Week Eleven Storytelling: The Drawing of the Sword

Arthur and Excalibur. Art.com

I am so tired of waiting. Waiting, waiting, sitting and waiting. That is all I do day in and day out. I am waiting for my savior to rescue me from this lonely and terrible place. Knights come here nearly every day to try to pull me from this wretched stone, but none prevail. How I wish that someone would come to my rescue.

Wait, I'm so sorry. I'm sure you have no idea what I am talking about. Let me start from the beginning to tell you how I became the sword that many have searched for, many have spent endless hours pulling at my handle, and left in frustration.

Let's start from the beginning; the part that no one knows. I am an ordinary sword under a magical spell by an ancestor of the great Merlin. The story begins with an angry King of many years past. He was a tyrant, leading his nation into many wars and conquering kingdoms across the land. He and I went into many battles together, always conquering anything in sight.

The King grew old and his adviser, Malon, cast a spell on his sword so that only those worthy of being the next King could reign. He placed me in a rock while muttering a strange incantation that I did not understand. The words "He who pulleth out this sword is by right of birth King of England," assuring that the King's son, who only wanted to carry out the will of his tyrant father, could not be the rightful King of England.

And then I was all alone. It has been years since the day when Malon cast the spell and yet I am still here in this rock, wasting away. I couldn't tell you how many years it has been. One hundred? One thousand? It could be more than that, yet I sit here day after day, year after year as knights by the hundreds try to see if they are the true King of England.

The worst part about my existence is seeing the continual disappointment of the knights. They arrive, excited and anxious to begin the rest of their lives. However, when they leave, they walk away with slouched posture, bowed heads, and curse words under their breath. This disappointment soaks into my very soul every day, telling me I may never be freed from this stone prison.

Who is that coming now? He looks like a young man, handsome, with no sword of his own. "Arthur!" a boy next to him calls out. "I tried this last year and now it's your turn!"

The boy canters over to me, peering over the rocks to where I am wedged. I pray that this will be the one; that Arthur will be the one to set me free. He grabs my handle and pulls ever so slightly. I spring to life as I am pulled from the stone sheath. Free at last!

Author's Note:
This week, I decided to try something new in my storytelling method. I haven't written from the view of an inanimate object yet, and I have been wanting to try this. So, this week, I decided to retell the story of The Drawing of the Sword from the point of view of the sword, Excalibur.

In this story, the sword has been in a rock waiting for an able knight to come pull it from the stone. The original story doesn't note how the sword got in the stone, so I wanted to tell the backstory of the sword and tell the story from the sword's point of view.


Bibliography
Book Title: King Arthur: Tales of the Round Table
Story Title: The Drawing of the Sword
Author: Andrew Lang
Year: 1902