Stories: Gruner The Poor

The First Light of Dawn

Gruner awoke before sunrise, as he did every morning. He lay still for a moment, listening to the quiet sounds of the orphanage around him - the occasional creak of old wood, the soft breathing of the other boys sleeping in the room. A thin shaft of pale light crept through the room's single window. It was time to begin the day.

Moving quietly so as not to disturb the others, Gruner slipped out of bed and quickly dressed in his simple tunic and leggings. He splashed some cold water on his face to dispel the last cobwebs of sleep, then grabbed the small sack he always carried and headed outside.

There was a slight chill in the air, but Gruner barely noticed it. He filled his lungs deeply and looked up at the pale night sky. The dark blanket along the eastern horizon was just beginning to fade into predawn blues and grays. Somewhere a nightingale sang its last song before tucking its head under a wing to rest. It was his favorite time of day.

Gruner went first to the kitchen garden to gather ingredients for the morning meal. Bending among the raised vegetable beds, he selected plump carrots, crisp lettuce leaves, sweet onions, and herbs. Next he visited the chicken coop and goat pen, murmuring quiet greetings to the animals as he collected eggs and milked the nanny goat into his bucket. Going through the familiar morning chores gave him time to think.

His mind often wandered while his hands were busy - wondering about the world beyond the secluded valley the orphanage occupied. What wonders might dwell in those distant lands? Surely there were sights he couldn't even imagine waiting to be discovered. Adventures to thrill the heart and test the courage.

Gruner knew he would not be content to spend his life confined to this tiny village and its surrounding woods and fields. A restless longing always seemed to itch just beneath his skin, even as he cheerfully helped the caretakers with their never-ending tasks. He wanted...more.

With the sack of produce and the full bucket slung over his shoulders, Gruner made his way to the kitchen. Smoke was already billowing from the chimney, and he could hear a faint bustle inside. The tantalizing smell of baking bread wafted into his nose.

Mistress Elda looked up from kneading dough, her plump, flour-dusted face breaking into a smile at the sight of him.

"Ah, Gruner, dear boy, you're a blessing as always." Wiping her hands on her apron, she relieved him of the milk pail and added it to several already waiting on the long wooden table.

Gruner greeted Elda warmly and handed her the vegetables and eggs. "Good morning, mistress. It's a beautiful clear day, I think we'll have sunshine later."

He lingered for a few minutes, enjoying the homey atmosphere of the kitchen - the glow of the hearth fire, the smell of bread and porridge. It was a comforting place. But his restless spirit soon prevailed, and he took his leave. There were always more tasks to be done.

Gruner went to the yard next. He made quick work of feeding the clucking mass of chickens and two young goats that were penned there. The goats received extra handfuls of food and enthusiastic scratches behind their ears. Laughing softly at their eager nudges and nibbles for more treats, Gruner gave each one a final pat before moving on.

In the open work shed along the courtyard wall, Gruner uncovered the large loom that dominated the room. Warped threads hung in neat rows, awaiting the dance of the shuttle to transform them into cloth. Gruner prepared the bobbins with different colors of yarn to finish the half-finished blanket stretched on the frame. Then he sat down on the wooden bench in front of it and began to thread the shuttle, his movements smooth and practiced.

As the shuttle moved steadily back and forth, Gruner gradually tuned out his surroundings. His hands knew their work so well that they needed little guidance from his mind. The melodious clack-clack-clack of wood on wood lulled him into a contemplative calm.

He thought of his unknown parents and imagined what they must have been like. Mistress Elda said he'd been left in a swaddling blanket on the steps of the orphanage as a mere baby. She didn't know if he was born in the village or nearby. Anything could have caused his parents to give him up.

Gruner wove stories in his head about them - imagining a poor woodcutter and his loving wife unable to feed another child, or a wandering soldier forced to leave his lover to answer the call of duty. His ideas became increasingly dramatic and fanciful. Perhaps he was the son of a knight who died bravely in battle defending the kingdom! Or even a prince hidden away as a baby to hide his identity from those who would do him harm...

A muffled thump and a soft exclamation interrupted Gruner's musings some time later. He realized that his hands had stopped moving, though they were still gripping the shuttle, ready to launch. Blinking back to the present, he noticed the length of cloth now dragging far across the packed dirt floor.

Gruner glanced over to see one of the small boys tangled in the excess fabric. With his hands braced on the ground, he looked sheepishly up at Gruner through a curtain of disheveled hair - clearly having stumbled while running carelessly nearby. His clear eyes were wide with annoyance and surprise at his sudden encounter with the ground.

With a rueful puff of amusement, Gruner put down his work and went to help untangle the child. He glimpsed the wistfulness and curiosity reflected in the boy's expression. His own younger self, it seemed, looked back at him - still dreaming of great futures yet to be defined.

Gruner gentled his hands and manner as he freed the snared foot and ushered the child on his way with an understanding smile. This was his home and family, these children who shared the mysteries of their pasts and longings for whatever life held beyond the horizon. He would help guide and teach them, until the day came for him to finally seek out his wider destiny.