T’was a light rain falling when Korv awoke. He had not slept well the night before and had to will himself to get out of bed, lest the temptation to stay there become too great. He made his morning brew, and decided to stand outside for a few moments and enjoy the quiet of the morning.
Walking carefully, so as to not spill the tankard which he had overfilled, Korv made his way outdoors. It was early enough that the village was still quiet, and the only sound was a few birds chirping back and forth in what seemed casual conversation.
The rain was a light and misty veil falling gently upon the village. Korv inhaled deeply and drank in the serenity of the morning. He sometimes wished all days could be like this. The grey sky was almost soothing in it’s melancholy. He sipped his brew and with a slight sigh, went back into his cabin.
Korv had few plans this day. It was a day of resting and rejuvenating for most in the village. Those who had toiled all week took advantage of this time to bond with family and friends, tend to their own tasks, or engage in acts of leisure. To that end, Korv would take the time to write and create. He had very much fallen in love with this simple act, and he felt very pleased that others in the village had enjoyed it as well.
Korv stared at the blank parchment before him and pondered what to write. He had several fragments of ideas, but nothing cohesive. Typically when he wrote, he found the words flowed with ease. He may not be well spoken like a noble, but he felt he communicated well enough and had ideas of some merit.
Slowly and deliberately, Korv put quill to parchment. He had written about three complete sentences, when suddenly, he found his mind was blank, and the words on the parchment seemed hollow to him.
Korv scratched out the sentences he had written and decided to start fresh. As he wrote the introduction, the quill danced free and easy, like a fairy in the wood. He had written a whole paragraph, when again, suddenly, he knew not where to go next. He took a deep breath and reread what was written thus far. Again, no other thoughts came to him.
He decided he would just write whatever came into his mind and figure it out later. He tried to let go and just write, but the words were stuck deep in some abyss, far from his grasp. Again, he reread what he had written. By this point, Korv had grown very frustrated. The more he he read, the less sense his words made. He deemed the piece rubbish, tore up the parchment, and stormed from his writing table in anger.
“Bah! This writing is a fool’s errand!”, Korv said aloud as he made another batch of brew. “This is the domain of nobles and scholars, not barbarians and warriors!”
And with that, Korv decided he would go do what warriors do. He would train for battle. If he could not strengthen his mind, at least he could strengthen his body.
Since he was feeling particularly contemptuous, the barbarian marched straight over to the iron bastard. They could spend the remainder of the morning fighting and insulting each other, he figured.
Korv leaned down and picked up the hammer with an almost violent disdain. His hands gripped the handle so tightly, that they started to cramp slightly. Paying this no mind, the barbarian began swinging the hammer with an almost uncontrollable fury. He swung it overhead, to his side, and even threw the implement in the air, snatching it ruggedly as it came down toward his head.
As the sweat poured from his brow, and he felt the burning in his lungs, the barbarian let out a hearty laugh. Right now, here in the rain, he felt more alive than he had in a long while. For a moment, he even felt like the spirit of Thor the Mighty had inhabited his very being!
Finally, exhausted, he raised the hammer up one last time in salute to the gods and the universe for the gift of strength they had granted him. He exhaled loudly and dropped the hammer to the ground, where it would lay until they met again on the ‘morrow. Tired, but invigorated, Korv returned to his cabin.
After the strength returned to his limbs, Korv made his way once more to his writing table. He pulled out a fresh piece of parchment and sat in quiet contemplation.
After a few minutes, he wrote the following:
Some days we awaken and are truly unsure of our purpose in life. We grasp blindly for clues and ask questions which fall upon deaf ears. We look for a map to guide us, when in truth we had the map all along. The map lies within us. Sometimes, we are just afraid to look at it. We are afraid to trust that voice which tells us go left when others turn right. We think our words less meaningful, because our station in life dictates thus.
But I implore you all, dear friends; listen to this voice within you. It will guide you where you need to go. Even if logic tells you otherwise, listen to your heart! Search the marrow of your soul, and find out what gives meaning to your existence! Find it, and embrace it! Let not others dictate what you are, or what you should be! You, and you alone, know your true worth. Let no one tell you otherwise. Greet the day with vigor, embrace your mission, and most of all, believe in thyself!
Korv did not know if his words were as pretty as a nobleman or a scholar, but he felt them to be right, and he was proud. He rolled the parchment up and left it for the village messenger to post about the town.
As he prepared to rest a spell before his evening meal, Korv heard a light knock at his door. He rose to answer it, but when he opened the door, no one was there.
He looked down, and at his feet, there lay a solitary envelope. Korv opened it, and what was inside was nothing like he had ever seen before. It was not parchment, and the drawing on it looked so real and lifelike.
Korv stared at it in awe for many seconds. Surely, this was some kind of magic!
As he looked up, he saw Mr. Philo walking leisurely up the street. Suddenly, he stopped and turned slowly to look back at Korv. He smiled, gave a polite nod and with that, casually continued on his way.
Korv put the fantastical picture back in it’s envelope and made his way back inside. Perhaps a sip of something stronger than his usual elixir was called for tonight.
The Beginning At Last 
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