The Tender Hearts, by SJO
Note: This is a brief anthology of short tales of the people who Jack has met that have given him a break, maybe even changed his life. It's rated G because I'm not intending for a lot of violence. Some might be better rated PG, like this first one. However, it is going to go into some religious stuff that some of you might object to. If you don't like it, don't read.
Also, I don't own Samurai Jack. This first tale is partially based on a story I heard in a Bible lesson. Just in case it's copywritten, I don't own it either. This first story is in no way historically accurate (I tried though).
Wounds and Coals
A loud war cry was heard around the hills. Jack was fighting again.
Aku's monstrous beetle robots were threatening a village, and he couldn't take the chance that they would hurt anyone. He knew they were programmed to lure him here and to destroy him, but he also knew that they were no match for him.
It would have gone fine had it not been for her.
She was a little white-haired woman, bent over, shuffling along. What was she even doing there?
Jack abandoned his fight to urge her to get away. He called out the first word he could think of to get her attention. "GRANDMOTHER!"
The woman did not even look up, but Jack tried anyway.
"Get away from here! It's dangerous!"
A sharp pain seared down Jack's arm. One of the robots had taken that opportunity to stab his prey. In anger, Jack turned and destroyed all Aku's robotic henchmen. The wound hindered Jack, and the robots easily made more wounds. But Jack completed the task, the whole time keeping an eye on the elderly visitor.
His hair was out of place. His gi was torn. He had a gaping wound in his arm. Jack did not care. At the conclusion of the battle, he grasped the injury with his good arm and stumbled toward the civilian.
"Are you all right?" he asked weakly.
The woman did not answer. She came closer to him. Her ancient hands stretched forth and felt Jack's face. She touched the shape of Jack's face, felt his cheekbones, his slanted eyes, his nose, his lips, his hair, his forehead, and his ears. Jack allowed it as he saw the searching, faded light in the old woman's eyes that her glasses didn't seem to aid. She was nearly blind, and she was using her hands to see.
As she removed her hands, astonishment filled her face. "David," she whispered.
"I am sorry. You mistake me for someone else. I am called--"
But the woman drew him closer to her and wept.
Jack pulled her away. "Do not cry, grandmother."
"But I am happy," she replied. "After seven years of prayer, God has given me back my grandson!"
She once again hugged him and wept. Jack didn't know what to say. He couldn't tell her that he was not her grandson. It would break her heart, which is probably very frail. Conflicted with the ideas within him, he remembered his family at home, and he also wept.
"Good gracious, David! What happened to your arm?"
"It is nothing."
"Nothing! Well, I suppose it is nothing, compared to what you've seen in the war, but I know that this is a wound. This could be bad."
"I can take of it. I do not wish to be a burden."
"It is no burden at all. And your uniform! Tut tut, is that all you've been wearing these seven years?"
"It feels longer," Jack muttered.
The woman smiled. "Let's get you home, David. Your Granny Ruth will take care of you."
She supported him on her arm all the way to her house. Perhaps she wasn't as frail as he thought. She led him upstairs to a small bedroom and helped him into the bed. She put medicine (which made him cringe) and an ice pack on his wound and bandaged his arm.
"Now, you just rest. Try to go to sleep if you can. Here, let me have your uniform. I'll fix it up good as new."
"That's really not necessary."
But she didn't listen and took his robe. "I'll be back up in about half an hour with some chicken velvet soup."
"NO CHICKEN!"
Ruth turned back in confusion. "But it was your favorite."
Jack felt bad for making such an outburst. "I apologize. I have lost my taste for chicken."
Ruth only smiled. "Oh, I see. That must have been the only thing they served you in the army. Your grandfather, rest his soul, once he got of service, he told me he never wanted to see a bean again!" Ruth laughed. "Well, I'll get you something I'm sure you'll like."
As she left, Jack took a closer look around the room. On the other side of the room was a bookcase full of colorful books. Model airplanes hung above his head. A poster of some very angry yet colorful-looking people was mounted on the door. And next to the bed was a table that had framed pictures of Ruth and a young man with bright eyes and red hair. Jack picked up one picture of the man standing alone, wearing a military uniform.
