The Magic Spoon

this fable asks where does magic begin

Long ago and far away, there was a pretty little cottage in the center of a small forest.  It was the home of Lisen, the Wise One.  The villagers that lived in the towns and villages outside the forest knew of Lisen.  They often took their problems to her.

When Gervais the butcher from Osnon got a bad hangnail, he went to Lisen to be healed.  She cleaned his finger, packed the spot with some herbs and gave him some more herbs to make into tea to drink.  Gervais left two healthy hens to lay eggs for Lisen.

When Touva the seamstress was sick with the tick fever, her husband fetched Lisen to the town of Oakvale. There Lisen bathed the sick woman and made her special medicines.  When Touva started to feel better, Lisen stayed a few more days to clean the woman’s house and feed the whole family good meals.  Touva’s husband slipped a new dress and breeches into Lisen’s arms when he brought her back to the house in the forest.

Such was the life of Lisen.  She advised the farmers when to plant their crops and when to reap the grains.  She taught young wives how to make teas and poultices for their husbands’ aches and pains.  Lisen even took several children to live with her for a full week every spring and fall to learn the ways of the wild animals and birds.  The villagers and townspeople paid her with food, goods and favours.

Lisen often spent her days walking through the forest and meadows when the nearby villagers did not need her.  She found fresh herbs to replace the ones that she used to make medicines and teas.  She visited with the animals and birds.  She renewed her own peace of mind.  Lisen knew that she must stay happy and healthy in order to help others.

One day, as Lisen was walking an overgrown path in a dark part of the forest, she heard a strange noise.  It sounded like a wounded animal.  Lisen often helped small animals that became trapped in the snares set for larger animals.  So she went toward the sound to find out what the problem was.  As she approached, there was a rustling of leaves as the creature tried to hide deeper in the bush.

“Hush, hush, little one,” Lisen said.  She stopped and waited a moment. “I am here to help you.  Do not be afraid.”

Lisen waited until the creature had stopped trying to flea.  Then speaking softly, she again slowly approached it.  Anytime fear overtook the small thing, Lisen would stop and talk quietly until she felt she could go on. Finally she bent down to peek under a clump of leaves just above the ground.

To Lisen’s surprise, it was a little man and not a small animal caught by an old snare.  “Oh my,” she exclaimed.  “Hold still and I will release you.  You must be brave for it will hurt a little as I open the jaws of the snare.”

Lisen lifted the little man into her lap as she would a small child.  For a quick moment, she noticed that he was only the size of a healthy five or six-year-old boy.  She carefully spread the jaws of the snare and slipped it off the man’s leg.  The little man whimpered as the feeling returned to his foot.

Lisen gently asked, “Can I feel the bones of your leg to see if there is a break?”

When the little man nodded, she felt the leg.  Even though he winced a couple of times, Lisen was certain that the leg was not broken.

“It is very badly bruised,” she said.  “Would you come back to my home and let me poultice it for you?”

As Lisen carried the little man back to her house, she noticed that he was as light as a baby.  Once inside the house, Lisen set him on her soft chair that had been a gift from Dreck after his arm was chewed by a wild dog.  The little man bit on his lip to keep from crying.  The leg felt as if it was full of pins and needles.  Lisen set the kettle to boil and then grabbed her special green box from a shelf.

“Chew on this,” she said, handing the little man some willow bark.  “It will help with the pain.”

Soon Lisen had the bruised leg wrapped in a poultice and bandages.  The little man sat drinking the tea she had brewed to help the healing.  Lisen sat on her rocking chair across from the little man and observed him.  First she watched his colour and behaviour to satisfy herself that he was going to be fine.  Then curiosity got the better of her.

“Are you one of the little people?” Lisen asked quietly.  She was afraid that he might become furious with the question.  She had heard that the little people often angered quickly.

Later Lisen could not say whether he was not angry or if he was just tired from the ordeal and the medicine.  The little man just frowned a bit and spoke for the first time.  His voice was high-pitched and quite musical.  “I am called such,” was all he said.

