Thomas

Dorin stood facing the rising sun his white hair glowed in the radiant beams, His small but strong arms placed at his side as he gazes into the morning’s birth. As the day awoke with the light Dorin’s soul awoke anew for today was a day for living. When the sun finally crested above the horizon Dorin spoke.

“So, to live my dear Thomas you must appreciate the trivial things, from this day forward you are to work for your food, drink, and somewhere to sleep. Your money means nothing to me, I only require your strength and duty to me. I will prepare and provide for you as a father does and you will work and toil to learn my Son. So, Thomas you need a garden for food, here is your tools,” Dorin handed Thomas his gardening tools and a bucket, “Here is your mule and seeds good luck young man.” Dorin handed the reins of the mule to Thomas then he quickly threw a bag of seed into his chest. Before Thomas could catch his breath to protest or speak Dorin walked off laughing loudly to himself. Dorin’s laughter lingered in Thomas’s ears he knew that Dorin was feeling especially pleased with himself.

Thomas said nothing, he moved towards the plot of land that he chose and as he began to dig and scrape at the solid earth he vowed to himself that this meager task would not be his undoing. Thomas stuck out his stubborn chin and his determined brow and began to work. He moved slowly but diligently at first each scoop of earth a victory. The ground soon gave way to being seeded Thomas tilled his way into the hard earth and found a blessing. Beneath the solid surface was lovely, dark and moist soil rich with nutrients for his garden. He dropped to his knees and thanked the lord, this was the day Thomas began to sow his new life.

The days passed with sweat and blood shed upon the earth, Thomas felt a profound sense of accomplishment as he looked out on his field. Thomas felt renewed, this job, this mission did not defeat Thomas, He felt alive again. He walked slowly into Dorin’s small cabin tired and hungry from a day’s work. Dorin gestures Thomas to come and sit with him at the dining room table. Thomas takes his seat beside Dorin, as he begins to speak to Thomas.

“Thomas, my boy, you have done well so you have earned your stew, eat and be merry my boy tomorrow brings more living.” Dorin slaps Thomas on the back with a hearty thump the two men laugh and share a meal. As the evening ebbed on the two men join in front of the warm stove crackling with a belly full of dry alder. The old man in his rocker softly creaking as he moved, Thomas found his place on his bed roll at the foot of the black pot belly stove. The smoky aroma filled the room with a warm intoxicating cloud that reminded Thomas of home. They had a drink and then another and before the night was through the two men shared tales of heroism and defeat. Thomas slowly began to fade into sleep with the words of Dorin’s conquests buzzing in his skull. What adventures he has led. What a great life. Thomas let his thoughts drift to the many adventures he will have and how he will live. Thomas drifted off into a pleasant dream filled with adventure and triumph.

The days went on like this for many months Thomas worked as hard as he drank each evening with Dorin. Each morning as Thomas cared for his garden, fed the chickens and sheep as well as milked the cows he thought of great adventures and his home in the Castle Lyons. Thomas loved living each day, he began to quickly feel at home with his mentor and friend laughing and drinking all evening. He loved his warm sunny mornings when he visits his blossoming garden filled with the promise of a fine harvest. Thomas lived for his fields and his dear friend Dorin. Each day Thomas worked with his now roughened and dark hands stained with the earth he toils in. These moments when he looks at his weathered and worn hands he feels closer to the earth and all its blessings. The bees and birds that visit Thomas’s garden are welcome friends and each morning he listens to the song of the summer swallow and the buzzing bees he thinks of his mother and her great love and sacrifice. He remembers her long days working the field to feed her adventurous little scoundrel. He would smile and recite his vow “I will be your hero, Mama” and he works into the sunset. Thomas enjoyed each evening with his old friend as Dorin regaling him with stories of great adventures and even greater women. Thomas felt more and more like he was home with each story and with each tale the two men grew an unbreakable bond. Each felt the bond yet said nothing it was an unspoken love like father to son. Soon Thomas’s heart no longer felt heavy with burden and pain. Thomas’s world was no longer a lonesome place filled with a ghost of love, He felt as if his heart could love again, and he loved his mentor and Father, Dorin.

A year had passed and autumn came the harvest time was upon Thomas. His vegetables were his greatest joy, Thomas proudly walked into his garden filled with potatoes and carrots bright and orange. His onions smelled of earth sending his mouth to water. Thomas felt blessed to be given a bounty enough for two men for the whole winter season. Thomas was so proud he hurried up the cottages steps to the porch. Thomas flew through the threshold the wind at his back. Happily, Thomas, began to describe his great bounty to his old friend, he spoke of, “Potatoes as big as your fist and apples sweeter than the finest wine.” When no response or laughter came from his friend Thomas turned and the sight before his eyes froze him to the core. Thomas’s eyes viewed Dorin slumping over in his chair, His body hung in and unnatural fashion as if the old man was a marionet with no strings. Thomas’s mind was in such disbelief that he sat staring and said out loud his thought of the man’s position in his chair. “Dorin you’re in a…Heap yes a heap.” As he uttered these words to his friend Thomas finally opened his eyes. With a new perspective on things Thomas was finally able to approach the body of his dearest friend and Mentor. The old man was empty and lifeless as Thomas reached for him, Thomas’s hand felt Dorin’s hand cold and uttered these final words, “The cold fingers of death have taken you my friend into his deadly embrace go you, go my friend, my Mentor, my Father go and adventure on.” Thomas’s heart broke again and this time Thomas could no longer stop the storm of sorrow from flooding his eyes, Thomas sobbed. He loved and lived just as his mentor taught, he followed each rule, he reaped what he sowed and now all he feels is death’s icy grip enveloping his heart again. Thomas packed his meager things as well as his mentors cane and Mule, Deter. He named the Mule Deter as a reminder that Deter was no better than Thomas, no Lord Deter was no better than an Ass. Thomas left without a sound he slowly gathered his things. Thomas made his way onto the outskirts of the cabin. When he reached its edge he readies his bow, he set the fiery arrow and skillfully aims he lifts the fiery tip to the small cabin and with keen eyes shoots into the small abode, Lighting Dorin’s home Thomas turned on his Mule and meandered away from its warm glow. To the darkness of Terros.