A Noobs Mythology

By Elizabeth Gardner

An Introduction

I have written a small selection of short narratives modeled predominantly after Ancient
Greek myth. This work is an accumulation of themes and motifs expressed throughout
Hamiltons Mythology, Campbells Hero of a Thousand Faces, Eliades The Sacred and the
Profane, Roberts Finding Everett Ruess, and Jaspers Sacred Dessert combined with Biblical
allusions.
The first tale of the Court of Gods closely follows mythos seen in Hamiltons Mythology.
Shia (named after Shia Labeouf due to a truly odd and unexplainable fascination with the man)
is loosely based off of Almighty Zeus as well as Narcissus. He is vain, conceited, and ultimately
foolhardy, which leads to other gods often getting the best of him. Wims role is similar to that
of Poseidon, Zeus brother, though his temperament and personality are analogous to Ares
disposition. Faeryns station as Shias wife is best expressed through Greek myth by Hera, but
her affinity for wilderness and animals combined her desire for freedom from masculine
domain likens her to Artemis.
The idea of the trickster god was inspired by Campbells tales of Edshu and other
tricksters of myth. Edshu, of West African myth, confesses, Spreading strife is my greatest joy
(Campbell 45). The idea of a trickster that is both benevolent as well as mischievous plays into
the kind of offset duality that makes mythology so dynamic. These forms of teachers practice
through pranking and fooling. While Quin is perhaps a less rowdy version of Edshu, his role in
this mythology is to confuse and trick as well as educate.
The plots of these short stories have morals and offer explanation of origin. As the
flower-myths of Narcissus, Hyacinth, and Adonis provide insight to the ontology of certain
species of flowers, my tales likewise propose origins for the birch tree and waters reflective
surface (Hamilton 85-91). I also use relics like seeds and daggers and shields that reoccur in
mythology. In my first short story, I argue that a mirror is mightier than a sword due to its

reflecting nature. The idea of the shield doubling as a mirror is borrowed from the Greek tale of
Perseus. Athena gives Perseus a bronze shield and says, You will be able to see her in it as in
a mirror, and so avoid her deadly power (Hamilton 145). Quin also uses the mirror shield to
block Wims attacks in my own mythology.
The two short stories that follow the pomegranate tree are inspired heavily by Biblical
literature. The story of Eden parallels the Garden of Eden in that a serpent temps Eve to bite
an apple to achieve knowledge just as a trickster god convinces Eden to ingest a seed of
knowledge. Unlike the Bible, my own telling highlights that knowledge is essential to growth
and discovery. Why should knowledge banish instead of nourish? By having Eden take in a
seed and expel an entire tree pontificates the nature of intellect. One seed planted in ones
mind can give birth to a greater wealth of understandingand this is as it should be. I also
chose to name the woman Eden (paradise) to assert that womankind should be tied to the soil
instead of banished from it. Arguably, Christian mythos attempts to undercut the value of
knowledge in favor of submission to Gods dominion. Meanwhile, a truly spiritual interpretation
would follow that knowledge sets us free. In seeking knowledge, we pursue godliness.
This telling also elevates the role of women through myth. In Genesis, Eve shoulders
heavy blame for forsaking God. In the Greek myth of Pandora, women are also viewed as
inherently wicked, cosmic banes of existence who unleash plagues innumerable, sorrow and
mischief for mankind (Hamilton 70-72). By adopting a more Elidadian approach to
womanhood, I use the role of mother to indicate telluric fecundity (Eliade 144). Eden
essentially becomes one with Mother Earth by giving birth to the tree that nourishes and
sustains life among the Dark Dunes. Her burial evokes the cyclical symbolism of man
returning to the womb (and tomb) of Terra Mater after death (Eliade 141-142). In this way, she
becomes a prominent universal figure in the mythology, linked with natural life and deathor
birth and rebirth since Eden lives on through the fruits of the tree.
The story of Kilian and Einan are loosely modeled after Cain and Abel from Genesis.
Kilians jealousy of his brother parallels Cains deep-seeded envy of Abel, whose gifts (like

