Unsung

Sandor's Duty

This is so simple! Sandor thought, scolding himself internally. You have to protect a 14 year old girl! It's not really that hard!

Sandor was good at lecturing himself. It kept him motivated to do his job. Failure was unacceptable by his standards. Whenever Miss Foster gets hurt, it's my fault! It's all my fault! And I just continue to fail over and over!

She does make my job a lot harder though. I suppose if I was a bodyguard to Miss Vacker or Mister Dizznee it would be far easier.

But that can't be why I failed. It was not Miss Foster's fault. It was mine. I failed again, I failed to protect, I failed, I failed, I failed. There is nothing that can possibly make her trust me again other than her own gullibility. I am a terrible bodyguard and I deserve miserable punishment!

Sandor shook his head to clear it. He knew, deep down, that the thoughts weren't true. But he had to be a better bodyguard. Now, he was being... replaced. By a gnome! And a troll and whatever. Who really cares about the rest of them, but a gnome! How can a gnome protect Miss Foster, by growing her magic carrots? No! I'm the only one worthy of protecting her, not them.

At least that's what I thought...

Sandor decided to focus on the one other thing he knew. He narrowed his eyes, squinting at the blonde hair on the back of Miss Foster's head, and thought about protecting her. He kept one eye on his subject, but the other eye darted to the shadows where anyone could be hiding. It was a trick he had learned in his goblin training. There was no movement in the shadows and he turned his full attention back counting the footsteps of Miss Foster, a step essential to her safety.

Miss Foster sighed and whirled around to face him. "What is it, Sandor?" she asked impatiently.

Sandor unsheathed his sword and held it threateningly out at the crystal wall. There was no way to describe how Sandor knew there was danger... he just felt it."Are you in distress, Miss Foster?"

Miss Foster shook her head. "No, I'm not. But you evidently are! I can't even remember the last time you gave me a lecture on safety procedures, or whatever it is you talk about, and that's really saying something. You've barely talked in the past few days and I can tell you're upset with something."

Sandor tried to keep his gray skin from turning pink. He became stiff with discomfort and raised his head with an attempt at dignity. "We should be getting to your room," he replied, his voice taught.

"Edaline made ripplefluffs," Miss Foster chided.

Sandor shook his head. He had known, the delicious scent that reminded him of cookies had floated up from the kitchen. I shall not be swayed! A little girl will not convince me to slacken with ripplefluffs! Ripplefluffs aren't even that good. I guess. Although, they're so buttery and creamy and, oh, the sweetness! And the way they just melt in my mouth and how my tongue laps at the whipped cream! "Alright then, fine," he agreed. "Then we can go to your room."

Miss Foster frowned at him. "You never used to tell me where I could go as long as I stayed in Havenfield," she noted. "Why can't you do that again? Why does that have to change now?"

Miss Foster had struck a nerve. "That's the way it has to be!" Sandor declared. "Now are you going to eat your ripplefluffs or not?"

The elf gave him the iciest glare that had ever caught his eye. "I can't believe you!" she yelled. Then she turned from him and stalked away.

A thorn of misery pierced his heart. She hates me. She hates me for what I've done, she hates me because now she needs new bodyguards. And... and she's right. She's right! I can't protect her.

Sandor followed Miss Foster down the clear glass stairwell to where Mrs. Ruewen was sitting with a plate of ripplefluffs, softly talking to her daughter. Sandor breathed in the smell of butter and sugar and sighed with content. The ripplefluffs were toffee, his favorite, and had a pile of whipped cream stacked on top. He forced himself to stand nearby, watching the movement of their lips and trying to make out what they were saying.

"...not any different than before," Miss Foster was saying. "I just don't see why... Why does it have to change?"

"I've learned that you can't always carve your own future," Mrs. Ruewen said gently. "Maybe you should just accept that things change and we have to adapt. And besides, you know it was partially your fault."

Miss Foster grunted and took a ripplefluff. It had drizzle below the cream and sprinkles over it. I wanted that one! he thought. "I don't know. I think the Council is against me and wants me to stop being part of the Black Swan. And they think that the only way to do that is with more and more bodyguards. Even Sandor seems to be against me."

Sandor stiffened and tried to keep his eavesdropping from being too noticeable. That's not true! I'm on her side... I'm just not on mine. I want to be a better bodyguard, not an enemy. Can't she see that? Can't she see I'm only trying to be her accomplice?

Mrs. Ruewen laid her hand on Miss Foster's. "Sophie, you can't judge Sandor. He's been a loyal bodyguard and he always will be."

Sandor took a deep breath to gain his confidence and walked over to face them. "I'm not trying to make your life harder, Miss Foster," he began. "I want to protect you and I failed."

Miss Foster looked at him in confusion. "You failed? How?"

Sandor hung his head with shame. "I failed to protect you. I failed, and now the Council is bringing in new bodyguards all because of me, as you know," he confessed. "I'm sorry, Miss Foster. But I failed you."

For a long moment, there was utter silence in the room. Sandor held his breath, preparing to be rejected as a bodyguard. Everything I have been working for this whole time. All of this. It's for nothing.

Finally, Miss Foster stood up and came over until she stood right in front of him. Then, she wrapped her arms around him in a hug. "Is that really what you think?" she asked. "You didn't fail me Sandor! You're a great bodyguard! If anything, you're a bit too protective over me!"

Sandor knit his brow. "Too protective?"

Miss Foster nodded. "Yes! You're way too protective! Do you realize that I'm old enough to take care of myself?"

Sandor sniffed. She's not mad at me for failing her! "Your ignorance proves just how not old enough you are to take care of yourself. You have a bodyguard, and soon four more," he scolded.

Miss Foster laughed and pulled away from the embrace. "But you'll always be my favorite one," she promised.

Content and pleasure surged inside of him. "I will be loyal to you until the end," he vowed. And finally, Sandor was satisfied with his success as a bodyguard.