Too afraid to join the fierce fighting, the young one could only gasp in horror as many a tall and mighty warrior fell in the olive green fields. Too weak to swing his sword of solid iron, he could only tremble as they came crashing down all around him.
The young one thought he had chosen wisely. He believed yielding such a heavy and sharp weapon, and by hiding among the brave men and women, that such strategies would save him from the enemy. If not, he figured, by mere intimidation alone that no sword or spear or javelin or dagger from any opposing giant would take his life.
His inclusion into the battle was not one of choice, but came by his duty to the clan in which he was born.
The clan went back thousands and thousands of years. So did the clan that were their mortal enemies. Throughout the centuries, the two warring factions fought over the rich and fertile soil of the olive green fields. For the meat of wild cattle, they went to battle. For the plots of potatoes that grew all about, they went to war with mighty shouts. For the herbs and spices that sprouted everywhere, the life of their enemy was not spared.
Caught up in battle, the young one was paralyzed with fear. Then, as the valiant men and women from both sides continued to fall, he heard a voice coming from the heavens. He wondered how that could be. The noise from the battle was deafening.