Gather round for a tale about the shoemakers and the elves...
Once upon a time, two shoemakers fell in love and opened their own shop. Although the newlyweds were master cobblers and designers of the finest footwear, sadly, hardly any customers walked through their door. Even with the softest leather and finest stitches, their new business struggled. Eventually, the cobblers only had enough supplies to make one last pair of shoes. They were heartsick over the thought of losing their shop, so while they worked, they also prayed. As their tears rained over the slippers' seams and seeped into the soles, they asked for a miracle.
The following day, the man witnessed something spectacular. Although the tear-stained shoes had only been partially finished when he and his wife went to bed, the shoes were complete upon waking! There wasn't one uneven stitch or faulty eyelet. The heels were sturdy, the laces tight, and although the cobblers used the same leather they always had, the shoes shimmered in the morning light. The wife placed the curious shoes in their shop window, and not long after, a smartly dressed woman walked through the door. To the cobblers' amazement, she purchased the enchanted shoes and ordered herself a second pair.
Elated, the newlyweds went to work on another pair of shoes straight away, but by the end of the evening, there was still much to be done. You see, several mistakes had been made. In their haste, the couple accidentally overstretched the shoes' tongues, tore the laces, and scuffed a toe. These mishaps were relatively minor, but since the oil in the cobblers' lamp was nearly gone, the newlyweds were forced to retire early. Once again, they left the flawed shoes sitting in a puddle of tears.
But, as fate would have it, the following morning, another miracle had taken place! The unfinished shoes were now intact, remolded to perfection, and sparkling like they'd taken a bath in pixie dust. When the customer came to pick up her new shoes, she informed the cobblers that she'd like a third pair. And since she'd told all her friends about this charming shop, she suggested the owners hire a couple of extra hands.
Soon, with the help of their mysterious nighttime visitors, the cobblers began selling several pairs of shoes each day. The shoemakers became wealthy, and people from villages near and far came to purchase their fine wears. But, after many years of success, the newlyweds grew old, and their hands tired. With heavy hearts, they decided it was time to close their shop and retire for good. However, there was one thing they wanted to do first – thank their secret helpers.
And so, the wrinkled and grey-haired cobblers placed a pair of half-finished shoes on their table. They grabbed a blanket, filled their oil lamp to the top, and waited in the darkest corner of their studio until the clock struck midnight. Right on cue, two naked elves hopped onto the table. They spoke in a language the cobblers couldn't understand, and their tiny hands worked swiftly, like magic wands sprinkling stardust over all that they touched. Only when dawn approached and the rooster crowed for breakfast did the elves snip the last thread and stand back to admire their work. They giggled and slid down the table leg before disappearing beneath an ordinary pile of leather scraps and old spools that had long been emptied of their thread.
The cobblers were flabbergasted. They had envisioned angels, fairies, or even witches as their midnight helpers, but not elves. And upon seeing the wee folk handling such sharp needles and heavy hammers while in the buff, the woman came up with an idea:
"Let's make the elves some clothes," she said. "Since they spend their nights answering our prayers and have made us wealthy beyond our dreams, crafting something for them is the least we can do."
And so, for the first time in their long lives, the cobblers didn't spend the day crafting human-sized slippers. They sewed trousers, tufted tunics, and darling booties that, when finished, all fit in the palm of one hand. In place of a half-finished pair of shoes, the woman arranged the elves' new outfits on the work table. That night, as they huddled in the corner of their studio waiting for the clock to strike twelve, the cobblers wondered, would the elves like their new clothes?
The cobblers held their breath when the elves appeared and shimmied up the table leg. They dared not utter a word as their helpers tried on the little trousers, tufted tunics, and darling boots. The elves high-fived and struck poses for one another. And then, upon seeing that no shoes needed mending, they whispered in their secret language. After a few moments, it appeared that a decision was made, and instead of disappearing into the pile of leather scraps like before, the elves danced toward the front door. The man and wife watched wide-eyed as the elves crawled through the mail slot and popped out the other side. The shoemakers didn't move until the clicking of tiny boots faded into the distance.
The cobblers never saw the elves again, which made their first taste of retirement bittersweet. They knew the elves had moved on, and that, often, our greatest supporters don't remain in one place for long. And so, while the elves searched for a new place to call home, where their magical needlework and swift hands might once again deliver miracles, they never forgot the kindness of the cobblers, their charming shop, and the impact of an unexpected gift.
This tale was inspired by the folktale, The Elves, by the Brothers Grimm.
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