Chapter 1 serves a prologue for the rest of the story. There will be a significant time gap between here and Chapter 2.

Disclaimer: WOT is RJs.

Chapter 1: The Gift of Trust

Light! Blinding, stinging light! It hurt his eyes and he slowly opened them. They felt gummed together like those of a newborn kitten, as if he had never used them before. Which of course he had! Hadn't he?

He rolled over in the short grass little bending blades pricking his sensitive fingertips. His eyes began to adjust and his surroundings started to become clear from the blur of whiteness they had been only moments before.

"Where am I?" he asked aloud.

No one answered. He continued to keep his eyes partly closed, as the light still seemed so bright, it offended them with its stark honesty. His hand moved to his belt as if he had expected to find a weapon there with which to defend himself. He felt vulnerable and a little fearful. He did not recognise this place. Even as his eyes continued to clear, and the scrub-like brush and grasslands came into sharp focus, the scene became no more familiar.

He tried to get to his feet and was relieved to find his muscles worked better than his eyes had. He was not only able to rise to his feet but did so with a catlike grace rather than child-like clumsiness. Once upright he was able to see much further. There were no hills nearby; the land was quite low he could run forever on this flat plain. Well he could run for eight hours before his lungs gave him… wait! How did he know that? He couldn't remember having done anything like that before.

Looking down he noticed he was dressed in a simple tunic belted high on his waist. Attached to the thin high belt was another slightly thicker one that hung lower on his left thigh. His boots were comfortable as if they had been made for him. He did not remember buying them; he did not even recognise them!

He tried to remember what he had been doing that had brought him to this place, but he could not. Then he began to fear. Something stopped this though, some inner restraint or strength came to his rescue and he calmed himself. He breathed in slowly long and deep. In through his nose and out through his mouth. There must be an explanation and he would find one. Right now he needed to survive.

He had no, bag, satchel, horse or equipment, that would be a problem. He searched his person with his hands and found some small round coins of gold on the inside of his belt. Around his neck was a smooth chain with fine links of silver. On the chain was a key of worked brass. What was this for? It must open a lock but to where? He could not remember! He felt his face next he had a few days growth of beard which he was surprised to feel. I don't wear a beard he thought, but realised he was unsure of that also. "Who do I be?" he exclaimed aloud.

He tried to think of his name but he couldn't. The panic he had felt upon first realising he could not remember filled him again. He didn't know what he looked like or who he was! That panic began to surge up and almost overwhelmed him. A strong silent part of himself however answered it as it had before.

'No! Panic is death. Think and act, one step at a time. Words came through his head slowly but continuously and their repetitive flowing mantra calmed him in his wasteland of memory.

'Courage to change what you can, serenity to accept what you cannot and wisdom to know the difference.'

"Okay, well I do need to get to people who can help" he said aloud to himself. Looking around himself he realised he could not see any signs of civilisation. His eyes dropped to the floor but he saw no clear tracks not even his own. Almost of their own accord, his eyes travelled to the sky and he saw a wisp of smoke rising as if from a distant pipe. Fire meant people. So he began to move his walk soon lengthening into strides and his strides quickened to the easy lope of a runner.

He was in sight of the small buildings that denoted some kind of village before he slowed again to a walk. He was sweating but only slightly. The run had invigorated him not exhausted him. As he approached the small township he met his first human being since awakening that morning. Maybe this man would recognise him?

"Ahoy there!" he called out so as not to sneak up on the man unawares, unfortunate things could happen to you if you did that, though he could not remember what.

"Greetings" called back the man. He was a middle aged man with the weather beaten look and raw muscle of a man who had worked out of doors his whole life. When he rose from his work, he leant upon a thick mattock that he had been using to drive fence stakes into the grassy ground.

"Where am I?" he asked.

The man grinned. "Outlook Pleasant" he replied jovially. "You're a stranger 'round here, what brings you to Outlook?"

"I'm lost and have no idea where to go" he replied. "I just want to survive and make myself useful."

The worker looked suspicious. "On the run are ye?"

"No! At least not to my knowledge, but I need to find myself and safety from rain, hail and hunger. I have some coin but not enough to last me long."

"My name" said the worker "is Giro. I farm near here and I do some joining around the village to. I could use another hand for odd jobs and some unskilled labour. I believe in helping people and I have a mind to help you. It'll be Sunday soon and the Light knows I am due a selfless good deed. You could be in luck if you prove your worth. So we'll see."

With that Giro took a long dirk from the back of his belt and tossed it to him. "A gift" he said. "Now use it to clear off those little branches sticking out of the other stakes and I'll get hammering them in. Do a good job and you'll earn your supper tonight!"

He had caught the blade with barely a thought and he felt himself smile in heartfelt gratitude at the trust and kindness Giro was showing him a total stranger.

"I do be honoured" he said and got to work with a will. He was utterly determined he would not ignore this gift straight from the Creator. He would prove himself worthy of Giro's gift of trust.

"What's your name Illianer?" asked Giro.

He paused. He did not have a name. But this was his chance at a new life to begin to remake whatever it had been that he had lost. He could not do that nameless. Looking into his hands he saw the dirk, the first gift he had received in his new life. "My name is Dirk" he replied and touched his belt on the left side as he bowed his head to Giro.

"No need to bow to me" replied the man hefting his mattock once more. "I'm no one special. Glad to meet you Dirk!"