A Lesson on Heroism
A Final Fantasy XI fanfic by Renfro Calhoun

Disclaimer: Still applies. Property of Squeenix, you know the deal.

Notes: Sandwiches and deep thoughts on the nature of heroism during a dark and stormy ferry ride.


(Shouldn't we have arrived by now?)

The blonde Hume drummed his fingers on the wooden floor, leaning lazily against the crate behind him. The ship rocked and swayed as it cut through presumably choppy waters; the gentle tapping of raindrops on the deck telling him the storm wasn't quite done yet. A seasonal shower, or so the captain had called it. Nothing he intended to concern himself with, beyond staying below decks to keep dry.

(It's been at least an hour since he said we were an hour away.) Izzitda pursed his lips. (Damned old salt probably can't even count, much less tell time.)

The doors to the cargo bay opened, and a robed, pointy-headed Tarutaru casually waddled in. He spotted the Hume and approached him, one hand giving a brief wave while the other precariously balanced a partially-eaten sandwich on a plate.

"Mmph... 'thaid it'th gonna be," he stopped to swallow, "another hour."

"Another hour, huh?" Izzitda rolled his eyes. "Now I remember why I stopped taking the ferry."

Nimbex plopped himself down next to the Hume, resuming consumption of his sandwich. "Relax, we'll be there before you know it."

A muffled peal of thunder came through the hull of the ship, and the tapping grew faster and more pronounced.

"Heh," grunted Izzitda. "Haven't had to ride in this old thing for a long time."

"Same here," said Nimbex between bites.

"It helps to know spells that can get you across the world in a couple seconds," the Hume added with a faint smirk.

"Truly, Teleport spells exemplify the pinnacle of magical aptitude."

"Well, pretty much." Izzitda allowed himself a bit of a chuckle. "Hey, coming back to life is a luxury. Travel is a goddamn necessity."

Nimbex nodded in assent and took another bite.

"Where'd you get that anyway?"

"Mm. Emergenshy sammich." He gulped. "Never leave home without one."

Izzitda crooked an eyebrow. "Emergency... sandwich."

The Taru gave him an odd little smile. "You never know. If you're hungry, I brought the emergency back-up sandwich too."

"Ehh... no, not interested."

"Suit yourself."

Another thunderclap echoed in the distance, sharper and more distinct than the last.

"Dark and stormy night," mused Nimbex.

"On the ferry, no less." Izzitda looked up at the ceiling. "Brings back memories..."

"What of?"

"Long story. Indirect story, actually. Want the short version?"

"I'm not going anywhere. Let's hear it all."

"Right." Izzitda scratched the back of his right hand. "Well, last time I was on the boat with weather like this - must've been... ohh, maybe six years ago? Anyway, the last time, I met this old guy; old Elvaan warrior, mean-lookin' sonovabitch. He was sitting in the back, just staring at this pin he was holding in his hand. Looked kinda depressed, too."

"A pin?"

"Yeah, I asked him about it. Turns out, he was a San d'Orian veteran. It was his rank pin. Ways back, he'd been promoted and put in charge of his own squad."

"Hmm," said Nimbex, nodding.

"He said, 'For valorous conduct,' something about the best traditions of the knights... I don't remember exactly how he put it, but he started to tell me how he was promoted." Izzitda paused, taking a deep breath. "Then he looked at me, said 'There's what I was praised for, and there's what happened.' He tells me this story of when he was just another foot soldier. His unit went up against a beastman patrol out in La Theine."

"Orcs?"

"Yeah. After they finished off the patrol, suddenly his group was surrounded - it was a setup. They were basically trapped near one of the crags; Orc archers covered the cliffside exit while a whole mess of 'em were coming from the other direction."

Nimbex polished off the rest of his sandwich. "Ah'd take m' chanshes with th' archersh," he said through a mouthful of food. Outside, a bolt of lightning struck somewhere nearby, the crack of thunder rolling every which way.

Izzidta snorted. "That's what they did. It was a slaughter. Most of the knights were dead before they even got to the cliff. He said..." he trailed off for a moment, "he said, 'one of them was aiming right at me.' Didn't have time to get his shield up. One of his pals accidentally ran ahead of him and took it in the neck." The Taru cringed. "He said... he said he actually almost tripped over the guy's body. Stepped on his arm as he ran."

"Anyway, what was left of the squad got out of there, but the archers retreated. He was ready to hack through all of 'em by himself, but they were long gone by the time they got up the cliff." He shook his head. "You could see he was pissed. It didn't help that when they got back, all five of them who were left wound up getting promoted, including him."

Nimbex was silent, his head lowered in contemplation. Izzitda added, "Last thing he said to me, before the ship docked. 'They made us heroes,' he said, 'just because we didn't die. Even though I should have.'"

"Heroes, huh..."

"I think about that sometimes," said Izzitda. Overhead, the tapping grew less rapid, the rain lightening up. "I keep thinking, maybe there's a lesson, maybe there's something to be learned from that." He shrugged. "Can't think of a damn thing."

Nimbex said nothing at first, seeming to stare through the floor. He then blinked, glanced up at Izzitda, and quietly said, "I think I have one."

Izzitda scratched his chin. "Already?"

"I think so," said Nimbex. "I think... sometimes, you can do everything right and still lose."

The Hume frowned. "That's not much of a lesson."

"No... but I think that's what they were trying to tell him." Nimbex looked away for a moment. "That they know his group lost, and lost a lot, but they went out there, they did what they were supposed to do. They tried."

"You don't usually get points for trying."

"True. But you don't usually know you can't win until you try." Nimbex sighed. "Sooner or later, you're bound to get into something you just can't handle, no matter how well you do. But you keep going."

"You just keep going?"

He nodded. "If you can."

"And you got that from his story?"

Nimbex reached into his satchel and removed a small paper bag, which he opened to reveal another sandwich. "More or less," he said as he idly began nibbling at the culinary creation.

"Huh." Izzitda rubbed his chin, slowly losing himself to thought. "Interesting."