Treasury of Fairy Tales

The Magic Words

Three days, he thought to himself, and their happiness will be mine as well. 

Four drinks later, the man left the tavern for home. The path before him was deserted, of which he was glad.  

A light wind whispered through the trees around him. The air felt slightly charged, as though his life was about to change. 

The man crossed his fingers as he reached his doorstep. Three days' time. 

The next morning, the witch added more ingredients as carefully as she could and let the sunlight wash over them. Then she went outside to take a walk. 

The trees lining her walkway rustled in the sudden breeze that had kicked up. She paused and glanced up at the sky, wondering....on an impulse, she ran lightly back to her porch and grabbed her broom. Maybe... 

Meanwhile, the man awoke later in the morning than he'd meant to. Strange dreams had kept him asleep longer than usual. He rose and went out to his garden: he made a living by selling vegetables at the village market. That playful breeze was still in the air, and it invigorated him as he worked. 

The witch walked back down her path, clutching her broom nervously. If she tried and failed, it would be that much worse.  

But she had to try. 

She ran faster and faster down the path, away from the trees, and held her broom out in front of her. As she gathered speed, her hair streamed out behind her and her robes danced wildly. She took a deep breath and leapt onto the broom. 

The handle swayed back and forth dizzily for a moment, and she flattened her body against it. Then in one glorious moment, she was flying, really flying, soaring above the path, completely one with the broom. 

In his garden, the man paused. He felt a sort of ripple in the air calling him away from his home. 

He put down his crate of carrots and potatoes and stepped outside his gate. 

The breeze drew his gaze up to the skies, and he saw a dancing shape that was hard to make out above him. 

The witch stared down in surprise: somehow, the broom had taken her to a little house with a lush garden. It very nearly resembled her own. She leaned forward and barreled down to land. 

As she pulled to a smooth stop in the grass, she saw the man. "Oh, hello again," she said to him brightly, the joy of the flight still with her. 

"Hello," he said, holding out a hand to help her off her broom. "And how is my spell coming along?" 

"Right on schedule," she said, looking around her. "This is a wonderful garden." 

"Thank you. It's also my livelihood." 

"I can see why," she said admiringly, "although you might do better to turn the soil over here more often--it looks nearly worn out." 

"You're right," he said, inspecting the spot. "I haven't kept up on it lately." 

"And these over here," she said, indicating some radishes, "you might try something different for fertilizer..." 

The witch stayed in the man's garden all morning, and they exchanged gardening tips, discovering that they shared many of the same methods and favorite plants. 

As late afternoon approached, the witch glanced at the sky and remembered she still had to gather ingredients for the last day of the love spell. "I must go," she said. "Come by my cottage tomorrow, at this time, and your spell will be ready." 

She leapt onto her broom and sailed up into the air, wondering why flying was suddenly so easy. She glanced down at the man; he was waving to her. She waved too, and then was gone. 

The witch landed back in front of her house and quickly put her broom away, then retrieved a pair of gardening shears from her kitchen. Then she went back outside to a small patch of flowers in a spot of sunlight. She quickly snipped three of them and brought them back inside. 

Then she carefully peeled the petals from the flowers, watching that no pollen fell into the cauldron. 

The last step complete, all she had to do now was let the third day of sunlight shine on it and it would be ready. She peered into the cauldron. She could tell just by the color of the potion that it might actually be right this time. 

She pictured the man; remembered their conversation in his garden. Suddenly she felt oddly about giving him the potion. She imagined him using it on some village maiden, being happy, growing old with her. 

She glanced at the jeweled box that held his coins, and sighed. 

The next morning she rose, checked the potion, and threw open her curtains to let the sun shine on it. When enough time had passed, she ladled out the lavender mixture into a glass jar and covered it with a heavy lid. Then she wrapped the jar in cloth and tied it with a ribbon. The witch put the potion on a shelf and went outside to wait for the man. 

She had taken her breakfast with her, and munched on the toast thoughtfully. What had made her broom cooperate again? Why had the potion turned out so well, so easily? 

Soon, she saw the man coming up the walk. "You're early!" she called, standing up. 

"I know," he shouted back. He jogged the last few steps and sat beside her on the porch. "I couldn't wait."  

She smiled and sat back down. "It won't be ready for another hour at least," she said, though she was not really sure why. The potion was ready now, of course. "Are you hungry?" 

He was, and they ate together, laughing at the birds that landed and flocked around them, begging for crumbs. 

Then, when she could delay it no longer, she led him inside and handed him the parcel. "The directions are on the jar," she said, her heart sinking suddenly. "I hope you'll be very happy." 

The man took the jar, then paused and looked around him. "You know," he said, moving it slowly from hand to hand, "It felt like forever, waiting for this...now--" he put it back on the shelf and looked at her. "I think I'm already happy." 

She looked at the jar and back at him. "What do you mean?" she asked. 

"I don't need the love potion," he said slowly. "Isn't it funny I'd meet my love, without the aid of magic, even though I was in search of it?" 

The witch smiled. "It is funny," she said, "though if you don't mind, I'd like to keep the potion and sell it to someone else...you see, it's the first love potion I've ever made right." 

The man laughed.  

The witch laughed, too, and gave him back his coins. 

They lived happily ever after.