In the times of our forefathers there lived a dowered smith in the village of Ganden near Geda. People just called him the Gandensmith and still today you can admire some of his beautiful ironworks at the village chapel of Andazyn. Things he forged were everlasting: no plough blades got ever rusted, no sword got blunt, no axe, no scythe got ever a nick and the locks he made could never be opened by thieves. For his work he never demanded money. All he ask for was just a good roast, and the people were happy to do so, as they were highly pleased with his work.
At times the people loaned from the Gandensmith his great roasting spit, when they were celebrating a wedding and many guests had to be entertained. For the spit was large enough to roast a whole ox. Once the lord of Feirnar loaned the spit for he was celebrating the wedding of his daughter. Gandensmith gave him the spit and just ask for — as was the custom — a juicy roast, which the knight should bring him after the feast. Shortly after the celebration the lord sent out one of his guardsmen to Gandensmith to bring back the spit and to give him his juicy payment. But the guardsman was a greedy man and could not restrain himself. He cut the roast and sampled it. In the end it was so much of his liking that he ate it entirely. As he arrived at the house of the Gandensmith he threw the spit to the ground and called:
“Gandensmith, there’s your spit!”
And as the smith ask for his roast, the guardsman, calling he should get it himself, turned about and rode away as fast as he could. But as he arrived at the manor, his horse was missing a large part of its rump. Gandensmith really got himself his deserved roast.