For Greece

My hands covered in blood, my brow bathed in sweat. The armor on my body began to feel constricting, only my sense of obligation kept me from running back to the long ships at the shore, not from fear just for longing. I silently prayed to Zeus that my time on earth would not be a short one, but I knew better than that. As a Greek, I knew my fate when I came to battle with ruler of all men, Agamemnon.
The land littered with bodies, no time to mourn for their ghastly passage, no time to even to wipe my crimson-coated blade. I was quick as I threw my spear at a Trojan; the end went through his helmet, passing bone. I didn't wait to see him fall. I as the rest of the men wanted nothing more than to go back to our father's land, to forget about Troy's indestructible walls. It was impossible though, with the encouraging shouts from our leaders, war cries from our fellow men. Some immersed themselves in this battle, not having known any other life before it. I however remember my homelands, the wife I left behind. There was no hesitation in my reply to join, none at all. It was an honor to fight with such men. Even if the war started all because of a beautiful women, but then again women usually lead men to do frenzy type things. We were doing well. I had killed five men. Their names I did not know, their faces I hardly remember. The sword on my belt and the spear in my hand were my honor. I quickly stripped the armor of one of the fallen men I killed, for theirs were much stronger than my own. I threw the new armor on my sweat-slicked body, only feeling slightly disgusted with myself. However, that was normal, the act was necessary. If I wanted to live longer than the end of the dropping sun then I had best protect myself.

I saw out of the corner of my eye one of my fellow Greeks running, a deadly man he was this one. His armor was plated gold, his shield a finely made one. The sun gleamed off it, as if presenting this piece of weaponry to the Trojans as a warning. He moves fast and quick, like a fox on the hunt of a rabbit. His eyes glinting hungrily, obviously in pursuit of a prey. I watched, transfixed as this warrior of men slashes his sword into the belly of another man. The Trojan fell to the ground heavily, never able to rise again. He raised his hand then, and I watched, still riveted as his arm arched wonderfully and his spear went flying through the air. As if cutting the wind itself to get to its destination. I followed the spear with my eyes, and saw it land in the chest of a Trojan about to slash his own sword through one of our Greeks.
This gave me new enthusiasm and I did the same, throwing my spear and running forward. A Trojan came up to me, his sword raised above his head. Ready to separate my head from my shoulders, but I quite liked it placed there and so I ducked. My leg lashed out instinctively, and the man fell to his back. My own sword arced down ready to finish his life but he turned his body at the last possible second. My sword met dirt. I was almost too late to move back as he thrust his sword to my belly, but fate seemed to be on my side at the moment and I jumped back, the blade cutting viciously through my new armor but only skimming the vulnerable flesh of my stomach. I was glad then that I took the armor from the dead man a few feet away from me, for if I had not I would be lying much in the same condition as him. I pulled my sword out of the blood soaked ground, swinging the blade with both hands, hoping to catch him off guard. Nevertheless, he was quicker than I thought, pulling his sword up and blocking me. Our fight was like a dance, blades clashing with each other's while the main of the battle still roared on around us. Our intent was deadly there was no mistaking that. We both wanted blood our goal was the same. Our feet raised dust around us, but it did nothing to obstruct our views. His iron sword swept to my legs and I jumped, lunging forward and rolling to a standing position before he could strike.

This monster inside me wanted out, were I had rained it in before I felt no regret to let it out now. With a mighty roar that would have put even war-crying Diomedes to shame, I moved forward my sword clashing with his even harder than before. My feet were swift as I lunged from side to side, waiting for him to leave an open space. My teeth were clenched hard; the muscles in my body were tense. I felt powerful and weak all at the same time. The grip on the sword handle was tight, my skin stretched white over bone despite my tanned complexion. My wife's face flashed through my mind. He dark hair curling becomingly around her shoulders, wearing her white peplos as she had the last I saw her. Even with the other woman I had to warm me, I always longed to come back to her. At night after the battle was over and Apollo let the sun vanish behind the hills us Greeks sat together. We sacrifice the fat of a lamb to Zeus, pouring wine to honor him and pray for wisdom. After we all had had our fair share of roasted lamb, wine and cheese, all brought over from Agamemnon's kingdom and others we spoke of our father's land. Of the riches we left behind, some more so than others.

"Do you think this battle will ever be over?" I asked the men as we sat around drinking our wine and mourning more of the dead.
"Don't be foolish!" one of the longhaired men Zotikos told me. "Our time is still to come, and soon we shall watch as the Trojans are brought to beg and we pillage their fine treasures and take their beautiful women. No need to be cowardly!"
"I am not being cowardly!" I said so vehemently the others shrank back a little. "It has been 9 years! Nine long years in which we have not seen our wives, our homes. Who knows what has happened there for we are here while they sit defenseless waiting for us, us mighty Greeks to take over Troy. I am no coward, and how dare you call me such Zotikos. You, who cried the first year here, you, who didn't know how to even through your wooden spear, so don't speak to me of cowardliness; I would not know what it feels like. There is a difference between a longing for an end and cowardliness let me tell you. We fight, and fight because we are Greek it is in our blood. However, it does not entitle us to love it. So crave death Zotikos, I rather my wife's bed."
My speech was followed by silence, and it wasn't long before Zotikos picked up his Kylix and drank the rest of his wine without a word.

