A Change of Seasons

A brown leaf floated in the wind, gently meandering through the air, before it hit his cheek and stuck on to his tear moistened skin. He brushed it off and rubbed his eyes, all the time looking at the little town in the valley below. He sat at the edge of the forest, a place he had found which commanded an unobstructed view of the town, yet, unless you knew the secret path, directly inaccessible from the town. The orcs were going about their days activities as usual, training in the barracks and rebuilding the ruined parts of the town. The gates and walls on the east had been reinforced completely, and almost all the watch towers had been repaired except for the North Tower. Most of the northern regions of the town were still burnt down. He could see the hamlet where he had lived, its charred remains bringing back painful memories. He shut his eyes hard, and gritted his teeth.
"Why did you bring me here?" he asked, voice quivering.
"Because this is your destiny. And it's about time you faced it. No matter what has passed," came the reply.
He could see it like it happened only yesterday. No one had expected the orcs to strike from the treacherous rocky passes out of the North. They had been quick and brutally efficient. His mother had carried him out as the fire arrows struck their house. His father had stood against them, a handful of men with him against the might of a thousand blooded orcs, while the rest of the defences were still being organized in the barracks towards the south.
More tears flowed out, and he pushed the painful memories away. He breathed hard, shaking his head.
"It still hurts, after all this time."
"And it should," said the old man, standing a few feet behind him, "because that's what separates you from them." He pointed towards the orcs. "That's what makes you human. If it didn't hurt, then why live on. You will have nothing to drive you on, nothing to fight for. It's our love for one another, and the pain of loss that gives us a reason to continue."
"But the pain is too much to bear. And it's going to hurt me for as long as i live."
"Stand up to it, and fight it. You have to be strong. Do not ever shirk away from it."
"But I'm too young," he snapped back. "I'm not meant to bear this much pain."
"Young!" the old man exclaimed. "You're older then your brother was. Do you remember your brother?"
He remembered. His mother had screamed for his brother to come out, while she held him in her arms. And when he did emerge from the house, he was dressed fully in mail, with a bronze shield in one hand, and a sword in the other. "I must stay mother. I have to fight," he had told her. "No Baelor. You are too young, son. You're only thirteen years old," she had pleaded, not needing to add the unspoken thought - i don't want to lose you too. But the look he had given her didn't allow for any reasoning. Baelor had turned to him then, and in his eyes he could see uncertainty. "I want you to take care of mother, do you understand me Balron? You're in charge now little one." Tears were running down Baelor's eyes, and he had stretched out his hand to wipe them off. He didn't understand what was happening, but he knew it wasn't good. "Go now!" Baelor had shouted to Mother, "Run!" And as she had run, he had turned back to watch the thin line of defence that had formed up. In the centre stood Baelor and Father, swords at the ready. As the orcs made their charge, they turned towards each other, and embraced each other fiercely.
"You owe it to them at least," said the old man.
He nodded his head, slowly. "And to Mother."
It hadn't taken them long to cut through the meagre resistance. They caught up with mother and yanked her hair back as she ran. He had fallen from her hands, and amidst all the chaos managed to escape the burning town. But he had seen what they had done to her. The way they gutted her, it was too horrific for a child so young.
His blue eyes stared into space, imagining. "Why did this have to happen? Things would have been so much simpler if everything was the way it had been."
"Then where would the fun be? If nothing changed there would be no excitement in life. Variance and change are essential. It keeps us on our toes, it gives us our urgency with which we do things. Everything is changing constantly, and we need to keep up with that change and adapt to it. It could be good or bad depending on how you look at it, but no matter what, there will always be change, wherever you look. You say that things would have been better without change, and you may be right. But do you expect that your family would have lived on forever, immortal and unchanging. They died, and now things aren't the same, and that is something you will have to accept. People keep changing too. One day you think you know someone, and the next day, that very same person, who you have done so much for turns a cold eye towards you, and acts like you're a complete stranger. You would give your life to a person, and maybe that person would to you too, but then before you know, there is a change in that person, and they take your life away as readily as you would have given it to them. Attach some importance to people, feel for them, but don't get too close to anyone. Because someday your closest friend will change over to another side, and that can hurt more than any sword. You'll change too, for better or for worse."
"Never," hissed Balron.
"That's not a choice for you to make."

A brown leaf floated in the wind, gently meandering through the air, before it was grabbed by a mailed fist. Blue eyes regarded it, through a plumed helmet, and then looked at the town below. Everything had changed, and the orcs seemed to have grown in number. The town was totally different. Yet he could see the fires burning, as if it was real. He could hear the cries of his mother, the determination in his brother, and the clash of steel on steel when the orcs collided with his father. He raised his clenched fist high, and then swung it downwards towards the town. Horses rushed past him on either side, down into the valley, waves upon waves of them with armed riders on their backs.
"It's time to change things back." Drawing out his sword from its scabbard, he kicked his horse into motion.