For Narnia
The air was thick, all about him. The anxious whispers and the horses' nervous neighs; mingled with the sound of clinking metal as every creature tried to ready himself for what was to come. He tried to find the courage that was within him…somewhere. His whole body started to tremble at the thought. The other side was too numerous; their warriors were too fierce. He was just one. One against the thousands—hundreds of thousands of viscous, bloodthirsty, hate filled—one against them all. He could not last very long. He would be lucky if he lasted the first minute. The first second!
"I wasn't made for this sort of thing," he thought with a sigh. "I wasn't built to be a warrior."
"Budge up!" someone cried. He moved to his right to make more room as a small band of centaurs made their way past him.
"Exciting stuff, eh?" one of the younger centaurs said to him as he past, smiling broadly with anticipation.
"Oh, yes," he mumbled to himself. "Very exciting."
"If you enjoy this kind of thing. But there are a dozen things I'd rather be doing right now." He complained to himself. "If I were home, there would probably be a picnic going on about now; it would be followed by dancing, and singing. Or perhaps I'd be down by the river, fishing while watching the dryads and naiads dance. Or maybe I'd just be enjoying a good book under the shade of a friendly oak tree. Maybe I'd venture for a look at the ocean—the waves crashing rhythmically on the shore. I might even meet a mermaid or two—"
But his thoughts were interrupted but the sound of a horn. Something was happening. Yes, yes, at the front of the line the king was raising his sword—the ready signal. Suddenly he panicked. He had yet to find his courage. He wasn't supposed to be here! He was supposed to be at home doing all those wonderful things—and then it hit him.
"For Narnia," he heard someone whisper. He looked beside him. There stood a rather young, very frightened looking boy.
"For Narnia?" he said, seemingly to himself. But the boy took note.
"For home and for country," the boy replied, his jaw now set in determination. Home and country. Narnia. There would be no Narnia—none of those wonderful things that only moments ago he had wished that he could be doing—if he did not fight his hardest to save it. And suddenly there was nowhere else he would rather have been.
"For Narnia," he said, his eyes blazing with that same fire that he had seen in so many of these, his fellow countrymen's, eyes. The king's sword cut through the air. The charge had begun.
"For Narnia!" the cries rang out, forging into one voice. He had found his courage.
Just a drabble really. I was bored and was trying to find anything to do instead of my homework. I hope you enjoyed it. Please review!