Aeron

Aeron was a farmer in the body of a warrior.

Physically, he was hard and muscular and stood about average height. A cloth wrapped him up from the loins to the left shoulder, leaving the right breast and arm uncovered. A belt surrounded his waist and on his feet were sandals. This was his wardrobe.

His intellect was more greatly advanced, for he was sharp and quick with it. This was evident not only in the mastery of his garden tools and the planting of his seeds, but more clearly so in the way he improved upon them and their product.

In no time, Aeron had a healthy garden in a healthy desolate area, far away from every town, which he had designated as his own by placing various markings about.

These markings consisted of wooden posts engraved at the top with the image of a spade. He set them in the earth at equal distance into the shape of a circle which told of the boundary which was his land apart from the vast space around it.

He was equally adept at carpentry. Practicality governed him, so his home was a simple construct sturdy enough to protect him. He was well suited in his life by his abode and his garden; one afforded him shelter while the other sustained him.

In his self-imposed exile he was happy and spent his days laboring to improve upon these two things.

In time he had a source of water and a method of storage for his food. In a month he was at last able to take a day of rest.

So on this day he casually surveyed his domain, checking his garden, taking another account of the integrity of his home and lastly, looking over his markers.

It was this last which captures our attention. First, because it brought him so much joy. Aeron loved looking at his markers because they represented the accomplishments of the goals that he had set. He cared for the maintenance of these wooden stakes as he did for his home and garden, almost to a fault. He loved them and, he felt, they loved him.

That is why it shook the man to the core of his spirit to see a number of them smashed.

Understand, they were not fallen or riddled with the signs that follow animal curiosity. They were completely splintered as if assaulted by some great force. There were no nearby trees, nor storms or forces of nature which could have caused it.

Perhaps it was the immediate shock which sent him searching for so obvious an answer. Perhaps nature played some part, for it did conceal the facts of what had happened to him by blowing dirt and leaves about. Perhaps in his haste he overlooked it.

Aeron went back to his camp dumbfounded, but with no concern, for they were truly only wood and some explanation, he knew, would reveal itself. So he went about his duties the next day, as he did regularly.

It was little by little that Aeron came to be concerned.

At first, he noticed his crops were slowly being had at. But, increasingly, more and more of them came to be ravaged with no excuse. Someone was looting him with no care as to conceal it. He could ignore it no longer.

So one day he sat upon a hill and watched over his garden. All day long he sat in the hot sun with no more than a flask and some mint leaves.

Nothing.

He waited all night and again there was no compensation for his time.