The Blade

Ildon wishes to wield the sword of Velia, but fate has other plans.

Ildon ducked beneath the blade, yet the wood still struck. His own practice sword hit the mud as he nursed his swollen wrist. Dax chuckled.
"You ougt to be stronger little brother. The sword of Velia needs a strong bearer. You are too weak for it."
"Why can I not wield it now? I am of age. Father earned the right, why can't I?"
"I shall speak with father, and maybe he will give it to you for a taster."
"No need, Dax. I am here."
They turned to see the king of elves approaching, a blade strapped to his back. The hilt was the brighest white Ildon had ever laid eyes on, and he yearned to grab it.
"I wil let you wield it Ildon, but I cannot promise it will choose you."
His fatherunsheathed the sword, and placed held it out. Ildon hefted the sword.
"How does it work?"
"Should it think you're ready it will begin to..."
His words were drowned out by an odd whirring sound issuing from the sword. The blade began to shudder in Ildon's grasp and warmth hit his face. He drew back as the heat only increased, yet it did not hurt. Then the sword fell still and silent. Ildon braced himself, but nothing happened. He turned to his father and Dax, who were knelt before.
"Behold, Ildon King of elves, and the first of his name."
Ildon stood lost for words as the other elves ceased their training to kneel. The blade in his hand was alight with flames, yet he hardly noticed.

Word count: 262.