To the lovely artist duo that has inspired some of my writing, as well as to the friends who keep my creativity in check!

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Once upon a time, in a gnarly corner of the wood lived three gnarly ancient witches.

One would not know by glancing at them for they beheld unspeakably enchanting beauty that was only offset by their foul tempers and the colored language that flung from their lips.

It was on such a day that no rain fell and the sun gleamed brilliantly that they expressed distaste for the Smiths-a family who according to them had committed the most grievous of sins.

Calling them old.

To ancient beings whom took care of their visage regularly, this was the greatest of insults!

Thus, the eldest clapped her hands together eagerly as they plotted the best course of vengeance.

"Give them a taste of their own medicine!", enthusiastically cried the youngest.

Wiggling their fingers over the smallest cauldron they could procure, for they were cheap witches, the three sisters began their chant and placed their curses on the Smiths' unborn child.

Eileen, the youngest, said,

"Let the child's length be overshadowed by arbors..."

Ealga, the second eldest, said,

"May their hair be as uncolored as the winter snow..."

Enya, the eldest said,

"Let that meddlesome brat have wisdom beyond their years!"

Proud of their accomplishment, the sisters mixed the curse well and sought the company of the accursed Smyths.

Stumbling upon a humble cabin in the woods, their pilgrim dress caused the poor family to open the door and provide them necessities. Out of inauthentic gratefulness, they cast the magic on the home as a blessing and went on their way.

Surely if they were to find that the family they cursed was not the right family, Smyths not Smiths, they might have been embarrassed. Alas, their curse became a fortune in those cobbler's eyes!

Behold a platinum-haired dwarf savant was born into the Smyth family! With pale skin that gleamed in the moonlight, wisdom that surpassed the most-learned wizard and sporting a petite stature, he was a gorgeous gem in his parent's hearts.

Even the wild wood fairies sang on his birth of how he was to be a saving grace to the kingdom and surely live a prosperous life!

Enya, Ealga, and Eileen grieved that day.

Yet the family came to thank them and bid them be godparents in return for their gracious gift!

Salt embedded in their wound, they promised among themselves to make his days rotten and his life miserable.

However, with each attempt, the heavens smiled on him for all the misfortune became mercies in disguise.

Fall from a waterfall-learn from the mermaids in the pools how to be an excellent swimmer.

Poison in breakfast- give the townspeople lessons on how to properly cook their meals.

Burn village books- transcribe old books by hand and write new ones to educate the illiterate kids.

Nothing could go right for this motley trio!

In his heart, Earnan (for that was his name), treasured them greatly despite their ill-intentions. Visiting them often in the woods, his sweet smile brought out their ire hidden from public view.

"Earnan, take care of my bunions!"

"Earnan, dispose of the garbage!"

"Earnan, gather wood for the fire!"

Slowly, he gained their trust and begrudgingly (even though they would never admit) started to see him as a proper godson so much so that they waited for his arrival with genuine anticipation.

As the years passed, Earnan started spending more time with the witches and less with the humans in the village. Visits to his parents would be less frequent-once a month- as he came to rely on the witches for advice and new books. The witches had acquired a massive collection over the years that he poured through, subjects ranging from politics to history and even the study of magic.

Encouraging his learning, Earnan took to studying outdoors. Lush greenery and magical barriers prevented wandering mortals from venturing further into the woods where the witches lay. A lot of privacy could be afforded for training and practice as a result.

Through it all, he longed for more from this life, more than being a cobbler like his father before him.

His parents also desired that of him as well, hoping that he would go off seeking knighthood or join the nearest monastery.

A third option opened to him the summer that he came upon a most unusual tome.

Hidden in the collection lay the forgotten statue of a gargoyle. Dusty and cobweb-ridden, he usually avoided it due to spring allergies. On a dreary day when the sun beat down and burnt his albino skin, he leapt into the library from the back window and stumbled on the statue accidentally. Suddenly, the statue peeled away from the wall to reveal a hidden hole in the floor with a wooden ladder descending from it.

Curiosity getting the better of him, he traversed the wooden ladder into a smaller library located in the basement level of the cottage.

Before him lay ancient tomes of literature in languages that he had never heard of! All of them seemed much thicker than the width of his head! 

In the back of his mind, he pondered over why the witches would have hidden it here-away from sight. They had given him access to all the books upstairs. By all accounts, now that his parents passed on to the next life, he was practically their ward and would inherit the property after their departure. Surely, it would not hurt to take a peek below so long as he bore the witch's curse, right?

After all, it was common knowledge that the power of witch's curse was but one of the most powerful spells casted. So far, it had assisted, rather than hindered him on many occasions.

As he continued to stroll along the long hall, the tomes grew in size and he wagered that these before him were much older than the previous ones. One could tell not just from the sight of the worn book pages, but the musty scent wafted into his sensitive nose. 

 Earnan sneezed, and several books came piling down on top of him. Crawling out from under the heap, he observed a few books that did not fit the pattern of thick and ancient.