Einans paintings) are valued more highly by God. The moral here is that there is no right or
wrong away to pay homage to beauty or sacrality. Some societal attitudes and norms regarding
beauty standards can be stifling to unique individuals who value beauty differently. Beauty is
in the eye of the beholder, and what repulses one person can attract another.
The pomegranate tree exists as an axis mundi, or a pole that acts as a connecting point
between the earth and the heavens (Eliade 33-35). The pomegranate tree becomes the very
heart of the village around which people congregate, further establishing it as the physical as
well as spiritual center. Edens sacrifice sanctifies the space and creates a tree that the
villagers recognize to be sacred. The birch tree is also sacred, though it exists outside of society
and is only recognized to be sacred by Kilian; however, this goes along with the idea in class
that anything and everything has the potentiality for sacrality.
I chose to set the narratives in a wasted desert of black sands to tie in the elements of
desert myth that we have discussed extensively in class. Deserts are barren, desolate, vast,
devoid of human comfort, and they offer nowhere to hide. It is a place of purgation and
temptation (Jasper 2). When a wanderer enters the desert, they become subjected at once to
the harsh sun that physically strips them down to their very essentials. It is here that the
saunterer is able to engage in deep self-reflection and eventually reach self-actualizationor
the Ultimate Boon, as suggested by Campbell (172-192). The desert is a blank slate invested
with so much potential opportunity for demarcation.
Edens and Kilians entries into the desert suggest similar personal growth undergone
by Everett Ruess. During Edens trek to the oasis, she suffers under the harsh desert elements
that burn her body and attempt to thwart her resolve. Like Ruess, Eden pushes through all
physical barriers with refined mental fortitude. Ruess famously writes:
Say that I starved; that I was lost and weary;
That I was burned and blinded by the desert sun;
Footsore, thirsty, sick with stranger diseases;
Lonely and wet and coldbut that I kept my dream! (Roberts 8).
Kilians passion for the desert landscape is also an echo of the quest for ultimate beauty
undertaken by Ruess. Kilians misanthropic disposition repels him from societal boundaries.

He feels more at one in the dunes than he does within his village, just as Ruess prefers the
wilderness to city living. Ordered society constrains the free spirits of Kilian and Ruess by
trapping them to the standards of others when what they seek most is self-discovery. The
desert offers a form of pure isolation that cannot be truly paralleled. Its vast endlessness of
sheer terrain diminishes all manmade construction.
The Dark Dunes act as a meeting place for both Eden and Kilian. In the desert, they
both meet gods, which is taken from Jaspers idea that the desert is a place of solitariness and
meeting; a place of fear and shifting identity (Jasper 2). Neither character learns who the
trickster god is at first meeting.
Hopefully, this insight provides explanation behind the design and organization of my
own mythological narratives. The main purpose of these stories is to explore the cosmic nature
of ontology, self-reflection, knowledge, and beauty while providing examples of these universal
themes that reoccur throughout different ages and cultures of mankind.

Work Cited
Campbell, Joseph. The Hero with a Thousand Faces. Princeton: Princeton University Press, 1973. Print.
Eliade, Mircea. The Sacred and the Profane: The Nature of Religion. New York: Harcourt, Inc., 1987. Print.
Hamilton, Edith. Mythology: Timeless Tales of Gods and Heroes. New York: New American Library, 1942.
Print.
Jasper, David. The Sacred Desert: Religion, Literature, Art and Culture. Malden: Blackwell Publishing,
2004. Print.
Roberts, David. Finding Everett Ruess: The Life and Unsolved Disappearance of a Legendary Wilderness
Explorer. New York: Broadway Paperbacks, 2011. Print.

