OK! So here's another thing I did. I'm soo tired...Ima head to bed now guys. Leave a like if you enjoyed it and want to see more like it. Without Further ado Spoiler: Blade: A Friend Forever I was born steaming in the cold winter air of my mother's fiery womb and my father's young hands. He pounded me out and molded me to shape. A fine steel blade, shining in the glow of the firelight. My father hammered me with his mark and dropped me into the freezing bath. My very being hissed and dimmed, my red glow snuffed out. In its place, imposing hardness. Without a word, I was taken from my father's hands and placed with my brothers and sisters, steadily bound in leather and shined like a mirror. Nearby, I heard the grind of many of my other brothers and sisters before me, who had found friends of their own hold and care for them. They lay lined up to be ground by my father and fixed once more, some treated better, but some not. My father scorned those that should have treated us companion, and those saw us as no more than a tool. My father never treated us like tools. He treated us like his own children, and in a sense we were. Whether it was a brother with nicks in a straight long edge or a sister with cracked curved limbs, he fixed and cared for all. Then it came time for me to join the others. I said my goodbye to my mother of ash and flame, and carried out by my father and placed on display for all to see. Here I waited a fortnight, lying behind glass, bound in leather, waiting for a friend of my own. I hoped he or she would treat me well, and I them. Finally, at long last, a tall and young man approached my father and took hold of me, drawing me from my bindings, setting me upon the wooden logs that stood to test my brothers and sisters might. With the power of the young man behind me, I bit into the cedar and penetrated deep into the soft flesh. With a single pull, the man yanked me out. Truly, he was a good friend that knew how to handle one such as I. I knew then, that he would not treat me as a tool, and would care for me well. I had no regrets leaving my father's home. Maybe one day i would be back, but for now, my adventures with the one I could gratefully call friend began. Through snow and soot, we traveled beyond the borders of man, into the frozen unknown, and through volcanic wastelands. Many days were filled with battle and strife. I was there, matching his every move. Biting into warm flesh, delivering pain and death with every sweep. Man, beast, or mystery, none stood before him and me and lived once I was drawn from my bindings and brought to face. We lived the life of the young, traveling high and low, making a name for ourselves. And as I predicted before, the young man was a good friend. Once a day, he always checks my condition and washed me clean of red and scrubbed me of orange. He oiled my bindings and kept me at his side, day and night. He took care of me and I took care of him. Without me, he is dead, and without him, I am dead. He trusts me as I trust him. For many many years, we continued like so. Challenging many. When one day, my friend met someone and settled down. Soon, my friend stopped drawing me from my bindings, and I was left to watch as my friend gathered small ones around him. I did not resent him though. I had lived a good life. Seen many dangers and wonders. My skin, which had once shined like a mirror, was now dulled and covered in scratches and scars. My job as a friend was to protect him, and him to take care of me. And did that, we both did. But now our adventures were over. He is lying in a bed, the strong young man who once strolled into my father's house now graying and wrinkled, but his eyes hinted of no regrets. But as soon as I thought it was done, and him gone, he motions for me. Soon, I am picked up, and taken to him. With his last strength, he draws me from my bindings one last time. Stares into me for a few seconds, and lays me down beside him, holding me to the very end.