I was unable. Unable to claim the life I had begged permission to take, for..they were not the one and even, if so were, I doubt I could have, hate is not within my heart.
I sit here, at night sometimes, and look over my body the stories woven into each mark, blemish, and scar. The pain I possess in my fingers even writing this at times becomes a burden to bear.
I walk the halls of the Home at the eve, just so the pain my legs subsides as blood flows, have taken to sleeping upright in the chair within the study to prevent the pain of my back causing me ills. Before a patrol with the Watch as another pair of eyes, the measures I find myself taking, herbs for the numbing of pains gained by the actions I have to take.
Doubt settles in, and yet, I am a Warrior still, maybe the last needed, but I said once, Lucia, that you knew even more than I, if called I would always answer.
Rohan calls again, they still suffer fates of enemies in scores of many.
I will bind my hands, string up my legs, pad the armour, and sharpen my blade for I will always answer the call to help, If i can not go out, one way or another, with honour; then I will keep going, until I capture that moment, in clarity, behind my, or atop my shield.
Upon that day; I will join you, my love. But until that day, I will fight again, and help all those; I am able.
I may be the last of the 'old guard', but I have found my clarity, and i must always answer the call.
