Really should credit Farawyn with this idea, even though I've had something very similar in the back of my mind for several months......:)
~*~Shieldmaiden~*~
"War is the province of men?" We shall see. I have much to live for? To sit at home combing my locks, mending hose, shepherding infants, planning menus, gazing eastward when my palm itches to grip my bright sword? To rule in ruins I've no wish. Yet something tells me there is a deed marked for me alone. Perhaps we've each a mission that was stamped with our name ere the date of our making, however we would let it pass from us, and engrave it with another and sit at home gazing from an eastern window. We may each, however tender and questioning be the link between life as we know it and the end of all singing. And so we heed the dark clarion and if it also sound our doom, so be it. Who are we to dismiss that trumpet, even though it call through horse-shrieks, ripping flesh, thunder-drums, iron wheels, shattered ramparts- or brotherly disdain? Who can say that my small blade be not destined to smite the bond that holds this land in thrall? Who knows what lofty tapestries may be woven from the nettles of stinging chaos? We each, man or woman, great or tiny, own the key that opens one cage or many, releasing the future even if it means that we ourselves become the past, names sung only in the ballads of the forgetful free. We will listen, leaning on the parapets of the heroes' halls and smile at one another saying: Indeed, that bard has a fine voice and makes his mother proud….....
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