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The air is exceptionally fresh and crisp on this early morning. Fambrich, the Carpenter, has just gathered eggs from bird nests in the distance and cooked them on a hot stone, eating about half of them, causing his belly to bulge.

He leans back on the stairs, his legs stretched out in front of him, wooden clogs dangling carelessly from his toes. He lights his pipe and lounges there with his dirty sleeves pulled over his mouth. Fam is the carpenter of Blueflower valley, a valley filled with bluebells. He puffs his pipe, carved from apple wood, towards the bluish-gray clouds in the sky.

He scratches his wrinkled hand with black nails under his nose, gazes intently at the Blueflower valley in all its glory, unfolding from his staircase. The ancient riverbed meanders oval-shaped until the horizon, ending with the towering Straight Cliff, which no one has ever dared to climb. It rises towards the sky so straight, majestic, and even frightening. A green meadow runs through the narrow valley, with a few houses and outbuildings scattered here and there, a small village nestled in the midst of lush greenery. In spring, the valley reveals its full beauty, transforming from a sea of bluebells to blue, sprinkled with the yellow flowers of Snowdrops, like brushstrokes on a canvas. Fambrich sighs and hums an old tune, which his grandfather used to sing long, long ago:

Look for the time,

When you must toil,

Fields will spread here again,

And the green grass will grow.

Now, little man,

Go, go,

Find the gold

And dig up the earth

Once wriggled there

On that mound

A darkish eel.

He hums as he puffs on his pipe. It has been a while since he exchanged words with anyone, and he drifts into his thoughts, not realizing that someone has stopped behind his garden fence. It's late spring, and the Pioneer has returned from his long winter journey. This time, he arrived on foot, not vigorously rested but stumbling with the support of a cane. His once proud green coat is torn and black as night, barely standing, his head and body covered in blood and mud, like a war casualty. They look at each other for a long and tense moment, without saying a word. The traveler leans on a long stick, coughing heavily, and blood flows from his mouth and nose. His face is pale and his eye sockets are black. He doesn't say anything anymore, collapses right there during a coughing fit, falls onto the green grass, and breathes heavily.

 Fam takes a moment to think, then jumps up from the stairs and tries to carry the man to his shelter, but he is so heavy that Fam can barely manage it. With great effort, he grabs him under the arms with both hands and pulls him towards the stairs. The Pioneer is a hefty figure, tall, strong, and heavy. The carpenter is much shorter but sturdy. After much effort, he drags the limp body to a corner of the room and places it on prepared animal hides. These hides are always ready, just in case someone gets lost in Blueflower valley, and they can rest peacefully and fill their belly with whatever the host has to offer. Fam takes off the traveler's dirty and tattered clothes and throws them on top of the hot coals in the fireplace. "Those rags are of no use anymore, but your body is in a sorry state, covered in bruises, blue marks, and scratches. You've had a tough time, my friend," Fam thinks as he tends to his old comrade and travel companion with hot water and clean towels. Wrapping his body with chamomile and tea compresses to alleviate his injuries, he lights a beechwood fire in the room. Massaging and rubbing the sore bones and joints. He nurses him for about a week or more. One morning, the traveler opens his eyes and looks at Fam's modest but well-organized room, lit by large windows that brighten the small kitchen. On one side stands a massive oak table, and at the edge of the room is a hearth built from river stones, with a few shelves on the walls for essential items. He's situated next to the chimney, on top of hides, to keep warm. He tries to sit up but stumbles due to his weakened body. "You saved my life," Axir mutters and looks down. He tries to light his pipe with a practiced motion, but a coughing fit makes him drop it on the floor.

"Cough... cough... cough."

"You're still weak, old friend," Fam says quietly. "You need more rest."

"I need some fresh air," Axir says and attempts to stand up from the table. Fam helps him to the door, and they step outside.

The spring sun shines through the door, and a gentle breeze blows. Axir is barefoot, standing on the steps, gazing into the distance. He grabs a nearby stick, leans on it, and tries to take a few desperate steps on his own, but with great difficulty. It's clear that his will to recover and regain his strength is making his eyes sparkle, and his energy is returning. He eventually sits down on the steps. "Look, Fambrich, blueflower valley is beautiful, more beautiful than anywhere else, I know because I've seen other places. No, those weren't bandits who attacked me; it was something bigger, something much crazier... If only I could remember. It's all like it's been wiped from my mind. I remember a fight, muddy water, a bow and arrows. I'm just glad I survived, and how did I end up here?"

"Iiloi has been waiting for you long before the snow melted, thinking you let her down again," Fam says with a playful tone and tosses a bundle to Axir, containing neatly rolled pants and a shirt.

Fam had been fishing in the morning, catching some plump perch from the nearby winding river. He cleaned them and added a bit of salt, and now they're ready to be cooked, together with the skin in the hot coals. They're cooked to perfection, and they savor the meal. Each of them enjoys three bites, along with a piece of fresh bread. Fam sits across from Axir at the table, but they still don't speak a word."