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| Author | Story [That Which Gives Way To Green] |
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His skill at battle had earned him the title 'Prince of war'. Foes cowered in the battlefield when the saw his blade flash, for whenever the prince held his swords unsheathed and aloft in his hands fountains of blood were sure to follow after. War is a nasty business. A naked dance of death where the flames of passion and valor are doused forever. When the battles ended the prince would allow no disgrace to befall his fallen foes. By his decree every body on the field was properly cremated, with prayers for the souls of those who had sacrificed themselves for their beliefs and duty. Rid of the bodies and spoils of war, the only thing that remained upon the face of the earth that told of what had been was the red hue of blood. Though the prince had killed many he despised meting out death, and while he rested after and beheld the battlefield, the slowly reddening setting sun and the blood soaked ground would inundated him in gloom, he then would watch the sun as its journey to the horizon approached a close, its fire mellowed it dropped, now mundane just like the tear that escaped his eye, below the horizon leaving darkness in the wake of its descent. A darkness that mirrored in the prince's heart. Some time and many battles later the prince reached his limit, he broke his blades and declared that he would not shed another drop of blood on the battlefield for he loved it not even more so because it had eaten him from the inside and hollowed him. His men upon seeing their lord distraught and unwilling to fight became disheartened. Morale in the camp plummeted like a stone that aspired to fly. The king's advisor was worried. With the prince refusing to fight he knew that winning the next battle was impossible. He went to the prince and tried to inquire about the reason so as to why he was so upset and downhearted. Where was the spirit, the spirit of the prince of war, where had the warrior gone leaving behind one who is weak and broken. The prince told the advisor that he could no longer bear the sight of the blood shade of red. He said that he felt that this business of repeatedly shedding the life of people would never allow him to be truly happy for the earth where he shed his foes' blood would be forever stained red. Every sunset brought a little darkness with it and now this darkness lay heavy on his heart. The advisor became more concerned for the prince than he was about winning the war. They still had about a week before the enemies would reach them and he had to figure something before the prince lost all hope that dwelt in his heart. He asked the esquires to ready two horses and to pack rations for a four day journey. He then made his way to the smith's tent and laid the shards of the prince's broken blades upon the wooden table. He asked the smith to re-forge the blades Nimured the fair and the trailing shadow Andemut for those were the names of the blades.
He asked the prince to accompany him. They set out and rode for two days, though the advisor did not tell him of their destination the prince knew that they were bound for the battlefield of kagreth. Two years ago he had killed a score score there in the battle that had raged for five days. It had been a bloodbath, just thinking of the sight of the battlefield of kagreth made the prince feel like he was going to puke. In the afternoon of the second day of their journey they reached a glade with lush grass, lovely tender trees and a million flowers abloom with a million colors. The prince slowed his horse to a trot and then stopped it and dismounted, he breathed in the view and exhaled his darkness out. The beauty of the land seeped inside his heart. He said to the advisor “I have no hint for why we journey to the battlefield of kagreth but please let us laze here for a while for I love this view of green." The advisor nodded in silent consent. They stopped there. The prince walked unshod in the grass feeling it he took in the scent of the beautiful flowers, he | | touched the bark of the young trees that grew. "How lovely these lands are, their beauty is perfect and untouched, these green lands that are untainted by the red of blood. But revered advisor why are you bringing me to the battlefield of kagreth, I know of your tacit nature so I know you won’t talk of it till we reach kagreth. Let’s journey on.” The advisor looked at the prince with gentle eyes and he softly spoke "We are already there my lord. This is the battlefield of kagreth, it is here that the blood of countless foes was shed and with their blood their life seeped into the land. That life manifested itself into this glade that you so love." the prince's smile turned into a sad one. The advisor continued " The red in time gives way to green, it washes itself away from the land renewing it with life and behold thus life overflows" he spoke, opening his arms to the landscape " Don’t let the red taint you, Don’t be tainted seeing the field of war painted with red of blood, the earth shall ever renew itself but your heart shall never be renewed once the peace inside you dissipates completely." The prince felt better, though killing was never meant to be easy. Red did not seem all that depressing to him anymore for it would not last in the ravaging course of time and green would eventually burgeon, however the faces of those whom he had killed remained etched in his memory for red being a mere color could fade but people could not. His heart both dark and bright with what he felt they returned to the camp. The men saw their prince was himself once more and were overjoyed. However the advisor knew that the prince was far from alright .The remaining days passed and the army of their foes laid camp, a clash would be inevitably ensue at dawn. The prince sat in his tent with nothing to do he usually played around with his blades before he stepped out but he had none for he had broken them Nimured and Andemut had shattered in the darkness. As he sat sad for his blades the advisor and the smith entered. The smith carried a bundle of coarse fabric roughly the length of a sword for it was in fact that he unrolled the bundle and laid it on the table. There were two familiar jeweled sheaths one sparkling bright white decorated with silver and diamonds and the other dark black inlaid with gold and obsidians. He looked at the advisor and smith and smiled. “Well, you have brought the choice upon me haven’t you?” The prince looked at his heart black with the memories of the faces of those he had killed and shadowed by the battlefields he had painted red. All the hopes and dreams of the people he had killed vanished with them and this fact lay as a shadow to the darkness, and his heart was also bright for the red would not stain the earth forever and there would always be green where he could take refuge, forever lie in the grass where the fragrance of flowers wanders about waiting to be tasted. And for as long as he fought hope for his people would not fade. He reached for the swords, his hand hanging just over the hilts. He looked to the left and saw the world was dark and silent as in night; he looked to the right and saw the first rays of light. Between the two worlds, one dark and the other bright he stood on their divide for Nimured in the darkness shone bright and Andemut devoured the brilliant light. And his hand continued to hover over the blades in indecision. This was a far greater fight than any he had ever fought. His had held still, over his blades yet never touching and as the light of the day grew he reached his decision he picked up his swords and looked at them Nimured the fair inundated in darkness yet twinkling and the trailing shadow Andemut glooming in the growing light. He said “How fitting are you my blades Nimured and Andemut. You reflect what is inside me and I now know what I must do” for the prince had made up his putting the swords to his belt he strode forth out of his tent. Th | The advisor and the smith watched, they knew of his pain and of his joy, they knew what he carried within and carried it with pride. They saw the prince of war exit the tent. The army was nearly ready to ride to battle but the prince was yet to be seen. Suddenly a shout went out and then another cries of joy and battle cries filled the air and one shout repeated by one and all rose above engulfing all “All hail the prince of war”.
Any Feedback will be much appreciated. | | Without actually reading, my first bit of advise is presentation. On a forum like this, big paragraphs are quite difficult to follow. |
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