[Flashback] Fertile Ground

[Orin Fenix]

55th of Summer, 513AV

Wiping the sweat off his brow, Orin gazed at the garden before him. More accurately, Orin should call it the graveyard of a garden. At some point it had been well-tended as evidenced by the straight rows of stone marking the boundaries of the various plots under the debris of years of neglect. Orin didn't know what had happened to cause the garden to be abandoned in the first place but the piles of leaves and dirt and the weeds running rampant were pretty good indicators that this garden hadn't seen any attention for a good long while.

Orin had passed this garden almost every day he'd been staying with his current hosts and every time it had bothered him. Normally Orin would have let it be but he'd grown increasingly dissatisfied with farming and had eventually broken down. He'd asked as politely as he knew how for permission to revitalize the garden. Orin promised he'd grow a mix of medicinal herbs and those used for culinary purposes. After exchanging bemused glances the couple agreed. They cautioned though that if the leaders of the community had any objections Orin would have to stop.

Seeing as Orin hadn't heard anything since then he figured he was free to do as he pleased. So here he stood with a rake in one hand, a shovel in the other, a borrowed straw hat jauntily perched on his head, gardening gloves that were also not Orin's on his hands, and several sacks at feet to put what he removed from here into. It was a bit early to start the mulch pile that all of Mithryn contributed to and which fertilized their fields but Orin figured he'd take it down to the area anyway. Every little bit helped after all. And Orin didn't want it around here.

Setting the shovel down Orin took the rake in both hands. He'd never really started a garden from scratch before. He had a few theories about what to do but that was all they were, theories and not actual experience. All the work he'd done with gardening had been simply helping to maintain someone else's plants and not actually tending to his own. Still dithering about would get Orin nowhere. There was no time like the present to get down to work.

Setting the rake before him, Orin began scratching at the ground with it. Leaves came, almost reluctantly, and formed into a pile. Orin kept at it, as Syna beat down on him. It had dawned hot and humid and soon Orin was dripping with sweat. Any rational person would have stripped at least their shirt but Orin was frankly terrified at the thought of someone coming upon him and ridiculing his half-clothed state. He gave these people enough fodder for their trading. There was no reason to add fuel to that particular fire. When Orin had gotten enough leaves in one place, Orin grabbed a sack, crouched down, and started stuffing them in. When they were all put away, Orin surveyed his progress. He'd barely managed to clear a corner of the garden, to expose the dirt underneath. Orin sighed but there wasn't any reason negative emotion tied to him. He had a long day of work ahead of him, that was true. But he'd be doing something he loved for once. And that made all the difference.

[Orin Fenix]

Bells passed with Orin contentedly toiling away with his rack. First one sack, then another filled. Finally Orin raked the last set of leaves into a pile and gathered them up to be put away into a sack. Orin stood up fully with a grimace. This took muscles he hadn't used before and while it wasn't actually difficult, the same set of repetitive motions could still get rather tiring after enough time. Besides, Orin was feeling practically baked. He'd long ago sweat through all of his clothes and they clung to him rather unpleasantly. There was too much water already in the air for it to evaporate so Orin had to push through despite his discomfort. Orin placed his hands in the small of his back and kneaded them slightly. After a few chimes the ache there that came from being hunched slightly all day eased, but not as much as Orin had hoped. Setting his rake aside, Orin bent over. He placed his hands on his shins. He wasn't quite flexible enough to touch his toes but he was close. His back pinched for a tick before slipping into the stretch. His hat fell off but Orin left it there not wanting to break from his pose. When Orin straightened up, retrieving his hat as he did, he was feeling much better. He rubbed his shoulders and neck to get rid of the phantom pains that threatened to crop up there.

Despite all that, Orin was feeling significantly more cheerful than he had in a while. He stopped for a moment to briefly consider why that might be. After all, farming and gardening were so similar they might be one and the same. So why exactly would Orin see one as a chore and the other as pleasure, beyond the simple reason that one was something he chose and the other was a job forced on him. There had to be something more than that to it. Scrunching up his face in a way that would surely garner some laughs at Orin if anyone were present to see it, Orin set his brain to the task of determining where his love of gardening came from.

Finally after chimes of soul-searching Orin lit upon something that rang true. Farmers were worried about their yield and their harvest and their fields as a whole. Gardeners, on the other hand, took the time and effort needed to nurture each different plant they had control over. While there were some farmers that took the time to oversee each plant they grew, they were few and far between and it really wasn't feasible for them do so. There were too many fields with too much in them for that. Gardeners though knew their gardens backwards and forwards and could afford to think of each plant as distinct and not simply as part of an aggregate. That distinction was important to Orin. He took a similar approach to people, when he did actually interact with them. He cared deeply for individuals and not just the whole. While his thinking in that regard might be seen as fundamentally flawed, and many would belittle it, Orin refused to see it as such. When you started thinking in numbers you lost so much of what made life worth living.

