Ross' Romance Chapter

Sir Wilhelm limped into the clearing, he hobbled over to a large oak tree and slowly lowered himself to the ground. He stretched his sore, stiff body out over the grass and rested his head against the rough bark. As he gazed into the star-filled sky, he recounted the events of the day.
He remembered seeing the family of travelers tied up, in the center of the bandits camp. The terrified looks on their faces as the thieves talked of what they should do to them. He remembered suddenly charging into the camp, sword drawn, filled with rage, as the startled robbers grabbed their swords and charged toward him. There must have been fifteen of them. With the strength of a giant, he had fought and killed every one of them.
As he lay there, Sir Wilhelm tallied his wounds. He had a deep gouge in his left leg, a large cut above his eye, and an ugly gash along his jaw, along with numerous other small scrapes and bruises. As he counted them, he did not feel remorse for his injuries, rather he felt proud of every one of them, as if they were trophies.
Looking up at the stars, Sir Wilhelm dreamed of his royal lady, far away in her stone castle. He wondered what she would think when she heard the news of his heroic feat. Would she admire his courage? Would she maybe right to him and congratulate him? Or maybe she would disapprove. Maybe it was wrong to take the lives of fifteen men, bandits though they may be, in order to save only a family of four. Overwhelmed by these thoughts, Sir Wilhelm drifted of into a deep sleep.