The Talking Sword – Chapter 3 post 2

Grandfather glared at the sword, and an embarrassing silence filled the room.

“Now then, where was I? The bearer of the sword has great responsibility and will be called often to face great danger. Two things have to happen before you can become the Sworder.”

“Two things?” said Dawn, “I thought I just had to make my own mind up. That is what you and Robard were arguing about.”

“Two things,” her grandfather affirmed, “Yes you have to make your own mind up that you wish to take up the calling as sworder. The other is that the sword has to choose to allow you to take that calling.”

“And if it doesn’t choose to allow me? Can I still pick up the sword and swing it or do I get an electric shock or something?”

“If the sword doesn’t choose you, and you pick it up, it is just a sword. A metal club with a sharp edge.”

“And I start to rust,” came the voice of the sword, “nothing worse than getting rusty. It itches.”

“Sword!” Grandfather’s hand slammed down on the tabletop, making his teacup clatter against the plate beside it.

“Sorry. I’ll be quiet now.” The sword didn’t actually sound very sorry at all.

“If you wish to learn, the sword will teach you its history. I will teach you how to wield it, and you must learn how to make the choices that you may be called to make. Then, and only then, will you be asked to choose.”

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