MOVED - Vendelain's Leg

INT: HOSPITAL TENT - NIGHT.

The tent is small, but private, well-stocked with medical supplies for the recovery of important individuals.  There is a half-eaten plate of food and a canteen of water on the ground.  The moon and a nearby fire both shine through the translucent canvas.

VENDELAIN, a high-ranking soldier in his late twenties, lies in a makeshift bed, seemingly asleep.  He is wrapped in bandages underneath his clothing.

SORIAN, a man a few years younger than VENDELAIN but still prince and commander-in-chief, quietly opens the flap door.  He has a large object with him, wrapped in a grey blanket.

SORIAN picks up the only non-bitten cracker and begins to nibble at it.

VENDELAIN: Don't think you can sneak up on me.  I didn't say you could have any of that.

SORIAN puts it down and swallows.

VENDELAIN attempts to sit upright, but stops due to pain.  He shakes his head to express his difficulty.  

SORIAN pauses, then proceeds to help him.

VENDELAIN: I've never particularly appreciated night visits, so you had better tell me what in the hell you think you're doing.

SORIAN: I believe a prince should have the right to seek a friend's counsel when he chooses.

VENDELAIN: I'd make an exception for friends who've lost limbs.

VENDELAIN grunts and tosses the blanket aside, revealing a bandaged stump in place of his left leg.  The blood has seeped through to the blanket.

SORIAN stares at the mess, fascinated.

VENDELAIN: I certainly hope you don't take this the wrong way, but I'm sure you understand I've got more to lose than my legs.

VENDELAIN picks a wide belt from atop of his pile of discarded clothes and removes a gold pin from it.  He waves it in front of SORIAN's eyes.

VENDELAIN: You gave this to me, but you have no idea what it means, do you?

SORIAN: It means you should be honored.  Out of all the men I know, you deserve to be made general.  I bestowed it on you personally for a reason.  You've fought -

VENDELAIN: No.  It means I have to keep fighting for you.  

SORIAN: And I am sure that you will.  You have always made an efficient recovery, and this time will be no -

VENDELAIN: This time, I near died because of this.

SORIAN frowns.

SORIAN: You would not have died in vain.

VENDELAIN rolls his eyes.

SORIAN is visibly perturbed by the rude behavior, but he lets it slide.

VENDELAIN:  You must be kidding me. That is not what I want to hear. Not what my wife wants to hear, either.

VENDELAIN sighs and sips from a cup of water.

VENDELAIN: I taught you.  I served you.  I saved you.  For I don't know how many goddamn years.  When is this going to be over?

SORIAN: I am sorry, but it is not within your jurisdiction to make that decision.

VENDELAIN takes the pin and folds it into SORIAN's hand.

VENDELAIN: I don't want your stupid pin. I don't want your stupid title. I don't want your stupid war.  I don't want to die.  I want to go home.

SORIAN, dumbfounded, cannot think of a response.  Instead, he drops the package next to the bed and leaves, pocketing the pin with him.

VENDELAIN tentatively unfolds the blanket and finds a hand-crafted, custom prosthetic, leg.  He pauses, shakes his head, covers the gift, and falls back asleep.