The Bounty of Arborsang

The rising sun peeked over the Eastern mountainside on the quiet, verdant village of Arborsang. It was a small, secluded village nestled within a valley that could not be found, but would reveal itself to those who were invited. There was nothing magical about it, just remarkably obscure. You had to know where you were going. May had arrived and with it came summer. And with summer came time to harvest the Fruit of Arborsang. The Fruit could be found only in the tree known as Arborsang, and the only tree of its kind could be found in the eponymous village.

Ryan opened the door to find a small package waiting for him on the doorstep. A small songbird, a warbler, by his eye, with a yellow throat and blue lines along the edges of his wings and framing his tiny belly, was perched atop the box singing a chirpy, lilting melody.

“And good morning to you as well,” Ryan said, tipping an invisible hat to the bird.

They watched one another for a moment until the bird cocked its head before it flew off and perched on a looming branch just over the house. It perched there for some time, watching him, and singing its gentle morning song. Head cocking back and forth, beak burying itself, rooting around under wings and between feathers. Ryan turned his attention to the box on the doorstep. It was a deep forest green, wrapped on each side with a broad burgundy ribbon that was tied into a neat bow on top. There was a small card attached to the lid with the letters RL written by hand in the center. After admiring the box for a moment, he crouched down to pick it up and brought it inside.

“So?” Sonia Levitt said with an impish smirk, “What have you got there?”

Ryan smiled as he placed the box on the kitchen table. “It appears that a neatly wrapped package was left on the porch for someone with the initials RL.”

“That's an awful lot like your initials, isn't it?” She said, winking. “Why don't you put it there in the center of the table and you can see what's inside after breakfast. We'll need plenty of strength today. Eat up so we can start decorating for the festival. Your father will be down in a minute.”

“Sure thing,” he said as he grabbed a small stack of plates from the counter. The table was set and the family, Sonia, Frederick, and Ryan Levitt, ate egg omelets with spinach and tomato, a rasher of bacon each, and toast with honey. They washed down their breakfast with orange juice and a cup of black coffee. Sonia had tea.

“Well, go ahead then Ryan,” Frederick said. “Let's see what you have there.”

Ryan grabbed the box with his finger tips and slid it toward the edge of the table. After removing the ribbons, he lifted the lid slowly and placed it on the table next to the box. Inside was a red morsel resting within a nest of soft green leaves. It was the Fruit of the Arborsang. He had tasted the Fruit every year at harvest time. Only, this one had been dipped in boiled sugar and shone like glass. Sonia drew sharp breaths and squeaked giddy laughter through her hands which were firmly cupped over her mouth. Frederick watched him proudly and said “Would you look at that. Another Arborist in the family.” He smiled at his wife and looked on as his son examined the gift.

“We are so proud of you, Ryan! I can't believe it!” Sonia said, wiping tears from her eyes with a napkin.

Ryan reached down and lifted the glistening burgundy Fruit from its nest. He eyed his reflection on the glossy surface of the Fruit as he admired his gift. It was roughly the size of a baseball. He turned it over in his hand. Scarlet fluid raced around in capillary paths beneath the glaze wherever pressure was applied. Within a moment the Fruit was nearing his mouth, the glazed flesh clouded then cleared with every breath.

“Hold on there, son.” Said Frederick. “You're meant to save that for the ceremony.”

“Oh, of course,” Ryan replied.

“Let's get to work and the festival will be here before you know it.” Frederick said while standing and pushing his chair under the table.

The whole village was working to decorate and prepare for the evening's festival. Paper lanterns were strung from the chimney of each house to the nearest branch. The cobblestone walkways leading to and from Arborsang at the center of the village, including the base of Arborsang itself, were lined with more lanterns still. Banners were hung at the ceremonial grounds on the Southern side of the enormous tree. The strongest men were hard at work digging a large pit at the base of the tree. The dust and dirt on their skin moistened and became a thin layer of mud as they sweated and toiled in the hot midday sun. Once the earth had been cleared and the roots were exposed, they took great care with soft brushes and hands, to clear the soil from the roots themselves. When they'd finished, they stepped back to the ceremonial grounds to peer down into the pit and admire their work. The pit measured roughly 10 feet deep by 30 feet from side to side and was the shape of a perfect waning gibbous. Down below was a vast mass of mighty, twisted roots. They were woven between and around one another. Some crooked, some smooth like a ripple driven by the breeze over a calm stream. They had grown down at a gentle angle just below the ground, spread for several feet, then gradually tightened back toward the center and continued further down than the men had dug. The smell of food began to fill the air. Fried foods, baked goods, and grilled meat; the aroma saturated the town center and drifted down the cobblestone walkways as various stalls prepared for the rush of hungry festivalgoers.

