The Sword in the Box

Swords were for battles and coronations. A sword in a stone made Arthur the King of Camelot, and a sword in the heart ended the dragon that fought St. George. A sharp blade could reveal a person’s soul, or how much blood they wanted to spill.

So I had to wonder what sort of legend-making sword was inside a dull, brown, paper box.

Prince Brigtham of Caryll Kingdom had ordered the sword from Birdtwig’s finest blacksmith, and he had requested that I wrap it and seal it inside of a brown paper box. I had thought this idea to be silly, as paper was not sturdy, and the sword would be sharp and delicate. I also had a long way to travel to bring the prince his box, and that way was through Caryll Valley, one of the most dangerous valleys in all of the kingdom. The tall, tangled grasses of the valley were full of surprises. Most of those surprises wiggled on their bellies, or skittered on six to eight legs. Some hissed, some shrieked, and some had too many eyes. Nobody enjoyed traveling through Caryll Valley, not even enemy armies who wanted the prince’s gold. I could only hope that the gold I would earn would be worth the journey.

As the sun still slept over the horizon on the first morning of my trip, I tied the precious parcel as tightly as I could with thick ropes. I slung it over my back, beside my leather satchel, which was not much sturdier than paper itself. My boots had holes in them as well, I was sure of that when I walked outside of my house and felt the dewy grass tickle my soles. Yet all of my weary bones and my weary boots faced the valley, and I marched toward it before the sun rose.

The little houses in the village of Birdtwig passed around me, as I prepared to enter the valley. Most of these houses were small, stony, and humble, but the villagers were content with these conditions. They had their children, their cows, and their corn. I, on the other hand, had always wanted to run away and to build a gold mansion, hence why I took delivery jobs for the wealthy and esteemed. Yet I could not help but look back in longing at Old Maid Gilly’s stone cottage, with its scents of lavender and fresh bread, before I faced the harrowing valley below. Comfort of any sort seemed pleasant as I steeled myself and trekked down into the gnarled depths.

As I took my first steps in the valley, I was sure I had already seen a snake’s beady eyes following me through the tall grass. I paced forward, hoping that the valley’s denizens would not look for holes in my boots. The sword in its fragile wrapping jerked and rattled on my back, and I hoped the rope slinging it across my shoulders would not rip. The rope and my satchel chaffed against my shirt, and over time I began to grit my teeth as my skin felt raw. Pain racked me, and all I could do was carry my fragile body through each step.

For at least six hours I walked, only stopping for short breaks to drink water or to sit under a relatively safe-looking tree. Sweat and the brow-beating sunlight made my face and shoulders itch, and I wanted to tear my own skin off much like paper. Yet I felt the paper package against my back, and each time I felt it shift under the tight ropes, I knew I had to continue.

Sometime during the fourth hour, when I could feel the heat radiating off my uncovered head, a large snake began to follow me. I could hear it slithering behind me as I moved. I slowed my steps and my heartbeat, trying to not alert it into launching at me. Time dragged like sap down a tree's rugged bark. After about an hour, I could no longer hear it slithering behind me. For a split second, I wondered if it was going to jump, but it did not. I glanced over my shoulder. Nothing but tall, knotted grass. I turned and kept moving, and after the fifth hour I finally began to see Castle Caryll in the distance.

Nestled over a large, flourishing realm to one side, and over the wicked valley on the other, Castle Caryll was an ancient monument that had existed for at five hundred years. A stonework marvel that rose above acres of green hills speckled with orchards, houses, and roads, it was a sight to behold, and a welcome one for my sweat-blinded eyes. I needed to reach it before sundown, as I did not want to be stuck in the valley during the night. Chugging the wine mixed with water that was left in my flask, I marched onward to my destination.

Making my way up the side of Caryll Castle was a difficult endeavor, especially with the heavy package dragging against my back. My skin was sunburnt and dry, and every bone in my body screamed as I moved. Yet I made my way to the top, drenched in sweat and mud. Now I could see the castle, and I could finish my delivery. I looked back down at the valley behind me and sighed, raising my weary arms in victory. Down were the vile, hissing beasts in that vicious pit below, and I was atop them on the edge of a mighty kingdom. Now I turned and made my way to the gates of Castle Caryll.