"We don't look anything alike," Jack thought aloud. As he was putting the picture back, he felt something in the back. He pulled out a small, leather-bound, black book. "What is this?"
He opened the book to a place that was marked with a four-leaf clover. He read from the top of the page, "And a champion went out from the camp of the Philistines, named Goliath, from Gath, whose height was six cubits and a span."
"Cubits? The Hebrews use that measurement."
Jack thought back to his training. He was about fourteen, and he had heard stories about how the Hebrews conquered whole cities, leaving nothing left. Some stories sound rather amazing, like one time how they marched around a city, gave a great shout together, and made it fall down, and another of a great leader who killed a lion with his bare hands. He wondered if they could aid him in his training to fight against Aku.
So he stopped by Jerusalem. The reaction he received was quite unusual. In other countries, most people stared at him in wonder and treated him with respect because they had not seen one of his race before. The Hebrews hardly took any notice that he was there. A few younger ones looked at him in fear and ran away. The young prince couldn't find anyone to talk to.
Finally, he addressed the guards at the gates of the palace. "Shalom," he greeted with a bow. "If you please, I would like to speak to the captain of your armies." His Hebrew might have been a bit off, because after some discussion among each other, the guards led him to the king.
"Oh King, this goyim wishes to speak with you," one guard said. The prince wasn't sure what "goyim" meant, but he felt offended.
"Thank you," the king answered. The guards left. "You may speak," he told the warrior.
The young warrior bowed again. "Shalom. I bring you greetings from your brothers in the Orient."
"Your greetings are appreciated. What may I do for them?"
"A great evil demon who calls himself Aku has invaded my land. He seeks to enslave the whole world. I have been sent from my father the Emperor to learn the many ways of the warrior from many teachers until I am ready to face this demon and end his reign forever. I have heard that your people are renowned as great warriors. I humbly ask to learn the trade with your army that I may learn your ways of fighting."
The king was silent for a moment. He stood and paced for a while, looking away. Finally, he turned to the young warrior. "I am afraid there is little I can tell you. For it is not us who fight, but our God who fights through us. I learned this when I was young."
"Then tell where his temple is so that I may win the favor of your god of war."
"You do not understand. He is not a god of war only. He is God of Heaven and Earth and all who dwell therein."
"Your people only worship one god?" This sounded like a new idea. The warrior had heard many theologies in his travels, but he never thought he heard of a nation that worshipped one god, except for one eccentric pharaoh that he heard about in passing while in Egypt.
"We worship one god because He is the only God there is."
"Who is He?"
"We do not speak His name. It is sacred."
The warrior did not know how to reply. This was most strange.
"Sabbath begins tonight at sundown at the tabernacle. You may come and see our worship."
"I will, gladly."
It was a very unusual service. They did not have a temple. They worshipped at a tent. The people sang chants in Hebrew that the warrior couldn't follow with the limited knowledge that he had of the language. The priest presented sacrifices to this mysterious God. The young warrior had seen many sacrifices in his day, but there was something different about these. It had to do with the reasoning. They weren't feeding the God or merely trying to appease him. The warrior wasn't sure what they were doing. Curious, he tried to get closer to get a better look, but someone pushed him back.
"You can not come in, goyim!"
It was that word again, and now the warrior had some idea what it meant. They would not let him participate because he was a foreigner, an outsider. If the God they worshiped really was God of everything, why was he so exclusive? The warrior fumed at these people and at their God until the service was over and everyone had gone home. Then he left Jerusalem and never came back.
Later, he came across some people in England and Russia who also believed in one God. The idea still seemed new and strange. They were not quite as exclusive as the Hebrews, but they did behave about the same as the Hebrews. They would not speak His name, for instance. The warrior wondered if this was the same deity and if not then were they similar.
Since then, Jack had been curious about the Hebrews. What was their story anyway? What was their God like? Now, it looked like he had the answers at last.
