It was a chilly afternoon in July, when two teenage boys walked into a small clearing in the thick Cornwall forest. Tommy and Bill, best friends since birth, were in deep conversation. They did not hear the birds singing. They did not realise that the sun was desperately trying to warm their surroundings. They did not notice the little bunny who had been following them curiously for the past fifteen minutes. They were consumed with their mutual adoration for one thing, and one thing only: Master Defender, the popular videogame.
The boys were inseparable. They spent every waking moment they could, together. It wasn’t the first vacation they shared; ever since they were seven years old, both their parents had accepted that it was not worth the hardship to take them apart for a fortnight and decided to take the pair to the destination of choice, instead of breaking them up. This year, Bill’s parents had taken them to a cabin in Deerpark.
Mr. and Mrs. Sullen loved the boys but had become rather desperate with them over the past two years while Tommy and Bill had slowly descended into the world of gaming. They rarely came out of their rooms anymore and when they did, their minds were still with the Playstation.
The Sullens’ had, perhaps foolishly, hoped that the thirteen year olds would get inspired by this trip into nature and maybe briefly forget about the virtual world they were so obsessed with. Each day the Sullens’ would invite the boys to a fun activity, ranging from going to the beach to zip-lining or archery, but all invites were returned with a casual shrug. This afternoon, Mrs. Sullen had been fed up with their attitude. She’d pulled the laptops out of their hands and told the boys they would not get them back until they’d breathe in the forest air for the remainder of the afternoon. She had not caved when they begged her with puppy-dog eyes. She had not caved when they became angry. In the end, Tommy and Bill understood that there was nothing else for them to do but to accept the quest that was put onto their path. And so they walked into the forest.
Tommy and Bill were involved in an animated discussion, passionately disagreeing on which Grifter was the most valuable in their favourite game, when Tommy’s foot was caught underneath a hollow root. He tripped.
The boy fell hard onto the ground. The earth stuck to his hands and trousers, but more than his pride was not hurt. A loud laugh sounded from his best friend.
“Dude! Your face! That was priceless, well worth getting kicked out for.”
Tommy got up, sending Bill a look that contained more dirt than the soil he slapped off his trousers.
“Sod off…” He would have added an insult, had he not noticed something odd in the middle of the clearing. There was a large stone, the size of a pig. Stuck into the stone was a long, shiny sword, having the appearance of being thrust in with force. Bill turned around to see what Tommy was staring at.
“Jeepers! Look at that thing! Do you reckon it’s for real?” With just a few quick steps, Bill was at the large stone. He grabbed the swords’ handle with his right hand, put his left hand to his side (the way he’d seen knights do it in movies) and pulled. The blade did not move an inch. Again, Bill pulled, harder this time. When the sword still did not move, he enclosed his left hand around the grip as well, and pushed one foot deeper into the earth, while the other set off against the rock. His face had become pink from the force he was using without any achievement in return.
“Let me give it a go,” Tommy said to his friend. Bill shook his head. “I can do this, dude.” It was clear though that he could not. Bill walked around the stone, thinking really hard about a solution to this problem. He set on a different technique. This time, he put his hands underneath the handle, enclosing it from below. He took in a deep breath. Then, focussing on the force he was about to unload on this conundrum, he held his breath. Every muscle in his body tensed. Bill let out a loud battle cry as he put all his energy into pushing the sword up. He pushed. He pushed. He pushed even harder. But it was all to no avail. Bill crashed down next to the stone, sweat dripping down his exhausted face.
“It’s a stupid thing anyway,” Bill panted.
Tommy agreed. “Come on, let’s go back.” Bill was happy to do so. He took Tommy’s extended hand and got up from the ground. Without looking back, he moved out of the clearing, towards the edge of the forest. Tommy followed his friend.
Passing the stone though, he glanced at the sword with longing. Casually, he let his left hand drift over the handle. Without giving it a second thought, his hand closed over the grip. It took him a moment to realise he felt no resistance. Surprised, he looked up. The sword was easily gliding out of its stone sheath! Completely stunned, Tommy stopped dead in his track. Slowly, he pulled the sword out of the stone. It was magnificent. The hot afternoon sun shone onto the blade in all her glory, bathing it in an almost violent light. Sunbeams reflected with a fierceness which is seldom witnessed in reality; such wonder is kept for films and fairytales.
Admiring the beautifully forged armoury, Tommy let the blade rest in his right hand. It was then that he noticed the words burned into the steel.
The One True King to Rule Them All Will Lead Our Way Out of Darkness.
Once He Will Leave Us. Once He Will Lose Us. Once He Will Rule.
Tommy’s eye wandered to his friend, still moving towards the edge of the forest, having no idea what was happening behind him. Without a second thought, Tommy slid the sword back into the stone and ran after his friend.
“Wait up, Bill!” he called after his buddy. They joined up just as the forest welcomed them back into its green. “So,” Tommy asked, “what level are we going to crash back home?” Bill shrugged. “Man, I’m going to drop off, that’s what I’m doing.” They did not notice the birds singing brighter than they had before. They did not notice the squirrel watching them next to a three hundred year old oak tree.
They were lost in their own world.