"Halt!" Two guards stopped me from across the moat. More obstacles, but minor ones compared to what I had just faced. "Speak your intentions or turn back from whence you came!"

I could hardly hear his words as blood pounded in my ears, but I still managed to raise my voice. "Winifred, Guild Messenger of Caryll Kingdom! Package for Prince Brightham!" My lungs carried my voice just loud enough for them to hear.

The two guards who heard me stared at me through the visors of their helmets, and then looked at each other. After a moment’s hesitation, they responded. Together, they lowered the moat and allowed me access. As I approached, I showed them my letter from the prince detailing his request, and they nodded. They pulled open the doors of Castle Caryll, which moved with a mighty groan against the earth. Finally. The cool, damp air inside the fortress was a welcome sensation that encapsulated my body, and I entered. My paper package still shifted against my back, but my satisfaction was far stronger than any ache I could feel.

As the doors closed behind me, I stood in the castle's hallway, which was bustling with busy maids and servants. I was almost too exhausted to ask a servant for the prince, but I did not have to find him. As soon as I had wiped sweat from my eyes, a hand adorned with several rings grasped that same hand, and I could see the figure of the prince in front of me. He himself had just come running down the stairs to see me, and he was excited.

"Winifred! You have made it! Welcome. I am sure you are exhausted. Would you wish to come for dinner with us?" Much unlike the thorny valley that sat behind his castle, Prince Brightham of Caryll Kingdom was a kindly young man, whose jeweled rings and embroidered robes glittered with as much light as his smile and his soul. As soon as he saw me, he called to a servant and ordered for them to bring me fresh clothes and something to drink.

As the servant vanished, I bowed as low as I could, though my back stung as I postured. "I would be honored, my Lord..."

"Excellent! But first, the package. Let us take this heavy load off your shoulders, yes?" The prince himself worked with the knots, until the paper box almost slid from my shoulders. I would have been glad for the skin to slip away with it, and I sighed a little too loudly. He laughed as he saw my relief. "Yes, yes, you've done well. Now, let us also assess the blacksmith's work..."

The fragile paper box ripped under his fingers, as he sought to find the beautiful sword. Indeed, it was a glorious sight. A dazzling longsword, whose immaculate blade was over two feet long. The mahogany hilt was carved with an intricate lattice of jewels, with a golden crown inlaid into the pommel. No doubt a work of many months of love, dedication, and sweat.

I stared at the gorgeous handiwork, and then at the prince. "...And you...wished for this to come to you in a paper box?...This...fabulous sword?...I...I traveled through the valley to bring it...why..." I gasped.

Fortunately, Prince Brightham was not a man to hate questions. He smiled at me, as the first servant brought me clean clothes from another room. They were soft and fresh, and I gathered them in my hands with greed. The prince did not seem to mind.

"...You see, Winifred...the most beautiful and treasured gifts come in such fragile packages...The heart is thin, yet carries all of our blood...tearable paper carries treaties and love letters...and you, good lady, have borne a mighty burden to bring me this sword..." He gave a warm, encouraging smile, which made my pink face a shade deeper.

"...You are a very eloquent man, my Lord..." I breathed, awestruck at his wise words.

"Ahhh but nothing is more eloquent than the shiver of success, is it not? Come! There will be more gold, and more paper packages, but now comes your food, your clothing, and your rest."

Indeed, he was correct. The fragile paper had already been cleaned from the floor, and the paper-box deliveries were sure to continue in the days ahead. The prince smiled over his shoulder at me as he caressed his new sword, the one I had brought him. Light glowed off the blade and bounced in his emerald eyes, and I thought indeed, how precious are those treasures which come in the most delicate packages. In that moment, I knew that I would carry more delicate paper packages through the harsh, thorny valley for many more years.

Just to be close to that smile.