Out among the damp farm fields of Den City, a stranger walked, eyes of brown surveyed the crops being harvested from beneath a gray hood. The bountiful harvests were a delight to the eyes, yet among the joys, sorrow was to be had. For every 5 fields that reaped a bounty, 2 fields were either flooded or dead from a lack of rain.

The losses had the stranger concerned and soon had come upon the main issue. A water way had offshoots to the thriving fields but none to the damaged field leading to no escape for flood water and no irrigation for crop growth. Finding this lack baffling the stranger moved toward a man sitting by a tree, tuning a violin and watching the flow of water. Assuming the man was the owner of the water ways the stranger confronted him.

"Excuse me sir. Are you not the steward of these aqueducts? How is it that you are not irrigating all of the crops for your workers?" the stranger asked.

The man with the violin stared at the stranger, red eyes softly aglow. "I am not the steward of these fair lands. Just a simple bard taking rest. However, you have asked a question needing answered. The irrigation of the crops falls to owners of each field. None are peasant farmers to some lord but freed, honest, hard working families owning their own land and the product of hard work. The aqueducts are free to be used by any, require no pay to use and simply the will to dig trenches and install flood gates. Those with wisdom have taken up the free gifts right away, those foolish or not so diligent have suffered thinking that leaving crops to nature alone would do.

As you can see, nature can be cruel to all. It can give and take all at once if you are not prepared. The rains have come, they have gone, it is a cycle through the years. The man with the parched crops was happy with casting his seed where ever he wished and letting the crop fend for itself. The man with flooded fields decided that making banks around his fields would trap more water, making him less dependent on the city aqueducts making him ready during a time of massive drought.

Both men have suffered by natures hand. She was coaxed into rain but only as much as needed for the area and she lovingly warmed the lands healthily. The fields with drainage and irrigation survived because of wisdom and not from taking advantage of nature."

The stranger seemed amused at the talk from the simple bard. "You speak as if you are intimate with nature and can control her whims. If so, why did you not spare the men's crop?"

The man softly chuckled and put violin to chin and held bow ready to caress strings. "Who's to say I did not try? Rains come and go, the sun rises and the sun sets, but it is up to mortals to understand how nature is and how to harness it. Those reaping bounty know the values of nature. Those that suffered were justly punished."

The man walked away from the stranger, softly playing a sea shanty. Gray clouds were rolling in, promising more rain. The stranger watched the man leave, watched the clouds roll in and called out. "Isn't that cruel to not help all to enjoy a bountiful harvest?"

The man turned and eyed the stranger, violin stopping a moment, thunder in the distance. "Cruelty is playing favorite to one and ignoring the many. Offering bounty to those who truly did nothing. Everyone and everything is subject to nature. The world is in balance. When the cries of self imposed folly reaches my ears, I will not be there to hold hands. I will be there with nature herself and allow the course to flow letting the prepared flourish and the foolish parish."

The stranger was struck silent by the wisdom of the words. The sea shanty rose upon the wind once more and the rain began to fall. The man and the violin had vanished among the rain as the last harvester pulled their wagon from gleaned fields.