Prince Goshtasp, wandering in bitter exile, journeyed toward the lands of Rum with a heart consumed by grief and resentment. Having reaped nothing but sorrow from the turns of fortune and the indifference of his father Lohrasp, he came upon a lush village near the border city. There, by the bank of a shimmering stream, stood a grand tree whose dense canopy blocked out the blazing sun—a spot meant for joyful youth to gather, yet now destined to harbor a broken hero.
Sitting beneath the deep shadow, Goshtasp leaned his chin upon his hand, his eyes brimming with bloody tears as he poured out his lamentation to the Divine Judge. He could not comprehend why, despite his noble birth and righteous star, such wretchedness had befallen him.
As he sat immersed in anguish, the chieftain of the village—a revered nobleman—passed by. Seeing the radiant stranger weeping in solitary despair, the chieftain approached with gentle sympathy. He invited the sorrowful youth to his home, offering warm hospitality so that the heavy clouds upon Goshtasp's heart might disperse and his tear-stained eyelashes might dry.
Impelled by the dignity of his host, Goshtasp inquired of his lineage. The village master proudly revealed that he was descended from the glorious stock of King Fereydun—a bloodline known to all the world for its unmatched nobility. Comforted by this revelation, Goshtasp arose and accompanied him. The host adorned his hall for his guest and cared for him as though he were his own brother, harboring the prince in comfort as the months drifted silently by.