Friesden waits before the legendary craftspony, preparing for her the legendary weapon to defeat the bad ponies. She has quested five months for the material required. Five weeks she has fought against horrible monsters from the depths. Five days she has stayed in prayer to Lady Kat and Lord Kashez. Now, she is worthy of the weapon to be made for her. She continues to wait.
Eyeing her adoptive sister with a slight bit of concern, Falcata returns her gaze to the large stick lying on a table before her. Friesden has been insistent that she forge a (wooden) sword of unimaginable quality for her to be a brave and valiant warrior, and has just now brought her this oversized twig to work with. Falcata isn’t too sure that many epic swords were ever made out of wood, but she wasn’t going to put a dampener on the young pegasus’ dreams. Besides, she’s learned a thing or two about working with timber while crafting that harp, and she’s fairly certain she can apply some of that knowledge here. Fairly certain.
Decisively, she picks the stick up in both hooves, holding a knife in her mouth. She runs the knife down the rough edge of the wood, scraping some of the bark off. Hopefully, this looks more impressive to Friesden than it actually is, she thinks.
The legendary craftspony continues to hammer the hot metal, forging it into a strong, flat blade, and Friesden marvels at the craftsponyship of the craftspony. Truly, this craftspony is blessed by Lord Kashez, the Teacher, and truly, this magnificent weapon would be a mighty ally for her quest against evil. She continues to watch the mighty forging.
That looks a bit like a sword? I think. Regarding her own work, Falcata tries to appraise its quality. The wooden lump lying in front of her is long, somewhat flat and thin, which are points in its favour. Points against it, though, are the crookedness of what was meant to be the blade and its utter lack of smoothness. Now, instead of looking like a bare branch from a tree, it looks like a mutilated bare branch from a tree.
Sighing, the pegasus goes to work with the knife again, hacking away with renewed vigour. She’d get this thing looking like a proper weapon for Friesden, somehow.
Friesden watches in awe as the legendary craftspony reforges the blade, heating the metal and hammering it out again. The skill the craftspony shows here is far more than her own skill with a sword, and is clearly the result of a lifetime of experience in the art. Friesden continues to watch in reverence.
With finer methods having little effect, Falcata finds herself in a pinch. The object in front of her is now recognisably a sword, complete with hilt and handle. She hasn’t decorated it yet, though, because the blade is still bent at an angle which, to her, looks very silly indeed. No matter what she tried, she couldn’t whittle, shape, craft nor in any way coax the thing into straightening out, and she decides it’s time to try some less tactical methods. Wedging the sword’s handle between the table and the wall of the workshop, Falcata pulls back on the blade, hoping to remove the ugly bend through simply yanking the wood straight.
Friesden watches the craftspony’s strength, giving up on her tools and pulling the sword blade into shape. Even at her strongest, she was never that strong. Perhaps this is Lord Kashez’ message. Telling her not to shun those who were not warriors, for they were strong too. She resolves with all her heart to protect those who were not fighters, to protect the weak against the evil strong. Never to lie, cheat, or steal. Never to harm a mare nor a foal. And never to let the thoughts of gain lead her into evil. She swears this, even as the mighty craftspony works the metal, and thinking of that, calls it her Iron Code. The Iron Code of Friesbunny the Guard.
After what seemed like an eternity of tugging and wrenching, Falcata backs off, staring critically at her nemesis. The sword has somewhat straightened out, but a small bend persists. Still, if she pulls at it any more she feels she’s likely to snap the thing, and that would probably upset Friesden. The pegasus removes the imitation weapon from its wedged position, laying it flat on the table and taking up a smaller, more delicate knife in her mouth. Uh...what should I engrave on it? She glances at little Friesden watching her, and the obvious answer comes to her. Oh. The knife descends into the wood, the beginnings of the first bunny image beginning to form.
Friesden continues to observe the craftspony’s skill. Now she is inscribing sigils of power into the mighty weapon. She watches in rapt awe as her symbol was marked in. The Bunny.
Having finished the umpteenth bunny engraving, Falcata lets the sword rest for the final time on the workbench. It looks quite good, actually. Aside from being ever so slightly slanted to one side, the blade looks just like that of a real sword, albeit made of wood and absolutely covered in crude pictures of rabbits. The hilt is just the right size and shape for a young filly’s mouth to grip, and she’d made the wood there softer for ease of biting. It was complete.
Falcata steps back, gesturing to the fairly average, not-at-all-epic-or-legendary wooden weapon. “Well, it’s done, Friesden. It’s all yours.” she offers, waiting to see her reaction.
Friesden rose, amazement written all over her face, as the legendary craftspony’s work is completed, and she hands Friesden the sword. Friesden lifts up the sword, and knows, in her heart of hearts, that it was all she would ever need now. “Ish amashzing!” she speaks through the hilt. “Ir am hohoured to carry your hoofiwork.” She gives the epic weapon a couple of practice swings.
Falcata smiles, watching Friesden wave the weapon about madly, almost overbalancing on a couple of the more vigorous slashes. “So, um, what are you going to do with it?”
“I ah going to ight evil!” she says, the hilt continuing to obscure her speaking.
Laughing, Falcata ruffles the little filly’s mane. “Yes you are, Friesden. Are you going to give your sword a name? All the legendary weapons in Glaive’s stories have names, remember?”
“Oh!” Friesden puts the sword down and looks at it, thinking. A name to match the legendary quality of the sword...
Looking at the sigils of power, only one name could come to her.
“Excalibunny!”
“Excalib- but that’s a ridi- um, that’s an...excellent name!” replies Falcata, hastily reining in her indignation. Granted, what could she expect, having bedecked the thing in countless pictures of rabbits, but she’d been hoping Friesden would name her hoof-made craftsponyship, the sum of hours of hard work, something less...silly. “So, are you going to show it to anypony?”
Friesden nods. “I’m going to show Dad and Glaive!” She carefully picks up the legendary sword, and looks with determination into the future. Now she is certain.
Crossing the room, Falcata holds the door open for little Friesden. “Shall we go, then?”
Friesden nods, and leads the way outside.