To Regain What Was Lost

Chapter 22: Ice Sword of Blizzard

A frail, wrinkly old lady tilted her head up, and stared at Grimaldo expectantly in the eye. 

Unsure what to do, as he has rarely participated in social events, Grimaldo tried to remember what Dragonfly would do when meeting new people. "Hey girl, what's up? I'm Not, er, Gri, um..." 

There was no one around to make him shut up before he blurted out his real name, and there's no alias to replace his current name for the situation, so what should he do now? 

"You're...?" the woman asked, trailing off expectantly. 

"Nota Robot," Grimaldo replied immediately, standing stiffer than before, "Reporting to du-" 

He hurriedly caught himself, and disguised the salute as a casual nose rub. "Achoo," he sneezed unconvincingly. 

The woman's eyes widen as she pushed her faded hair behind her ears. The yellow swirls on her cheeks swirled around, quickly gaining speed as she breathlessly exclaimed, "You're it! You're the Chosen One!" 

Confused, Grimaldo tilted his head to the side, silently begging for more information. But that movement was unnecessary, as the witch was rambling. 

"According to the books, or section in books I've read about this certain prophecy, the Ice Sword of the Blizzards, wait, I should back up a little, right? Oh, it's so exciting! I never thought I would meet such an important person!" she breathed. 

Clearing her throat, she began to tell her tale. "Once upon a time, in the distant past, there was a wise, and powerful king. Over his reign, he did many things, and saved the world from complete and utter destruction several times. Tales of his might and wisdom are told to every child, so I could skip that part. You know about that king right?" 

Grimaldo nodded. 

"Obviously. Everyone does. Anyways, I'll go on now. He did this, he did that, so on, and so forth. Time passes, he grows old, and finally, we arrive at the time when the events concerning you took place. He just finished defeating a giant ice dragon, and the dwarf goblin village was extremely grateful. So grateful were they that the town's most talented weaponsmith took the dragon, and spent 22 days and 22 nights working on a sword made of every portion of the slain ice dragon. It was presented to the king, and that's where he got the legendary Ice Sword of Blizzard that he wields in pretty much all of his most well-known adventures. You understand so far?" 

Grimaldo nodded. 

"Good. Skip a couple thousand years or so, and the king had just done some crazy, strange, illogical thing, and became stone. The sword begins to glow, fly around the place, and when everyone's attention was on it, this hollow, echoing voice said what is now known as the Prophecy of the Chosen Wielder of the Most Honored Blade." 

Closing her eyes, she recited: 

'sup, homies, y'all better listen up, 'cause I'm just sayin' this once. Get out your paper, get out your quills. Record this, man, 'cause you won't want to miss it.

So, there's this one dude who turned to stone, 

He's going to be here for a while, but not all alone. 

If I tell you any more about that, I'll be messing with fate, 

And that's a really bad thing, to have fate's hate. 

The king can't wield me no longer, 

So I'll need a new owner. 

A brave protector, tall and strong. 

The kind of guy who in, around a million years, will come along.