So here I am. I’m tall, I’m male, I’m not ugly (but I’m not exactly handsome either) and I still live a rotten life. I have an elder brother, who pushes me around all the time and makes me do everything for him. His name’s Kay and he’s such an annoying person. It’s like listening to a parrot all day that’s constantly nagging in your ears. We also live in a hut. Nothing decent, just straw, mud and bamboo. It’s falling apart, it literally comes off in your hands. And you think your life is bad.

   So, anyway, one Saturday morning, I was looking for Kay’s shoes, scurrying around the dusty, dirty floor like a lost rat, when suddenly “Oi Slaveboy! Go out and fetch me sword, will ya?”. “But I’m looking for your shoes for you!” I replied. “How do you expect me to do two things at once?”. “Swords are more important than shoes” said Kay “Now go and fetch me sword!” So, against my will and with grinding teeth, I set off to fetch his sword from the blacksmith.

   As I was walking, something caught my eye. Something completely irrelevant to what I was doing, but I couldn’t help myself but look. There, in the middle of a small, dying field was a rock. A huge, grey, ugly, boring rock. But what made me look at it wasn’t the rock itself. On it’s surface was a large, golden, eye-bedazzling sparkle that shone like gold, like the brightest star on a twilight night. In fact, as I walked towards it, I realized it was gold, the most beautiful of its kind. I walked right up to it, and to me, it looked like a sword hilt. But I thought “A sword in a stone? That’s ridiculous”. I clasped my hands round the hilt and gripped it. It felt like it was under great pressure and as I held it, staring at it in wonder, I suddenly felt it budge. I jumped and gave it a little tug. I gave it a good pull, but the ‘something’ wouldn’t move. So, I planted my feet firmly apart, held the hilt tightly, and pulled. My hands began to ache, my face turned red and my muscles strained. I screamed and suddenly, like a stone from a catapult, it shot out of the stone and I fell backwards. When I came back to my senses, I looked on my lap and my jaw hit the floor. I couldn’t believe it. There, on my lap, was a sword.

   It was a sword too good for the hands of God himself. Every detail was perfect, its shape so elegant, its beauty indescribable. It had so many features and each one of them was a wonder beyond words. The blade was so beautifully crafted, so strong and yet so light, like wind and a monster combined. The pommel and hilt were of purest gold and on it was engraved a crown, surrounded by strange lines, crossing and curving, swirling and swerving round each other. The fuller was a jet colour, black as the pits of night, the darkest of all darkness, it was almost looking into your very soul. There was writing engraved up the blade written in small, ancient runes: ‘Hail Mighty One, King of England: He who wields me shall never be defeated’. And there it was. All that beauty and magnificence, secure in my palm.

   Such a fine sword, yet I knew I could not keep it. For I had no skill with a blade, and such a masterpiece would be of no use to me, save to stare at in awe and wonder. So, against my heart’s desire, I took it back for my brother. When I reached home, I presented it to him, and said “Here brother, I bring you a sword, carved from the core of England”. Kay turned around slowly and replied “That’s not my sword. I asked for my sword! Now go back and…” He stopped. His tongue ceased to move and his throat turned dry. His jaw dropped, just as mine had done, and his face turned almost pale. His wide eyes stared at the jewel in my hands and his heart skipped several beats. “Where… what… how…” Random words came endlessly from his mouth, but he couldn’t find the right words. Suddenly, he grabbed my arm and made me run like the wind. He rushed me urgently to the town centre, which was full of local citizens. He forced me onto the highest of the three platforms in the square with my sword, and shouted from the depths of his lungs: “The King is here! The King has come! He pulled the sword from the stone!” Many heads turned. Jaws dropped, eyes stared, knees trembled, hearts jumped. All because of me and the miraculous thing that I’d done. Then, like a wave in the sea, they bowed down before me. “Come, your Highness” said one of them “We must see you to your throne”.

From then on, it’s history really.