In the canyon where the haphazard army of former Xa-Koronans resided, there were caves all along the walls. Big ones, small ones, Rahi filled ones, even ones that dropped into near bottomless pits. Laki was often in one of the shallower caves, one specially chosen because the mouth sloped upwards, allowing smoke to slide out easily. This was one of the forging caves, and it was where, to all extents and purposes, Laki now lived.
Every morning he emerged from his tent and moved got a poor breakfast from the rations station, before walking the rest of the way to the forging cave. He took a hammer and a piece of metal and went to work- sometimes with another, sometimes by himself. Those that helped him always, in the end, left and another cycled in, but Laki remained all day, pounding away at the metal, creating something beautiful.
To him, forging was all there was- his entire world. He did not think about Mata-Nui or Makuta or the many other beings outside the canyon. He just remained content. He never worried, never feared, never became frustrated. All he had to do was turn a useless thing into something- a sword, an axe, a spear- all things, the destinies of the metal. He was letting the pieces of metal realize their destiny and become what they were meant to be- it became a cycle for him. Just as the weather, the day, and the year, or even a generation might go through an endless cycle, beginning and ending, beginning and ending, so did the metal he forged, and he was its god.
He was content, for his life was simple.
Every so often he would remember things- snippets from the other world. He knew it existed, but he didn’t like it much. As time had passed, the rosy recollections of his past life had become less and less appealing- he was happy now, and there had been plenty of worry before. In fact, he had never been happier. Laki had learned to love his life, and any memories of another time were useless. They only brought worry.
Today was one of the days that Laki remembered something. A pretty but frail Toa of Iron forming two disks out of metal and presenting them to him with a smile. It was a happy memory, but there was fear in it too. Something bad was happening.
The memory had been sparked when Laki had noticed a tall, lean Po-Matoran emerge from Laki’s tent, Laki’s disks in hand. The tall Po-Matoran walked away with a smirk as he looked at the Le-Matoran, confident there was nothing in Laki’s hollow soul that could spark anger.
He was right.
Laki did not see a need for those disks- they were useless for forging, and there was no reason to disturb his happy schedule to worry about getting them back. He had felt the same when the tall Po-Matoran had taken his metal covered Madu, or his morning's rations. There was nothing Laki cared abut anymore- he was happy.
So the Le-Matoran began his walk to the caves to begin the day’s cycles.