who are looking for working knives, through to people who want family heirlooms. “ Since Miller is one of the planet’s few remaining sword smiths and his forging skills are highly saught after – the waiting list is now over a year long.

Yet, it is clear, that Miller, while paying attention to business, is not in this for the money. His fervour for his work, at a conceptual and physical level, leaves one feeling that he is on some kind of quasi-spiritual quest. “You know, I’ve never even been interested in the martial side of things. For me, it’s all about the making of stuff.”

As Miller works he exudes the quiet self-confidence of a man who has found his raison d’etre. However, you get the feeling that finding his mission in life has been as tough as the steel he beats at his anvil.

“I’ve often thought about the alchemists of ancient times,” says Miller as he finishes polishing the blade of a mesmeric Claymore. “What contemporary thinking fails to understand about the alchemists’ attempts to transmute base metal to gold is that they were undergoing a process of personal refinement. Transmutation was an ultimate goal that stimulated the imagination. It was a metaphor for the essential creative process. My sole aim is to take the alchemists’ metaphor and give it substance. To give it a more rational setting.”

This struggle to forge lasting meaning and happiness from the fundamental element of life – transmuting base metal into gold if you like - is one that many of us understand. Nevertheless, most fear that leap of imagination that could lead us in the direction of self-fulfilment.

Unfortunately, the age of the alchemist is all but over. However, while Miller still hammers away at his anvil the stuff of dreams will be still forged from the rawest means.

Rob Miller can be contacted on 01471 866376 or www.castlekeep.co.uk, rob@castlekeep.co.uk
 

A Blade In The Forge