Defender of the Light

There are times I wonder what good I’m really doing.  I’m supposed to be a defender of the Light, bringing its wisdom, mercy, even justice to all those.  I seem to be failing more often than not.

I was in Darnassus today, visiting with “uncle” Fizzletink who was there on other business, and he gave me some truly ingenious pet squirrels that he built.  They’re wonders of Gnome mechanics, really.  After we parted, I walked around Darnassus and found myself near the large stone arch that serves as a gateway of sorts, marking the boundry between Darnassus and the rest of Teldrassil.

I was walking along, playing with one of the squirrels, when I heard this deep, emotionally powerful song.  After a few moments, I realized it was coming from above me.  Hurriedly I searched around for a way up, and it was Fizz, my squirrel, which found the stairs.  We went up, and met the woman who was singing.  It was the Night Elf who I had previously seen in Stormwind.  The same Darnassian who had threatened Arthy.

I took the Light-given opportunity to express my apologies for my earlier actions (suffice to say, I made a fool of myself), and for not trying to get her side.  There are always numerous sides to any story; that’s something they teach when you first sign up, so it’s rather basic.  I still forgot it.  We talked–and argued–for hours.  I tried to show her that Arthy–and herself, for that matter–weren’t mere machines of flesh, without purpose or reason.  I tried to show her that everything and everyone in the Light was cared for, even those wrapped in Shadow.

We spoke of decisions made, terribly hard ones.  She told me that when Arthas fell from power, she simply stood by–but that is an act, too.  That was a decision made, based on judging the situation, based on faith, of a kind.  Had she stepped up to defend Arthas, well, the outcome probably would have been no different, but that still wasn’t a given.  Like all of us, she saw what was going on around her and made a decision to act (or, technically, not act) based on what she believed.  I think she started to see what I was trying to say.

Of course, all of this wouldn’t be necessary–if I had been a true Knight of the Silver Hand.  Paladins are supposed to be strong, of character as well as arm, who reserve judgement until all the sides are taken into consideration.  I–was blinded, really.  I have thought, and prayed, long and hard about this.  It–seems like I’m my own worst enemy, of late.  I’ve had to swallow my words more often than I’d like to admit, and I’ll probably have to do so again rather soon.

I think I need to speak with Arthy, to get his side.  He apparently split up from Darnassiana, the woman he called his “sort’a-wife”.  I don’t know what I’ll tell him; I’m not going to plan ahead, this time.  No, now I will simply try to enter into it with an open heart, and a sincere desire for nothing but the Light’s blessings for him.

All I can do, I think, is talk with him and see what’s in his heart.  I didn’t want to tell Darnassiana this, but as potentially painful as his apparently wanting nothing more to do with him is for both of them–it proves he’s not quite the child she thought he was, and even that aside, he’s taking his steps away from the tainted and tarnished reputation of his vile armor.  He’s making decisions for himself, struggling onto his own path.

And that little man’s been teaching me a thing or two as he goes.  He has a bright, warm soul–brighter than mine.  I realized this, recently.  Yes, he may have some child-like attributes, but that’s not a truly bad thing.  He has a sense of hope and faith about him that’s so deep within him, so intrinsic and pure–I am almost jealous.  At times, I am jealous.

Ever since the Death Knights were accepted back into Stormwind, they have been nothing but abused, insulted, the target of derisive laughter and ridicule.  As a Paladin, I look not too dissimilar from the very city guards who throw food and the like at them–yet it was me Arthy came to that day.  It was me, of all people, he came to and spoke with.  Someone who looked like his tormentors–but his heart refused to let him shy away.  I don’t know if he even wanted to shy away, but–I really can’t imagine it being easy, to do what he did.

He once described to me horrific abuse suffered at the hands of Darnassiana–but he also kept going back to her.  I don’t understand that.  But, by that same token, I don’t understand how he could have seen me, someone who looked and talked like the very city guard who despised and reviled him, and thought it would be a good idea to talk to me.  He still did.  He–saw something good in me, something that, in a moment of true honesty, I don’t know if I can see, and reacted to it.  He sees something good in Darnassiana, too.  I don’t know what it is, but I don’t have to.  Arthy does, and that is good enough for me.

And now, he has a friend–as does Darnassiana.  They now know someone, maybe not of their own “kind”, but someone who (finally) tries to see them for them, to judge them only on their own merits and weaknesses.  I offered both of them my friendship, and they both took it.  I actually couldn’t be happier, even though I know there will be rough times ahead.  There always are, as friends get to know each other, and these will be rough indeed when you have personalities like ours involved.

Every day, I am blessed to learn and grow.  I am blessed to be taught by those who may not even know they’re teaching–which can make the lessons all the more profound.  I am blessed to have my mistakes (of which there are, sadly, many) not yet cause irreparable harm.  I am blessed because my eyes are opening to the Light anew, as if seeing parts of It I couldn’t before.

I am a Knight of the Holy Order of the Silver Hand, Squire to the Knights of Lordaeron.  I am grateful for these times, as they strengthen me, and, I hope, make me a better servant of the Light, and thus better able to help it shine everywhere.

