Bilbo: A sword, especially one having a well-tempered blade.
Warmth surrounded Michael, filling him with peace. Memories of his past life in Heaven flooded his thoughts. A lump formed, but he forced it down.
"I have a gift to help you on your path."
A bilbo appeared, flames dancing along the blade. Michael took the weapon. The hilt molded to his palm.
"It will listen only to your summon. Use it to strike down your foes."
Michael nodded. The warmth of his Father vanished. His brothers stood before him, waiting. He called his weapon. “We have Fallen to find.”