Gods of Clay

A string of chord
A bolt of light
A tell of tale
A storm of might
A drop of ink
A curse of plight
Handcrafted Gods of wrong and right
Gods are clay
Yet, to them, men pray

The Sword and the Shield

In the time of ago, the four gods awoke from stardust in a field of vast stars. They
drifted down to the nearest planet and sunk beneath the atmosphere. Thus, the
Honored Court of Gods was created.
First, there was Shia, God of Vainglory and Ruler of the Sky, was tall and immense.
His hair was of flaxen wheat and his eyes shone like sapphires. As the King who
reigned over the Court, he was egotistical, narcissistic and terribly powerful. He was
born wielding a sword and shield and was often seen riding a griffin across the sky.
His reflective shield doubled as a mirror, so he could revel in his own reflection
whenever temptation struck, for he was beautiful, and he knew it.
Next, there came Wim, God of Spite and Ruler of Fire. He was second-in-command
and envied Shia fiercely. His true love, Faeryn, was wife to Shia, and so from this his
envy grew and did not cease. He was jealous of Shias looks, for bitterness made Wim
unattractive. He was hotheaded and wrathful, and the feud between Wim and Shia
was legendary. His most desperate desire was to one day overthrow Shia and become
King of the Court. His weapon was a sheathed dagger he crafted himself in his own
forge. He hid this on his personperfect for backstabbing. He also had a penchant for
potion making, along with blacksmithing.
Faeryn, Goddess of Fauna, was the Queen of the Court and Shias wife. She ruled over
Earth. Her long tresses were as brown as bark and her forest green eyes were as
dappled as leaves. She was known for her gentle grace and wild spirit. She had a
strong connection to animals and all wildlife, and felt most alive in the woods on her
own. Her gift was music. She had a beautiful singing voice that birds would flock to.
All earthly beings responded favorably to her. Unhappy in her marriage, Faeryn
undermined Shias dominion at every chance. She desired to be free from the
patriarchy that bound her.
The last God of the Court was Quin, the Trickster God, who ruled over water. Tall, thin
as a reed, with hair and eyes as dark as the depths, Quins beauty starkly contrasted
the brilliant radiance of Shia. He was somewhat of an outcast. His opinions often went
unheard, so he schemed to win his way. Like water, Quins power was
underestimated, and he favored this position. His cunning and his charm aided in his
success. He loved to cause strife among the Honored Court of Gods. He was equipped
with no weapon and relied solely on his wit, sharper than any dagger and swifter than
any stream.
****

