Chapter Two - Swordsman's Requiem
As he sat by his small fire, eating the small animal he had finished
roasting, he decided to reflect on his life so far, though he knew
inside that it would be a mistake to do so. He knew reflection on his
situation in life would only bring him pain. Nevertheless, he stopped
eating and reflected on his life in solitude.
He knew he was different from the other people in Porre, but he never
understood why everybody there had to make such a big deal about it.
He hadn't any clue why they made fun of him for things he couldn't
possibly help. He didn't know why they made him miserable at every
oppurtunity, or why everybody did so. He couldn't comprehend why it
seemed that nobody could accept him for what he was. Nobody, that is,
except his parents.
He immediately knew that, as big a mistake as reflection had been,
thinking of the 'good times' long past was an even bigger one.
Granted, those memories had briought him more pleasure than anything
else had so far in his life, but, after he was done, the reality of his
situation would cause him more pain than it had before.
Regardless, he failed to stop himself from going back to better days:
His parents' smiling faces... His parents' kind words and
reassurances... Coming home to his parents' open arms in tears, after
he had been picked on by the other kids all day... The day his father
gave him his own sword and began the instruction that had existed in
his family for so many generations... The day his mother gave him the
clothes, modeled after a distant ancestor, that she had made for him
after he had been training for a full year...
He stopped reminiscing at this point. He knew that he would cry if he
thought any more about what had been, but that wasn't the reason he
stopped.
His ears pricked up and he moved silently through the forest and peered
through the bushes. He knew there was no point in doing so, and that
he would only hurt himself more by beholding her, but, as with the
reflection and the reminiscence, he couldn't resist looking to affirm
that he hadn't misheard.
As always, his eyes proved what his ears had already told him: that
Malan was practicing her singing in her grove at that moment. He
remained the single member of her audience for a few minutes, then left
towards where he had left the remains of his dinner.
He sighed. She was so beautiful... With such an enchanting voice...
And her scent was indescribable...
He hit himself in the face. Why did he waste his time with thoughts of
her? He knew she could never love him. Besides, even if she could
bring herself to love someone like him, she was too adjusted to living
in a nice house to come live in the forest with him. He knew that was
the only place that any woman and he could be happy and raise a family
together, away from the ostracism of the rest of the community.
All because of the damn curse that had been passed through his blood
line for generations... All because of Magus...
He got up from the log he had sat on and walked past what remained of
his dinner. He didn't feel like eating at the moment.
He walked deeper into the forest, to his usual training grounds, with
his hand on the hilt of his sword. The art of swordsmanship was the
one thing that truly took his mind off of his situation in life, so he
practiced it more and with greater fervor than, he believed, any other
person alive.
He pretended not to notice the tears that had been rolling down his
face as he walked.
As he sat by his small fire, eating the small animal he had finished
roasting, he decided to reflect on his life so far, though he knew
inside that it would be a mistake to do so. He knew reflection on his
situation in life would only bring him pain. Nevertheless, he stopped
eating and reflected on his life in solitude.
He knew he was different from the other people in Porre, but he never
understood why everybody there had to make such a big deal about it.
He hadn't any clue why they made fun of him for things he couldn't
possibly help. He didn't know why they made him miserable at every
oppurtunity, or why everybody did so. He couldn't comprehend why it
seemed that nobody could accept him for what he was. Nobody, that is,
except his parents.
He immediately knew that, as big a mistake as reflection had been,
thinking of the 'good times' long past was an even bigger one.
Granted, those memories had briought him more pleasure than anything
else had so far in his life, but, after he was done, the reality of his
situation would cause him more pain than it had before.
Regardless, he failed to stop himself from going back to better days:
His parents' smiling faces... His parents' kind words and
reassurances... Coming home to his parents' open arms in tears, after
he had been picked on by the other kids all day... The day his father
gave him his own sword and began the instruction that had existed in
his family for so many generations... The day his mother gave him the
clothes, modeled after a distant ancestor, that she had made for him
after he had been training for a full year...
He stopped reminiscing at this point. He knew that he would cry if he
thought any more about what had been, but that wasn't the reason he
stopped.
His ears pricked up and he moved silently through the forest and peered
through the bushes. He knew there was no point in doing so, and that
he would only hurt himself more by beholding her, but, as with the
reflection and the reminiscence, he couldn't resist looking to affirm
that he hadn't misheard.
As always, his eyes proved what his ears had already told him: that
Malan was practicing her singing in her grove at that moment. He
remained the single member of her audience for a few minutes, then left
towards where he had left the remains of his dinner.
He sighed. She was so beautiful... With such an enchanting voice...
And her scent was indescribable...
He hit himself in the face. Why did he waste his time with thoughts of
her? He knew she could never love him. Besides, even if she could
bring herself to love someone like him, she was too adjusted to living
in a nice house to come live in the forest with him. He knew that was
the only place that any woman and he could be happy and raise a family
together, away from the ostracism of the rest of the community.
All because of the damn curse that had been passed through his blood
line for generations... All because of Magus...
He got up from the log he had sat on and walked past what remained of
his dinner. He didn't feel like eating at the moment.
He walked deeper into the forest, to his usual training grounds, with
his hand on the hilt of his sword. The art of swordsmanship was the
one thing that truly took his mind off of his situation in life, so he
practiced it more and with greater fervor than, he believed, any other
person alive.
He pretended not to notice the tears that had been rolling down his
face as he walked.