The Sprite Tree

nce upon a time, there lived all alone, and rather sadly, an old wizard. He was a fairly standard kind of wizard with a tall hat and voluminous cloak which dragged along the ground as he walked, or rather stumbled, because he could not see very well. His spectacles had been lost for a very long time and he blamed their absence for the fact that he wasn't very good at spells either. However that did not stop him trying and on this particular warm autumn day he was looking for a tree.

A tree is easy enough to find even if you cannot see very well, you might think. But he was looking for a special tree, a tree with round red fruit, because that is what his spell book said or at least he thought it said. He had been looking all day, but as the sun began to set, he saw it right beside him with the sun glinting through its leaves. It was covered in red fruit (so he thought) and he reached out and plucked one and then he got a shock. There was nothing wrong with his ears and the fruit clearly said "OW" and he dropped it. He could not see where he dropped it, but it seemed to him that the fruit or something ran off into the tall grass.
And not only ran off but grew rapidly as it did so. And the fruit was not red but white and grew legs and a greeny-red top and arms and a head. "Goodness" said the wizard "that is certainly not the red fruit I was looking for". And then he heard little voices from the tree "pick me", "pick me". He did pick some more but remembered a rhyme from his spell book. Beware to pick no more than six, then pick a plum to make the trick. He had no idea what that meant and there were no plums on this tree, but there was a different slight larger fruit almost enclosed in two leaves. Always willing to try something close to the right thing, he reached for it. A chorus of little voices from near his feet chanted "oh no, do you have to", but it was too late.

What he had done was to break a long standing spell by a wicked witch who had turned some (admittedly rather naughty) sprites into fruit on a tree. Why noone had picked them before he knew not, but when he realised what he had done, he was rather proud of himself. Gathered at his feet were six little brother sprites, of average height some twelve inches, and a older taller sister sprite. He took them home for supper, no not to eat for supper, he was a kindly wizard. Though they knelt in a circle around his big pot and eyed the array of jars on his shelves with some apprehension.. Not fancying wing of bat and eye of toad and that sort of thing, they all declared themselves vegetarians. Though given their own vegetable origins that was a little surprising. So he made a stew of carrots and onions and turnips and such. Big sister led two of the sprites outside and they came back with armfuls of herbs and they too were put in the pot. (The herbs, not the sprites). Big sister prodded one of her brothers and, while they waited for the stew  to cook, he began to sing. One by one each of the brothers joined in and big sister added a descant. As they ended their song, she announced the stew cooked. The wizard was a bit miffed at that, it was after all his stew, but he knew when to hold his peace.

Big sister then organised walnut shells for them to sup from and supervised table manners  with consummate authority. Her charges responded with fairly cheerful obedience, at least when she was looking. Although it did not become apparent when she tucked them quietly into bed, they slept side by side along a low shelf cleared of bottles of wizardly potions, it did when she encouraged them to wash under the wizard's pump the next morning. She was no sparer of  rods or in this case a small bunch of twigs from their own tree. But we had better not dwell on that!

Sparkling clean and a little subdued they lined up for a breakfast of porridge long before our wizard awoke. When he did he found his modest cottage cleared of decades of dust and cobwebs and his pots shining as they never had before. The sprites were outside again squealing under the pump and sisterly encouragement. (The squeals were of course part of an elaborate charade which required no explanation. But few outside fairyland would understand that.) "Goodness me", said the wizard, reaching for his spectacles beside his bed without remembering that he hadn't looked through them for months, perhaps years. He did however recognise the stunning transformation to his cottage and when one sparkling sprite brought him breakfast in bed, he thought he could probably get used to having them around.

And so it was that the Wizard began a whole new chapter in his life, no longer sad
and no longer alone.