Out of sheer boredom, Shia created man to populate the Earth. He desired a race of
inferior beings who would tell tales of him and his magnificence.
They will be my servants. They will tell me I am beautiful. They will feed me grapes.
They will abate my every appetite, said he as he lounged on his jewel bedecked
throne.
Wim, Faeryn, and Quin rolled their eyes in sync.
Shia, ignoring their disdain, plucked a star from the velvet sky and crushed it in his
palm. He brought it to his lips and breathed life into it. He then opened his palm and
sprinkled the dust among the grass. From this dust arose the first race of men.
It was Wim, not wanting humans to grow too fond of Shia, who unsheathed his dagger
and cleaved the Court from land. The Court of Gods rose into the clouds, leaving the
ground behind. This created a field of separation between the gods and man.
This separation only added to Shias adoration, and his memory was ever-sweet. The
people of Earth eradicated shrines in his image and told tales of his glory, just as he
had hoped.
Shia would laze days and nights upon his throne, stroking his long, ornate sword
lovingly while gazing at him own reflection in his shiny shield.
While man worshipped Shia from below, the other gods despised him from above.
Quin, feeling crafty, devised a plan to capture that shield, but he relied on the
assistance of Wim and Faeryn to achieve his end. He would need misdirection.
Legend says that Shias sword is imbued with extraordinary power, and whoever
claims the sword wins the Court, lied Quin to Wim and Faeryn in secret.
Wims eyes grew great with greed. Faeryns closed in sweet reverie.
If we three join together and steal the sword, we can rule over the Court and banish
Shia for good, said Quin.
The only problem was that Shia was extremely possessive of his precious toys. Every
night, before he retired, Shia carefully deposited his sword and shield in a wooden box
and tied it up with impenetrable rope. He then slid the box under his bed. The room in
which he slept was guarded by Shias pet griffin.
How will we get past the griffin? Quin questioned, though he knew the way.
Oh! I can use my voice to charm it! Faeryn offered at once, as Quin knew she would.
He smiled appreciatively. But how will we cut the ropes that bind the box? he
quizzed again. His dark eyes darted to Wim.
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We can use my dagger, said Wim as his fingers danced across the heavy, ornate hilt.
And so the plan was executed just as Quin planned it.
Wim, who knew all about poisons and elixirs, brewed a sedative with the power to lull
Shia into a deep sleep.
Faeryn slipped it into his wine when she joined him for dinner.
After Shia drifted off to sleep, Faeryn used her beautiful singing voice and affinity for
animals in order to get passed the griffin guard.
Once the three of them gained entrance into Shias sleeping chambers, they quietly
slid the box from under his bed and used Wims dagger to cut the ropes.
Together, they slid the lid off the box, exposing the shield and the sword.
YES! Wim yelled, and he snatched up the sword and held it out in front of him,
wielding it like a madman. I have it! I am all powerful! I am King!
Faeryn let out a shriek of dismay in such a chilling tone that the sleeping spell broke
and Shia jerked awake.
What is this?
Wim cackled manically, I have your sword! The Court is mine!
Meanwhile, Quin snatched the reflective shield.
What are you doing with that, Quin? It is the sword that has the power, said Wim
seething with authority.
Does it? How do you know I was telling the truth?
Wims eyes filled with anger as he dove at Quin, sword slicing through the air.
Quin deflected the sword with the shield and he held it out in front of him so that Wim
could see his own reflection.
The sword is useless. It is the mirror that has the power to protect me by showing you
your true self, said Quin, the trickster.
Wims eyes bore into the shields surface and he saw himself for what he truly was: a
sad, jealous little god who could never rule the Court. He dropped the sword in disgust
and fled from his own reflection.
And so Shia reclaimed his sword, but Quin kept the shield. Wisest of all gods, Quin
understood the importance of seeing oneself in earnest.

It is because Quin gained the mirror that the waters have the reflective quality that
allows one to look into its depths and see themselves.

The Gift of Eden

Resulting in a feud between Wim and Faeryn, all the lands had burned up to cinder.
Wim confessed his love, which Faeryn quickly denied, and in rage and
embarrassment, Wim scorched the lush forests of Earth, setting them ablaze and
leaving behind nothing but desolate dunes of black ash. There was no food. There was
no water, save that which fell from the sky.
A drought came. The people of the Dark Dunes survived months without rainfall, but
thirst and starvation picked off the people of the tribe.
One day, when there were but thirty left, one young woman, Eden, fancied she spied a
glimpse of shimmering water off in the distant horizon. Though the tribe spoke of
mirage, Eden cast off the doubters and ventured forward alone.
The black sand burned sores into the soles of her feet, but she walked on alone.
The black sun burned blisters into the back of her neck, but she walked on alone.
The black doubt burned fear into the back of her mind, but she walked on alone.
She trekked across the dunes for three days and nights before she reached the
shallow pool of shimmering water.
Eden ran to it eagerly and fell to her dusty knees. She would have cried if she had any
moisture to spare. Instead, she reached her sand-crusted hands into the deliciously
cool oasis, cupped the water, and brought it to her lips.
Wait, came a voice.
Eden turned, the water slipping through her fingers.
A tall, dark man stood before her, his black eyes boring into hers.
Drink from the waters, and you will quench your own thirst. For a time. Take in the
seed of knowledge, and you will save your entire village.
He brought his hand forward and opened his palm. There, winking boldly under the
vengeful sun, as if it knew a secret, lay one lone pomegranate seed.
Take it.
Who are you?
Take it.
10

If I take it, the drought will end?