This was an impressive story he had heard about a few times of a boy who killed a giant with only a stone in a sling. The owner of the book evidently felt this story was important. Jack saw several lines that were highlighted, and one sentence that quickly caught his eye, which was highlighted as well as circled and highlighted in red ink. The boy spoke it directly before he struck the giant. It read, "For the battle is the Lord's, and He will give you into our hands." So like this king, the owner of the book believed that this God fought through him.
"So, you found your Bible."
Ruth had come back into the room holding a tray in her hands.
"Is this an account of the Hebrews?"
"You could call it that. Now, you did read that pocket Bible I gave you every day, like I told you to, right?"
"I . . . I do not know what you mean."
"You must have lost it. Well, I know you read it. And now, I brought you something to eat, a little vegetable stew and some cornbread."
Jack took in a spoonful of the soup. "This is good."
"I knew you would like it. Try the bread."
Jack had a bite of the cornbread. It had a very strange texture, rather scratchy, but he liked the buttery and corny taste. "I like this. It is different."
Ruth only smiled.
This continued for many days. Most of the time, Jack would read this new book, and the further he got the more interested he was. Even Leviticus was intriguing to him. Ruth always came in either to feed him with home cooked food or to take care of his arm. Occasionally, she would come in to talk, and she always kissed him on the forehead when he went to sleep at night. She still believed that he was her grandson, and Jack tried to drop subtle hints that he was not. Such as the day that Ruth had his robe fixed.
"Here we are," she said. "You can't even tell that it had ever been torn."
"Yes, thank you." Jack looked it over and had an idea. "You did a wonderful job. I do not wish to sound critical, but did you not notice that it looks nothing like this?" He handed her the picture of her real grandson in his uniform.
She looked at it closely then at Jack's robe. "Why, you know what, you're right! How silly of me!"
Jack was nearly getting up, but she took up the robe again and said, "I'll sew on some of the badges from your grandfather's uniform."
"No!" Ruth turned in shock. "I mean, that is not necessary, grandmother. They are not my awards after all."
"All right, David." She left. Jack sighed, shook his head, and started reading again. The more she evaded the truth, the more conflicted he felt in his heart.
About a week and a half passed. Jack's arm was feeling much better. He was almost certain that it was healed. After breakfast, as Ruth took his dishes she said, "It is cold today, isn't it?"
"Yes."
"Why don't you come sit with me by the fire?"
"I would like that."
Ruth helped him up and gave him a seat by the fireplace. Jack always found something mesmerizing about fire. He spent several minutes staring at the flames, watching them dance and crackle. He hardly realized how quiet it was, and he nearly forgot that he was not alone. He looked questioningly at Ruth. She smiled and then did something very strange. She grabbed a poker, scraped out one coal, and set it at Jack's feet.
Jack watched the glow in the coal die and the coal turn an ashy black. Somehow he felt sorry for that coal. He picked it up and breathed on it. He rubbed it with his hands. He tossed it up and down in the air. All he succeeded in doing was getting ash all over his hands. He placed the coal back down and sighed sorrowfully. He wasn't sure what troubled him more, the fact that he couldn't do it or that the coal wouldn't feel warmth again.
But Ruth smiled again. She took a pair of tongs this time, picked the coal up, and placed it on the edge of the hearth. The flames extended out and set the coal aglow again, and the coal fell back into the fire.
Jack watched the display in bewilderment. What did this mean? Then he looked at his hands again and started to wipe them on his gi. But then Ruth came with a damp rag and gently cleaned the ash away. Jack was about to ask what she was trying to tell him when there was a knock at the door.
"I'll be right back, David."
"No, let me."
"David, you're not quite healed yet."
The door knocked again. "Open the door!" a harsh voice yelled. Jack still felt uncertain about Ruth opening the door, but he let her.
"Good mor--," he heard her say, but the voice interrupted her.
"Ma'am, we have a reliable source that this man is residing in your house."
"He is not here."
"Ma'am, this man is criminal."
"He is not here. The only person here with me is my grandson, David."
"Providing shelter for this man is a major offense, punishable by--"
"He already served! Don't take him! He's wounded!"