The rest of that night continued and before long most forgot about my angry words. I did not forget however and I remembered them now as I fought with the dark-haired Trojan. No, I did not love death. I fought for honor and respect. I fought for…I fought for Greece. Yes, and that is what I told myself, what I let sink deep into my mind. Let my head wrap around it and bury it until it was a chant I said over and over again. I fought for Greece, I fight for Greece, and I kill for Greece. For their honor!
I'm positive I looked just as the rest did, determined, as I cut through the Trojans defenses. With a last growl I plunged my iron sword into his belly, cutting through his armor as if it were bread my anger gave me that much strength. I felt that as my blade sank into his flesh, blood poured quickly from the wound. I stared into the blue eyes of the Trojan as his life's blood cascades from my blade and down my arm. Coating my already bloody hands with another mans. His eyes were as blue as the sky; they were the eyes of a warrior. One who has seen death. Unshed tears rimmed his eyes. His face was grim, his lips trembling as he gasped for breath, my sword still imbedded in him. I held onto his arm tightly, so he would not fall. He looked like a young lad, this being the first I noticed his rounded chin, a strong warrior for such a youthful soul. He almost bested me, someone older than him and I suddenly felt guilt wash over me. I wondered what his life would have been like if I had not just wounded him. Would he grow old with a wife of his own by his side? I closed my eyes.
"For Troy" he whispered hoarsely as his last breath left him, leaving the boy limp in my arms. I opened my eyes as I laid him down and looked around me, noticing the battle was over for night had fallen and we had no more light to fight. The Trojans picked up their fellow men, and we Greeks did the same. I came over to the boy, pulling my blade from him, the sound it made making me nearly sick, but I showed none of that as I continued my way helping the other men pick up our fallen Greeks. We will lay them out before we actually proceed with the funeral, not wanting their shades to wander off without a proper burial. Zotikos came up to me then, and laid a heavy hand on my shoulder.
"The sun has set, and we pick up our dead in hopes to do the same tomorrow," I said to him somberly, running a hand over my tired eyes.
"What frightens you, my good friend" Zotikos asked me, obviously having no hard feelings from the last time we talked. His voice had no trace of humor in it, for which I was grateful.
"Nothing frightens me!"
"Lie to others, my friend, but never lie to me. I know from the grave look on your face that you are frightened of something, and that something nags at your very soul. Hera help us, we cannot have you, great wisdom you process, to go out of sorts." He exclaimed to me, throwing his hands in the air.
"I fear guilt. I fear that it will eat at me until I am more dead than I almost was today. I fear that if I ever do live through this than I will be nothing more than a rotting corpse, my putrid mind sick from my deeds. I am discouraged my friend from winning and losing. Both frighten me, both have a certain ending I am certain that will not end well. I know the God's have something in store for us, something tragic I feel. I am not Nestor and do not have great wisdom that comes with age but I know from what I feel."
"Do you want to go to the land of your father?" he asked me, a panicked look about his face and I suddenly felt alone. Utterly and completely alone.
"No" I whispered. "No I am Greek, I will stay and fight, even if not my body then my soul burns away like the ashes from our fellow Greeks. Floating high then falling to the ground where just below Tarturus lies, where I will someday be. Surely." Zotikos looked confused, I didn't bother explaining any further, I'm sure he had not understood what I said, and even to me it was confusing. He then smiled, all worries forgotten and he looked just like the boy he was when he came here.
"Come, let us drink away our sorrows and honor our fallen men. And fix your wound before it begins to fester." and I followed him as we went to fetch the krater from which our wine was mixed for us and poured into our cups. The heralds wrapped my wound. The pain of it did not bother me; for I was, too busy wondering about the boys last words. For Troy. Do we fight for our father's land for the sake of our people, or for the sake of their pride? I know now, after 9 years of being along these shores, watching, as the waves would roll up against our ships. As if, they were calling us to go home. How I wished for that, I truly did. We fight for a man forsaken, for a man disrespected. Who had his wife stolen, and I thought of my own wife then. Yes, I would fight for her, even if it kills me. So I will fight for Menelaus, even if I may never see my wife and home again.
Our leaders gave us a mighty speech, and we listened intently eager as ever for we felt we were close. Zotikos nudged my sore shoulder but I didn't wince from the pain of it.
"You know why we fight?" he asked me suddenly, being the odd man he was he probably wanted to make sure I hadn't completely gone out of my wits and forget why we even came here.
"For Greece's honor"

And so I realized that I had forgotten to format my story, and for that I apologize. I know sometimes it's very hard to read off the internet. Most especially if the words are small and bunched together. Review, if you like it. I had a most wonderful time writing it. I had previously written it for English class but never got the chance to give it in. I hope you enjoy it.