I've inherited things from many people in the time that I've lived on the island of Lodoss. My fighting style, my shield, my armor.

But the most important thing that I carry with me now is the simple sword that was left to me by my father. It's all that I really have to help me forge my way as a protector. It's been with me ever since I began this path, facing goblins, dark knights, and evil wizards. I've used the sword to train and even won battles with it.

When faced with choices that might have overwhelmed me, it was my anchor, my link to reality and the consequences that such choices would have upon my path. I believe that my father left something of his soul in the sword, his belief that one could influence the world for good, even if they had little personal power.

In my last battle against Wagnard, it shattered on his magic. It wasn't able to penetrate the spells that he cast, and there remained only the hilt and a portion of the blade. But when I had cast myself desperately upon the spell that bound Deedlit, and all my strength had expended itself, what should the spirit of light fasten itself to in order to become a beacon to lead my friends to my position? What was it that saved my life?

It was my father's sword.


Perhaps more to the point, it was my father's legacy. His smiling face as he left me for the last time. The desire that I have to forge my own path, to prove that my father was an honorable knight of Valis. I had faith in him, as he had faith in himself.

Gim helped me to survive often as I first wielded a blade, his irritating nonchalance and frank dismissal of my skill (or lack thereof) goading me to better myself. In a sense, he became my second father, even though he would laugh at the term.

From Kashue, I learned swordplay, and the eternal value of never taking the path that I cannot tread. Though I'm sure that it disappointed him that I refused a throne, perhaps he understood that the lesson was learned. I can only hope.

Slayne and Etoh, friends who have watched my back, and showed me that it wasn't wrong to depend on others. Without them, I might have become the lonely knight that Ashram began as.

Deedlit, the one who took the time to explain to me that there was life all around me, that I needed to look closer at things before wildly swinging my sword. That there's time to lean back and observe, even in the most dire of circumstances.

Ashram taught me the lesson of eternal rivalry when I finally inheritted another sword. Though it wasn't in the fates to allow us to keep contact, I'll rest in the understanding that the other side of my coin is as honorable as I am. "You taught me..." It's what he said, and I learned not to cast aside lessons that came from those I perceived as my enemy.


We've all drifted apart as the years have gone by, each to our own various paths. I'm finishing up the decorations in my family's humble abode. Deedlit is out visiting the closest village at the moment, but if you'll step inside the doorway, stranger, the first thing that you'll spy is a broken sword hung over the fireplace. It's a story in itself, this broken blade.

You might even say it's the beginning of a legend. Because after all...

...It's my father's sword.


AN: A little blurb that came to me as I was thinking about one of the scenes in ROLW... that scene where Deedlit leaves the spirit of light to guide help to Parn and it fixes it's beacon on the broken sword. It's short and not exactly how I first envisioned it, but here it is for your viewing pleasure. Read and Review, if you please?