You will have to take it to find out.
Are you a god? Edens people had long whispered about the Court of Gods.
You will have to take it to find out. He smiled.
Eden stretched out her hand and delicately picked up the seed, careful to avoid
contact with the mysterious strangers skin. She brought it to her mouth and ate it. Its
assaulting sweetness scorched her dry tongue.
She knelt down again to reclaim the water, but as she cupped her hands together to
plunge them into the depths of the pool, it vanished before her eyes. Her fingers
circled hot, black ash.
But Eden turned to the man.
But he, too, had vanished.
Maybe he was a mirage. Just like the oasis.
****
The trip back to the modest village took much less time to complete. Eden returned
before nightfall.
Well? the villagers asked.
Did you find water? one sneered knowingly.
No, replied Eden. We will have to wait.
She waited three more days before anything happened. Eden was mending cloth
within her familys humble shelter when she coughed. A pomegranate seed spilled
from her mouth and landed on the cloth. She looked at it warily.
She coughed again, and five more spilled out. She kept coughing, and coughing, and
hundreds of seeds were pouring onto the sand floors. She felt weak and feverish, as if
she might die.
The doctor was sent for. He examined her and announced that she was pregnant.
Impossible! cried Eden, between wracking coughs.
As for the seeds, the doctor could not say. He questioned whether she had forsaken
the gods.
Edens mind went to the mysterious stranger.
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****
He came to her that night.
It was midnight, and she was standing under the stars, attempting to catch her
breath, when he sauntered toward her, the same knowing smile etched into his skin.
Hello again, he greeted.
What did you do to me?
Havent you heard? You are pregnant. And after you give birth, you will leave this
world. But you will save the village.
WhatWhat will become of me? For the first time since the drought, tears burned
white-hot behind her eyes. She suddenly realized that she had not suffered from thirst
once since returning to the village.
You are destined for greatness, the man replied warmly.
The tears broke through, and Eden felt warm liquid streaming down her cheeks. She
quickly wiped the tears away, and her fingers came away red. Her tears were
pomegranate juice.
Are you a god? she asked again.
I am Quin.
The trickster god?
The tricksters methods are never gentle, but the trickster is the wisest of teachers.
The moon illuminated the dark dunes in the softest silver grey. Even with the trickster
standing beside her, Eden had never felt more alone.
When the time comes, I will dig your grave and you will lie in it to give birth, he said.
Eden nodded and was quiet for a moment.
I wish I had more time, Eden mused, still looking at the dunes.
But you have eternity.
She turned to look at him, her brows knit with questions.
But he was gone.
****

12

Time trudged on, Edens belly swelled, and her strength drained with every passing
day. When she awoke on the day that was her last, Eden found Quin digging her grave
just outside her abode.
She lumbered out to meet him. Villagers looked on, and she wondered if they could
see the trickster.
He smiled and held out his hand for her to take, and then carefully guided her into her
grave. Red tears streaked her visage, but she uttered not a word. As she lay in her
birthing bed and her grave, a sense of understanding overcame her. A radiant,
knowing smile broke over her otherwise wasted features.
When the time came, Eden pushed. From her loins sprouted a giant tree.
The colossal trunk sprung forth fully formed, forever covering Eden in her shaded
grave. The branches and the leaves materialized at once, already adorned with plump,
red pomegranates that wept blood red tears for the sacrifice of Eden.
Edens tree saved the village. The juice from the pomegranates was as hydrating as
water, and it served to sustain them throughout the drought.
Some villagers claimed that Eden lived on as the root of the tree, and that every
pomegranate was a gift in memory of her.

