The Origin

It had already become day as he opened the big wooden door and stepped out of the shadows
The sun had shown behind the eastern forest
Bright and warm in a cloudless sky

As his eyes closed, he slowly raised his head
Gently, the morning wind caressed his face
And rustled through his long hair

The chatter of the bird had become one with the whispers of the black elders
Melding with the rythmic babbling of the little brook which wound its way to the distance behind the humble grange

But it has not always been like that...
1700 years ago, during the celebrating of the two moons
The enemy forayed and overpowered the villagers under the cloak of darkness
Brave men were cut down where they stood in the cold crisp autumn night
The ones who still had life in their veins escaped in despair

But regathered quickly and formed a resistance
Many among them, women and children
Only armed with axes, torches and pitchforks
And it seemed as if all hope was forsaken...