Begining

From the traveling journal of Jason Temricks, Steward of Trainees under King Leaon II

I'll write this story like I don't know how it ends. I could save you the shock and tell you now. But then how will you understand what a horrible loss we have suffered. If you look around you now the world you see if a little less bright a little less kind and a little less friendly because of our loss. They could have had the truest of loves, the purest; but alas that fate has failed this world. Perhaps their hearts shall join in the next?

They met when she was twelve and he a little older. She was a pretty enough girl all girls are at that age, and him, he was said to be well enough. They were firm friends for years and as those years came along he became a young man worth the sighs of all the ladies young and old. But the pretty girl grew up into a pretty young woman, no different from the others around, she didn't gain beauty in age nor grace. She simply grew up. But that didn't stop him loving her, nor she him. But neither knew, and both would swear never to tell the other or anyone else.
They had lived in their little village their whole lives, the best of friends and most faithful hearts, that any man woman or child who passed them could see. I know little of their childhood except that it was like any other. Without a great tale, no that starts soon for these two, and with only a few great evens to mark the passing a year. One of which is the coming on the army men for new recruits. You see their nation, where this story begins and ends, is quite rich and well populated but at war with its neighbor for generations now.
Which begins to tell its toll on the people as more and younger men leave to fight the noble fight, but far fewer come home. It was one fine day in spring as I recall when the young man walked tall and proud to the recruitment tent to state his name age and willingness to fight. I remember it well, although I had traveled recruiting for the last year before I met him and the faces and names blurred a bit I must admit.
Jacob Aaronson. Eighteen. And ready to give his life for our country. He was a striking lad to look at, tall broad shouldered hair golden like straw, face kinder than a priest's I must say but that smile, I could swear it came from the devil himself. It was a smile of a man knowing what he was doing and where he wanted to go. Later he would tell me, "Many of my village friends said it was folly to fight in this war just to die, but I know the joke," with a wink too the cheeky boy! "Get the other bloke before he gets you. Then its glory and riches and all the girls we could want."
"Glory, riches and girls lad? Is that what you're after? I doubt you'll find any after this war."
He sighed then a small sad smile touched his lips, "oh aye none of that to be found when I go of marching I'm sure. But when I return home I'm hoping to find her there."
I heard just one other word from him that night as I got up to stir the pot on the fire. I wasn't sure when I heard it but now I am, "Aya"

Only looking back knowing who she was can I put a name to a face. And what a face, pretty not amazing in its beauty, but the expression stuck in my mind. The torment and sadness I had seen before on the mothers and wives with men leaving with us but her sadness, no not that too vague a word, the pure sorrow of loss. She knew something we didn't that day, but later I found out, that day she had asked him to stay.

The boy joined our glory filled army. Fitted right in made friends and trained as hard as any of them, harder than some, not that its always enough training to keep them alive. Now for who I am I think, to say how I know all this. I am the steward of the trainees. After a cut in my leg went bad I could no longer fight with dignity. But I could train these children to hold their heads high and make their enemies cower. Most times I'm called Steward, I had a name before the war but I won't use it until it's over.
I trained the boy, knew he would go far with his determination. Hearing him speak I could almost see him winning this thing by himself. It was a few months into training that he confessed something to me.
"Steward," he said eyes on the cook fire. "Have you ever cared for someone so much just thinking of ways to keep them safe drove you crazy? Knowing you could never be the one to make them happy?"
Fool I was I nodded like I understood the lad, thinking I did. "'course lad, unrequited love that's what it's a called. Truly sad thing. Did you confess to the girl? Get turned down? That why you're here?" I tried to be kind but it's a popular story, the suicide mission of joining the army. A bitter taste it leaves knowing there is no one waitin' at home for ye. But he shook his head and I waited.
After a time, probably felt eternity for him, he says to me:
"I have courage enough to run away to where I might die, but no not enough to confess. I knew for years maybe a lifetime that I loved her, but its only now that there are miles between us that I can say the words." His breath shuddered as if a demon was riding his back. "I love her; I have for years upon years. Perhaps I am in need of a doctor. I fear the coming battles less than never seeing her again. I fear rejection more than the blood fighting and deaths to come. I am a poor excuse of a man."
His self doubt shocked me, then I remembered, when I was his age a girls scorn was the worlds end. "its natural lad, every man feels that way. But tell me, is the only reason your fighting this war so you can run from your feelings? We don't need cowards here." I made my voice stern this boy could go far, if he forgets that girl, or so I thought!
"oh no sir!" he looked me full in the face then, a fool he is but an honest fool. "No sir I want to fight for my country. I want to do my best and return home with my head held up high. All this pity wallowing is for naught. She asked me to stay and fool I was never asked and never told. For king and country we will beat those devils back to their pits. And then I can say what needs must be said. Thanks Steward"
He got up then to go to his bedroll. Asleep before I could look away. Made me think though. A girl making him half crazy his age, he'll forget her before a years out, but at least he has a head on his shoulders. Boss was right, bloody idiot he is, boy will go far. Command position if he lasts a year.

Idiot I was, I underestimated him. Trained him hard; saw the smile laugh and fierce concentration. He and the other forty odd lads can't remember their blasted names even now. Three and half months of winter that was their training I didn't hear anything more on it. Until that last day, they was to set out with their commander two weeks in the slushy end o' winter world to get to front lines before the fighting starts and I to starts another round a recruiting, he just smiled his cheeky devils smile.
"Steward, we'll beat these buggers then I'll come back. I'll find her and I'll tell her. Mark my words."
And damn the boy I believed him.

I saw her eyes when we opened the mail bag in the village, the look of helpless need half covered by the bored expression she wore. Bright eyes they were, flashing at my face startled when her name was called before greedily turning to the short missive. She read, re-read than sighed and muttered to herself. The first flash of her fierce personality I saw.
"Idiot," she muttered. "Idiot. Idiot! "

Dearest Aya,
No I'm not an idiot. I know not many people survive the war but I will prove myself worthy of you.
Again I'm not being an idiot. And I will return to you. So please wait for me.
I know you will take this hard but you're strong.
Always yours,
Jacob, your idiot.
P.S don't do anything  stupid