The battle was long. Hours of fighting had worn him down and he had only a little strength left. He felt like he could collapse and sleep until the world would end.
"Yeah… that sounds nice." He smirked, with a look of defeat on his face.
It had been a long journey, he made friends, he fought many battles and he was finally here at the end.
"I think… no, I know what I want to do."
He began looking for wood and when he found a satisfying piece he tried to reach out…
"Oh yeah…"
The feeling of a right arm was an illusion, in truth he had lost it in his final fight. He would be in pain if the fatigue didn't dull it's effects.
He decided to make trips, gathering wood, as he walked in the moonlight. Underneath the blooming trees he could only think back on his life as he walked.
"Was this a good life…?"
Memories of his childhood and family filled his mind. The promise he once made now another wound in his soul. He wouldn't be coming back to their smiles.
Once he was finished he began starting the fire. As the flames began licking the wood the memories of his battles and friends came rushing into his mind.
He met so many wonderful people, and overcame so much. A smile slowly formed as the tears were welling up in his tired eyes.
"I did my best I think…"
As he looked down into the visage of the flame he thought of his current situation. He had decided to rest near some old ruins of an older civilization. Moss coating the stone bricks.
He stood up momentarily and walked to where he had dropped it.
"There you are." A smile on his face as his fondness for it was on clear display.
He picked up his broken sword. Clutching it in his left hand. His most trusted friend.
Slowly he made his way back, his pace had slowed considerably. He sat down by his campfire, resting his back on the ruins.
He lifted his broken sword looking at it once more. He then held it close to his chest.
He felt his body becoming heavier. His eyes struggling to stay open. "I guess this is what it feels like…"
Once more he looked up at the moon's calming glow.
"I hope this was a good life"
"I hope… I made you proud…"
"I wish… I… could see… those smiles…"
His whispers became less audible, his breathing slowed and soon he closed his eyes as tears were streaming.
'Even if this is it… I don't want to die.'
And then he smiled before breathing his last breath. A gust of wind blew.
A dead knight, lay next to his campfire, doused in the moon's gentle light, covered in blood, tears drying , his eyes closed and a smile on his face. At peace forever.