Balsam Essay Research Paper Paco the Cow free essay sample

Balsam Essay, Research Paper Paco the Cow Balsam A zephyr, and with it the aroma of balsam, caressed him as he stood in the room access of the dance hall. The big chamber was decorated like a hall of the crop, sprinkled with gay furnishings and Garlands of autumn flowers. To the left, several instrumentalists prepared for the dark # 8217 ; s revelry, set uping their chairs and tuning their instruments ; playing lively small melodies to the empty hall and the flowers. A group of tabular arraies stood clustered to the right ; empty now, but the eventide would happen them overruning with nutrient and drink. At the far terminal of the hall, a fountain murmured. Water flowed from the hurlers of three maidens, each as lovely of face and figure as had of all time been captured by creative person # 8217 ; s coppice or sculpturer # 8217 ; s chisel. And the odor of flowers drifted by him. The flowers of the crop. The flowers of life. Life. That was what would be celebrated here tonight. Life in all of its glorification, all of its admiration, all of its beauty. Music would play, terpsichoreans would twirl, people would express joy and love and populate. It was what these ornaments were all about. Life. The adult male turned from the room access, eyes cast downward. # 8220 ; # 8216 ; Life, # 8221 ; he thought, # 8220 ; a jubilation of beauty and joy ; a gift given us by the gods. # 8217 ; # 8221 ; He remembered the words that he had been taught as a kid, non so many old ages ago. And the memory made him sad. Subsequently, as the instrumentalists played and the terpsichoreans spun, the adult male stood entirely, expressionless, in his little room. From there he could hear the music floating on the eventide zephyr. In his head # 8217 ; s oculus he could see the terpsichoreans in their graceful motions. He could hear them and he could see them, but he could non experience with them. The jubilation of life was lost to him ; as though life itself had been lost to him. In one of his custodies he held a little piece of parchment, severely creased and tattered ; in the other, a little circlet of braided hair. These two pieces of his yesteryear were more cherished to him than any other ownership, yet at this minute, his hurting bosom wished that these gifts, and the attach toing memories, would disappear. He brought the circlet to his face, and with it he caressed his cheek. Through the odor of leather and fume and perspiration, he could still smell a intimation of balsam, her favourite aroma. O r did he merely conceive of it? He closed his eyes and a tear fell onto the ring of memories. His head drifted to his experience with, in the sentiment of several of the stable male childs, the wisest adult male in Caemlyn. He had gone to inquire if there were any manner to bury the yesteryear. Alternatively of an reply, the sage made several unusual petitions. One was that he was to see frequently with slate and chalk. It was obvious that the sage wished to learn, though the topic was a enigma. Besides, the sage requested that the young person attend the triumph jubilation tonight. That was one petition that would hold to travel unrealized. He thought back to the twenty-four hours when the ground forces had ridden into the metropolis. He felt expansive, proud and dignified. He rode merely behind his knight, Sir Rand, but in his head he imagined that the cheers were for him entirely. The people cheered for the return of the work forces, and for the stoping of the war every bit good. It had been acrimonious and dearly-won matter, and many of the work forces who had ridden from the Gatess of this metropolis in the past months would neer return. He looked into the faces of the people in the crowd. Those drawn and Haggard faces belonged to people who had been starved and beaten and besieged. Yet he saw merely their expressions of grasp and awe. To him, this was a glorious clip ; to them, a clip of alleviation, of weary Thanksgiving for the terminal to the lunacy. Looking back on it now, he remembered what he hadn # 8217 ; t noticed before ; and he understood. He drifted back even further. He thought of the conflicts, the decease, the hurting that he had seen. He had witnessed the best and the worst of world ; the award and bravery on one side, and the inhuman treatment and the savageness on the other. He remembered with disgusting color his first scrimmage, seeing his enemy autumn before him with a call. He remembered his first lesions ; the hurting, the fright, the acrimonious letdown with himself. It seemed that he could retrieve much about the war, but really small of it was pleasant. Except for the missive and the plait. He carefully unfolded the parchment, creased and worn from many months of managing. He had taught himself to read all of the words, so he wouldn # 8217 ; t need