Warning: Long Post

Hi!
I haven't blogged for a while, but this post will be a long one.

First of all, I wrote something.
Intro: In most books or movies that contain war or some kind of battle, there are those guys that die all the time and nobody cares. You know, that warrior who gets killed by the main character, that guard who is killed for no reason, that extremely minor character you probably won't remember after you're done with the book/movie? I wondered what it would be like to see things from their perspective, so I wrote the following. It's the same scene I wrote with Edmund, Ellyn and Eldwin, but from an archers view.

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It’s another day at the fortress.
I’m sitting next to some other soldiers, bow in hand, checking my quiver and asking for spare arrows. No one cares, no one looks, all their arrows are too precious to them.
I must agree. “Big day it is today, indeed! Indeed!” as William said, “You will be our victory, your bows will! Use every arrow with care and the skill you posses!”
He doesn’t believe a word of it, I can tell. He just says it to fool the idiots. I’m not one of them, I know what’s happening here. William is not here now, I don’t know where the sneaky man is. Maybe he’ll appear mysteriously behind those two archers, they’re talking about him now.
So I sit there, practice pulling the string without an arrow, maybe say a word to the others. They’re nervous, I’m nervous. Nobody confesses though.
Some young man sits next to me. He’s too young to be in the army. He glances at me, then back to his bow. His eyes are dark, thoughtful, sad. He’s tired.
“Kid,” I say, “how old are you?”
He lifts his head up from his gloom and looks at me in the eye.
“Fifteen.”
“Go home.”
“No.”
“Why are you here, kid?”
He doesn’t answer. He looks back down to his worn out boots. We’re silent for what seems to be an hour. Then William rushes in, his back straight. His posture, the way he lifts his chin, ticks me off, really. Thinks he’s the king of us all, but when the dragon riders talk to him he just squeals and sweats and tries to please them, but he’s just a tool to them. Often he tells us about how the riders love him and he’s their greatest helper, but that just proves he’s an idiot too.
“Up to the walkway!” he shouts at us, “It’s time, up up up!! Run, or Sir Edmund will be mad!”
He has an accent when he talks. Dunno what accent though. Whatever it is, it makes it harder to take him seriously.
I’ve went through this many times. So I stand, and follow the line of archers up the stairs. I catch a glimpse of the boy. He has no emotion on his face, which worries me more.
In no time we’re all spread out on the high walkway behind the walls. Two steps between each man. I ready my bow and stare at the distance. It's a bright cloudless day.
Edmund is there, with two dragons—one crimson, one purple with a collar—and two elves. I have no idea what they’re doing. He’s talking to the woman, they’re jogging toward the gate. The other elf with the red dragon seems to hesitate, but follows them slowly afterward.
My eyes are locating weak points in their armor, tiny holes in their mail shirts, parts of their limbs not covered by the metal. No helmets on their heads. An accurate shot and they’re dead. I’m not planning to kill them, no. I’m just used to this. It’s a waste of a good arrow if you shoot at the wrong place.
‘Sir Edmund’ doesn’t even notice us. He’s too busy talking to the elf as they walk past the gates. The elf lifts her head and looks, though. She has this unusual beauty. Our eyes meet for a second, but she doesn’t do anything. Looks away.
This is one of the things I don’t like about my job: the riders. They’re in control, they have power, magic, flames, weapons, respect. Everything I don’t have, and possibly everything I do. Just like William, we’re only tools for them. Rag dolls they can shove on enemy soldiers while they have their battles with other riders up in the air.
I see what they do to armies. They fry them, battalion after battalion, regiment after regiment, squad after squad. It doesn’t matter how many lives they take, they do anything for victory. We don’t mean anything to them. Maybe we even get in their way. We’re flies, they’re vultures, and we’re all attacking the same carcass. Sure, we help, but they get most of the meat.
I don’t think they understand we’re people too. We have lives, maybe we’re not as important but—no, no. We’re important too. A life is a life. It’s value is the same, isn’t it? It feels like they don’t know the value of our lives. We’re not just weapons, we’re men with pasts, presents, and futures.
I have a wife back home. Mary her name is. The riders don’t care about her, no. But we all know the gossip about them. Who fancies who, which dragons mated, everybody knows. But nobody knows about Mary. It’s not that I don’t talk about her, I do.
I don’t know how she is. Don’t know if she’s ill, healthy. I’m not supposed to worry about her.

