A Boy and his Olive Tree

     There's a little boy up the hill, where a lonely olive tree stretches its long arms to the sun. His hair is blonde, as blonde as the dry grass which makes the ground look like a path of pure gold. He's skinny, almost too skinny, his arms snake around the tree's trunk in a tight embrace as if they were part of its branches and leaves. A soft smile never leaves his thin and seemly broken lips. His young features are noticeable as he shudders with the sudden cold gushes of wind. It's winter after all and the olive tree is as empty as ever. Its branches dry and naked. It almost seems to cry and yet the child beneath it laughs happily as he chants:
     "One, two, three, four..."
    He giggles as he opens his bluish eyes - blue like the sky - but when the sun enlightens them they are as blue as the deep sea. A stormy sea filled with gigantic waves that crush anything in its path and end up in a swarm of pure white foam.
     "Ready or not here I come."
     He jumps forward, fast as a rabbit on the run, and clashes against the rough skin of the olive tree. It whimpers but says nothing as the boy climbs its back till the top. The wind there howls furiously like a giant awoken from its deep slumber. The boy raises his arm and chants to the four winds - East, South, West and North.
     "I fear you not great warriors of the godly world! For I will rise and conquer the seven seas and all the land that your eyes lay upon as of now. Remember me as I am, weak like a baby sheep, for you'll see how far my arms will reach, my courage will endure and my words will shake the very core of this earth."
    His voice boomed through the vast solitude and the silence which followed gave birth to a growing thumping. Footsteps approached and the boy looked in the distance, his hands circling his eyes as binoculars which allowed him to see further than the mere mortal man. There was a storm coming. A storm of wind and water. What could stop it!?
     A mere boy certainly couldn't. But the boy atop the mighty olive tree in the center of the hill was no common boy. In his eyes blazed the fires of certainty, in his mind rested the wisdom of whole dimensions, in his body the kindness of his ancestors and in his veins ran the blood of the mighty dragons which walked once upon the deserted land.
     He was ready to conquer the world and as such four wars would be held, as long before his birth the prophets had spoken. The four winds will come, with them the seas will revolt and the skies will be torn apart. Only one shall survive, the will of man or that of the gods. And so the boy waited, his eyes fixed in the distance, patiently waiting for what fortune had in store for him.
    First came the East Wind with his warm colors and exotic smells. In his mighty altitude it spoke firmly and at the same time kindly, as if curious:
     "Child, what brings you here to the limits of the known world to men?"
     "I come to show you my supremacy, mighty East Wind."
    If the wind was human he would laugh before such preposterous suggestion. However, the wind felt no need to appease the boy's human pathetic demonstrations of weakness so he merely retorted in a low voice.
    "Do you not know who I am? My brothers might be more understanding but I am the wind of justice. The one and only who reaps the ungodly and unrighteous from this godforsaken world."
    The boy simply looked up, his eyes alight with a new fire within - the fire of the people, raging like an unruly storm, carrying their prayers. He had the fires of certainty within him, he would not be pushed aside. He was king of his own fate and as so he could not be stopped. He knew now what he had to do. Such a mischievous creature had to be delved from the inside. So he raised his icy blue eyes and with one single look into the wind center which lay in a swirling vortex he pierced its soul.
    The wind howled in agony for a mere second, there was a promise of misfortune in his horrified cries, but the boy remained serene. The fires of certainty blazed within him. No doubt could creep inside his heart. The East Wind wept and then in a single blow, it dispersed into the air around the boy and the silent olive tree which seemed to shudder uncontrollably.
    "One of you was defeated. Shall any other of the four brothers dare to challenge me? Or will you cower in fear before your fallen brother?"
     Then came the South Wind, bringing with him a waft of flowers and freshly baked cookies. Its sweet scent enough to make the strongest of man to falter. Yet the boy simply smiled as he remembered the sweetened memories of his childhood. The smell of his mother's hair, the way her lips curved when she smiles, the laughter of his father and sisters. Tears threatened to overflow him with the angst of their empty looks and his loneliness. However, in his mind rested the wisdom of entire dimensions. So he spoke softly as he stared into his supposed enemy's eyes:
     "Sweet South Wind, memories are mere reminders of the goodness which surrounds me and fills this world with light. You will not weaken my drive and make my heart falter. For I know what was given to me and I will honor it with my heart and soul for the rest of my days."
