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Setting: Genesis 13:14-18
Abram is beloved in the Kiriath-Arba. Our little nation is so named because it comprises four settlements: Hebron at its center, with the households of my brothers - Enau and Mamre - and my own household surrounding and protecting her. It is a land of beautiful oak trees, the most magnificent of which - the Oak of Mamre - having been planted by Adonai Himself even as the waters of the great flood receded.
Beneath the branches of that exemplary tree the men of our households met often. We would trade information about the surrounding streams and pastures, or share ancient poems dedicated to El, or spar with wooden swords and spears to keep our skills sharp. There were 318 fighting men in Abram’s house in those days, but I never saw any man best Abram save his slave Eleazer. What a strange sight to see a slave dare to out-spar his master, but the bond between Abram and Eliezer was as father and son, or as man to man, and not as slave and master.
To watch Abram use a sword was a most beautiful and inspiring sight. His movements were slower than his opponent’s, yet they were so skilfully premeditated, and so consistently did he anticipate the movements of his foe, that he managed to make the other arrive late with each thrust.
Those were golden days, before we were inevitably drawn into the war between Mardon and Chedorlaomer. We worked hard but we found plenty of time to rest as well. El whispered to us in the breeze, and laughed with us in the babbling brooks, and sang with us as the stars filled the black sky at night.
Perhaps those days were so precious to us because we knew that they could not last. Emissaries from Sodom and Gomorrah came to Hebron selling their protection. Our elders, Mabug chief among them, were in all respects polite but firm with these men, in informing them that we wanted no involvement with their conflict. They left cursing and it is perhaps fortunate that they did not encounter Abram or my brothers or I as they departed.