The Forest

I was hunting in the forest when a great light blinded me. Lo, a divine herald stood in my path. I fell back in fear.
“Do not be afraid. I bear joyous news. You may bring salvation to your countrymen. Will you meet this task?”
I trembled.
“I am no one. I cannot.”
“Very well.”
And the herald left.

The seasons turned; war loomed. My hunting bow was needed, and I gave it.
We met our adversaries on the open field, I with the other archers. I was afraid.
But I looked to the one who led us. A bastard of no name. One oft-ridiculed as having no past or future. Yet, there he was at the head through skill and valor. I was encouraged.
The bastard led the charge at full gallop. I saw our adversaries train arrows on our commander. A fire burned within me.
*Twang, twang, twang*
Opposing archers fell with each draw of my bow, no match for a lifetime of hunting in the forest. None would touch my lord.

Today, I stand before his crypt. A bastard no more. But a hero, the savior of the land.
My crippled leg twinges. I lean on my walking staff for relief. I weep.
“Why do you cry?”
I turn and behold the divine herald from all those years ago.
“Your commander is in paradise.”
“I do not weep for him. I weep for me. Now I realize I squandered my chance to be someone in this world. Out of fear, I rejected your call that day. I clung to my dim, unremarkable forest. Now I am a broken man with no past and no future.”
The herald extends a hand to me.
“Come with me.”
I do not fall back this time.
Suddenly, we stand over the kingdom in its entirety. I can see leagues upon leagues as well as a scroll in my hands.
“What do you see?”
I see a great harvest in the fields. Huge flocks graze on lush pastures. I see children at play with no cares. I see new husbands building houses for their brides, confident they will stand for years to come. I see peace. I see joy.
“I see the salvation brought by the hero.”
“Yes. That hero could have been you — ”
“Why do you needle me? I am already reduced to nothing.”
“When called again, you answered. You left the comfort of your forest and lent your bow. Your part was small, and forgotten. But even now songs are sung in your honor in paradise.”

Then we stand in a great hall. Bright, loud, joyous. The board strains under the weight of spit-roasts, fruits and vegetables, fresh-baked bread, soups and stews.
And I hear someone roar my name.
“Gideon!”
Lo, it is the hero, my commander, my lord who I had never once spoken.
“Come! And be known!”