person else to read it for him. Now, he re-read the words that he could hold spoken from memory. # 8216 ; Please forgive my female parent for stating those awful things. We have spoken long about this, and I understand her fright. My male parent was a member of the reserves. He died at Tar Valon. # 8217 ; # 8220 ; Yes. The conflict at Tar Valon was a bloody mob from which really few of the enemy soldiers escaped with their lives. It was one of the worst lickings of the war # 8212 ; and one which would non shortly be forgotten by the many married womans and kids who lost hubbies and male parents in that massacre. # 8221 ; # 8216 ; My female parent didn # 8217 ; T want me to cognize the same hurting that she had known. # 8217 ; # 8220 ; How good I can understand her sentiments. My male parent besides died in this war ; as did my sister. Yes, I think I know something of the hurting that she spoke of. # 8221 ; # 8216 ; She said # 8220 ; I will non hold my girl marry a warrior # 8221 ; , but I asked her if she would maintain her girl from get marrieding a knight! # 8217 ; # 8220 ; Oh immature and guiltless kid! There is merely one difference between the two. The knight must contend edge by regulations and codifications every bit good as armour and shield, while the warrior has merely his arm and his bravery. They both fight with choler and rage and panic and hurting. They both hear the sounds and smell the odors and savor the gustatory sensations of fright and horror. They both bleed. And they both die. # 8221 ; # 8216 ; You will be a knight someday, Dakkon. This I know in my bosom. When you return, I will get married you, with or without my female parent # 8217 ; s approval! # 8217 ; # 8220 ; Would you still wish to get married me now, dear miss? I have changed. I have become sad and cold. I have become a slayer of work forces whose merely mistake was to be born on the incorrect side of some fanciful line which divides two states. They fought because they were told to contend, and they died because I knew that, if they did non, I would. Sometimes, when I think about it, I loathe myself. # 8221 ; # 8216 ; I wait for thee. Be safe and be well. # 8217 ; # 8220 ; But you didn # 8217 ; t wait. I did as you asked # 8212 ; I stayed every bit safe as I could, although there were many yearss when I faced the incorrect terminal of a blade. I stayed every bit good as I was able, although I was sickened by the sights and sounds and odors of decease and conflict. But you didn’t wait. I came back to you, for you, but you didn # 8217 ; t delay for me. Why! ? WHY DIDN # 8217 ; T YOU WAIT FOR ME! ? WHY DID YOU HAVE TO DIE BEFORE I GOT BACK? ! ! The sounds of his bust uping shortness of breaths carried to the window, where they mingled with the music from the feast hall. Tired and weak from shouting, he staggered from the room and into the street. He ran from the happy music, which haunted him like a ghost. He fled blindly, non cognizing or caring where he went. He slowed as he approached the docks. Few ships were docked at that place, for most of the wharfs were charred or smashed. One ship which was docked at that place, the SPRAY, was losing an full mast and a spar. Its railing was losing in topographic points, and, near the dorsum, a agape hole was torn in her side. The war had touched the docks. He walked on. He came to a subdivision of the metropolis which had been the scene of intense combat. Work force had fought from house to house. Alleys were won and held and lost once more. Buildings became aims to make, value to be won, ends to be paid for in blood. Here, a broken shield lay discarded in an back street ; at that place, portion of a mail shirt colored by the brown discoloration of dried blood. He stopped before a edifice which was familiar. Once upon a clip, kids had met here at dark and told dark narratives by candle flame. Now the door had been torn from its flexible joints, and in several topographic points, blade dents and blood spots marked the passing of recent events. The war had touched here, excessively. He moved on. Suddenly, he knew where his pess were taking him. Turning the corner, he saw the room access from which a adult female had one time called to him, stating him non to be afraid. Within the walls of that house, he had eaten a repast, spoken of himself to a alien, and proposed matrimony to the adult female that he loved. Now the room access, the walls, all of it was charred and blackened. For blocks, from here to the border of the metropolis, a great fire had swept. It was said that thaumaturgy had moved the fire along ; and that the enemies had hoped to utilize the fire, and the pandemonium that it caused, to brush deeper into the metropolis. The metropolis had been miraculously spared entire devastation by a capricious rain squall, but non until an full one-fourth of the metropolis had been