Daran and the Hearth
by Harald Smith
There was once a young farmer named Daran who always worked hard. His parents were so proud of him that they always told everyone in the village how smart and hard-working he was. After Daran became a man, his parents brought him to the Khelmal festivals hoping that he would meet a bride that he fancied (or at least one they could arrange a marriage with). They were sure that with such a smart and hard-working son, that finding a bride would be easy.
But Daran always disappeared during the festivals. Whenever his parents found the parents of a young eligible woman and went to show Daran to them, they could not find him. Only when they were ready to depart did he reappear. When asked where he had been, he said, "I was looking at the fields" or "I was examining the herds."
His parents shook their heads. "But you can do that anytime. How can you find a bride in the fields or with the herds?"
"It's always good to see another's field or herd so you can judge your
own," Daran replied. "And as for a bride, that is of no matter, for I
don't plan to take one."
At first, Daran's parents were amused and thought he was just afraid. But several years passed and Daran always did the same and said the same.
The parents grew more and more worried. Other villagers made fun of them, that they had a son without a wife. What would happen to their hearth, they thought, if there was no one to keep it going? They argued this with Daran, but Daran always replied "It is of no matter, for a hearth is but a clay pit and I can always use yours--I don't need to waste effort making a new one."
Daran's parents aged noticeably with their worry. Finally, one darkseason day, they both died and Daran was still unmarried. When the death services were done, Daran with heavy heart returned to his parent's hearth to take over their home. But he found inside the home a small flame dancing in the air. "Who are you," he asked "that you dare disturb me in my mourning."
"I am the hearth of this home," the dancing flame replied. "I am alone,
too, and share your grief for your parents were a good and kindly
couple. They always saw to my needs from the time they made my gift
until this very day."
"Yes, they were a good couple," Daran replied hostilely. "But they are
gone now and I have work to do to keep this place going."
"We all have work to do," the flame agreed while whirling through the
air. "And you should find a bride, for a hearth and fields cannot be well-maintained by one alone."
Daran said angrily, "Leave me be and go back to your hearth. I have wasted enough time here. And as for a bride, that is no matter, for I don't plan to take one."
Rebuked, the hearth flame returned to the hearth. Daran went out into the fields and amongst the herds and used the knowledge that he had gained over the years. He knew that soon his farm would far surpass that of any other village farm. But when Daran returned to the hearth at the end of the day, he found that the fire was not as warm as it had been. So he skinned an extra sheep that day and made himself a new sheepskin tunic to keep his warm and he went on with his life.
The seasons passed and the bounty of Daran's farm increased. Indeed, his knowledge proved to be of worth and his farm did surpass that of any other village. That next darkseason, on the anniversary of his parent's death, Daran returned to his home to find that the hearth did not burn as brightly as it once had. So he went out to the forest and cut more logs. These logs he tossed upon the hearth to make it burn more and he went on with his life.
The seasons passed again and his farm continued to produce. The villagers avoided him for they were jealous of his good fortune, but the merchants who came for grain and meat were quite happy. So Daran felt that his knowledge was still of worth and that the villagers were just fools for not practicing as he did. But that next darkseason, on the anniversary of his parent's death, Daran returned to his home to find that the hearth would no longer cook his food. So he decided to dig out the hearth and make a new one.
Now when he dug into the old hearth, he found the hearth gift of his parents. It was small, just a clay vessal with a lid. He picked up the gift to look inside, but the vessal crumbled in his hand. He brushed the dirt aside and scoffed at the poor quality of the clay.
He continued clearing the old pit until he came to the flag stones at its base. They were black from years of use, but he could tell that they were just right to line the base of his new pit. But when he picked up the first flagstone, it crumbled in his hand. And every other flagstone that he touched likewise crumbled until he stood over a pit of dirt.
Daran scoffed at the old pit and wondered how it had ever served his parents. He went out and found new flagstones and placed them in his new pit. He found a good clay vessal on a shelf and filled it with good grains and so fashioned his own gift. This he also placed in his new pit. He filled the hearth with logs and went to make a fire. But the flint produced no sparks to kindle the logs. So he tried his firesticks which always worked, but they too could produce no sparks. Finally, angered, Daran prepared his magics and cast them at the logs. Once more he failed to light the hearth fire.
Daran shrugged his shoulders. "I have seen men live without fire and I can certainly do so too." So Daran went out into the fields and amongst the herds to produce more food. He brought the food back to his cold and dark kitchen and prepared his meals. He brought back wool to his cold and dark spinning room and prepared warmer clothes to wear. But he had to spend longer and longer in the kitchen and the spinning room. Soon the fields and herds began to dwindle from neglect. Daran also dwindled growing skinnier and smaller, hunched over from the weight of the clothes he wore.
Finally, Daran was so cold and weak that he could go out no longer. Huddled under clothes and blankets, he stared bleakly into the darkness. And as he stared in his faltering state, he envisioned a tiny flame dancing before his eyes. The flame spoke to him then, "And as for a bride, it is of a matter, for a hearth cannot be maintained without the love given by a man and woman."
Daran reached out then for the spark, but it was gone. The effort made was too much for Daran and he, too, passed from the world.
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