In a twist worthy of a medieval epic, French police are investigating the mysterious disappearance of Durandal, a legendary sword likened to Excalibur, from its 1,300-year-old home in Rocamadour.

The small village of Rocamadour is reeling from the theft of the ancient and legendary sword Durandal, which mystically appeared lodged in a rock wall centuries ago by the semi-mythical knight Roland. Once a stone-cold crowd-pleaser, Durandal's vanishing act has local officials stumped and tourists crestfallen. Dominique Lenfant, the town's impassioned mayor, lamented that Rocamadour has been shorn of not just an historical artifact, but an integral shard of its very identity. Meanwhile, French police are now tasked with the unenviable job of finding a blade that was supposed to be indestructible and immovable.

Durandal, much like King Arthur's Excalibur, isn't your average blade. This ancient sword, entrenched in Rocamadour's rock wall for over a millennium, is not just a relic but a vestige of a bygone era when knights and legends ruled the land. The small Pyrenean village has become an inadvertent stage for a medieval whodunit.

As the story goes, Roland, a semi-mythical knight serving Charlemagne in the eighth century, wielded Durandal with unmatched prowess. According to the 11th-century epic poem 'The Song of Roland,' held at the Bodleian Library in Oxford, the sword's edge could slice through stone like butter. When Roland foresaw his imminent demise, he hurled Durandal to prevent it from being captured, embedding it into the rock wall of Rocamadour where it remained, or so everyone thought.

Mayor Dominique Lenfant's emotions reflect those of the entire town. Describing the loss as an irreplaceable wound to Rocamadour's identity, she stated, 'Durandal's legend is woven into the fabric of our village. Its disappearance is akin to losing a piece of ourselves.' This sentiment echoes throughout the cobbled streets as locals grapple with the void left by the absence of the historic sword. And while mourning a loss like this, some residents are whimsically suggesting installing a giant 'Lost Sword' poster, just in case it decides to return on its own.

The sword was not just a symbol but a major draw for tourists flocking to see the blade that had survived the elements for 1,300 years. The legendary indestructibility and mythic origins of Durandal added an allure that few artifacts could boast. Its sudden disappearance is thus a double-edged sword (pun intended), severing both historical continuity and tourist-driven revenue for the village.

Compounding the mystery is the inherent paradox of stealing an 'indestructible' and 'immovable' sword. French police now face a dilemma fit for a medieval detective novel: how does one make off with a blade reputedly incapable of being destroyed or moved? It's a riddle that has baffled historians, locals, and law enforcement alike.

While the local authorities are keen to resolve the mystery, they face an uphill battle. 'It's not every day you investigate the disappearance of a legendary sword,' remarked Inspector Jean-Luc Durand with an air of bemusement. 'Our primary focus is to understand how something so entrenched in rock could be so stealthily removed without a trace.'

Speculations are rife, ranging from modern-day treasure hunters to an elaborate prank. But for many in Rocamadour, the legend of Durandal and its inexplicable vanishing act is seen as an eerie continuation of a saga that began hundreds of years ago. 'Maybe,' says local historian Béatrice Fournier, 'Durandal has returned to the hands of a true hero, just as it was meant to be.'

In the meantime, the village is left reflecting on its next steps. Plans are being discussed about setting up a replica or perhaps even using the story to bolster interest in other cultural attractions. But whatever the future holds, nothing can quite replace the aura of mystery and enchantment that Durandal brought to Rocamadour. After all, how many places can boast losing a sword that was supposedly indestructible?

Local artisans, inspired by the legend, have already started crafting miniature replicas of Durandal, with a portion of the proceeds going towards a fund aimed at enhancing security for other historical artifacts in the village. 'We have to protect what's left,' said craftsman Louis Martin, 'Our history is too important to lose. Plus, who knows, maybe the replicas will scare any future thieves away with their tiny yet mighty presence!'

Ultimately, Durandal's disappearance, much like its origin, leaves more questions than answers. While the legend may continue, perhaps Roland himself would have found some poetic justice in this new twist. After all, a sword that could carve through stone should be adept at cutting through the boundaries of legend and reality.