Captured by a Midevil War

I string the bell of honor over your neck
it doesn't chime as it has no cause and effect
It swings it galor and suffices pain as the tin dents slightly
to the ringer that has made its mark.

A mans self made object useful in so many ways
alerting the children and families
of a fire, of a feast
at a time where nothing is more important than loyalty.

The amount of love it takes to keep this villiage whole.
One simple object to keep it strong and full.
Capturing the hearts of the ill and elder
Giving the next generation hope.

As the great escape approaches fast, villiagers have one last
night
to laugh and reminice on life, before that one last fight.
A faint smell of smoke in the distance.

The people are now silent
and the children are still innocent.