As the sun rose from the mountains, their thousand year old roots moved. The sun peered through their wrinkle-stringed trunks and bark infested with anguish. They rose and broke from their aged cage welcoming a new life. Mournful fated years had advanced since they last heard that soft floating witchery sound. They remembered like it was just yesterday when the promise that bound them to nature was broken.
There was a drought in the village and the two of them promised the witch to give her a certain share of money from what they reaped if she helped bring the rains back. Their names were headman Tofi and his son Brom. As headman Tofi could not watch his people despair – that is why he broke a deal with the witch at his family’s expense.
His son was involved because he was being taught by his father how to become headman one day when time came. When they reaped, they could not raise the money owing to the witch so as a result of breaking the promise, they were turned into giant oak trees. The agony was like deep ocean currents from their roots that hugged the earth to their souls. The curse would only be lifted after the witch had planted in their fields and earned what she was owed ten fold.
Unfortunately the drought continued for years making it impossible for the witch to earn anything from the fields. Rustic winds blew and cracks grew deeper in barren soil. Their souls were trapped inside the trees for thousands and thousands of years and now they hopelessly awaited for death. Finally one year, the rain poured down like never before and it was for sure that the debt would be fulfilled. There was a musical silence and the curse was broken. It was a new life with new possibilities, a fresh page to be written. It was Dawn.
They were documented in history as fictitious legends of their village known for their tremendous fortune from farming through their long lives filled with rain and the knowledge of a thousand years.