ravaged. Not many people were in their houses, they had fled to the support for safety ; but many more were lost to the hell. And she was one of them. He walked easy toward the room access, its blackened frame waving to him. His bosom rebelled, shouting in panic to fly, to halt, to make anything but walk through that portal. His head, nevertheless, had to see, had to cognize for certain that his eyes saw the truth. He hesitated at the threshold, so stepped indoors. A hole in the roof allowed moonlight to come in, projecting unusual shadows in the somberness. The devastation was complete. The walls were shattered and broken, the furniture was ashes. With his pes, he toyed with a heap of ash in a room where repasts had one time been served. A little cloud of dust rose, so settled rapidly, or disappeared into the unlighted corners of the room. Another room, and more hemorrhoids of ash and broken memories. He walked to the dorsum of the little house. Here the full roof had collapsed, go forthing ghostly half-walls indicating jaggy fingers at the Moon. It was impossible to state what this room had held. Possibly it had been a sleeping r oom. What dreams had been dreamt here? What plans had been made, so refashion, so discarded. Had this been her room? Had she slept here? Did she decease here? He sat down and leaned his tired organic structure against an unsteady wall. He had been angry, but that had passed. He had cried the acrimonious cryings of bereavement, but they, excessively, had dried and disappeared. He looked with unhappiness at the Moon, reflecting its visible radiation on the bare scene. He found that he was keeping her plait of hair in his custodies, fondling it. He held it to his face, seeking to one time once more smell the odor that reminded him of her. Be it at that place? After their entryway into the metropolis, he had found her female parent among the multitudes. He looked at her face, into her eyes, and at one time knew that his love was gone. For what he saw in that sad adult female # 8217 ; s eyes was the same vile emptiness that he felt when he held his sister # 8217 ; s interrupt organic structure in his weaponries. # 8220 ; She is missing. # 8221 ; she had said, # 8220 ; I haven # 8217 ; t seen her since the fire. I # 8217 ; ve looked and looked, but she merely isn # 8217 ; t here. # 8221 ; He didn # 8217 ; t believe her so, and had searched for her himself, for yearss on terminal. He neglected his responsibilities as a squire, but Rand didn # 8217 ; t need him much these yearss, busy as he was with other things. Finally, Rand had confronted him and made him confront the truth. # 8220 ; Death is a portion of life that we can non avoid. # 8221 ; Rand was evidently talking from experience, since deep within his voice was a compassio n and a understanding born merely of intense, devouring sorrow. # 8220 ; You must confront it now as you faced it in conflict, with bravery and strength. # 8221 ; His bravery had lasted until he had reached his room, so he fell upon his bed and wept in torment. That had been yearss ago. He rose and wiped the ash from his pants. # 8220 ; It is clip to walk from the yesteryear into the hereafter. I must allow you travel, my love. I must accept the truth and walk on. # 8221 ; He turned and walked from the house, a concluding tear wetting his cheek. He gently placed the braided circlet back in the pouch where he had carried it for so many months. And he walked ; past the house where they had listened to narratives, past the streets where they had walked in the moonshine, past the docks where they had met. Again he could hear weak strains of music, the jubilation was still traveling on. He entered the support and strode rapidly to his room. He changed his apparels, brushed his hair, and pulled on his good boots. Then he turned and left once more, merely this clip he walked toward the music. He entered the hall and was about overwhelmed by the crush of people. He could see that the terpsichoreans were busying most of the floor, and what was left was taken up by people eating and imbibing and speaking and express joying. He searched carefully, and eventually found Sir Rand standing near the fountain. He worked his manner onto the dance floor, which was merely somewhat less crowded than the remainder of the hall. Sir Rand saw him coming, and smiled. # 8220 ; I am pleased that you decided to fall in us. # 8221 ; The knight # 8217 ; s voice was soft and soft, and in his eyes was the visible radiation of apprehension. He said nil, but walked alternatively to the fountain, whose quiet murmurs were hardly hearable above the music and revelry behind him. He gazed into the H2O, take a breathing deeply of the mingled aromas of the flowers that floated within. Behind the fountain hung boughs of balsam. He breathed, and for the first clip in yearss, felt a peace which had eluded him.