I hate being here. I really do. Taking those lives I value so much...Looking straight into their eyes when I do so. Hearing men scream, seeing blood, death. I don’t like it.
I don’t know why I’m here. I want to walk away from the battle. At first I used to tell myself: “You’re here for Mary, you’re here for your friends, your village, your country. You’re here to make sure they’re safe.”
Now I realize that was just a lie. I’m only fighting because I’m forced to. Because if I hide at home, they’ll come find me and drag me to the battlefield anyway.

Another thing I hate about this is the sick feeling of satisfaction and pride you get when you successfully kill an enemy. Archery is not like slashing around with a sword, it needs concentration, skill, strength, accuracy, and being able to release the bowstring knowing you’re going to take a life. I used to feel guilty. The feeling stuck to my heart and weighed it down, I had sleepless nights. Now I’m used to it. And I get that ‘sick feeling of satisfaction’. Because I have hit my target, shot it down. Sometimes they’re not anything more than moving targets.

I think too much. I think way too much. They don’t want that. “Sir Edmund will get mad, oh jolly dragon ears what will we do!?” William. Edmund. The elves. They don’t want us to think. They prefer us as mindless warriors who know nothing but to kill. They act so blindly.

William runs up. He fixes his cloak and flicks his hair. I wonder what he’s going to say now. Maybe he’ll give another speech about how great Edmund is. He clears his throat and puts his hand on his sword.
“Sir Edmund has ordered you to get ready: they are coming.” he shouts.
So we do. I ready an arrow and look at the horizon. Marching toward us is an army—a humongous one—carrying the banners of the King of the East. Behind us I hear the roars of the three present dragons, like a war horn. Floating above are more dragons. I nod shortly at the two archers next to me.
It’s another day at the fortress. Another day of pain, risks, blood, death. Some survive, some don’t.
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Yes, that's it. I feel like I took a risk while writing this. I don't know how a soldier at that time period would feel, I just wrote down what I imagined he would. And I must say I like this character. I like this piece. I used the present tense because I felt like he should explain the moment and everything that he feels now, because that's what matters most to him. It's not the past he cares about, it's not the future either (he might not have one). He lives now.
Also I used basic words because I didn't think he would know that much.
I want to write more, but I'll do that tomorrow.

Again acknowledgements: Thanks to all my friends who read this piece and told me their opinion on it or edited it.

What have I been up to lately? Thursday I went to the dentist who changed the wire on my braces and it still hurts and I have trouble eating. Also I'm not allowed to do sports for a while because of my foot. I'm sad about this because I really miss horse riding and football.

Friday, science fair. It was very fun, I think it was the best science fair I've participated in. We ran around, gave people radioactivity stickers, judged other peoples projects and more. Sometimes I saw a radioactivity hazard sign on students' backs. This meant they had visited our poster!

Saturday I was lazy. Sunday I was also lazy. But that's what I do in holidays: I sleep, draw, write, read, chat.

I've visited some friends, and I'm having a wonderful break. This usually doesn't happen and I end up being...in a bad mood? I'm enjoying this holiday although bad things about my foot keep happening.

I finished a book my friend had let me borrow a long time ago. It's named Candor. I think it's a must-read. The end was just—GGFDGSRSGHGBBDVSRUTIYUHHHHV. I mean I liked the end, but it was just so very sad. I actually got that 'sinking heart' feeling I get when I'm upset.

Now I'm going to finish Inheritance (And it's really bothering me because the author keeps switching perspectives when an extremely important event is occurring. Sure, I care about the army trying to take over a city, but I care more about the scene I've been waiting 600+ pages for, you know.) and then continue reading my book tower, starting with the Alchemist.

I ordered comics and I'm very excited about them! I hope DC hasn't ruined these guys as much as I think they did!
They are not even going to mention my favorite comic character because 'it might confuse new readers'. I don't care, I was a new reader last year and it didn't confuse me. Some new costume designs are just horrible, but some are amazing. The art is amazing too, I can't wait to read every single one I get.

I hope everybody is having a wonderful holiday!