This spiky slot-hilt spadroon is loosely modelled on an extant American weapon, but customised to be symmetrical and ambidextrous. It features a striking urn-shaped pommel and custom-sized spiral grip, adding a little fantasy flair to a historically appropriate design.
Named after the Welsh name for the holly plant, this sword possesses a stripped-back beauty with lightness as its focus. Coming in at under 700g, it nonetheless possesses feeling in the blade and strong rotational movement.
Please see our pricing structure for an idea of what a similar sword would cost.
∴ Specs ∴
Weight: 695g
Ambidextrous
Total length: 100cm
Blade length: 82.5cm
Blade width at shoulder: 3cm
Grip length: 11cm
Grip and pommel length: 16cm
Quillon span: 12cm
Point of Balance: 14cm
Sparring-safe edges and flex
Swollen tip
∴ Notes ∴
The hand-forged holly leaf-shaped guard is polished to a satin finish and features hand-carved details to the edges. The faceted urn-shaped pommel is likewise polished, and finished with a faceted nut.
The oak grip is carved into a fluted spiral pattern, and finished with deep blue leather and four twists of two-strand steel wire accenting the carving.
∴ Gallery ∴
∴ A Spiky Reception ∴
You feel your way between thorn and flower, grasping for the wooden lattice which must serve as a ladder. With a sudden crack, the wood beneath your left foot gives way, sending you scrabbling for a hold. For one queasy moment, the earth sways far below you - and then your fingers find a stone sill amidst the foliage, and you are saved.
Panting, you press yourself flat against the trellis, taking a moment to collect yourself before tapping on the wooden shutter. You can only imagine the look of surprise on your sweetheart's face when she sees you emerging from the climbing vines like some Sylvan god to greet her.
You know she won't be expecting you - as far as she's aware, you're still at sea for a month. You imagine her pale and pining, anxiously awaiting your letters.
With a fond smile, you raise your hand to the casement - but before your knuckle so much as brushes wood, the shutter is flung open, almost dislodging you from your precarious perch. Reeling, you gawp up at the window in time to witness a sudden sweep of silver, swift in the moonlight.
You swallow hard as the flurry of movement settles into a decidedly familiar shape. The unmistakable steel holly-leaf guard of your old sword, far too close for comfort with its tapering blade pressed gently yet unerringly to your throat. Behind it is only darkness, and a whisper:
"Just you dare move."
Despite a pounding heart and sweating palms, you feel a sudden urge to laugh rising within you. You should have known Celyn would be just fine without you.