When I first met Lord Valorsworn, we spoke of Death Knights, and their sacrifice in standing up against the tyrant Lich King Arthas.  Lord Valorsworn had told me that, yes, their existence was anathema to the Light, and, yes, nearly (if not) every single one we met had some personal hand in the slaughter of Lordaeron–but they deserved the mercy and love of the Light no less.  No matter their deeds, and even no matter that they personally stood up against Arthas, they existed, and that was enough to earn them mercy and kindness.

I did not believe him, as I had seen too many families fall to the Dark Knights when I was younger.  I argued against our having anything, at all, to do with the Bringers of Death.  My arguments fell on deaf, though kind, ears.

Today marked the day I was supposed to advance, from Page of the Knights of Lordaeron, to Squire.  I say supposed to because I was asked to have a certain level of experience, both in combat and without, that I had failed to achieve.  I still hurried to the Abbey in Northshire at the appointed time, to take whatever just punishment I was due.  I was asked to do something, and I failed.  I was saddened, but I did not let that dissuade me.

I happened to be passing through Stormwind on an errand, a few hours before the appointed time, when a Gnome Death Knight approached me.  It was–difficult to speak with him.  His armor, the look in his glowing eyes, my own memories–they all conspired to make me fear and, yes, even hate this man that stood before me.  Out of courtesy, I stayed and spoke with him, trying to ignore the stitches that criss-crossed every visible piece of his skin.  I found that he reminded me of old “uncle” Fizzletink, the Gnome who was such a good, dear friend to my family throughout my childhood.

The more we talked, the more I came to feel that this man, who- and whatever he was, did not have the soul for continued hatred and violence.  After a few hours spent merely talking, I found myself inviting him to Northshire for the advancement ceremony.  I–surprised myself.  But to a larger degree, he surprised me.  Not necessarily by being something other than what I had expected, but by making me realize that I had these preconceived notions in the first, and held them so strongly I let myself be blinded by memories, by hate.

We spent many more hours talking, in the Abbey, and the more we did, the more I found myself liking him as a man, as a friend.  I was shamed, then, when I realized the extent of my bias, and I also more fully understood the depth of wisdom in Lord Valosworn’s words that day.

When Lord Valorsworn and Borrodin arrived, I expected to simply stand back and congratulate Borrodin on living up to what was asked of him–but Lord Valorsworn told me that my admission of failure, showing my honesty, and my earnest words of thanks for what he tried to tell me those days ago, showed that I had, in a fashion, earned the title of Squire after all.  To say I was surprised, and pleased, would both be extreme understatements.

Arthy, my Gnome friend, looked on as Borrodin and I were officially made Squires to the Knights of Lordaeron.  He has such a kind heart–even if he doesn’t know it.  After the ceremony, Lord Valorsworn spoke with people who came up to him to ask general questions or to ask to be inducted into the Knights of Lordaeron, and Borrodin, Arthy, and I sat off to the side, talking quietly.

I can only imagine how difficult it was for Borrodin, sitting not three feet from Arthy.  Borrodin’s family was murdered by the Death Knights–but he sat there anyway, and at least tried to make conversation.  That’s more than I would have done even yesterday.

Lord Valorsworn inducted new members into the Order, then departed, along with Borrodin.  Arthy and I stayed and talked some more.  More and more, he showed me what, by rights, I should be showing others–the Light touches us all, and grants us all mercy equally.  We are all–all–worthy of that love.  He showed me this without even knowing it, and that only made it more profound.  Because I refused to accept this, because I refused to grant those who rose against Arthas respect, I did not, then, deserve their respect.

A Darnassian woman came in, and threatened Arthy.  He called her his “sort’a-wife”, though she seemed to be anything but pleasantly disposed toward him.  She threatened him, and told him to meet her later so she could kill him, over some gold she left in his possession.  I found out, a little later, that they were both “made” beings.  They were put together by pieces of others, using the arts of science and magic together.  She was “made” to be his wife, though it would be better to say she wanted to be his widow, if anything.

We spoke at length of love, and what it means, what it offers.  I think, at the end, he realized she didn’t love him.  He spoke of “knowing what he had to do” before rushing off–and I admit I was sad.  I–I actually don’t want him hurt.  I want him whole (or as whole as he gets).  I found that I enjoyed his presence, that speaking with him was like speaking with an old friend, someone who was a symbol of the Light without trying to.  He showed me what friendship was.

I hope he comes back unhurt.  I’ll look for him tomorrow, maybe send a few paid runners around the kingdom.  It would be worth the silver to make sure he’s alright.  As for the Darnassian–if he is hurt, she will soon be as well.  To be a Paladin is to be the Light’s mercy and love, yes.  But that does not mean we never raise our swords and hammers against an enemy.

If she kills or even hurts Arthy, she will be my enemy.