The Eye Snatcher

Many, many years after the birth of the pomegranate tree, the people of the Dark
Dunes continued to pay homage to Eden and the tree. In the hundreds of years since
her passing, the village had grown populous and the tree had become the very heart of
the village, where all congregated. In honor of the death and the birth, many villagers
would kiss the sandy soil at the base of the tree in thanks.
It was often said that the pomegranate tree offered the only beauty amid the desolate
dunes, and all else paled in comparison. The greatest muse, the tree inspired many.
Artists painted pictures, musicians wrote songs, and the villagers would often stare at
the tropical tree amid an ocean of black sand and contemplate its majesty.
But one man would not.
Kilian was a Philistine and a misanthrope. His job was that of scavenger. He would
often go into the dunes alone, or with a small group, and hunt animals or collect
remnants. He despised all art, all people, and all beauty. He would stare at Edens tree
for hours in dark contemplation, attempting to find this apparent beauty that so
wholeheartedly escaped him.
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His own brother, Einan, the young artist, admired the tree with fervent obsession.
Every one of his paintings featured the tree or the fruit it bore. He would often say to
Kilian that only a man who was truly blind could overlook its beauty.
Einan was the favorite growing up and remained the favorite of the village. Spectators
crowded around at the unveiling of his latest masterpiece, and some would comment
that Einan inherited all the talent, leaving Kilian with none.
One day Kilian jealously observed Einan receiving complements on his latest sketch of
Edens tree. He rolled his eyes and scoffed audibly.
Kilian wished that he could create something that people valued, and more than that,
he wished he could value something himself. He was tired of seeing the ugly in
everything.
That night, he walked along the dunes in seek of solitude. He contemplated why he
was so different from the other villagers. From his own brother. He stewed over his
envy of Einan, who was a creator. Kilian felt like nothing but a destroyer.
The Dark Dunes were supposed to be deadly quiet, which is why Kilian jumped when
he heard a soft footstep somewhere behind him.
Whos there?
But a lowly traveler, came a voice. As the figure neared Kilian, the moon washed over
his form, highlighting his deep, hollow eyes and his sunken, emaciated cheeks. Kilian
did not know, but it was Wim, God of Spite.
What you want, but dont have, you should take. And if you cant have it, you destroy
it.
Come again?
You have heard m
Dont listen to him. Another man had materialized before Kilians eyes. He had his
arm resting on Wims shoulder and one foot crossed in front of the other. This man
was taller and had darker hair and eyes than the first man. And he smiled. Though
Kilian did not know it, it was Quin, the trickster.
You are not a destroyer. You are a seeker. There is merit in that.
Oh! Nonsense! There is merit in the finder! In the claimer! Not in the seeker! Wim
knelt down and grasped a handful of blackened ash, ash from the fire that he had
started years and years before. He smiled a dangerous sneer and with the fires of his
fist, he forged from the ash an ornate silver dagger, quite similar to his own. Written
on the helm was the word: Pillager.
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With this, take. And what you dont take, destroy, said Wim.
Quin shook his head disapprovingly. Seek out. And what you dont find, create anew.
With that, the two figures vanished, leaving Kilian the Philistine alone once more.
****
When night fell and Kilian was once again within the confines of the village, he sought
out Einan the Artist. He found him sitting beneath Edens tree, gazing up at it lovingly.
Who but a blind man can look at this tree and not feel moved? Einan asked, not
taking his eyes off the fruit laden boughs.
Kilian removed his dagger from the folds of his garb and held it out before him. Wims
words replayed in his head.
With this, take.
The end of the dagger sunk in smoothly between the flesh of Einans eyelid, and Kilian
carved out the eyeball amid bloodcurdling screams of anguish.
And then he carved out the other eyeball.
Einan passed out from the pain.
Kilian carefully stitched Einans right eye onto the center of his forehead. He took the
other eye and burned it until it was black char and then scattered it among the dunes.
With his new third eye, Kilian approached the pomegranate tree, anticipating beatific
epiphany.
...
Nothing.
Kilian stared. Then he stared harder. He closed his own two eyes in hopes that Einans
eye would take over vision.
It did not. He saw nothing.
He opened his own eyes in frustration. The tree stood before him as ugly as ever. Its
misshapen fruits oozed bloody pus. Its bark remained rough and cracked. Kilian was
at a loss.
****