A book in particular caught his eye-a silver scale edged out from it. To the naked eye, it appeared to be a plain book which had been located in the first row of the bookcase most adjacent to him. Crouching down, he examined the sparsely decorated spine and noted a faded cover of a dragon and what appeared to be a young maiden. Taking his time, he cautiously opened the book to the scale bookmark. 

As if in a trance, he read an inscription in a dialect not his own and the scale glowed iridescently.

A crash from the hole above startled him, but it was too late as the dragon had been unleashed.

Grabbing a nearby tome, the eldest witch berated him. "You fool," Enya said. "Do you know how long it took us to take that beast captive and you have gone and released the wild creature?"

Indeed, observing the book a little more closely, he saw that the figure of the dragon had vanished.

"How...does that work?"

Ealga poofed out of thin air, and sighed. "That is why you do not curse a man with intelligence. He would always be too curious for his own good."

He thought for a moment and had an epiphany. The book was meant to seal prisoners of great note that had magical powers that should be restrained appropriately. If others snatched it, they would soon learn what a wonderful instrument it could be. Focusing on the matter at hand, he filed that discovery away for another time. 

"And the maiden? Was she locked up as well?"

"Nasty piece of work," Eileen added, arriving in a broom after her sister's teleportation spell. "We got in trouble with the Faerie court and they made us seek her out..."

"Seek!" shrieked Enya. "That faerie drowned an elven prince and almost caused full-out war. It took us forever to track her down and drag her back."

"Relentless, she was," stated Ealga. "Out of spite, she did that."

He looked puzzled for a moment, but it clicked upon seeing the now faded title that appeared once the dragon left,  Love at the Faerie Court.

"You always say that both men and fae always act foolishly for money or love...", he started.

"The prince fell in love with her sister-the betrothed of his brother," stated Eileen. "Even wrote a play dedicated to her."

"Why are men always so foolish?", asked Enya. 

"He was originally betrothed to the sister. It was the faerie court at Bordeaux that refused him," said Ealga.

Eileen whispered to her ward, "That is a tale yet for another time."

"How come?", he asked. 

Eileen abruptly snapped. "He needs a spear."

"A sword!"

"A shield!"

As they began squabbling over preparations for his big battle with the dragon, aquamarine pearls trailed down his snow cheeks.

Hearing his sobs, they paused and stood on stools to check up on him. The sisters commonly used stools as their selfish pride would not let them admit that even as a dwarf he still out-dwarfed them. 

"Before I fight, I must say one thing."

"Speak!", they all cried out at once.

"If I perish, I shall miss your petty squabbles."

Wagging a finger at him, Enya said, "Believe me when I say we were not always benevolent beings that we are."

"Indeed, we have committed many sins," confessed Ealga.

"Yes, we have," agreed Eileen. "The Faerie Court did not brand us criminals for nothing."

Externally, he grinned and politely acquiesced to their thinking.

Truthfully, he doubted that. 

Normally, the kingdom's warlock would have taken care of the dragon matter. By law, every adequately-prepared kingdom would have their own wizard, witch, sorcerer, enchantress or warlock. It was deemed essential for protection from supernatural forces and they also served as ambassadors to the Faerie Court as well.

However, the king had come to depend on a certain warlock as an advisor. Alas the warlock sadly  was in the middle of conspiring with malevolent forces as well as another neighboring kingdom to take over instead. Taking advantage of a loose dragon, the perfect opportunity struck and the foul fiends surrounded the king's keep, killing those who dared make a stand against them.

With the sisters' reluctant guidance, the youth set out to right his wrongs and defeat the dragon that now guarded the king's keep. Using the skills he learned from the tomes, he defended the castle from attackers curtly and swiftly. Even palace guards remained in awe after his brief 'visit', telling the king that all had been saved thanks to a pale elf boy.

With a sleight of hand, he had borrowed the tome and once again sealed the unruly dragon away. The trio knew, but kept silent for the kingdom had been saved because of it.

To thank him, the childless king adopted the orphaned boy and gave him the title of the Silver Prince.

The three witches moved into the palace shortly and became known as the Royal Aunts.

Eventually, Silver Prince hosted a competition to find his betrothed. With some input from the witches, he let the chosen ladies deliberate over a riddle he gave them.

All were stumped before this intellectual test until a foreigner arrived.

A gypsy girl called Triana bearing from the Iberian Peninsula took one look at the scroll bearing the riddle and flipped it upside down to reveal more verses on the back. The riddle had been incomplete from the start.

Placing herself on a pyre, she wore a flaming dress and lit the wood around her, carefully avoiding the fire from touching her face.

"The front says,

What takes breath but needs it to live?

What changes color when cold?

While the back says,

What man needs but can never possess?

What dies but is brought to life again?"

"The answer is fire: The instrument that man holds that makes it distinct from the animals and that both gives life and destroys it without a single thought."

"Excellent," answered Silver Prince and took the gypsy girl as his Queen. Together they ruled peacefully and set to the make their kingdom a better place for both fae and mortal.

The Royal Aunts were granted the title of honorary godparents and 'cursed' the children from this union to have exciting adventures in other lands.

Surely they did, but that is another story for longer days.

And they all lived happily ever after.

Fin.