The legend of the blind Thatcher

This tale, told mostly by parents to their young ones, is one heard across the free nations of Errilor, and its themes run parallel to many such children's stories. However, even throughout adulthood it is used as a cautionary tale, and many clerics have used it as the basis of their sermons.
The damage that can occur from mortals indifference to each other is nothing new in fables, but in this case it is made all the more poignant by the senseless waste of life, and the cruel abandonment of the eponymous thatcher. Children being children, the grotesqueness of the situation only increases the appeal of the story, but as they mature the weight of the tale comes to bear, and they are compelled to tell their own children to encourage them to ways of morality and selflessness.

Summary

In a village lived a thatcher. Blind from birth, he sat outside his hovel on the outskirts of town, stacks of reeds piled neatly beside him, patiently waiting for someone who would require his services. Each morning, when the cockerel crowed, he would walk up the well worn path to the pools on the neighbouring hilltop and harvest the reeds that grew there. Standing quietly, he would listen to the rustle as their tall stalks swayed in the wind before picking up his scythe and begin sweeping back and forth. The blade was sharp, and his strokes were sure, and he soon gathered enough for another bundle. Then, when he had securely fastened it, he would walk back down the hill, feeling for rocks and dips with his scythe handle, back into the village.
Sometimes the villagers would watch his descent from the hilltop and laugh at his stumbles and falls, whilst the children would move rocks or branches into his path to cause him to drop his load. Despite his , the thatcher worked hard and well, fixing every roof fairly and to the best of his ability. He would also give generously at the local temples, and insisted that the money be used to help those less fortunate when he was offered aid himself.
The god Feren, lord of light and mercy, would look down from the heavens at the thatcher and delight in his selflessness and goodness. To his assembled angels he would say "Behold this man, the least amongst mortals. Yet in my sight he is the foremost, and embodies the virtues of the divine". Each evening, Feren would cause the reeds of the hill to regrow, so that the thatcher always had enough thatch to keep the other villagers sheltered.
One night, a band of cultists came to the village. They rode in on horseback, threatening to burn down the houses with families inside, unless a human sacrifice was offered. Quickly the men of the village went to the thatchers house, breaking down the door and dragging him from his bed. When they returned to the cultists, he was taken to the smithy, where he was stretched backwards over a heated anvil. Then, when his screams had reached a deafening crescendo, his throat was slit, letting his blood spill onto the red hot iron.
Feren, seeing this unprovoked cruelty was filled with anger. In his wrath, he descended to Errilor in a bolt of light, and stood over the body of the thatcher. All gods by their very nature are beautiful, but Feren is considered transcendent by all the deities in the heavens. No mortal mind can fully contain his splendour, and the cultists and villagers who had sacrificed him were instantly struck dead.
The thatcher, slowly fading from lack of blood, heard the chanting of the ritual stop. Sensing a presence behind him, he asked only if the village was safe. When there was no reply, he slowly turned his head and saw, through his blindness, the smiling face of Feren. No mortal can see Feren's face and live, but in that moment the thatchers soul was departing his body. Elevated by the divine presence his soul began to metamorphose and with his last breath the transformation was complete.
No longer a mere spirit, the thatcher had become a Solar, chief amongst Feren's angels. Now he flies across the world, doing Feren's will. His eyes covered by a white cloth, in his right hand he holds a scythe and in his left a bunch of reeds. He is known to appear at moments of great injustice, protecting the persecuted, and reaping the souls of the aggressors. It is said that should he give you one of his reeds, no misfortune can befall you, and you shall be blessed for the rest of your days.

Historical Basis

The historical basis for this story is dubious, as no reliable specifics have survived its countless retellings. However, there are a few villages that claim to be the setting for this tale, and one that even states that a Solar can sometimes be seen on a nearby hilltop, listening to the swaying of the reeds in the wind.

Variations & Mutation

The race, gender and physical description of the thatcher change with each teller of the tale. Occasionally Feren is replaced by another deity, but this is uncommon, and usually done by overenthusiastic clergy of other gods.
The faction of the cultists varies greatly, depending on current wars, divisions or popularity of a certain demon. Sometimes they are replaced by a band of raiders, or an invading army, depending on the political climate.
Sometimes there is a temple guardian, who loves the thatcher and weeps by his or her body. They are spared death by Feren, and are allowed to dwell amongst the gods also.