The Woodcutter's Axe

As dawn's gentle glow crept across the Greek forest, it bathed the riverbanks in soft gold and warmed the air around a humble woodcutter. Singing softly, his voice joined the birds' morning chorus as he diligently swung his worn iron axe. Each strike was steady, rhythmic, and filled with the quiet joy of honest labor. Though poor, his heart was content, satisfied with the modest life his hard work provided.

But in one fateful swing, the axe slipped from his grasp. It spun, glinting briefly in the sun, before plunging into the swift, deep waters of the river. The woodcutter watched in helpless despair as the ripples quickly vanished, taking with them his only tool and livelihood.

Falling to his knees on the muddy shore, he buried his face in his hands, grief overwhelming him. What would become of his family? How would he survive without his trusty axe?

Suddenly, the river stirred, and from its shimmering depths emerged Hermes, the divine messenger, his presence radiant with heavenly light. Gazing kindly at the distraught woodcutter, Hermes asked gently, "Why do you grieve, good man?"

"My axe, oh divine Hermes," the woodcutter replied sorrowfully. "It has fallen into the river, and without it, my family will suffer."

Without a word, Hermes descended into the clear water, swiftly returning with a gleaming axe of solid gold. Holding it aloft, he asked, "Is this your axe?"

The woodcutter shook his head earnestly, "No, wise Hermes. My axe was but iron and worn from years of use."

Again, Hermes dived beneath the sparkling surface, this time emerging with an axe of polished silver. "Surely this must be yours," he offered kindly.

"Not mine, great Hermes," the woodcutter repeated with humble honesty, though his heart ached with uncertainty. "Mine was neither gold nor silver, just simple iron."

A third time Hermes disappeared beneath the waters, and when he rose again, he held the woodcutter’s familiar iron axe. With joy and relief, the honest woodcutter exclaimed, "Yes, kind Hermes! That is indeed mine!"

Hermes smiled warmly at the man’s sincerity. "Your honesty and contentment deserve reward," he said. "Take all three axes, the gold, the silver, and your iron one as my gift."

Overflowing with gratitude, the woodcutter returned home carrying the three axes, his heart rich with thankfulness. News of his good fortune soon spread throughout the village, catching the ears of a greedy neighbor who longed for easy riches.

Determined, the neighbor hurried to the same river and deliberately threw his axe into its depths, feigning distress. Soon Hermes emerged, radiant yet stern.

"Why do you grieve?" Hermes asked patiently.

"My axe, great Hermes, my precious tool has fallen into the river," the neighbor wailed, falsely lamenting.

Hermes dove and returned with the golden axe. "Is this yours?" he asked knowingly.

Greed clouding his judgment, the neighbor eagerly lied, "Yes, indeed, that golden axe is mine!"

But Hermes, his gaze sharp with insight, frowned deeply. "Your dishonesty denies you even your iron axe," he proclaimed sternly, disappearing back beneath the waters with all three axes, leaving the greedy neighbor empty-handed and ashamed.

Returning home, the honest woodcutter learned of his neighbor’s folly. Quietly grateful for his simple heart and truthful spirit, he continued his days in humble contentment, wisely using his newfound riches to help others. The villagers retold the tale often, a gentle reminder that wealth obtained through dishonesty is fleeting and hollow.

As evening shadows stretched across his humble home, the woodcutter hung his three axes above the hearth, symbols of the quiet strength of honesty and the enduring peace found only in true contentment.

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