Oath-bound
by
Gwendolen
cruffy and dirty, dressed in torn linen and leather, he still manages
to look regal and commanding. I find myself following his orders even
though I rejected him when I first heard his claim. A claim voiced not
by him but in his name.
He swore himself to another, not to the people, the land or the city that are his by right.
How can I want to follow him without betraying my own oaths? I swore to protect my people. Our people. I want to see him in Minas Tirith, not here. See him on the throne even though that will destroy my father.
Why will I accept the destruction of my own family for his sake? For a king who does not want to be king? A king who refuses to see the need of his own people? Who refuses to see my need?
I cannot swear to him. My pride and my duty does not allow it and yet I follow him. Walk with him. Fight at his side. Protect his back as he protects mine. Share his blankets in the quiet hours of the night and I wish dared ask for more.