“What I mean,” Lisen tried again.  “Are you one of the magical folk or a small human?”

“I am as the gods have made me.”

Lisen knew that she would not get a simple answer from the little man so she stopped trying to ask.  She sipped at her tea and wondered what she would do or say if he was one of the magical folk.  She hoped that she would treat him no differently than she did the animals and people who came into her care.  After some time lost in her thinking, Lisen roused herself to find the little man asleep.

“Poor soul,” she muttered.  “I will put him to bed and maybe later he will feel more like talking.”

As she gently lifted the little man, Lisen realized that he would be quite lost in her huge feather bed.  So she kicked her dolls out of the trundle bed and set him in it.  She carefully wrapped him warmly and then set about making a stew for supper and tidying her kitchen.  Every now and again, Lisen would check on her patient.  As she went to stir the stew after clearing away all of the herbs she had gathered that morning, Lisen’s favourite wooden spoon snapped in two.

“Oh fiddlesticks and fried eggs!” she exclaimed.  “Now I will have to ask one of the carvers to make me a new one.”  She looked for another spoon and finished her task.

As she took up the two pieces of her spoon, Lisen wondered aloud if she might be able to repair it.  It was an especially good spoon in that it had a wide and deep bowl.  It had been perfect for stirring and serving soups and stews.  But the break was too even.  Lisen knew that these were the hardest breaks to repair because the ends often slipped on each other. She tossed it into the fire and went to wake the little man.  For the second time that day, Lisen was surprised.  He no longer slept in the small bed.  In his place was only a beautiful metal spoon of the same shape and size as the one she had just tossed on the fire.  Lisen knew not to look for the little man as she was now sure that he was one of the magical folk.

Lisen held the spoon out in front of her and blessed the little man wherever he was.  “Thank you,” she whispered into the silences.  Then she turned and went to ladle out her supper.

Taking a bowl from the shelf, Lisen scooped up a spoonful of stew with her new spoon.  The smell of the cooked meats and vegetables made her mouth water.  Her sudden hunger made Lisen pause a moment but she thought no more of it.  She sat and dipped bits of stale bread into her bowl, enjoying the delicious flavours.  She could not remember ever having made such a wonderful stew.

“The little man has left me a magical spoon,” Lisen said to herself.  “It is the spoon which has made my simple stew taste so good.  I shall not waste it on my meals but use the spoon only for my medicines and teas.”

From that day on, Lisen made all her herbal concoctions with her magic spoon.  She told the story of how she had earned the magic spoon over and over.  All of the villagers and townspeople started to ask if their medicine had been made with the spoon when she tended to their ills.  Everyone wanted to have a bit of the magic of the spoon.  The story of Lisen’s magic spoon spread far and wide.

One day after returning from one of her walks in the meadows at the edge of the forest, Lisen found her cottage door open.  Thinking that a sick villager had come for her assistance, Lisen ran inside prepared to drop her armful.  But the herbs were not dropped to free her hands but from shock.  During her absence, someone had made a terrible mess of Lisen’s cottage.  Pots were upset, finely chopped herbs were scattered, and even her knitting next to the rocking chair was a tangled mess.

“This is not the work of an animal but a mean person,” Lisen muttered to herself.  She set about cleaning the mess and putting things to right again.  She made note of what herbs would have to be replaced and untangled her knitting.  When everything was finally back into place, Lisen realized that she had not seen the magic spoon.  She searched everywhere, in cupboards and closets, under the bed and chairs, even out in the woodpile.  Finally Lisen sat on her front step and sobbed.  She had been robbed.  Someone had wanted her magical spoon and had made the mess looking for it.

Lisen went to see Kurret the blacksmith in Oakvale.  He was the closest the local folk had to a sheriff.  Lisen told him her story but the big man only shook his head.