"You're coming with us."
Jack jumped from his seat and drew his sword. "Do not touch her."
"David, sit back down," Ruth said sternly.
Jack turned to her and replied quietly, "I took a vow to protect my elders. If death can not stop me from keeping my vows, why should an injury?"
Then he turned to the henchmen. He recognized that glazed look in their eyes. They were robotic drones. "If you hurt her, I will retaliate threefold."
As if they were not listening, they grabbed Ruth's arm. Jack screamed a war cry and charged. He managed to separate Ruth from the guards as they fought. He was concerned that she continued to stand out in the open. The drones were strong, but he was able to damage them.
Then the unthinkable happened. One of the drones shot out some kind of bomb at the house and set it aflame. Ruth was nowhere to be seen. In anger, Jack used all he had to destroy the drones, then ran back to the house as quickly as he could.
"Ruth! Ruth!" he screamed over and over. He found her unconscious on the floor. He didn't know what to say, so he picked her up and took her out of the house.
"Oh, Grandmother Ruth," he said weakly. He cradled her in his arms and wept over her frail body. Then, she started to move and open her eyes.
"David?" she whispered.
"Grandmother," he said.
"You are alright," they said in unison. Then they both smiled.
"Are you hurt?" Jack asked. "Anything broken anywhere?"
"I do not think so."
"Please. You took care of me. Let me do the same for you."
"Oh, you don't have to think of it that way. That's what grandmothers do." Jack didn't know how to reply to that. Ruth looked at what remained of her home. "Oh, my poor house."
Jack bowed his head in dismay. "This is my fault."
"No," Ruth gently replied. That was all either of them could say.
A neighbor took Ruth in, but Jack felt it was time to him to leave. Ruth first had to make sure he was in the right condition, so she removed his bandages. "There's barely a scar. You're healed."
"I cannot tell you how thankful I am for all that you . . . " Jack felt as though he could not let this be any longer. "Ruth, there is something I need to tell you."
"You can tell me anything, David."
"I have tried to say this long ago, but I could not think of a way to say it without . . . breaking your heart. This is very hard for me. I call you 'grandmother' out of respect. It is my way. But I am not your grandson. I do not know who he is or what has happened to him."
There was something about the look on her face that scared Jack. It was not what he expected, not shock or despair, but almost indifference. "I am sorry!" he cried and fell to his knees.
"Stand up, Jack."
"No! I cannot stand until you forgive--Jack?" Jack stood up. "You did not call me David. You knew?"
"I knew all along."
"You lied to me!"
"Not necessarily."
"No, you did! I cannot tell you what anguish I felt in my heart that I could not show you the truth. I thought you really believed I was your grandson!"
"Let me help you understand. As you gathered, David was my grandson. Seven years ago, he was in a war against Aku. He was reported to be missing in action, but his troop say that they believe he is dead. I, of course, hold on to hope. But when I hear of you and what you do, it is like he is back again. Just like David, you fight for things others would not dare to fight for. I see my grandson living in you."
"Why didn't you tell me?"
"Aku's eyes and ears are everywhere. You know that. And you were wounded."
"I told you, I could take care of it."
"No, not that wound. You were wounded in your heart. I thought you saw when I showed you with that coal. Like the coal, you are far from all that you love. It has left you cold. No one would give you the care that you needed here. I could see that pain in your eyes, that desire for your family. I can't send you back home, but I thought that if I was your grandmother just for a little while, I could rekindle a spark in you heart that might ease the pain. It might help you feel the love they gave you at home."
Jack considered what she said, and he was moved. He put his hands on her shoulders. "Thank you. You have done a wonderful thing. The truth is, I lost my grandmother when I was a little child. You are as a grandmother to me." She hugged him, and he kissed her forehead. But then he pulled away. "I must go now."
"Farewell Jack. Remember David."
"Yes, if I ever find him--"
"No, I mean remember King David. Stand against Goliath. Continue on the path of righteousness, and I do believe the Lord will give him into your hands."
Jack thought about this for a time and nodded as he recalled the story. "I will remember." With a kind smile, he walked away.
