THE LORE · THE VALE

Old Harrow, Turner of the Year

The farm-belt's god of the turned year — sowing, the green coming up, and the rot that feeds the next sowing. You worship him with a spade, not a prayer: tend his ground and he tends you back. He is losing the Lean Years, and the old folk say he knows it.

Old Harrow keeps the year turning: the seed under, the green up, the crop cut, and the stalk and muck turned back under to feed the next seed. Folk don't so much pray to him as work for him. The rite is the chore. The steaming dung-heap behind the byre is his altar, and turning it in the frost is the office; the first spadeful broken in a new field is his tithe; the last sheaf left standing is left for him. He has no temple and no priest — a leaning scarecrow with a cracked bowl at its foot is as much shrine as the belt keeps. He is a two-faced god, and the farmers say so plainly: the green face that puts the shoot up, and the black face that rots the dead thing down. Neither is the good one. A field that never rotted would never feed you. This is why the reagent-women and the pot-brewers are his too — alchemy is Harrow's rot-face, the black work of letting a thing spoil right until it does you good instead of harm, and a good stillroom smells like his heap. The Reshi caravans that winter on the belt keep him alongside the road-god, and the farm-humans double up without a blush: the Wright over the doorframe for the making, Harrow out in the mud for the growing. What the old folk will tell you at the fire, and the young ones won't hear, is that he is losing. Every field gone to thistle is a defeat he takes personally. So he spends what he has at the edges: a dead orchard that fruits one more autumn for the family that stayed; unlikely luck to whoever is fool enough to break new ground on land that others walked away from. Resettle an abandoned steading and the belt will tell you the first year came easy — that's Harrow, buying back an acre while he still can.

KIND

folk-faith

DOMAIN

growing, sowing, and rot — the turned year

AGENDA

The land tended. He is losing the Lean Years and spends what he has at the margins — a dead orchard fruiting once more, easy first years for whoever resettles an abandoned field.

TWO FACES

The green face raises the shoot; the black face rots the dead thing down. Neither is the kind one; a field that never rotted would never feed you.

Connected

HumankindCONCEPT · Farm-belt humans keep Old Harrow in the field even a…The ReshiCONCEPT · The Reshi bless the year's turning at every stop on …The Lean YearsCONCEPT · Old Harrow is losing ground to the Lean Years and kn…Dammeth CrickCHARACTER · Dammeth tithes Old Harrow's compost-heap behind the …

Type Fields

kindfolk-faith

domaingrowing, sowing, and rot — the turned year

worshippersfarm-belt humans (double up: the Wright for making, Harrow for growing), Reshi caravans that winter on the belt, reagent-women and pot-brewers (alchemy is his rot-face)

agendaThe land tended. He is losing the Lean Years and spends what he has at the margins — a dead orchard fruiting once more, easy first years for whoever resettles an abandoned field.

ritesTurning the dung-heap in the frost — the chore is the office, The first spadeful of a new field left unsown as his tithe, The last sheaf of the harvest left standing for him, A leaning scarecrow with an offering-bowl serves as shrine — no temple, no priest

two_facesThe green face raises the shoot; the black face rots the dead thing down. Neither is the kind one; a field that never rotted would never feed you.

grounded_readingTo most of the belt he is just the way you talk about good years and bad — luck, weather, the state of the soil. Only the oldest hands say he is losing anything.

All Relationships (4)

worships

←Humankind — Farm-belt humans keep Old Harrow in the field even as they swear by the dead Wright in town — a living god below the dead one.
←The Reshi — The Reshi bless the year's turning at every stop on the caravan road, from the Reshi Ossuary onward.
←Dammeth Crick — Dammeth tithes Old Harrow's compost-heap behind the kitchen.

rival_of

→The Lean Years — Old Harrow is losing ground to the Lean Years and knows it — his green miracles thin at the margins where the failing world presses hardest.

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