Patch's Page

The farming, it is boring dull. The plowing is dull, and the sowing is dull, and the reaping, it is dull, too. The wheat is dull, and the bread! The bread is quite so dull; I cannot put it to words. And me, I tried that more than once. My name is Patch.

M'da, "Big" Patch, he loves his fields, and'd yoke me t'em just as the oxes. No harm in it, just the narrowness of vision. Me, I see quite far, and I'll put the wide world 'tween me and the boring dull fields soon enough. I's a mark to make. Armee, he gives me strength, and not just for the plowing. Nor me, I swing the scythe just for the reaping.

Now the dragon, he'd come, as they do, and the fields is ash, and the Falls is ash. I'd been off away, swinging with the scythe. M'da, he is hurt some, like all who's still living. M'ma, she burnt with the wheat.

Wingra, she goes for help, as is quite needed. But the travel isn't safe, and Skelysis and the Wormshield, they is watching over the thorp, as is needed, too. So me, I go with as guard, and no use reaping the ash. Messer, he gives me the chance, and I is not the fool who turns away. Mayhap I'll end that dragon, nor he sees that coming.



Subpages (1): Patch's Sideplots
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