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Pffftt. You've been trying to pawn off those leftover k's and u's for ages, everyone knew they were stale and past their recommended shelf life, so that effectively dried up your buyers market. The ones Aeowyn used were both fresh, and free.
-Skylark
For your edification and amusement, may I present the deluxe, illuminated edition:
This "k" I got here was first purchased by your great-grandfather during the first world war. It was bought in a little general store in Knoxville, Tennessee, made by the first company to ever make letters.
Up until then, people just carried stencils. It was bought by Private Doughboy Skyan Lark the day he set sail for Paris. This was your great-grandfather's "k", and he spelled with it every day he was in the war.
Then when he had done his duty, he went home to your great-grandmother, took the "k" and put it in an old coffee can. And in that can it stayed 'til your granddad Skyd Lark was called upon by his country to go overseas and fight the Germans once again. This time they called it World War Two.
Your great-grandfather gave this "k" to your granddad for good luck. Unfortunately, Skyd's luck wasn't as good as his old man's. Skyd was a Marine and he was killed along with all the other Marines at the battle of Wake Island. Your granddad was facing death, and he knew it. None of those boys had any illusions about ever leaving that island alive. So three days before the Japanese took the island, your granddad asked a gunner on an Air Force transport named Wulfocki, a man he had never met before in his life, to deliver to his infant son, who he had never seen in the flesh, his "k".
Three days later, your granddad was dead. But Wulfocki kept his word. After the war was over, he paid a visit to your grandmother, delivering to your infant father, his Dad's "k". This "k". This "k" was on your Daddy's keyboard when he was shot down over Hanoi. He was captured and put in a Vietnamese prison camp. He knew if the gooks ever saw the "k" that it'd be confiscated; taken away.
The way your Dad looked at it, this "k" was your birthright. He'd be damned if any ***** were gonna put their greasy hands on his girl's birthright. So he hid it in the one place he knew he could hide something. His ass. Five long years, he held this "k" up his ass. Then he died of dysentery, he gave me the "k". I hid this uncomfortable hunk of typography up my ass for two years. Then, after seven years, I was sent home to my family. And now, little Skylark, I give the "k" to you.