The orcs noticed my attempts to quench the fires they'd set in the vineyards. As I slew one, he shouted as he died, "The grapes were VERY TASTY!" I stopped for a moment, frozen in my tracks. I had slain every orc that I could find in the vineyard. Were my actions already being bandied about by the orcs? Was I, as they say, the talk of the town? Surely not. Although I have felt and heeded the personal call from God to take up arms in His name and proceeded to learn and train so that I might eventually rid this land of vile orcs, I had not felt that my actions really warranted such inspection on the part of the orcs.
I could, however, be making a mountain of a molehill. Perhaps, accustomed to brutish food as he no doubt was, this orc had simply wanted to exclaim about a recent moment of joy in his life as his soul departed this world. Should I have taken a lesson from that? When was the last time that, instead of wolfing my food down so that I could more quickly return to my duty, I sat back for a moment and simply let myself enjoy the delicate flavors playing over my tongue?
What will my dying words be? Will I exclaim over what I could have done, what I should have done? Will I be happy, complacent, at peace? Will I speak of friends or loved ones or journeys made or tasks left undone? Perhaps this orc was wiser than I. Then again, perhaps he was simply a muttonhead who loved grapes. I must ponder this as I continue my journey.
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