give @p written_book[written_book_content={title:"A Villager's Garland",author:"Jasper the Journeyman",pages:["The morning light dripped through the leaves of the giant oak, dappling the familiar path to the farm with warm squares of gold. I hummed a tuneless little song to myself, the rhythm keeping time with the crunch of my boots on the well-worn dirt.",["It was another day in Brunston, another day of trading and tending, another day the same as yesterday.","\n\nOr so I thought."],"As I rounded a bend, a flash of color caught my eye. It was nestled amongst the tall grass at the meadow's edge, a sight so unlike anything I'd ever seen. A flower, yes, but unlike the simple poppies and dandelions that dotted our fields. ",["This one bloomed with an impossible vibrancy, its petals a cascade of sapphire and amethyst, shimmering like dewdrops caught in the morning sun.","\nI stopped, my calloused hand hovering in the air, forgetting the basket of potatoes I was meant to deliver. "],"The world seemed to hold its breath, the only sound the frantic buzzing of a nearby bee. I drew closer, careful not to disturb the delicate bloom. It pulsed with a faint inner light, casting an ethereal glow on the surrounding grass. It was… magical.","Words failed me. All my life, I'd been surrounded by the practicalities of village life – the sturdy walls, the comforting scent of baking bread, the rhythmic clang of the blacksmith's hammer. Beauty, for a villager, was a well-maintained fence, a perfectly straight row of crops.",["But this flower, this defied definition.","\nI knelt, mesmerized.  For a moment, I forgot about emeralds and restocking chests. All that mattered was the flower and the strange pull it exerted on me."],["It spoke of something beyond our village walls, beyond the familiar cycle of sunrise and sunset. It whispered of faraway lands and forgotten stories.","\nA tear traced a path down my cheek, salty and unexpected. It wasn't sadness, not exactly. It was a yearning, a feeling I"],["couldn't quite grasp.","\nPerhaps it was a longing for adventure, a flicker of something wild stirring within the heart of a simple villager.","\nAs I sat there, the sun climbed higher, casting long shadows across the meadow. Finally, with a sigh, I rose."],"The farm wouldn't tend itself, and Brunston needed its potatoes. But a part of me remained with the flower, a tiny seed of wonder planted in my soul.","The world was a bigger place than I'd ever imagined, and somewhere out there, magic bloomed. Perhaps, someday, I would find it again."]}] 1