A Warrior Never Cries
I pull my armor on and strap my sword to my side. I step outside into the biting wind but do not shiver, for warriors do not mind the elements. I mount my horse and ride to meet my eored. Without a battle cry or song for our departure we ride off toward the waning moon. Warriors do not need a farewell party to fight well. Before the sun rises too high into the sky we see our foes. Orcs rush at us hissing cursing, but a warrior knows no fear, Our two groups meet with a clash of metal. After at least 10 orcs fall to my, a river of blood rushes down my side. I look in alarm at the shaft protruding from my side. A warrior does not cry. After the corpses of the orcs are piled and burned we set out for home. Smoke billows from the roofs of my village and I beg my horse to run faster, for a warrior always protects the helpless. I am too late. My wife, son, and three young daughters lay dead before my door. A warrior never cries, I remind myself. So I toss my helmet aside and fall to my knees beside them. I mourn not as a rider of Rohan, but as both a father and husband to the dead.
I pull my armor on and strap my sword to my side. I step outside into the biting wind but do not shiver, for warriors do not mind the elements. I mount my horse and ride to meet my eored. Without a battle cry or song for our departure we ride off toward the waning moon. Warriors do not need a farewell party to fight well. Before the sun rises too high into the sky we see our foes. Orcs rush at us hissing cursing, but a warrior knows no fear, Our two groups meet with a clash of metal. After at least 10 orcs fall to my, a river of blood rushes down my side. I look in alarm at the shaft protruding from my side. A warrior does not cry. After the corpses of the orcs are piled and burned we set out for home. Smoke billows from the roofs of my village and I beg my horse to run faster, for a warrior always protects the helpless. I am too late. My wife, son, and three young daughters lay dead before my door. A warrior never cries, I remind myself. So I toss my helmet aside and fall to my knees beside them. I mourn not as a rider of Rohan, but as both a father and husband to the dead.