     For a moment, the wind swirled into what seemed a human shape with eyes, ears, nose and a mouth which seemed to smile pleased as it spoke:
     "The goodness in your heart you owe it to your memories. Never forget the power of the South Wind."
     Its voice wafted through like a warm breeze with a sweet scent of enormous fields of flowers in spring. It reminded him one last time of his mother and of what had once been. The smiles that never ceased, the truthful conversations and the immense care always shared. A single tear streaked his swollen cheek and the boy smiled sneeringly at his own mind where rested wisdom beyond comprehension. The wind left him in a silent woosh and the memories began to fade away such was his punishment.
     What a bittersweet victory... However, the child could not appear weak and so he straightened his back once more and daringly defied the skies with a glare. Not even a second had passed, when a voice thundered through the still warm air.
     "You, a mere mortal, destroyed two of my brothers!?"
     He took the shape of a mortal, with silky white hair and eyes that became a whirlpool of brown as they peered at him, as he sneered above his head. The boy was not fooled. He was before the fierce West Wind.
      "My brothers were weak but I am stronger. I will rip you apart with the brutality of my vigor. And if you fear me not, you will learn to, puny child."
      The boy, shakily, rose to his full height, his shoulders straight as the string of a bow. He was so frighteningly small... atop of the small olive tree as the giant wind towered above them both with a pair of cruel, ugly, brown eyes. There was a fierceness in that empty brown that reminded the boy of the taste of an unripe lemon. Sour and unwelcoming.
      "Feel my rage, young boy, and prepare yourself for your slow demise!"
     There was such emptiness in that voice, which only sounded cruel, without really being. In the boys heart something stirred, a warmth which started to spread from his core to his every limb. The West wind blew with such strength that the tree threatened to break apart before such impetuosity. Nonetheless, the boy remained firm atop his protector. His eyes rose to face West's oak ones and he felt something twinge at his heart. There it was... the kindness of his ancestors broke free in a brutal wave that washed all over the boy's rival. West squealed distressed before something he had never witnessed before.
     "I am the fierce West Wind, no human can break my howl!"
     Yet, he started to choke in his own words. His terror overwhelming the earth, which started to shake uncontrollably as if it would break from an instant to another. The boy sighed tired. His body which was now filled with kindness could not stop the shaking in his core. He felt fear, love, loss, distress, sympathy and hatred bubbling inside him, as a stream left free to abide its own desires without a care for its host. The boy breathed in once... Twice...
     He knelt down, feeling his energy being drained, and the tree beneath him whispered softly as he nearly collapsed. Remember yourself. Your people. Your family. Your beliefs. Remember your drive. You will conquer the world of men and gods! Remember! The boy shivered one last time, as he stood up. Facing what remained of the fierce West Wind with a sympathetic smile. He knew the struggle his enemy faced. He knew all too well.
     "I might come to conquer all the land you once watched over, West. But I will not let your legacy be forgotten. Ride the breeze by my side with the same fierceness you showed me today."
     The brown pair of eyes diluted itself in a mist of hazel and white as he vanished. Yet, a promise swam in the warm air. One of future encounters. The little boy turned his icy eyes upwards as a cold gush of air unruffled his golden hair. His body shivered. It was cold all of a sudden. Three brothers had passed each taking a toll on his mind and body, turning the calm silence in disarray.
     "I am not afraid! North Wind come if you will! Avenge your brothers with your strength and I will show you the will and bravery of the same mortal men your likes so despise."
     A rumble started to grow, taking start in the skies until it reached the earth. Then a broken silence fell upon the world, drowning the poor boy into an ocean of confusion and ice. What was real? What was not? He heard screams in the distance, wails growing in intensity as the olive tree started rocking forward and then backwards. Its roots started to crumble away before the icy cold that began to spread among the parched earth.
      "Face me North! Face me, you coward!"
