A small cottage, bathed in the glow of the morning sun, stood on a lone hill overlooking a wide valley of trees. Light-brown fencing stretched around the cabin and several gardens, each growing tall with all manner of fruits and vegetables.

Humming to himself, Riddle Fairgrove, wearing simple gray robes roughly sewn, stepped out his front door. He held a sloshing watering pail. A light breeze swept back his graying hair and he smiled towards the sun.

Riddle walked barefoot over the well-trodden path through his gardens, sprinkling water and good thoughts on the greens. His humming, joyous in tune, grew louder. When he reached a crescendo, Riddle began to sing:

“Ooooh the joys of summer~

Wreathed in the trees

Far away the winter

With cold mountain breeze

By the mighty stream

Lives the Wizard of the Glade

Laughing as he skips along

Free as a child’s dream

And basking in the shade~”

The trees swayed with joy as Riddle passed them by, dancing to his motley tune. The wind added to the chorus, howling like wolves on a moonlit night. A nearby stream babbled and bubbled, cheering along, and birds whispered to one another of the Wizard and his song.

The day moved slowly, and time seemed to hold still. Riddle breathed in deeply, letting his lungs fill with the smell of nature and the glade. With his garden taken care of, he walked orthogonal to his fence, down the hillside towards a lowly mott. There, the trees were old and gray. Their tired branches bent with years of bearing fruit, and their sides bore holes from woodpecker abuse.

“Elder Suan,” Riddle called, as he approached the bottom of the dell.

“Yes, Wizard?” Asked the largest of the trees in reply. Its voice was aged and filled with the rumbles and wisps of time.

“I have come to visit,” said Riddle as he pulled a sealed jar from his pack. “And I have brought good alcohol.”

The tree laughed gruffly, and its bark seemed to stretch like a smile. “It has been a long time since your last visit, Wizard,” replied the tree. “Would you be so kind as to pour the drink on my roots, so I may taste it?”

“Of course,” Riddle said, a smile on his face. He approached the large tree and uncapped the jar. The scent of strong spirits filled the air, and the other trees in the grove swayed as if to lean in and enjoy the smell. “Calm now! There’s enough for all of you,” Riddle laughed, and he started pouring the jar onto the roots of each tree.

With each tree served, Riddle took out a small ceramic cup and poured himself a serving. He sat down cross-legged and raised his cup in a toast.

The grove sat in silence for many breaths. Riddle sipped his spirit and relaxed. He understood trees prefer silence to small talk, thus he held his tongue. For an hours time Riddle sat in quiet company, enjoying the taste of fine alcohol.

“Wizard,” spoke Elder Suan at last, “Surely you haven’t come simply to share a drink with an old friend.”

“You know me well, Elder,” Riddle laughed. “The truth is, I have come to ask a favor of you.”

“A favor?” Elder Suan asked, his voice growing heavy. “Riddle, you know the pact of nature.”

“Yes, I know the pact. I helped author it, after all. Be at ease, old friend. I come not to ask you to break the pact.”

“Then why have you come?” Asked Elder Suan.

“I have received a summons from the Court of Talmanas. Thus I intend to leave the Glade for about a week’s time. I come to simply ask you to water my gardens and watch my homestead,” said Riddle, a calm smile on his face.

“Interesting,” replied Suan, his bark scrunching like a frown. “Why do you come to us when we owe you no favor, wizard?”

“If you accept then I’ll owe you a favor, Elder,” Riddle replied with a nod, his voice honey. “For seven days of watching and watering, I will offer seven days of my own time at your service.”

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“Time for time,” mused the tree, his voice filled with wonder.

“I’ll also bring another jar of my finest spirits for you to enjoy upon my return,” Riddle added, his tone meddlesome like a lure. The trees grew silent as they held an accord, speaking with the winds. Riddle smiled and sipped from his cup.

“Very well,” Elder Suan said, his voice booming, “But I require an official pact, lest you run off with my favor.”

“I wouldn’t think of such a thing, Elder,” Riddle replied in quiet anger at the accusation, his smile fading.

“It is for my own safety. I do not doubt you, old friend, but not all the Glade knows you as well as I,” the tree replied, his voice heavy and soft.

“Very well,” Riddle replied without much thought, “But the pact will be done in the way of the Wizards, not the way of the Glade for I have not enough time to do things proper.”

The trees spoke with the winds again, their soft voices laced with the venom of argument. Occasionally their sounds would tickle Riddle’s ears, just beyond the reach of his comprehension. This talk took three full hours, and even the patient Riddle began to grow irate.

“We have come to an accord,” boomed Suan’s voice. With a vote of seven to three, we have agreed to watch your homestead in exchange for seven days favor.”

Elder Suan’s branches bent forward, and a soft ambient blue light stretched from them towards Riddle. Riddle reached out with his hand and touched the light, caressing it and folding it. Then, he shaped it. The light transformed from blue to violet and took the shape of a swan. Dancing about, the violet swan burst into scattering light, and it called upon the winds.

“The pact is made by the way of the Wizards,” Suan said, his voice gruff but his bark smiling.

“So it is,” replied Riddle. “Thank you, Elder Suan.” Riddle stood and bowed towards the tree, his robes brushing the fallow grass.

“You honor me too much,” the Tree replied.

“I will return in seven days, Elder. Please do not let my tomatoes wilt,” said Riddle with a grin.

“You have my word, Riddle Fairgrove. No harm will come to your homestead.”

With words of brotherhood exchanged, Riddle bade the grove of Elder Trees farewell and returned to his hillside home. He set about packing his bags for the journey.

Riddle spoke words of power in the olden tongues and stored several days worth of food inside a small pocket of his pack. He folded three robes seven times over and stored them, being careful not to wrinkle or crease his everyday wear. Then he set about searching his cabin for anything he couldn’t risk leaving behind.

Riddle rifled through his chests and boxes before pulling out his three treasures, just for a moment. Then he tucked them safely inside a locked crate. With a kiss, he sealed the container using ancient magics and carefully slid the treasure chest under his bed, for there is no safer place than under the bed frame of a wizard. Even with Elder Suan watching his home, Riddle could never be too careful with his treasures. They held a power unthinkable, and many a man would give all to obtain them.

The final packed object, a folded hammock, proved too large to fit into Riddle’s pack. Thus the hammock found itself folded into a sash, looping from Riddle’s right shoulder to his left hip.

Prepared for his journey, Riddle took hold of a long gnarled walking stick, a gift crafted from one of Elder Suan’s branches many ages ago.

With a smile, whistle, and hop, The Wizard of the Glave left his forest home and made way towards civilization for the first time in over 200 years.