Ryan finished dressing and tied his shoes. He walked down the stairs to find his mother and father waiting by the door.

“There he is.” father said. “Is our Arborist ready for his big night?”

“I'm a little nervous, but I feel okay. More excited, really. Yes, excited. Will you two be coming with me to the meeting hall?”

“I'm afraid not, dear.” Sonia said, reaching out to hold his arm. “Your father and I will be at the festival. But don't you worry. You'll meet the other Arborists there and you'll get to meet the village head! It's all very exciting.”

“Enjoy yourself, son. You've earned it.” Frederick said. He pulled Ryan toward him and hugged him tightly. “We'll see you soon at the festival.”

Ryan hugged his mother as she sobbed gently into his shoulder. “We love you so much, honey.”

“I love you too, mom.”

They left together and commented on the decorations along the way to the town center. After a short distance they reached a fork in the road. Arborsang loomed ahead, the sound of music, laughter, and jubilant chatter grew louder as they approached. Ryan waved to his parents as they continued to the festival, then made his way to the left toward town hall.

He arrived at town hall after a short walk. It was a long, narrow building with two smaller rooms protruding from either side. Strangely enough, it was comparatively austere next to the average home of Arborsang. As he approached the door he noticed that nobody was standing there or walking or waiting. He figured they must already be inside, if anyone had arrived at all. Instead of entering the greater hall, he decided to walk around the building and see if anyone one else was waiting around the other sides. When he reached the west side of the building, he noticed a sign hung above the door with a painted illustration of The Fruit. He heard laughter and several voices on the other side. After a moments pause, he pushed the door open and walked inside.

“Well, look who it is!”

“Ryan? Is that you?”

“Welcome to the party, pal!”

Ryan's shoulders relaxed and a smile spread over his face as he entered the room. He recognized everyone inside. He'd gone to school with Kali Elwes and Patrick Rigby. And Posie Tatton lived three houses down the street. She was older than the rest by about a decade, but she was a very sweet lady. Ryan always looked forward to harvest time when Posie would bring over Fruit jam for his family.

“Hey, everybody! Looks like I'm a little late.” Ryan said with a smile.

“Oh, nonsense!” Said Posie, “You're just in time. Whoever is the fifth, on the other hand, is officially late.”

Kali walked over and hugged Ryan around the neck. “How are you, Ryan? We were just talking about how crazy it is that we were chosen this year. It's so exciting!”

“I know,” Ryan said. “I'm excited too.”

The door flung open with a bang as Bev Terry came running through. She was breathing heavily with a slight wheeze.

“Am... am I... late?” She looked around. “Yeah... I'm late. Hello... everyone.” She put her hands on her head, raising her arms, and leaned back slightly while trying to catch her breath.

A moment later there came a knock at the door that connected the room to the greater hall. Without waiting for a reply, the door opened and Father Don walked into the room. He wore a white gown with a dark green sash. The sash was ornamented with shiny scarlet yarn, woven in complex patterns along its length.

“Hello everyone! Good Evening, good evening. I know everyone is eager to join in the festivities but, as I'm sure you're all aware, it is tradition for the town head, myself this time around, to meet with you, the Arborists, before we make our walk to the ceremony. I wish to take this opportunity to congratulate each and every one of you and thank you for being here. Without you, without the Arborists, we would not have an opportunity for this wonderful festival. It it because of YOU that the citizens of Arborsang are able to enjoy the most beautiful, the most delicious, the rarest fruit on the planet year after year. You've all been given an immense responsibility tonight. And I hope that you accept it with pride, with dignity, and humbly accept the respect that each and every one of you deserve. This night is for you, this night is for all of us. So if you're all ready, please don the traditional dress for the evening. You'll find a set for each of you on the table there at the back. After you dress, we will walk together to the festival for the ceremony and the harvest will begin in the morning. Thank you all very much. I'll return in a moment.”

It started slowly, but after a few seconds all five Arborists were clapping furiously. Father Don smiled and brought his hands together in a gesture of gratitude while nodding around the room. He left through the same door he had entered and the Arborists all turned to fetch their clothes.