“I am sorry, Lisen,” he said sadly. “But if they did not leave a good trail, we will never find them.  Also it is the start of harvest and I will have trouble getting help to make a search.  I am afraid your magic spoon is gone.”

Lisen returned home with a heavy heart.  But along the way she suddenly thought that the spoon had only added a little to her work.  She would get by without it.  She could still do what she had done before and make everything with a simple wooden spoon.  But Lisen soon discovered that the villagers and townspeople were not as quick to forget the magic spoon.  When the story of the theft spread, people often questioned if the medicine that Lisen was giving them had been made before or after the loss of the spoon.

One late winter day, Lisen was helping the mayor of Osnon with his cow that was having trouble giving birth to twin calves.  She started to rub some salve on the cow but the mayor stopped her arm.

“Was that salve made with the magic spoon?” he asked.

Lisen thought of lying to the man because she was tired of the question. Instead she shook her head.

“How do I know if it is going to be any good?” the mayor asked.

Lisen stamped her foot and pulled her arm free.  “I have made it,” she said, trying to control the anger boiling inside.  “If you do not trust me to help your cow, then tell me to go home.”

The mayor hesitated and stared at Lisen.  This made Lisen even angrier.  She quickly gathered her things and stomped out of the mayor’s barn.  As she trudged home in the icy dawn, Lisen became even angrier yet.  “If the townspeople do not trust me anymore, I must move to a new place where I will be welcomed for my abilities.”

By the time Lisen had reached her home, she had made her decision.  She set to work packing as much of her things into her small wagon and hitched up her cow to the wagon.  By noon, she was ready to search for a new home.  Lisen was almost out of the forest when she heard a small cough just off the trail.  She turned to see the little man sitting atop a large silvery rock.

“I do not know if I am happy or angry to see you again,” Lisen said.  “That magic spoon you left me was wonderful but now the townsfolk believe that it was the spoon and not my work that cured them.  I am forced to find a new place to live where I can continue my work.”

“We all must make our own decisions and live with the results,” was all the little man said.

Lisen recognized the whining sound that had been in her voice and was immediately ashamed.  “I apologize,” she started again.  “I really must thank you for the magic spoon.  It was a great gift while I still owned it.  It is just very sad that someone had to steal it.”

“I gave you no magic spoon,” said the little man.  “I am a simple tinker and left the only thing I was carrying in return for your kind care.”

Lisen did not understand at first.  “You mean, it was just an ordinary metal spoon?”

The little man nodded.  Lisen thought for a moment and then laughed and laughed at the joke she had played on herself.  When the food had tasted so good after meeting the little man, she had assumed the spoon was full of magic.  But instead the magic had been in her mind only.  All of the potions and teas made with that spoon had been no different than those she had made with the wooden spoon. Lisen chuckled to herself as she realized that the townspeople would be so upset when they learned of this.  Then she thought of how they would not believe there had been no magic in the spoon.  This made her sad again.

“I feel I am still in your debt,” said the little man.  He stood and did a sprightly jig on the rock.  “I move better than ever since you tended my injury.  Ask anything you would of a tinker and I will make it.”

Lisen thought for a minute and then smiled.  “Can you make me another metal spoon much as the last one?”

The little man cocked his head to one side and stared at the wise woman.  Then with a chuckle, he leapt up to shake her hand.  “You are truly wise,” he said.  “It will be on your doorstep shortly after I know where that doorstep is.”  He winked at her.

Lisen just smiled and started to turn the cow around.  “The same doorstep as before.”

Sure enough, the next day when Lisen was replacing her woodpile at the side of her cottage, she spotted a beautifully made metal spoon on the doorstep.  She picked it up and held it out to say thanks again.  When the news spread that Lisen had another spoon just like the other one, the townspeople again requested her potions and teas without question.  And Lisen just smiled to herself.

Reviews

[Samuel Dickens]

I enjoyed reading this imaginative and well-written story. I thought there'd surely be magic at work, but it was just the folly of humans in play. Yes, life is sometimes stranger than fiction.