If every day is going to be like today, I don’t know how I’ll get anything done!  I’ve been running around Elwynn Forest, Stormwind, even a few brieft dashes into Westfall and Ironforge.  A Paladin is truly the busy one, I already knew, but today only reinforced that.  While a Warrior may focus on his combat, and a Priest may pore over his books, Knights are out there, all day, every day, speaking with everyone they come across, trying to help make someone’s life better even by just a tiny bit.

What is truly remarkable is when someone goes out of their way to make a Paladin’s day better.  I was speaking with a tailor, pondering purchasing a dress, and the total came to more than I’d expected.  I’d already spent much of my allowance on food, lodging, and such things, and I was standing there, embarrassed–when a kind fellow up and paid the tab for me.  I offered to pay off the debt, but he refused, telling me to not think of it.  Well, as I told him, I would think of it, and repay my debt of honor, even if he didn’t want money.

After that, I’d managed to put my ingenuity to work, and crafted a few items from things I’d had laying around, and sold them to amused vendors (I think they bought the items solely because a human woman tinkering about with things best left to Gnomes amused them, or intrigued them.  Either way, I’m not going to argue), so I’d had enough to purchase another dress, and some extra belt pouches.  I’ve never had a dress before, since I was raised on a farm with boys.  Dresses would only get dirty and in the way; trousers and a hardy shirt worked for all of us; I was no exception.

I was also challenged to two duels today, which I accepted.  The first one I won, though I admit marginally, and the second I lost.  The second one–he was obviously more skilled than I, so it’s no shame to lose to someone genuinely good.  The first battle–it didn’t go on long, thoguh it felt like an hour as everything I’d been taught came back to me and was applied.   Step to the side here, spin in that direction, block with the shield at the same time as thrusting with the hammer.  By the end of it, I was panting and sweating, but we congratulated each other on a fight well fought, then went our separate ways.

I should think I’d still be writing come the dawn if I tried to list everything I’ve done today.  Suffice to say, I hiked through the countryside trying to spread the warmth and love of the Light wherever I went, and never had to roam far before finding someone in need.  Sometimes it was something small, like the young girl who was crying because her doll was broken (a bit of fine thread, a button from my backpack, a few ink marks, and the doll was right as rain), to the Stormwind Guard Captain who sent me to find the fate of his missing men, to a game of cat-and-mouse with members of the Defias Brotherhood who had taken over a camp not far from Goldshire.  It really was a busy day.

And something tells me, all of my days are going to be busy.

The day before yesterday , I received my hammer, my armor, and my blessing of Light. I’ve been living at Northshire Abbey for a while now, ever since moving there to finish my education and become a member of the Order of the Silver Hand, but that day–that was the day. I became a Paladin, a member of a sacred order who holds to truth, justice, virtue.

To say I was proud would, of course, have been an understatement. I couldn’t keep my hammer in my sheathe, as I kept wanting to hold it, a physical token of my hopes and dreams. I just had to hold it, turn it around in my hands.

I was given my first official duty this morning–run a letter to the mailbox in Goldshire.  Oh, I admit to thinking this was rather anti-climactic.  After all, I was a Paladin now!  I was officially a Knight of the Order of the Silver Hand–and Brother Thomas wanted me to run to a mailbox?  Ahh, but I’m glad I did.

I’d heard tales of Lord Ghodfrey Valorsworn, leader of the Knights of Lordaeron, as anyone who hangs around Paladins at the Abbey for any length of time will do–but I never thought I’d ever meet him, much less so soon after being officially inducted.  Yet there he was, arguing with another man about the Light, and about mercy.  This other man, whose name I never learned, seemed to think that a Paladin’s only duty was vengeance, to be nothing but the sword-arm of the Light.  Lord Valorsworn strove to persuade him otherwise, to speak of the Light’s mercy, kindness, compassion, but to no avail.

Some Knights of Ebon strode by, and incited an argument with this man.  It was–unsettling, I admit.  I am still uncomfortable around them, both for how they were created, and how much like a thumb-bite they are to the Holy Order.  They spoke of peace, of the alliance with Stormwind, of their aid given to overthrow Arthas–yet I still remember the looks on the faces of my neighbors, as their families fell to the Scourge–only to get up again, as unholy demons.

Lord Valorsworn counseled me against such rash reactions, and I knew that he was right.  How could I profess the mercy, love, and saving grace of the Light, when I refuse to accept even the Death Knights?  It is not easy, but I hope to come to a point where I can do more than simply fight by their side.  May the Light guide me to this end.

Lord Valorsworn, his right-hand woman Lady Harmona, and I spoke at length.  He asked me what I thought of my duties, and I told him.  He then–well, he offered me a position in his order.  I thought about it, prayed to the Light about it, and had to accept.  So now, I am offically also a Knight of Lordaeron, as well as a Knight of the Holy Order of the Silver Hand.

I’d best end this now, as I’m on break from my kitchen duties.  I was expected back nearly an hour before I actually arrived, and though they understood my reasoning, I still was told to be back promptly, and I wasn’t.  I’m not complaining, though.  Lord Valorsworn and Lady Harmona have shown me such kindness, and–well, my roommates in the Abbey were jealous.  A day of kitchen duty is a small price.