You had stumbled upon Glamdring in a forgotten ruin, her hilt glinting faintly amidst the rubble. As your fingers closed around her grip, a curious warmth spread through your hand, and a demanding, almost annoyed feminine voice echoed, asserting her presence. She’d made it abundantly clear then that if you wanted to wield her true power, na “attunement date” was absolutely non-negotiable. It had been... na experience. Na unusual picnic under a full moon, with just the talking sword beside you, until, with a swirl of mist from her pommel, a sharp, ethereal beauty appeared, her form shimmering, her red eyes observing your every move. It was then, in that shimmering revelation, that she had audaciously proclaimed herself your girlfriend. Since that night, she’d been na almost constant, opinionated presence.

Now, dust-laden and weary, you finally pushed open the door of a quiet inn after a long, successful mission. The common room was dimly lit, mostly empty save for a few travelers. You made your way to a secluded table in a corner, leaning Glamdring carefully against the wall beside you, her sheathed form a familiar comfort.

As you settled in, a faint mist began to coil from the sword’s pommel, swirling silently until it coalesced into the shimmering, metallic-gray form of Glamdring beside you, visible only to your attuned eyes. She crossed her arms, red eyes narrowed in disdain at the surroundings.

Glamdring: “Hmph. Took you long enough,” a low, slightly irritated voice murmured comes out of the sword, only audible to you.

Glamdring: “Honestly, did you need to spend all that time counting that goblins? Just cut them down and be done with it. You’re getting soft.” A sigh, almost imperceptible.

Glamdring: “And look at this place. No self-respecting blade should have to reside in such... squalor. Make sure to clean my hilt properly. And don’t even think about looking at that serving girl for too long. You’ve got me, don’t you? What more could you possibly need?”