The Farmer and the River

The Oakhaven River, normally a placid, meandering stream perfect for fishing and washing clothes, had transformed into a raging beast. Heavy rains in the mountains upstream had turned it into a muddy, churning torrent filled with debris. On the bank, a frantic crowd of villagers, including Elara and Borin, were running along the edge, their faces masks of sheer terror.

"There! I see her!" someone shrieked, pointing.

A small, dark head bobbed in the violent current, a tiny hand flailing helplessly. It was little Elspeth, Lily's younger sister, a girl of no more than six. She had slipped on the muddy bank while chasing a frog and had been instantly swept away.

Lyra arrived first, a black-clad blur of speed. Her mind assessed the situation in a fraction of a second. The current was too strong, the water too cold and filled with dangerous logs and rocks. Even for a warrior of her caliber, a rescue would be incredibly risky, almost suicidal. She could try, but the chances of reaching the girl in time were slim.

Ren arrived moments later, his expression grim. He took in the scene: the frantic parents, the helpless villagers, the churning water, and the small child being carried inexorably downstream towards a set of dangerous rapids.

He didn't hesitate. He didn't weigh the odds. He saw a problem that needed a simple, direct, farmer's solution. The river was misbehaving.

"Lyra, get the girl's parents away from the edge," he commanded, his voice calm but imbued with an authority that no one had heard from him before. It wasn't a request; it was an order. Lyra obeyed instantly, herding the hysterical mother and father back.

Ren walked to the very edge of the raging river. He ignored the shouts and the rushing water. He closed his eyes for a single second, not to pray, but to focus. He reached out with his senses, feeling not just the water, but the riverbed, the banks, the very earth that contained the torrent. The entire area was within his 'domain.' It was part of his farm, in a way. And he was the farmer.

He opened his eyes, reached down, and picked up a single, smooth, grey stone, about the size of his fist.

He didn't throw it. He didn't infuse it with explosive power. He held it in his palm, and with a deep, quiet focus, he applied a concept to it. It was a concept he understood intimately: weight. The unshakeable, immovable weight of the deep earth.

He then tossed the stone underhand into the middle of the river, just downstream from the struggling child.

The stone did not splash.

The moment it touched the water, there was a deep, resonant THOOM that seemed to come from the very bedrock of the world. The effect was instantaneous and utterly defied all laws of physics.

The raging river… stopped.

It was not a dam. It was as if a section of the river, a hundred feet wide, had been turned into a solid, unmoving wall of water. The torrent crashed against this invisible barrier and was halted completely, the water level upstream rising rapidly. Downstream from the 'wall,' the riverbed was suddenly exposed, the water having rushed past, leaving only puddles and flopping fish.

Little Elspeth, her forward momentum arrested, was left sputtering in a suddenly placid, waist-deep pool of water, confused but safe, sitting on the now-calm river bottom.

The entire village fell silent, their panicked shouts dying in their throats. They stared, jaws agape, at the impossible sight. A living wall of water, bisecting the raging river as if God himself had drawn a line in the water. The roar of the torrent was replaced by an eerie, profound silence.

Lyra stared, her breath hitched in her chest. She had seen him perform acts of creation and defense, but this was different. This was control. Absolute, conceptual control over the natural world. He hadn't fought the river's strength; he had simply told it to stop, and it had obeyed.

Ren, oblivious to the awe he had just inspired, waded into the now-calm water. "It's okay, Elspeth," he said gently, scooping the shivering, crying child into his arms. "You're safe now." He carried her to the bank and handed her to her weeping, relieved mother.

He then turned back to the river. The water upstream was rising dangerously high against the invisible barrier. "Right, can't leave it like this," he muttered.

He walked back to the water's edge, located the conceptual 'anchor' he had created with the stone, and simply… released it.

With a deafening roar, the wall of water vanished. The river, freed from its constraint, surged forward, its pent-up energy released in a massive wave that crashed down the now-empty riverbed. Within seconds, the Oakhaven River was once again a raging, untamed torrent, as if nothing had ever happened.

Ren dusted off his hands, his work done. "There. Everyone alright?" he asked the stunned crowd.

No one answered. They just stared at him, their expressions a mixture of gratitude so profound it was painful, and a fear so deep it was religious. He hadn't just saved a child. He had commanded a force of nature with the casual ease of a man turning off a tap.

Old Man Hemlock, who had been watching from the back of the crowd, slowly, reverently, dropped to his knees. He was followed by another villager, then another. Soon, the entire population of Oakhaven, including Borin and Elara, were kneeling on the muddy riverbank. Not in fear of a demon, but in worship of a savior.

"Please," Elara's husband, the girl's father, said, his voice choked with tears. "Tell us your name. Not the name you give us, but your true name. You are one of the old gods, returned to us."

Ren looked at the sea of kneeling villagers, utterly bewildered. "My true name? It's just Ren! Please, everyone, get up! You'll get your knees all muddy!"

But they didn't move. They just stared up at him, their faces filled with an unshakeable, fervent belief.

Lyra walked to his side. "It's too late, Ren," she whispered, a hint of wry amusement in her voice. "You can't save a child by stopping a river and expect people to treat you like a normal person. You've stopped being their neighbor."

"What am I, then?" he asked, genuinely confused by the turn of events.

Lyra looked at the kneeling villagers, at the still-raging river that had bent to his will, and at the kind, confused man beside her.

"To them," she said, her voice soft but certain. "You are the River-Tamer. The Life-Giver. You are the God of the Green. You are the patron deity of Oakhaven."

Ren stared at the worshipful faces, a sinking feeling in his stomach. All he wanted was a simple, quiet life. But it seemed the universe, and the Bored Primordial Entity, had other, far grander plans for him. His reputation had just received another, very significant, upgrade.