The Guardian
"The Guardian"
"Boy, do you see that man there? The warrior with the tabard of a white dawn upon black."
"Yes Father, who is he?"
"There walks a good man."
"He doesn't have the shining magical armour of the knights from the city Father."
"That he doesnt, but after all the wonders, evils, triumphs, and defeats I have seen in my time, one thing I have learned above all.
I will tell you my lesson, and I want you to keep it your heart and remember it."
The boy turned to his father and laid down the small wooden sword with which he had been joining the golden-armoured knights of the city in battle against goblins of his imagination.
"The bards do not record the songs of easy victories. The names of those who did what was easy do not ring through every hall and hovel.
For all their magical clothing and strutting about, the shining knights you spoke of do not look so grand as the weary shield-bearer returning not from his conquests of worshiping admirers in the square before the bank, but from the desperate fight, hard won and costing dear, bowed by the humble grey steel which guards his life.
I tell you boy, and remember this well, when you face the darkness and return, your shield will be battered and rent, not gleaming and praised by fools.
Judge a man by the trials of his shield, not the empty reaping of his sword.
That man there is a man who upheld his truths against all odds. That man there was tested by standing his ground even against a swarm seeking to deny him. That man there deserves glory not for the strikes with which he slew or the deeds which he did, but for the shield with which he denied the working of ill.
We are not all strong, we men. We are not all skilled with blade or bow, not all brave or able to stand alone when all seems lost. Not all are true to friend and ally or can remain true when friends are few and assailed.
Yet, for all our weaknesses, each of us, mankind always has had one strength.
If a man can find it in himself to simply stand up and bid 'HALT!' to evil, others will be enboldened to stand beside him. Each time the laughing horde surges towards him and his conviction denies it, mankind is bought a chance.
When conflict rises, and all is chaos of surging voices and hateful blows and doubt and fear and lofted banners, if men can stand for what they believe in truth will always prevail. The battles that are worth fighting, and the ones on which everything depends, are those that are uncertain with all voices crying for you to flee.
Boy, when you sit and watch the people pass in the streets below, watch for men such as that one. Men who know that a shield held firm is not for the protection of himself, but for the protection of the man beside him. The glorious cannot turn the tide but for the rock of the true and steady which halts it's advance.
Look to the shield Son, for no shield held in courage ever returned from battle undented. No man who stands for his truths will never find need to fight.
I know not where that warrior goes as he passes through our great gates, and even I could not always find the courage to stand at his side in times of darkness, but I know this; he is a good man. And a good man is more rare and more valuable than any golden hero with prancing steed and flawless shield."
The boy looked out again across the crowd, as the warrior slowly made his way through the great oak portal of Stormwind.
The light of the day was fading, and the twin gates began to serenely swing closed behind him.
The boy did not notice his father, his one remaining eye bright with memorys, gazing at a torn and faded flap of cloth in a weary pile behind the door, slightly ajar, leading off the balcony back into their small home.
An old and wrinkled peice of cloth. Black, with white dawn rampant.
"Boy, do you see that man there? The warrior with the tabard of a white dawn upon black."
"Yes Father, who is he?"
"There walks a good man."
"He doesn't have the shining magical armour of the knights from the city Father."
"That he doesnt, but after all the wonders, evils, triumphs, and defeats I have seen in my time, one thing I have learned above all.
I will tell you my lesson, and I want you to keep it your heart and remember it."
The boy turned to his father and laid down the small wooden sword with which he had been joining the golden-armoured knights of the city in battle against goblins of his imagination.
"The bards do not record the songs of easy victories. The names of those who did what was easy do not ring through every hall and hovel.
For all their magical clothing and strutting about, the shining knights you spoke of do not look so grand as the weary shield-bearer returning not from his conquests of worshiping admirers in the square before the bank, but from the desperate fight, hard won and costing dear, bowed by the humble grey steel which guards his life.
I tell you boy, and remember this well, when you face the darkness and return, your shield will be battered and rent, not gleaming and praised by fools.
Judge a man by the trials of his shield, not the empty reaping of his sword.
That man there is a man who upheld his truths against all odds. That man there was tested by standing his ground even against a swarm seeking to deny him. That man there deserves glory not for the strikes with which he slew or the deeds which he did, but for the shield with which he denied the working of ill.
We are not all strong, we men. We are not all skilled with blade or bow, not all brave or able to stand alone when all seems lost. Not all are true to friend and ally or can remain true when friends are few and assailed.
Yet, for all our weaknesses, each of us, mankind always has had one strength.
If a man can find it in himself to simply stand up and bid 'HALT!' to evil, others will be enboldened to stand beside him. Each time the laughing horde surges towards him and his conviction denies it, mankind is bought a chance.
When conflict rises, and all is chaos of surging voices and hateful blows and doubt and fear and lofted banners, if men can stand for what they believe in truth will always prevail. The battles that are worth fighting, and the ones on which everything depends, are those that are uncertain with all voices crying for you to flee.
Boy, when you sit and watch the people pass in the streets below, watch for men such as that one. Men who know that a shield held firm is not for the protection of himself, but for the protection of the man beside him. The glorious cannot turn the tide but for the rock of the true and steady which halts it's advance.
Look to the shield Son, for no shield held in courage ever returned from battle undented. No man who stands for his truths will never find need to fight.
I know not where that warrior goes as he passes through our great gates, and even I could not always find the courage to stand at his side in times of darkness, but I know this; he is a good man. And a good man is more rare and more valuable than any golden hero with prancing steed and flawless shield."
The boy looked out again across the crowd, as the warrior slowly made his way through the great oak portal of Stormwind.
The light of the day was fading, and the twin gates began to serenely swing closed behind him.
The boy did not notice his father, his one remaining eye bright with memorys, gazing at a torn and faded flap of cloth in a weary pile behind the door, slightly ajar, leading off the balcony back into their small home.
An old and wrinkled peice of cloth. Black, with white dawn rampant.