Orin shook such introspective thoughts from his mind like a dog shaking water off when it came in from a storm. He had a job to do and these philosophical musings were just getting in the way of it. Besides Orin didn't see himself as a deep thinker. He left that up to the people in charge. Orin just tried to keep his head down and his opinions to himself. It was safer that way. There were fewer chances Orin might get hurt that way. So, as Orin knelt down in the dirt to prepare to weed Orin banished everything from his brain except for the task at hand.

[Orin Fenix]

Unfortunately as Orin wrapped his hand around the weed and tugged he got an unpleasant surprise. The weed, or plant, or grass-- Orin's knowledge in this particular area was lacking-- only came out of the ground a little before springing back. Orin tried again with more force and got the same result. Frowning Orin just looked at the greenery behind him. It wasn't a vine so there wasn't any reason Orin could see that it wouldn't come out or why it would be so resistant to being uprooted. Resilient weeds were every gardener's personal nightmare, right up there with pests and blight. Orin didn't know how to deal with the latter two effective but he was determined not to let a plant, however stubborn, defeat his efforts.

It was time to switch tactics. Orin set his hands to exposing the plant. Under the surface Orin saw that the plant whitened significantly. He also encountered a slug, which he tossed as far away as he could manage, and a earthworm. The worm Orin quickly and carefully transplanted. For whatever reason worms were considered to be extremely good for a garden's health. Slugs, on the other hand, were notorious for munching on plants the gardener wanted to keep alive and weeds alike. They were indiscriminate garden destroyers. Of course, with this particular challenge Orin was facing maybe it'd be best to let the slugs have a go. However, Orin would have a hard time dislodging them later if he let them get a foothold now. Besides, Orin wasn't going to let a weed win.

Digging further, Orin finally discovered the source of the problem. This grass, or whatever it was, had a very firmly entrenched root system. Orin sat back until he was kneeling. This was quite the setback. As Orin saw it he had two options, and neither of them was particularly appealing. He could go to each and every plant, find its roots, and sever the stalk with his belt knife. The issue there was that it would take forever to do. That wasn't necessarily a strong reason not to do it but it certainly didn't sound like fun.

Alternatively Orin could try and dig up the whole plant with his shovel, and try and dislodge the roots. This was equally worrisome since Orin didn't know how deeply the roots went or how extensive the system was. It was entirely possible that his shovel wouldn't be able to penetrate it if it was too thick. Then, once Orin had taken all the dirt out he'd have to pick over it to remove the plants from the dirt then shovel it all back into the stone outlines of his future garden.

Orin decided to go with cutting them up and hoping the roots would die out without the stalks. He had no idea if this was the right decision. If they ended up growing back Orin could try the second method. At that point though Orin would have time and hopefully access to someone more knowledge in the world of botsny. Starting with the weed he'd already exposed, Orin sawed at it until his knife broke through. To add insult to injury, the central stalk appeared to be filled with some time of sap that immediately coated Orin's knife and his gloves. Orin sighed. Now he'd have to clean both thoroughly later. And it would probably either harden in the sun or turn out to be incredibly sticky, given Orin's luck. In an ill humor, Orin snagged a nearby empty sack and tossed the plant into it, then ripped up every root he could get his hands on and out of the soil. As a unit the roots were strong but each individual strand could be dealt with. The roots went into the bag as Orin shuffled forward to the next clump of green. It was going to be a long annoying day after all. But Orin already felt a grim satisfaction and he'd only dealt with one weed.

[Orin Fenix]

Orin's knees ached, the sap had turned out to be sticky and his wet clothes had seemed to pick up dirt until they had darkened into an unattractive mud color. Despite that, Orin was feeling triumphant. He only had a few more of the pesky plants to handle before the garden was his. Of course he still didn't know if this was the right way to deal with them, but it did feel good to take out his anger in a tangible and measurable way. Ahead of him was the last stretch of land Orin needed to conquer, blanketed in green. Behind him was a sea of black earth, broken by the furrows Orin had made in digging out his intruder. His sack was nearly full but it had room for a few more interloper. Orin scrabbled in the ground until he saw his target. He grabbed the stalk and pulled it taut, then chopped down with all his might with the blade. He'd found this technique worked then sawing, and it exposed his blade to less of the sap. Tossing it into the sack with a vengeance Orin crept forward on his last row.

Finally, after what felt like days under Syna's unforgiving light Orin pulled the last weed out of the ground with a whoop of joy. It had been a long, hard battle but Orin had emerged on top. His aches, which a moment ago had been weighing Orin down, seemed trivial now, although he was still careful as he got up off the ground. Surveying his domain, Orin felt a fierce pride. It was such a simple little piece of ground, but Orin had claimed it through sweat and labor, and it was unconditionally his. So little in his life truly belonged to him. He subsisted off of give-aways and other people’s charity. Now though, as small and unassuming as it was, Orin had this garden to retreat to when the world got too much for him.

