Heirlooms

"Grandpa?" The young voice was coming from the doorway. It was late, the moon was high in the air, and they were both supposed to be asleep. So Girald didn't shoo or criticize the child. He turned the light on and smiled down at her instead.

"What is it, Francine?" he asked gently.

Francine blinked her eyes a few times at the lights. It had been very dark in the house, and her eyes had long since grown accustomed to that darkness, so the sudden light was momentarily painful. "I wanted to ask you something, but mommy specifically told me not to talk to you about it."

Girald chuckled at that and nodded to the girl. "Well then, I suppose this is the only time of day you could get away with asking it of me," he said. He invited her to come and sit in his lap, which she gladly did, having to wiggle her way up onto his legs in the chair and make herself comfortable. In the dark of the night, by a solitary candle, Girald had been polishing an old sword that had been past down in his family for several generations. He had tried to pass it off to his own son, but he had rejected it. Girald was disappointed, but did not speak out against his son's wishes. "What is it you would like to ask me?"

Francine looked down at the half polished sword before looking back up at her grandfather. "Why do you keep that around?" she asked. "I've seen you swinging it at nothing out in the yard sometimes. Aren't you too old to be playing pretend? And mommy said it was dangerous to touch it, but it seems like what you do is way more dangerous than just touching it."

Girald chuckled again and absentmindedly ran his hand through the young girl's hair. "First of all, you should learn "its" name. It's called a sword." Francine nodded at him fervently. She was a curious girl, and she loved her grandfather's stories. "It's been in our family for over six hundred years, passed down from father to son."

Francine's eyes flared up at that. "It's that old?" she asked, mystified. "Where did it come from?"

"That's a good question," he replied. "Some say that one of our ancestors was a blacksmith, and he made it himself. Some say that ancestor was a master of combat, and had the sword commissioned for his personal use. Either way, it is a magnificent blade." Francine was too busy staring at the sword in wonder, so Girald smiled and continued with her other questions. "When you see me in the yard with it, I am practicing my sword fighting. When my father passed it on to me, he insisted that I not only care for it, but permit it to care for me."

Francine frowned and looked at him in confusion. "How is it supposed to care for you?"

"I learned to fight with a sword for two reasons. Firstly, it keeps me healthy and strong. Doing so ensures that I have a good amount of control over my body, that my muscles stay strong and limber, and that my heart and lungs remain powerful. Secondly, it protects me. If anything were to happen to me or my family, I know that I will be able to pick up my sword and do something about it."

Francine paused and looked at the sword, and Girald allowed his words to sink into her mind. When she looked back at him, he could see the burning question in her eyes that he had anticipated. "Why didn't you give it to daddy?" she asked.

"I tried to," he replied. "But your father didn't want it. He's a pacifist. He believes in solving problems through words, not fighting. And there's nothing wrong with that. The world needs more people like that."

"But then why do you still want to be able to fight?"

"Because as long as there are bad people out there, I want to be able to protect my family from them."

Another long pause.

"Can it only be passed down to sons?"

Girald smiled warmly. "Every tradition will be broken eventually," he said. "But not tonight. When you are a little older, and a little stronger, I will teach you how to use this sword. If you still want me to."

Francine smiled brightly for a moment, then frowned, remembering her final question. "But mommy..."

Girald ruffled Francine's hair lightly. "Mommy will love and support you no matter what you choose. And I will teach you how to use this sword safely and properly. I will teach you when to rely on it, and when not to. Mommy knows that I will teach you that well. When you are ready to learn, she will be ready to let you."

Francine smiled brighter than ever and tightly hugged her grandfather's neck. "You're the best grandpa," she squealed.

Girald chuckled. "I try to be," he told her. "Now you should be getting back to bed, so you can dream of the good things you will do someday."

Francine giggled, but jumped out of his lap and raced back to bed, before her mother caught her out and about.