The Divine Tears

PATH OF THE GREAT DIVINES

'Wake up, boy,' the angry voice of old Meekos pierced into Daarion's ear drums, jolting him from his peaceful rest in a way no other disturbance could ever quite manage.

'You've overslept again!' came the loud scolding of the old man.

Daarion slowly came to and wiped at his eyes, still a little confused.

'Go clean yourself up,' the old man continued. 'I need you to go into town for a sack of grain, the one they sold me last week has gone rotten.'

Daarion lazily sat up on his uncomfortably itchy straw-stuffed bed, a bed that was not fully suitable for a boy as young as him. Through his long dark wavy hair, he glanced over at the old man on the other side of the barn. Inwardly he thought that the grain couldn't possibly be as rotten as the grumpy old coot staring down at him, but Daarion knew better than to speak such things aloud.

'Daarion,' the old man growled once more at the weary boy. 'Did you hear me?'

It had to have been quite early still, for the sun had barely risen high enough to peek through the cracks of the crumbling old barn.

'Yes, sir Meekos,' Daarion nodded. 'I heard you, sir.'

The fog of sleep and his dreams still thick in his head.

'Then stand up and clean yourself up. Lady Rina has breakfast for you, go to her after you've washed yourself.'

Meekos marched out of the barn with his rake in hand without another word. Daarion stood up slowly from his bed, picking up the wooden bucket beside his bed, and took a sip of the cold water. The musty taste of the cold water swirled around his dry mouth, waking him further from his drowsy state. Sighing, he reached for his worn jacket that was drawn over the broken armchair and put it on, careful not to tear it further. He walked out of the barn with his bucket in hand. The sun was just beginning to rise, he was struck by an icy wind that his old jacket couldn't quite shield him from. But Daarion was no stranger to early cold mornings on the old farm. Hugging himself to preserve some of his own heat, he walked on towards the well, located not far from the barn. At the well, he pulled a larger bucket from inside and poured some of the water into his own bucket.

Back in his barn room he took off his dirty clothes and began the process of washing himself with an old rag he found in one of the barn stalls. This was not the best cleaning method Daarion knew, but it was all he had. He had no clean clothes, only two trousers, one shirt, a pair of leather shoes stitched up many times, and his beloved leather jacket, worn, but Daarion was not without sentiment.

After cleaning himself to a reasonable degree he went and gathered some hay from the bail beside his room and hopped to the horse's bail at the end of the barn. He placed the fresh pile of hay next to the elderly gelding who approached it slowly. The old boy didn't go outside too often these days but when Meekos wasn't around, Daarion would sneak the old brown horse outside until he saw the farm owner's return. Daarion loved the horse since it was the only friend he's ever had, and he named him Ash.

Every morning he would brush the horse with a soft brush he picked up outside the farm on the road, he thought it must've been a noble lady's brush, for it was beautiful and had a golden flower pattern engraved on it. Once he was finished, he went outside. The air was still cool but refreshing. Daarion took a moment to take in the beautiful scenery of the farmlands, sheep were gathered together, and chickens and overfed cows were roaming about. He made his way over to the house where Meekos, his wife Rina, and their young boy Kluss lived. The house was made of oak trees, sturdy but outdated. It was still a perfect home for a family of three with more room to spare, but Daarion was given his barn room and never was he ungrateful for what he had.