Note: This is a brief anthology of short tales of the people who Jack has met that have given him a break, maybe even changed his life. It's rated G because I'm not intending for a lot of violence. Some might be better rated PG, like this first one. However, it is going to go into some religious stuff that some of you might object to. If you don't like it, don't read.
Also, I don't own Samurai Jack. This first tale is partially based on a story I heard in a Bible lesson. Just in case it's copywritten, I don't own it either. This first story is in no way historically accurate (I tried though).
Wounds and Coals
A loud war cry was heard around the hills. Jack was fighting again.
Aku's monstrous beetle robots were threatening a village, and he couldn't take the chance that they would hurt anyone. He knew they were programmed to lure him here and to destroy him, but he also knew that they were no match for him.
It would have gone fine had it not been for her.
She was a little white-haired woman, bent over, shuffling along. What was she even doing there?
Jack abandoned his fight to urge her to get away. He called out the first word he could think of to get her attention. "GRANDMOTHER!"
The woman did not even look up, but Jack tried anyway.
"Get away from here! It's dangerous!"
A sharp pain seared down Jack's arm. One of the robots had taken that opportunity to stab his prey. In anger, Jack turned and destroyed all Aku's robotic henchmen. The wound hindered Jack, and the robots easily made more wounds. But Jack completed the task, the whole time keeping an eye on the elderly visitor.
His hair was out of place. His gi was torn. He had a gaping wound in his arm. Jack did not care. At the conclusion of the battle, he grasped the injury with his good arm and stumbled toward the civilian.
"Are you all right?" he asked weakly.
The woman did not answer. She came closer to him. Her ancient hands stretched forth and felt Jack's face. She touched the shape of Jack's face, felt his cheekbones, his slanted eyes, his nose, his lips, his hair, his forehead, and his ears. Jack allowed it as he saw the searching, faded light in the old woman's eyes that her glasses didn't seem to aid. She was nearly blind, and she was using her hands to see.
As she removed her hands, astonishment filled her face. "David," she whispered.
"I am sorry. You mistake me for someone else. I am called--"
But the woman drew him closer to her and wept.
Jack pulled her away. "Do not cry, grandmother."
"But I am happy," she replied. "After seven years of prayer, God has given me back my grandson!"
She once again hugged him and wept. Jack didn't know what to say. He couldn't tell her that he was not her grandson. It would break her heart, which is probably very frail. Conflicted with the ideas within him, he remembered his family at home, and he also wept.
"Good gracious, David! What happened to your arm?"
"It is nothing."
"Nothing! Well, I suppose it is nothing, compared to what you've seen in the war, but I know that this is a wound. This could be bad."
"I can take of it. I do not wish to be a burden."
"It is no burden at all. And your uniform! Tut tut, is that all you've been wearing these seven years?"
"It feels longer," Jack muttered.
The woman smiled. "Let's get you home, David. Your Granny Ruth will take care of you."
She supported him on her arm all the way to her house. Perhaps she wasn't as frail as he thought. She led him upstairs to a small bedroom and helped him into the bed. She put medicine (which made him cringe) and an ice pack on his wound and bandaged his arm.
"Now, you just rest. Try to go to sleep if you can. Here, let me have your uniform. I'll fix it up good as new."
"That's really not necessary."
But she didn't listen and took his robe. "I'll be back up in about half an hour with some chicken velvet soup."
"NO CHICKEN!"
Ruth turned back in confusion. "But it was your favorite."
Jack felt bad for making such an outburst. "I apologize. I have lost my taste for chicken."
Ruth only smiled. "Oh, I see. That must have been the only thing they served you in the army. Your grandfather, rest his soul, once he got of service, he told me he never wanted to see a bean again!" Ruth laughed. "Well, I'll get you something I'm sure you'll like."
As she left, Jack took a closer look around the room. On the other side of the room was a bookcase full of colorful books. Model airplanes hung above his head. A poster of some very angry yet colorful-looking people was mounted on the door. And next to the bed was a table that had framed pictures of Ruth and a young man with bright eyes and red hair. Jack picked up one picture of the man standing alone, wearing a military uniform.