With the setting of the sun, the town center had come alive. Laughter filled the air in waves all around Arborsang. Wine overflowed in their cups. They filled their stomachs with stewed rabbit, skewers of grilled chicken, fresh yeast rolls that steamed when split. There were fire-roasted potatoes, sweet cakes, and assorted fruits. There was music and dancing and stories and love. The only thing that was missing, the thing that was in the back of everyone's minds, was The Fruit. Of course, they wouldn't have that until tomorrow when the harvest began. Suddenly, the crowd nearest to the West gate began to applaud and roar. The cheers were deafening, and the sound grew and grew. It spread as the Arborists walked down the cobblestone walkway toward Arborsang with Father Don in tow. They all wore white gowns with dark green sashes. The sashes were ornamented with shiny scarlet yarn. In lieu of the elaborate patterns displayed by Father Don's sash, the Arborists' featured a bursting pattern of The Fruit. They were so well made, they looked so realistic, that you may believe that The Fruit would fall and roll around on the ground if you bumped into them. The lighting of the lanterns had also begun, with two volunteers walking alongside the five, lighting the lanterns along the road as they walked. Each Arborist carried a forest green box in their hands before them. The people lining the walkway cheered and waved at the Arborists. They reached out and shook their hands, clapped them on the back. Gave them personal thanks for their position. Once they reached the end of the walkway, the five Arborists lined up in a row in a small pavilion at the base of the tree. Father Don raised his open hands to the crowd to request their silence. The fires were extinguished and the lambent glow of the lanterns illuminated the town center.

“Good evening, everyone. Thank you all for attending our 27^th harvest festival. I know that you are all just as excited as I am to celebrate and congratulate our five Arborists.”

The crowd roars again as Father Don raises his hands for silence.

“This time of year is special for all of us. It marks the reason that we all feel so lucky to live here. Because we, and only we, have the opportunity and the privilege to enjoy the most delicious, the rarest fruit on Earth. We have these five individuals to thank. Kali Elwes! Patrick Rigby! Posie Tatton! Bev Terry! And Ryan Levitt! And as a gesture of our gratitude, as is tradition, the Arborists will now eat the first Fruit of the season.”

Each of the five removed the lids from their boxes and raised the Fruits from their leafy nests. They stood before the crowd, presenting their Fruit with outstretched arms before bringing it to their mouths and taking their first bite. The crowd erupted in applause and cheers. The Arborists ate their Fruit voraciously, and when finished, held the pits above their heads in clutched fists.

Father Don called for silence again. “It is now time for The Embrace. Let us all have a moment of silence as our Arborists descend to embrace our mother Arborsang.”

An immediate, stark silence fell upon the town center. Everyone watched intently as the Arborists walked in a line from the pavillion and stopped six feet apart along the edge of the pit at the base of Arborsang. They climbed down, one by one, to the base of the pit. The flickering light of the lanterns gave the twisted cage of roots life. The roots appeared to be writhing and slithering like snakes. But a trick of the light is just a trick, and they were not afraid. The five Arborists walked to the roots and began to weave their bodies between them. Once they had situated themselves comfortably in the embrace of Arborsang, a signal was given to the crowd. They began to cheer again. Louder than before. A signal was now given to the line of men standing around the edge of the pit. They began pushing and shoveling the earth back into the pit. The cheering of the crowd grew louder. The Arborists didn't make a sound. They didn't move a muscle. Father Don then turned to the crowd once more, waving his hands wildly in the air as if he were wafting smoke to the sky, feeding the frenzy.

“COME ON! GIVE IT UP FOR OUR ARBORISTS! LOUDER! LOUDER! THEY NEED TO HEAR US THROUGH THE EARTH! MAKE SURE THEY CAN HEAR YOU! LOOUUDER!”

****

The harvest began the following morning. Every able-bodied person in the village participated in any way they could. The strongest climbed the tree to work and cut the fruit loose. Everyone else raced around on the ground, picking up the fruit as it fell. Five baskets were seated around the base of the tree over the freshly packed soil. Each with a handwritten card attached to the rim. Whenever a piece of Fruit was deposited in a basket, gratitude was given aloud to the name written on the card. The names were spoken all throughout day and long into the night. It was their most bountiful harvest yet.

“Thank you, Virgil Mitchell!”

“Thank you, Marlin Langdon!”

“Thank you, Edwin Cory!”

"Thank you, Penny Rennoll!”

“Thank you, Kimberly Levitt!”