Orin trudged to the cottage he called home, even if that wasn’t quite true, with a light heart. As far as Orin was concerned, he’d gone above and beyond. Tomorrow, or maybe the next day he’d not only take his sacks of future compost down to where they belong but Orin was too tired to do it now. After that little detail was taken care of Orin would go around begging for either seeds or clippings from his neighbors. If that didn’t work, Orin didn’t know what he’d do. Maybe he could call in his favor with Farmer Driscoll for trying to work through the soybean recipe to turn it into soy sauce. However, Orin hadn’t actually succeeded in that endeavor quite yet. So maybe talking to the Priest of Bala wouldn’t be the most prudent idea considering that the man would be sure to ask about the progress Orin had made. Orin would then be forced to admit there hadn’t been much change in many days now. The disks were supposed to dissolve fully but the last remnants of them clung stubbornly on to their solid state. Orin didn’t know how he could tell Farmer Driscoll that he’d failed. It would be humiliating and Orin would lose any respect he might be gaining in the community.

Before Orin could go check on the sauce though, he had to wash up. Orin stripped down completely and tossed his filthy clothes to soak. Moving over to the washbasin, Orin scrubbed with soap and water until the last vestiges of sweat and grime were gone. He took up a cloth and scrubbed the muck off of his knife, drying it carefully to prevent rust when the sap was completely gone. Orin dressed in the spare set of clothes the family kept around for his use. It was a hand-me down from their eldest son. His brother didn’t fit it yet, which was the only reason Orin had access to it. Orin prayed that the younger boy didn’t hit his growth spurt for a long time yet. When he did, Orin expected he’d be gently ejected from the home and passed along to the next reluctant family. It wasn’t an ideal way to live but it was better than being homeless or trying to run his own household. Orin would just put up with it until he was old enough to be on his own.

Walking over to the counter where he kept his soy sauce Orin peered into the cheesecloth covered bowl. Then, he did a double take and rubbed his eyes furiously. He couldn’t believe what they were telling him at first, so he wanted to confirm it. A second, closer look showed that the disks were totally and completely gone. Orin did an impromptu dance of joy that had more to do with the emotion and basically nothing to do with the actual coordination of Orin’s body. However, he quickly calmed down. It was a bit premature to celebrate. Orin quickly picked up a different bowl, and tipped the bowl with the soy sauce over. The liquid oozed through the cheesecloth. Orin waited patiently until it was done straining, the untied the cheesecloth and set it aside. He clean it up later. Next, Orin took a spoon and the jars he’d been saving for this very eventuality. He carefully, nearly drop by drop, transferred the contents of the bowl into the waiting jars. There was a small residue left over at the bottom of the bowl. Curious as to what exactly Orin had been slaving and worrying over for nearly the entire summer Orin stuck his finger in and then licked it off. Immediately, he closed his eyes in pleasure. It was unlike anything Orin had ever tasted before and it was delicious. It sent his mind in a million different directions as to potential dishes Orin could make using this. Unfortunately, however much Orin was tempted to hoard the sauce for himself, a promise was a promise, so Orin placed the capped jars into a basket, slipped it over his arm, and went out into the night to Farmer Driscoll’s house. Hopefully his foster family would have returned by the time Orin was back as well, and the could share in the cooking for the evening. Orin rather doubted they’d help though. They seemed to enjoy having Orin cook for them and not lifting a finger themselves. Truly though, Orin didn’t mind as long as he got to cook.

Finally Orin arrived at his destination. Hesitantly, he rapped at the door twice with his knuckles. There was a murmur of chatter inside that subsided and Orin heard the sounds of someone making their way to the door. Finally it opened and Farmer Driscoll stood before Orin. Blushing, Orin handed off his basket to the Priest. ”Here’s the soy sauce you asked me to make. The recipe worked perfectly.” Orin’s words came out in a jumbled rush. He was nervous at being this close to one of the highest authority figures in Mithryn. The man nodded sagely and moved to shut the door on Orin before Orin interrupted him with Orin’s blurted request. ”If it’s, if it’s not too much trouble I’d appreciate it if you could get some seeds for me. I, well, just am starting a garden and I’d like to have the best of the best which I know you have. Please, sir. In return for the favor I did you.” Orin bowed his head, afraid of Farmer Driscoll’s reply. So Orin missed the Priest of Bala’s careful appraisal. Finally the farmer spoke, his gravelly voice filling the night. ”I’ll see what I can do. Now go home son.” The door closed shortly thereafter and Orin started breathing again. It was the best Orin could’ve hoped for, and Orin turned back to his temporary lodgings with a cautious optimism.

[Sayana]

Orin Skills: Skill EXP Persuasion +2 Gardening +4 Planning +1 Bodybuilding +4 Endurance +1 Acrobatics +1 Philosophy +1 Botany +1 Planning +1 Cleaning +1 Philtering +1 Negotiation +1 Lores: Starting a garden Gardening: First clear away fallen leaves Difference between gardening and farming Gardening: Worms are good for the soil, but slugs eat the plants Weeding: Some weeds have extensive root systems Negotiation: Exchanging favors Comments : Great thread. Nice to see that Orin finally finished his soy sauce. Don't forget to edit/delete your grade request in the grade request thread. However, make sure to keep the link so that the DS can review graded threads with ease. If you have any questions or concerns about your grade please feel free to send me a message (like really, I’m all ears if you feel like I missed something). Enjoy.