"We don't look anything alike," Jack thought aloud. As he was putting the picture back, he felt something in the back. He pulled out a small, leather-bound, black book. "What is this?"
He opened the book to a place that was marked with a four-leaf clover. He read from the top of the page, "And a champion went out from the camp of the Philistines, named Goliath, from Gath, whose height was six cubits and a span."
"Cubits? The Hebrews use that measurement."
Jack thought back to his training. He was about fourteen, and he had heard stories about how the Hebrews conquered whole cities, leaving nothing left. Some stories sound rather amazing, like one time how they marched around a city, gave a great shout together, and made it fall down, and another of a great leader who killed a lion with his bare hands. He wondered if they could aid him in his training to fight against Aku.
So he stopped by Jerusalem. The reaction he received was quite unusual. In other countries, most people stared at him in wonder and treated him with respect because they had not seen one of his race before. The Hebrews hardly took any notice that he was there. A few younger ones looked at him in fear and ran away. The young prince couldn't find anyone to talk to.
Finally, he addressed the guards at the gates of the palace. "Shalom," he greeted with a bow. "If you please, I would like to speak to the captain of your armies." His Hebrew might have been a bit off, because after some discussion among each other, the guards led him to the king.
"Oh King, this goyim wishes to speak with you," one guard said. The prince wasn't sure what "goyim" meant, but he felt offended.
"Thank you," the king answered. The guards left. "You may speak," he told the warrior.
The young warrior bowed again. "Shalom. I bring you greetings from your brothers in the Orient."
"Your greetings are appreciated. What may I do for them?"
"A great evil demon who calls himself Aku has invaded my land. He seeks to enslave the whole world. I have been sent from my father the Emperor to learn the many ways of the warrior from many teachers until I am ready to face this demon and end his reign forever. I have heard that your people are renowned as great warriors. I humbly ask to learn the trade with your army that I may learn your ways of fighting."
The king was silent for a moment. He stood and paced for a while, looking away. Finally, he turned to the young warrior. "I am afraid there is little I can tell you. For it is not us who fight, but our God who fights through us. I learned this when I was young."
"Then tell where his temple is so that I may win the favor of your god of war."
"You do not understand. He is not a god of war only. He is God of Heaven and Earth and all who dwell therein."
"Your people only worship one god?" This sounded like a new idea. The warrior had heard many theologies in his travels, but he never thought he heard of a nation that worshipped one god, except for one eccentric pharaoh that he heard about in passing while in Egypt.
"We worship one god because He is the only God there is."
"Who is He?"
"We do not speak His name. It is sacred."
The warrior did not know how to reply. This was most strange.
"Sabbath begins tonight at sundown at the tabernacle. You may come and see our worship."
"I will, gladly."
It was a very unusual service. They did not have a temple. They worshipped at a tent. The people sang chants in Hebrew that the warrior couldn't follow with the limited knowledge that he had of the language. The priest presented sacrifices to this mysterious God. The young warrior had seen many sacrifices in his day, but there was something different about these. It had to do with the reasoning. They weren't feeding the God or merely trying to appease him. The warrior wasn't sure what they were doing. Curious, he tried to get closer to get a better look, but someone pushed him back.
"You can not come in, goyim!"
It was that word again, and now the warrior had some idea what it meant. They would not let him participate because he was a foreigner, an outsider. If the God they worshiped really was God of everything, why was he so exclusive? The warrior fumed at these people and at their God until the service was over and everyone had gone home. Then he left Jerusalem and never came back.
Later, he came across some people in England and Russia who also believed in one God. The idea still seemed new and strange. They were not quite as exclusive as the Hebrews, but they did behave about the same as the Hebrews. They would not speak His name, for instance. The warrior wondered if this was the same deity and if not then were they similar.
Since then, Jack had been curious about the Hebrews. What was their story anyway? What was their God like? Now, it looked like he had the answers at last.