     There was true fear in the boy's voice. That tree was all he had. It was his certainty, his intelligence, his kindness and his courage. His courage! That tree was his burning fire, turning everything by his will into ashes. Then he remembered his tree's voice. You will conquer the world of men and gods! Remember! The cold shook him up but now it couldn't hurt him. He was a burning fire for in his veins rain the blood of the heir of fearless dragons. They had once flown over deserts and mountains. The winds did not command them, they conformed to the Dragon's law.
      As the boy faced the invisible wind there was no fear in his cold eyes, only a mere faith and trust. He challenged the sky to defend its underlings with a single look. A mere mortal did the unthinkable, defying immortality itself.
     "I fear you not cold wind, for in my veins runs the blood of Dragons. An insatiable fire which no wind can extinguish. I dare you to try and put me out. Do your best! I'll prove to you the worth of men!"
     The North rose itself from its hiding place, fearless in its mightiness. Specks of ice grew from the floor, freezing the golden grass swiftly and painlessly. The olive tree creaked as the ice touched its roots and cried out in a pleading tone. The boy touched his friends arms and kissed them gently, feeling its ache in every single fiber of his being. The pain was excruciating. Nevertheless, he had to endure. The hopes of an entire world rested in his shoulders. He would not crumble. He would prevail so he'd become the conqueror of worlds, the decider of civilizations, the protector of the people.
      "Icy North Wind, you who brings the cold and storm, with its thunders and lightning, feel this fire of mine, the one that burns for millions and will burn for all eternity."
      The blonde boy with eyes like the sky grinned as he caressed his arms. It was his time.
      "I am the heir of the Dragons and I will soar above the four winds!"
     The olive tree underneath him began to glow with the colors of every corner of the world. It was blindingly. It tasted like summer, smelled like spring, sounded like autumn and felt like winter. Four seasons, four winds, four wills, four brothers. And he was now their master and wielder. He breathed in deeply, feeling the olive tree beneath him slowly calm down. It was finally over. Had he won? The air around him smelled of fresh grass and the skies had parted to give way to a rejuvenating rain. There was no wind in the distance waiting for its turn to shed chaos. There was just peace and quiet...
      It's time to wake up!
      He opened his eyes, groggily. There was a girl in front of him. Dark long hair adorned her delicate face and a pair of deep emerald eyes faced him back, challenging. She sat close to him near the tree trunk, his head rested on her lap. The boy rose quickly, feeling a blush creep up his cheeks.
      "Why are you here, sister?"
      "You disappeared so I came looking for you, where I knew I would find you."
      He smiled feeling his heart thumping hard. The news inside him were begging to surface and he had no wish to contain them.
      "Sister, I had the most amazing dream. I was atop this same olive tree fighting the four winds and I won! I became the king, the conqueror of worlds, the decider of civilizations, the protector of the people!"
      The girls eyes opened up in surprise before her brother's words. Her gift gave her insight on some things but not all things, especially concerning her brother. Everything about him looked confusing as if part of a maze.
      "Impressive, brother. But we must return, soon it'll be dark."
     The little boy sighed, disappointed. He had to leave. He knew it. People would be worried if he didn't return before dark. So he took his sister's hand in his and trotted down the hill, singing softly:
      "One, two, three, four."
      The girl and the boy sang happily as they ran, their hairs flying in the wind, their cheeks flushed pink. They were so enthralled in each other's voices they couldn't hear the whispers which floated in the divided air:
     "In his eyes blazes the fires of certainty..."
     "In his mind rests the wisdom of entire dimensions..."
     "In his body lives the kindness of his ancestors..."
     "In his veins runs the blood of the mighty dragons..."     
     The four winds will come, with them the seas will revolt and the skies will be torn apart. Only one shall survive, the will of man or that of the gods. So it shall be.
     Sang the Four Winds as their breeze passed through the olive tree's millennial trunk, twisted branches and fleeting wise leaves and the old tree seemed to take a human shape for a delusional moment as it whispered softly:
     "The Four Winds are now at your service, King Arthur. Rule wisely, our liege."
     Indifferent to the revelations happening uphill, Arthur finished his ditty softly with a fateful choice of words.
     "Ready or not here I come."