I watched as he fell into the darkness, his eyes still urging me to
leave him and escape from the terrors of the Greeks. His hands clung limply
and coldly on my arms and waist. Looking at his lifeless body, tears began
to fall from my face. My cousin Paris was also urging me to leave.
For a few moments I looked at the two and made my comparisons. Paris was alive, Achilles dead. Paris was his murderer. Even though Paris was my dear cousin, for a few seconds I felt the desire to kill me to avenge my beloved. Then I remember Achilles telling me how the cycle of vengeance never ends. My grip on my sword loosened and I rose shakily, but proudly.
I threw my hair back behind me, as though tossing away my worries and pains, but as I did that, I stole a last look at the man I loved with all my heart... and the man who loved me and changed my life forever. Then I took Paris' hand and ran with him towards the secret exit. I ran away from the blood, the violence, the hatred. I ran away from the vengeance and the anger.
I was free. Finally. But was I happy...?
He was a warrior who had both courage and tact. He was a proud man with fierce confidence in himself, but he was wise enough to know that he should never underestimate his enemy. He was strong and often merciless, but behind that facade he was interesting, intelligent and philosophical. He had thoughts, opinions and ideas like any other man, and often his ideas astounded me with their depth.
Achilles, however, had many weaknesses, like all men. He was not flawless nor was he God-like, though even the gods have weaknesses. He could be very violent and impulsive, which I realized when he nearly choked me to death after Patroclus' death. He was stubborn and possessed a fiery pride - though these were sometimes also redeeming qualities; he was child- like and innocent at times and he sought after glory and fame tirelessly.
Yet he was a loving man, dedicating himself to his love as tirelessly as he dedicated himself to his search for glory. He loved Patroclus, he loved his mother, he loved his land, he loved his men, and he loved me. He was a gentleman, an honorable man. He never forced me to serve him, he never treated me like a slave for one moment. He was impulsive and disrespectful to behead Apollo's statue, but he still respected the gods.
As a warrior, soldier and leader, Achilles was inspiring, powerful and his mere presence brought hope to the men who fought alongside him. He had undeniable charm and certainly undeniable skill and power.
There is no such thing as a perfect man, but Achilles is the closest to perfection I've ever experienced in my whole life. He may be a murderer of many lives, but his killings revisited him when he died. His death was inevitable and well-deserved, but that does not change the fact that he was a wonderful man. A man worth loving, and a man whom I loved.
For a few moments I looked at the two and made my comparisons. Paris was alive, Achilles dead. Paris was his murderer. Even though Paris was my dear cousin, for a few seconds I felt the desire to kill me to avenge my beloved. Then I remember Achilles telling me how the cycle of vengeance never ends. My grip on my sword loosened and I rose shakily, but proudly.
I threw my hair back behind me, as though tossing away my worries and pains, but as I did that, I stole a last look at the man I loved with all my heart... and the man who loved me and changed my life forever. Then I took Paris' hand and ran with him towards the secret exit. I ran away from the blood, the violence, the hatred. I ran away from the vengeance and the anger.
I was free. Finally. But was I happy...?
He was a warrior who had both courage and tact. He was a proud man with fierce confidence in himself, but he was wise enough to know that he should never underestimate his enemy. He was strong and often merciless, but behind that facade he was interesting, intelligent and philosophical. He had thoughts, opinions and ideas like any other man, and often his ideas astounded me with their depth.
Achilles, however, had many weaknesses, like all men. He was not flawless nor was he God-like, though even the gods have weaknesses. He could be very violent and impulsive, which I realized when he nearly choked me to death after Patroclus' death. He was stubborn and possessed a fiery pride - though these were sometimes also redeeming qualities; he was child- like and innocent at times and he sought after glory and fame tirelessly.
Yet he was a loving man, dedicating himself to his love as tirelessly as he dedicated himself to his search for glory. He loved Patroclus, he loved his mother, he loved his land, he loved his men, and he loved me. He was a gentleman, an honorable man. He never forced me to serve him, he never treated me like a slave for one moment. He was impulsive and disrespectful to behead Apollo's statue, but he still respected the gods.
As a warrior, soldier and leader, Achilles was inspiring, powerful and his mere presence brought hope to the men who fought alongside him. He had undeniable charm and certainly undeniable skill and power.
There is no such thing as a perfect man, but Achilles is the closest to perfection I've ever experienced in my whole life. He may be a murderer of many lives, but his killings revisited him when he died. His death was inevitable and well-deserved, but that does not change the fact that he was a wonderful man. A man worth loving, and a man whom I loved.