This was an impressive story he had heard about a few times of a boy who killed a giant with only a stone in a sling. The owner of the book evidently felt this story was important. Jack saw several lines that were highlighted, and one sentence that quickly caught his eye, which was highlighted as well as circled and highlighted in red ink. The boy spoke it directly before he struck the giant. It read, "For the battle is the Lord's, and He will give you into our hands." So like this king, the owner of the book believed that this God fought through him.
"So, you found your Bible."
Ruth had come back into the room holding a tray in her hands.
"Is this an account of the Hebrews?"
"You could call it that. Now, you did read that pocket Bible I gave you every day, like I told you to, right?"
"I . . . I do not know what you mean."
"You must have lost it. Well, I know you read it. And now, I brought you something to eat, a little vegetable stew and some cornbread."
Jack took in a spoonful of the soup. "This is good."
"I knew you would like it. Try the bread."
Jack had a bite of the cornbread. It had a very strange texture, rather scratchy, but he liked the buttery and corny taste. "I like this. It is different."
Ruth only smiled.
This continued for many days. Most of the time, Jack would read this new book, and the further he got the more interested he was. Even Leviticus was intriguing to him. Ruth always came in either to feed him with home cooked food or to take care of his arm. Occasionally, she would come in to talk, and she always kissed him on the forehead when he went to sleep at night. She still believed that he was her grandson, and Jack tried to drop subtle hints that he was not. Such as the day that Ruth had his robe fixed.
"Here we are," she said. "You can't even tell that it had ever been torn."
"Yes, thank you." Jack looked it over and had an idea. "You did a wonderful job. I do not wish to sound critical, but did you not notice that it looks nothing like this?" He handed her the picture of her real grandson in his uniform.
She looked at it closely then at Jack's robe. "Why, you know what, you're right! How silly of me!"
Jack was nearly getting up, but she took up the robe again and said, "I'll sew on some of the badges from your grandfather's uniform."
"No!" Ruth turned in shock. "I mean, that is not necessary, grandmother. They are not my awards after all."
"All right, David." She left. Jack sighed, shook his head, and started reading again. The more she evaded the truth, the more conflicted he felt in his heart.
About a week and a half passed. Jack's arm was feeling much better. He was almost certain that it was healed. After breakfast, as Ruth took his dishes she said, "It is cold today, isn't it?"
"Yes."
"Why don't you come sit with me by the fire?"
"I would like that."
Ruth helped him up and gave him a seat by the fireplace. Jack always found something mesmerizing about fire. He spent several minutes staring at the flames, watching them dance and crackle. He hardly realized how quiet it was, and he nearly forgot that he was not alone. He looked questioningly at Ruth. She smiled and then did something very strange. She grabbed a poker, scraped out one coal, and set it at Jack's feet.
Jack watched the glow in the coal die and the coal turn an ashy black. Somehow he felt sorry for that coal. He picked it up and breathed on it. He rubbed it with his hands. He tossed it up and down in the air. All he succeeded in doing was getting ash all over his hands. He placed the coal back down and sighed sorrowfully. He wasn't sure what troubled him more, the fact that he couldn't do it or that the coal wouldn't feel warmth again.
But Ruth smiled again. She took a pair of tongs this time, picked the coal up, and placed it on the edge of the hearth. The flames extended out and set the coal aglow again, and the coal fell back into the fire.
Jack watched the display in bewilderment. What did this mean? Then he looked at his hands again and started to wipe them on his gi. But then Ruth came with a damp rag and gently cleaned the ash away. Jack was about to ask what she was trying to tell him when there was a knock at the door.
"I'll be right back, David."
"No, let me."
"David, you're not quite healed yet."
The door knocked again. "Open the door!" a harsh voice yelled. Jack still felt uncertain about Ruth opening the door, but he let her.
"Good mor--," he heard her say, but the voice interrupted her.
"Ma'am, we have a reliable source that this man is residing in your house."
"He is not here."
"Ma'am, this man is criminal."
"He is not here. The only person here with me is my grandson, David."
"Providing shelter for this man is a major offense, punishable by--"
"He already served! Don't take him! He's wounded!"
"You're coming with us."
