1 Of Daggers and Shields

"...but I don't understand why I can't go," the young boy fought back his tears.

The old lady looked at him, not unkindly, and replied, "It is late, chota. We have much to do early tomorrow."

"You don't understand! I need to go!" he persisted, choking on the words yet looking at her in the eyes defiantly.

"And we need to live. How is your need more important?" Her back straightened and he sensed danger.

"Nani..." he said cajolingly as he hugged her from the back. "Please..." he kissed her cheek.

"Is 'He' that important chota?" She tried to avoid his kiss.

Knowing that honesty is the only way he can make her relent, he said, "Yes, he is".

"That's what you said last week and now I bet it is a different one..." she gently removed his embrace and faced him.

From the flickering flame of the lamp, he saw that her eyes are serious. Her weathered face radiated warmth that always suffused him with an inner peace. He loves her dearly. He sighed.

"I know this one is different. He won't hurt me like the last one. Besides, it is only a dance. I just want to see him for a little while. Please nani..." He took her calloused hands in his.

"You don't think it is the dance that you love and not the boy?" She said knowingly.

"That's ridiculous!" he said after a momentary pause. He considered a thought but quickly cast it aside.

"Alright chota", she said and he knows he won again. She held his face gently.

"Listen to me." And he did. Earnestly.

"Your heart is young and it can afford to be hurt...but you have to take care of it lest it turns you into someone you can't face in the mirror." She said wisely. He can only nod, not fully grasping what she meant.

"Love is sometimes a shield and sometimes it is a dagger. One is not necessarily better than the other. You just have to know which one to use." There is a faraway look in her eyes that alarmed him.

"How do I know?"

"You just have to wait...it will come to you in time"

"Did you love nanaji?" He regretted the question instantly.

"I still do," she corrected.

"Don't stay out too late." She hugged him fiercely.

The moon was as full as it is now. He can still hear the music faintly mingling with the sound of his men getting ready below the hill where his tent is. The boy that night is but a wisp of a memory. His heart was racing then as it is now but for a different reason. He remembers his strong hands guiding his back in a slow but intricate dance. They were dancing in a secluded room overlooking the plaza but he didn't care. They were together and that was what mattered.

After several boys and several dances, he realized his nani was right. He loved the dance more than the boy.

Except for one.

They met in battle.

They were enemies. Both generals of a vast army marching towards an obscure goal.

Domination.

Their swords rang in a thrilling music that only the two of them heard and despite the carnage around them, they grinned at each other.

His heart thudded loudly at his gaze and the world froze.

They danced. A deadly rhythm just inches away from oblivion...or eternity. In that moment, he cannot tell the difference.

They danced with precision choreographed like the movement of the stars across the cosmos.

They lowered their weapons. The dance was over.

As reality took over, they realized that the other army has been vanquished.

They took the other general prisoner.

They spent most of their time together not as victor and vanquished but as equals. Their meeting in combat told each other all they needed to know and they did not waste time in discovery. Only in the comfort of knowing a soul who yearned for the same things.

The enemy king made a bargain and they had to part.

Their handshake was brief but they got to talk one last time.

No words.

They nevertheless knew what the other was saying.

"When...?"

"Soon..."

They met again in a battlefield. The stronger one yielded his life so that the war can end.

As his dagger pierced his heart, there was no hate.

Only regret and relief.

Unfortunately, the war did not end as fast as they hoped. When he left his grave, he also left a promise.

"I will be stronger and not allow a life to be wasted. Never again will I use my daggers."

So, he wielded a shield so strong that he earned the name: Fortress.

He was unrelenting. Implacable. Impenetrable.

After the war, he stood alone.

Revered.

Respected.

Unreachable.

Untouched.

He visited his grave and wept.

That was another war.

Now the Fortress is leading another army.

He looked at the moon for a long time. He remembered calloused but gentle hands touching his face.

"I still don't know..." he whispered.

He looked at the burnished heavy shield that earned him his famous name. He saw a stranger.

Countless battles won but he never triumphed against this man reflected by the shiny surface. He hates this man. He hates how hypocritical he has become.

He protected everyone.

Except one.

Except one.

"General, it's time..." he looked at his adjutant. If he is surprised at the tears on his face, he did not show it. This is a good man. One of the best.

He hefted his shield. It is surprisingly heavy.

He looked that the expectant faces of the men he will lead to another meaningless war. He will protect them the best he can. They looked invincible and why shouldn't they?

The Fortress is leading them.

He sadly regarded each and everyone of them. Most of them are battle-scarred veterans who followed him for as long as he can remember.

"Tonight, is possibly the last battle..." he began.

"I cannot promise to protect each and everyone of you. This shield has become so heavy lately. I don't know if I can still be the Fortress" he hung his head in defeat.

"If anyone decided to leave now, I won't hold it against you. For those who stay, I cannot promise you glory or victory. For all the battles I have won, my only reward was knowing such men as brave as you. It is an honor to have fought beside you..."

It was the first time he showed weakness. He fully expected half of the men to turn away.

Instead, they all raised their shields.

"We will never leave the Fortress." His adjutant stood resolutely.

"It was not your shield that protected us. It was you." Their faces shone in the moonlight.

"Let us be your shield if only for this last time". Their shouts thundered through the hills.

He knew, at last.

The men, in perfect formation marched towards the enemies.

He watched them in pride and love.

He laid down his shield.

His daggers are calling him.

He joined his boys in battle and danced.