It had been a long day. Gilliam stretched his cramped arms and stood. He had been sleeping for the past few hours to fill in the sleep lost when he had been working on the weapon. It was quite a beauty. "Still a little unbalanced." He muttered as he hefted the broadsword. Never had he made a weapon so simple, yet so strong. From its plain steel blade to the wrapped wooden hilt, it was quite ordinary to the untrained eye. But a trained swordsmith would notice the blade's lack of flaws and the near perfect balance, yet not perfect enogh in Gilliam's eyes.
A knock sounded in the still afternoon. "Is this the house of Gilliam, swordsmith?"
"Aye."
"I much require your blade, it is truly a masterpiece."
"I'm glad you think so, but it isn't for sale."
"I'll pay a fortune!"
"My answer stands, No." "I'll fight you for it." A smile spread across Gilliam's face. "Deal."
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The Challenger
This is just a really cheap story I made up at about midnight.
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