Crossing the Bridge.

         There stood a stone bridge, carved and built of marble stone, it stood over a narrow yet deep river. The lands surrounding it were green and pleasant. A thick, young forest surrounding it with many meadows and small, green grasslands abound, though, the bridge and it's road were worn and underused. The land though clean and lush was wild and untamed. But there was one soul who always stood in this wilderness and upon that white, shining bridge. A warrior, by his looks, sitting down upon a stone chair at the eastern part of the bridge. His head was covered by a skull cap helm of steel. His face was old and a large silken beard hang from his face, past the mail coif which he wore. The warrior's eyes were a bright blue and he wore a thick hauberk of mail, covered over with a leather jerkin. The warrior's legging were of mail as well but with greaves and thigh plates of steel. At his side there stood at his left a Bastard sword against the stone chair and upon his right standing against the stone rail of bridge there was his shield. A heater shape the shield was large enough to protect the man's torso.

         But there was another soul in that scene, walking upon the unused path, a young man came close to the marble bridge. He was very young in the old warrior's eyes. Standing tall the young man's face was shaven and his hair was black and cut short. He wore a short sleeved shirt of mail with his leather gambeson showing full sleeved across his arms. He wore leather pants with the mail of his shirt covering his thighs. Upon his left thigh he sported an arming sword and on his back a small heater shield. The young man approached the aged warrior challenging.

         "Elder" he called, standing a few feet from the watcher of this bridge whose eyes glared unending at the young man. "Who are you? And why do you watch over this bridge?" "Is there not some school worthy of your decrepit knowledge? Or young son needing of your handling?"

         "What is your goal?" the old warrior asked, his eyes stuck firm in their crooked stare.

         "My goal?" the young man said, surprised. "My goal is to cross this bridge and head to Viretin."

         "Pay toll and you can go." the old man said.

         "Toll you say?" "Well I suppose delighting in your fantasy would be no issue, how much is your toll?"

         "No wealth will do, only rations of food and water."

         "Well my rations are spare and I am in hurry if I wish not to starve already." the young man answered, his face seeming queer with surprise. "Are you sure you will not take coin instead?"

         "No, what is coin worth to a man who cannot spend it?" said the old warrior.

         "I see your point but what is keeping you from leaving this bridge? Why do you toll it? And why are you afraid of letting one go by without toll?" The old warrior only stared silently at the young man, not speaking word. Sighing the young man said, "Well if you won't indulge me with reason then I'll have no choice but to go across without your consent."

         "No." the old warrior said, lifting up his stony head. "You cannot cross this bridge . . . no one can."

         "Now see hear you decrepit fool, you have no right to deny me passage. This bridge is of stone, stone of the earth and you have no say who can and who cannot cross it." yelled the young man, stomping towards the elderly warrior.

         The warrior laughed as the young man threatened him, bearing his fist against him. "I was just like you at your age, thinking all the world was mine." said the warrior. "Thinking that I could get away with any crime, any action, but I was wrong and because of it I am here."

         The young man sighed as he lowered his raised fist, "Indulge me then, how fate led to your guardianship of this bridge."

         "I was young then, very young." the old warrior started. "The morning of that day had been long and I had been running through the wooded paths. The night before I wounded a man for the killing of my horse, in the castle town of Ermen. The lord of the castle did not see the justice in my actions and so he sent his guards after me. And it was here that I cease my fleeing, when I met the guardian of the bridge. The man was a giant, three heads taller than me, he wore a great suit of mail and plate and carried in hand a large war sword. He stopped me when I came close to his bridge.

         "'Stop!' he said to me, 'Dare you not cross this bridge, lest you wish for death and shadow pass over you.'

         "'Who are you to stop me? I need to cross or else death will come inevitably.' I answered him. But he stood there stern, unyielding against my urgency. And in my hurry I gripped the leather hilt of my sword and readied my shield arm, as he then did the same we stood at a deadlock. But it was I who made the first move, charging him I tried to thrust forward my blade into his left side, but his great sword swung upward at me and I found my self stunned as its force beat back my shield. My chest lay open to any of his blows, but I found my strength kindled as his sword came down upon me. I gritted my sword's edge against his using my shield as support to hold off his great strength.

         "Without doubt the fight between us seemed to last an eternity and my spirit grew tired as the guardian and I trade blows with our swords. I will spare details, however, but near the end when the warrior had made rightward swing with his sword, I dodged its edge and I lounged at him. My sword piercing through the mail and plate of his armored chest, and there he stumbled upon his legs, blood flowing out from his deep wound. But in his stumbling the warrior fell against the railing of the bridge, dying finally from his mortal wound. And there I stood the man at my feet, but behind I heard in a flurry of armored feet stomping. So there I was, the bridge that I stand upon became the end of my journey. It was here that I fought them off, the Lord's guards, as the new guardian of this bridge."

         The warrior sighed as he finished his tale, his eyes seemed fresh with some warm feeling. "I can't let you go across, without toll." he said. "Since the first guard had made toll, no one shall ever go across without it, for where would the justice be, if one was exempt from the same demand."

         "I understand, but I still need to cross this bridge." the young man said. "But I suppose your point is worth the toll, here take what you need." he said, as he handed his bag of rations to the warrior.

         The warrior seeing the little contents of the bag, smiled and said, "No, you've proved yourself a virtuous man, you can go." The young man only looked across the bridge when hearing the aged warrior, and as he left he left behind a ration of his food for the warrior who seemed only to smile and stare at the gift.