A bustling tavern full of life and light. Glasses clinking, a simple bard playing his harp, dice rattling across a table stacked high with coins. Cooks manning a small kitchen in the back, hurrying around, serving food to the different tables. Two people falling in love, meeting for the first time, and two people seeing each other truly. Just by looking at the tavern, you could practically see the energy rippling through the room. In one corner, slouching over a stool, is an old man in a long brown cloak. Around him is a group of kids, all looking up at him expectantly for something.
“Pashra! Pashra! Give us another story!” the kids exclaim, clapping their hands in excitement.
“Another story, you say?” Pashra looks up, giving the kids a glimpse of his golden, twinkling eyes, and a smile wider than any the kids have ever seen. “Gather round for the story of Elram!
“A long time ago, in a small town not so different from the one we live in now, lived a simple farmer named Elram. Every day was the same for him. He would wake up, tend his fields, maybe go to the town square to pick up more fertilizer, some new seeds to plant, and then he would go home. He was alone, but he was content.
“One day, a young scholar came to visit the village and asked the villagers ‘who is the wisest among you?’. Now, not many travelers came to this town, so a visitor created quite the stir. Every day, many people came to the scholar, claiming to be the wisest. When someone claimed to be the wisest, the scholar would take them into a tent he had put up, and talk with them. About fifteen minutes after, the person would leave the tent, looking downtrodden and defeated.
“Everyone in the village wanted a shot at this man’s games. The baker who knew everything there was to know about rising bread was driven out of the tent in mere seconds. The mayor, knowing how to lead a village down to the most miniscule detail, was stumped after only two minutes. The town scholar, learned in any topic a book could teach, was driven to tears after five minutes, though she lasted the longest of anyone.
“After a week or so, the villagers started to lose interest in the scholar, but the scholar stayed in his tent, saying he wouldn’t leave until he found ‘the wisest among them’. And there he sat for weeks and weeks, only coming out of his tent to find new, wiser people. Finally, one day, Elram decided to try his luck. With a deep breath, he strode into the scholar’s tent.
“‘What brings you here?’ the scholar asked, without looking up from the book he was reading.
“‘I heard you are searching for the wisest in the town, and I thought I would try.’ Elram took a breath, and sat down on the chair across from the scholar.
“‘Very well,’ the scholar started. ‘What makes a tree grow?’
“Elram, a man who had spent his whole life in the fields, was quick to respond. ‘Sunlight, water, nutrients from the soil.’
“The scholar nodded, with a slight smile on his face. ‘Thank you. That is all.’
“Elram was confused. ‘What do you mean? You were said to be a scholar! To know what true wisdom is!’ Elram shook his head as he walked out of the tent.
“The scholar took one more look at Elram and said ‘I know what true wisdom is. But do you?’
“After that day, the scholar left and was never seen again. Elram’s farm continued to prosper, and everyone in the village seemed just a little bit wiser.”
At this closing line, Pashra stands up, and with one last deep, mischievous gleam in his shining eyes, he exits the tavern, leaving a crowd of silent spectators.
“Pashra! Pashra! Give us another story!” the kids exclaim, clapping their hands in excitement.
“Another story, you say?” Pashra looks up, giving the kids a glimpse of his golden, twinkling eyes, and a smile wider than any the kids have ever seen. “Gather round for the story of Elram!
“A long time ago, in a small town not so different from the one we live in now, lived a simple farmer named Elram. Every day was the same for him. He would wake up, tend his fields, maybe go to the town square to pick up more fertilizer, some new seeds to plant, and then he would go home. He was alone, but he was content.
“One day, a young scholar came to visit the village and asked the villagers ‘who is the wisest among you?’. Now, not many travelers came to this town, so a visitor created quite the stir. Every day, many people came to the scholar, claiming to be the wisest. When someone claimed to be the wisest, the scholar would take them into a tent he had put up, and talk with them. About fifteen minutes after, the person would leave the tent, looking downtrodden and defeated.
“Everyone in the village wanted a shot at this man’s games. The baker who knew everything there was to know about rising bread was driven out of the tent in mere seconds. The mayor, knowing how to lead a village down to the most miniscule detail, was stumped after only two minutes. The town scholar, learned in any topic a book could teach, was driven to tears after five minutes, though she lasted the longest of anyone.
“After a week or so, the villagers started to lose interest in the scholar, but the scholar stayed in his tent, saying he wouldn’t leave until he found ‘the wisest among them’. And there he sat for weeks and weeks, only coming out of his tent to find new, wiser people. Finally, one day, Elram decided to try his luck. With a deep breath, he strode into the scholar’s tent.
“‘What brings you here?’ the scholar asked, without looking up from the book he was reading.
“‘I heard you are searching for the wisest in the town, and I thought I would try.’ Elram took a breath, and sat down on the chair across from the scholar.
“‘Very well,’ the scholar started. ‘What makes a tree grow?’
“Elram, a man who had spent his whole life in the fields, was quick to respond. ‘Sunlight, water, nutrients from the soil.’
“The scholar nodded, with a slight smile on his face. ‘Thank you. That is all.’
“Elram was confused. ‘What do you mean? You were said to be a scholar! To know what true wisdom is!’ Elram shook his head as he walked out of the tent.
“The scholar took one more look at Elram and said ‘I know what true wisdom is. But do you?’
“After that day, the scholar left and was never seen again. Elram’s farm continued to prosper, and everyone in the village seemed just a little bit wiser.”
At this closing line, Pashra stands up, and with one last deep, mischievous gleam in his shining eyes, he exits the tavern, leaving a crowd of silent spectators.