Excalibur

[WP] You grew up hearing stories of it, a sword buried to its hilt in stone: whoever manages to draw it out shall be king. But when you travel to see it, the sword is gone, and the guardian claims it's in your hands. Thing is, you bought your blade in a pawn shop.

*****

"No, no, that can't be right..." I hastily assured the mysterious woman. "I bought this sword at a garage sale..."

A ripple of confusion glode across the surface of her otherwise inscrutable face, and she fixed me with an oppressively deep stare.

"A... garage sale? What is that?"

"There's this friendly old guy on my block, sometimes he sells his old rubbish for cheap. He offered me this beaut here for around 50 pounds. But surely this can't be the sword you mean? I've passed no challenge to receive this."

The lady's lips quirked into a frustratingly oblique smile. Her amusement suggested some sort of cosmic joke in which I'd been implicated, and I wasn't in the mood for laughter at my expense.

To offer some context, my name is Noah Sterling. I live in Bath, and am a rather subdued individual, apart from my three hobbies: crochet, Arthurian myth, and Live Action RolePlay (LARP for short). One night, while surfing the net for interesting crochet patterns to distract myself(I had recently suffered a breakup), I stumbled across an article detailing a relatively obscure tourist attraction: An honest to goodness sword in a stone. None could pull it from the rock, but to be fair, not many had tried. The article was from the 2000s, but I reckoned it deserved a little attention after all these years.

I'd recovered my finest blade, the one from the garage sale, put on my homemade pauldrons and greaves (I designed my own crest! Many crocheted drafts lie strewn about my apartment) and drove out to the middle of nowhere.

Admittedly, I'd been surprised when a woman draped in flowing water had emerged from the woods, but when you dream about this sort of thing often, you don't say no to an opportunity this blatant.

She had guided me down to the stone site and I had been astonished to discover the crevasse in the rock completely empty. However, my surprise only grew when she gestured at my belt and the shortsword sheathed along it with reverence.

"Does... does this mean I'm a king?" I asked with growing anxiety. The responsibilities of a ruler began to rattle my earlier confidence, and I instinctively stepped away from the stone. My humble hobbies and simple style had served me well over the years, and I felt at ill ease giving them up for a crown.

Instead, a tinkling laughter filled my ears, and the sword's guardian simply waved her hand dismissively, a trail of droplets misting along in the graceful arc. I blinked rapidly as one irritated my eye.

"No, fear not. You have a noble soul, but you are not meant to lead Camelot. In fact, Camelot has been dead for quite some time. Instead, you finding your way here suggests to me that perhaps it is time Camelot returned. Sir Sterling, please return the blade to the stone. I believe it's time for a hero to be called."

Muddled feelings struggled within me. I felt a melancholic relief at this news. To be told I wasn't getting my escapist fantasy fulfilled smarted, but at the same time I couldn't help but smile a pure little smile. I'd always preferred the mentor archetype anyhow. Knowing I was introducing someone, somewhere, to a fantastical adventure beyond their greatest dreams inspired a great joy within me.

Nodding respectfully to the Lady of the Lake, I lowered the length of my blade into the groove, a silence fell across the forest. The lake was still, and her lady was silent as the sword slid into place without resistance. I released a sigh and stood back, relinquishing my grip on the handle.

The Lady nodded to me in return. "I wish you well, Noah. Do come and visit sometime, I'm sure you will enjoy Camelot when it is restored."

I grinned at that. A formal invitation from the Lady of the Lake herself. A soul enriching satisfaction gripped me and I retreated to my car as the promise of adventure lighted on the surrounding wood.

This scene would make for a wonderful embroidery.

************************************************************************

Far away, a young woman stirred in bed, an itch in her hand for the grip of a blade, a blade that had begun to call her name.

Among the trees, within a copse, a corpse rose and stretched and yawned, flora flowering along its moss-encrusted armor.

By the clear water, the Lady of the Lake sighed in anticipation. Things had been set in motion, and soon, Camelot would return.

*****

THE END.

If you're wondering, then yes, the ending was.a Sabre reference. And by the way, uj so under the weather now I'm genuinely tired of the bad part of life. I'm sick, again, and this time I feel terrible even though I'm getting plenty of rest.

Malaria sucks.

If it gets any worse tomorrow then I'll get a prescription at the pharmacy. And then take drugs that make me feel like I'm being hit on the head repeatedly with a baseball bat.

That's three days of that headache and nausea.

The malaria is sponsored by the incredible heat which somehow favours mosquitoes. This great is sponsored by Global Warming, and now I gave something to b*tch about for the rest of the night.

Good night.