The battle
The fires of hell have ravaged his body. Leaving him weary and worn. Bleeding and scared.
The dragon has devestated his world and his heart. Tearing from him that which his soul revolved around.

But the battle is not over yet. Not bye a long mile. And yet he struggles back to his feet, armor torn and bent, sword broken and dulled.
The beast screams in hate and evil malice, seeking to kill. To destroy. To rend and consume.
The battle weary worrior gains his feet again, standing defient at the feet of the dragon. Screaming his response in firey determination, grief, anger and bold defience to the beast.
The battle. Raging for a milinium. Longer. Hard every time. The beast feeds, the warrior fights and is victorious or falls and is devoured.

This warrior will not give up. No matter the time. No matter the location. The distance or the terrain. Fires, mountains or storms.
His heart is ripped and shredded but he will continue the fight. Win...lose...draw...he will rage on. Never letting the beast rest. Never letting it see how weak and wasted he is.
Fighting on for a cause. Thats what will drive a man to be feroscious in his determination.
Matters of the heart will drive a man to any length.

Especially if his goal is aware of him. And acknolwadges him. He will fight on with out fear.

For love.