Jack jumped from his seat and drew his sword. "Do not touch her."
"David, sit back down," Ruth said sternly.
Jack turned to her and replied quietly, "I took a vow to protect my elders. If death can not stop me from keeping my vows, why should an injury?"
Then he turned to the henchmen. He recognized that glazed look in their eyes. They were robotic drones. "If you hurt her, I will retaliate threefold."
As if they were not listening, they grabbed Ruth's arm. Jack screamed a war cry and charged. He managed to separate Ruth from the guards as they fought. He was concerned that she continued to stand out in the open. The drones were strong, but he was able to damage them.
Then the unthinkable happened. One of the drones shot out some kind of bomb at the house and set it aflame. Ruth was nowhere to be seen. In anger, Jack used all he had to destroy the drones, then ran back to the house as quickly as he could.
"Ruth! Ruth!" he screamed over and over. He found her unconscious on the floor. He didn't know what to say, so he picked her up and took her out of the house.
"Oh, Grandmother Ruth," he said weakly. He cradled her in his arms and wept over her frail body. Then, she started to move and open her eyes.
"David?" she whispered.
"Grandmother," he said.
"You are alright," they said in unison. Then they both smiled.
"Are you hurt?" Jack asked. "Anything broken anywhere?"
"I do not think so."
"Please. You took care of me. Let me do the same for you."
"Oh, you don't have to think of it that way. That's what grandmothers do." Jack didn't know how to reply to that. Ruth looked at what remained of her home. "Oh, my poor house."
Jack bowed his head in dismay. "This is my fault."
"No," Ruth gently replied. That was all either of them could say.
A neighbor took Ruth in, but Jack felt it was time to him to leave. Ruth first had to make sure he was in the right condition, so she removed his bandages. "There's barely a scar. You're healed."
"I cannot tell you how thankful I am for all that you . . . " Jack felt as though he could not let this be any longer. "Ruth, there is something I need to tell you."
"You can tell me anything, David."
"I have tried to say this long ago, but I could not think of a way to say it without . . . breaking your heart. This is very hard for me. I call you 'grandmother' out of respect. It is my way. But I am not your grandson. I do not know who he is or what has happened to him."
There was something about the look on her face that scared Jack. It was not what he expected, not shock or despair, but almost indifference. "I am sorry!" he cried and fell to his knees.
"Stand up, Jack."
"No! I cannot stand until you forgive--Jack?" Jack stood up. "You did not call me David. You knew?"
"I knew all along."
"You lied to me!"
"Not necessarily."
"No, you did! I cannot tell you what anguish I felt in my heart that I could not show you the truth. I thought you really believed I was your grandson!"
"Let me help you understand. As you gathered, David was my grandson. Seven years ago, he was in a war against Aku. He was reported to be missing in action, but his troop say that they believe he is dead. I, of course, hold on to hope. But when I hear of you and what you do, it is like he is back again. Just like David, you fight for things others would not dare to fight for. I see my grandson living in you."
"Why didn't you tell me?"
"Aku's eyes and ears are everywhere. You know that. And you were wounded."
"I told you, I could take care of it."
"No, not that wound. You were wounded in your heart. I thought you saw when I showed you with that coal. Like the coal, you are far from all that you love. It has left you cold. No one would give you the care that you needed here. I could see that pain in your eyes, that desire for your family. I can't send you back home, but I thought that if I was your grandmother just for a little while, I could rekindle a spark in you heart that might ease the pain. It might help you feel the love they gave you at home."
Jack considered what she said, and he was moved. He put his hands on her shoulders. "Thank you. You have done a wonderful thing. The truth is, I lost my grandmother when I was a little child. You are as a grandmother to me." She hugged him, and he kissed her forehead. But then he pulled away. "I must go now."
"Farewell Jack. Remember David."
"Yes, if I ever find him--"
"No, I mean remember King David. Stand against Goliath. Continue on the path of righteousness, and I do believe the Lord will give him into your hands."
Jack thought about this for a time and nodded as he recalled the story. "I will remember." With a kind smile, he walked away.