15

Kilian sought out every artist in the village and snatched their eyes. He stitched the
bloody orbs all over his body. First, he stitched them onto his cheeks. Then on the
palms of his hands. On his arms. On his chest. On the back of his head.
Alas, nothing.
Kilian became a monster of mismatched eyes that stared, but did not see. He never felt
blinder.
Meanwhile, his brother, Einan, recovered from the attack. He hobbled over to the
pomegranate tree, knelt down, and kissed the sandy soil as he would every other day.
And he noticed that its beauty was by no means diminished. In fact, with a rush of
artistic fervor, he sought out his inks and paints and began new artwork.
This creation was by far his most beautiful. The inhabitants of the village crowded
around him as he worked, murmuring appraising remarks and asides. By the time he
had finished, he had moved many to tears. The likeness to the pomegranate tree was
staggering and awe-inspiring.
Sight but hampered by work! cried Einan. Edens tree is more sublime to me than it
ever has been, for now I can truly see!
Kilian entered the village center, and the villagers scattered, fearful that he would
confiscate their eyes as he did so many others.
Kilian approached Einan slowly, rage reflecting in all twenty eyes.
You are blinded, and still beauty strikes you? I, with all my eyes, see nothing.
Eyes are windows. Shattered eyes are open doors, was Einans sage reply.
Kilian took out his silver dagger, contemplating murder, but then replaced it in his
robes. He fell to his knees beside Einan and tears seeped from his many eyes.
I am sorry, said Kilian. He got to his feet and slowly trudged out of town.
Among the dunes, Kilian felt free. There was not much to look at, and that suited him.
The dunes were calming and regular, with their ashen slopes lulling like waves over a
dark ocean.
Kilian celebrated his solitude and embraced his isolation. He no longer had to compare
to Einan. He no longer had to compete for affirmation. He no longer felt the pressure
to see beauty in a tree that, to him, meant nothing. He could be himself for the first
time in his life.
As he walked alone, he realized that the dunes were imbued with a subtle beauty that
moved him. And the sky as well. And the moon and the stars. He realized that looking
at the pomegranate tree as if it alone encompassed all worldly beauty was excessively
16

foolhardy. The villagers were just as blind for missing the beauty of this landscape as
he was for forsaking the pomegranate tree.
How could he have coveted eyes that in some ways were as blind as his?
Feeling foolish and somewhat disgusted with himself, Kilian took out the knife from
the folds of his clothing and moved to cast it away. He held it out before him, ready to
fling it, when the engraving caught his eyes.
It read: Seeker.
He blinked his many eyes.
Yes, you read it right, came a voice. Kilian did not have to turn to know who it was,
for he knew it to be Quin.
Those who seek are often wiser than those who are born seeing. You will seek harder
and ultimately find greater treasures than those who do not have to seek at all.
Einan sees beauty easily. Good for him. But you question, you explore.
So stop trying to see through others eyes. There is nothing wrong with your own. Try
seeking through them.
As he said the words, a new tree sprouted fully grown from the ground. It was long
and thin with white bark and vivid red leaves that starkly contrasted the black sands.
Then, the Trickster snapped his fingers and the stitched-on eyes fell away from
Kilians skin. Quin gathered them and fastened them to the pale bark of the tree.
Kilian stared with his own two eyes, and the tree stared back. He was lost for words.
To him, this tree was beautiful.
I call it a birch tree, said Quin.
The birch tree was never seen by anyone but Kilian.
It did not need the eyes of others to be confident in its own beauty.
And so the birch tree stood alone amid the dark dunes, away from the eyes of men,
silently beautiful, with only Kilian to appreciate it. This did not diminish it in the
slightest.

17