Snowdrop

Snowdrop

One winter, when snow lay on the windowsills in soft white caps, a young queen sat by the window sewing. The frame was made of dark wood, and large snowflakes drifted slowly outside.

The queen was lost in thought and accidentally pricked her finger with the needle. Three tiny red drops fell onto the white snow.

She looked at them and whispered:

“If only I could have a daughter with skin as fair as a winter morning, cheeks as rosy as these drops, and hair as dark as the wooden frame…”

Some time later, a little girl was born in the royal family. They named her Snowdrop.

But happiness did not last long. The girl’s mother passed away while Snowdrop was still very young. A few years later, the king married again.

The new queen was clever and beautiful, and she took great pride in attracting everyone’s attention. An old magic mirror hung in her room. It could not flatter and answered only with the truth.

Every morning the queen asked:

“Mirror, tell me: who is the fairest in the kingdom?”

For a long time, the mirror answered:

“You are, my queen.”

Years passed. Snowdrop grew up. She loved reading by an open window, knew the names of the horses in the stable, helped the gardener tie up young roses, and always greeted the kitchen boy, even when she was in a hurry.

One morning, the queen asked her usual question.

The mirror answered:

“You are beautiful, my queen. But Snowdrop has grown, and people see a light in her that cannot be measured by appearance.”

The queen heard only one thing: people loved Snowdrop more.

Instead of asking herself why that hurt so much, she let envy settle in her heart.

She called for the huntsman.

“Take the girl far away into the forest,” she ordered. “So far that she cannot return to the castle.”

The huntsman grew pale.

“Your Majesty…”

“That is an order.”

The next morning, he told Snowdrop that he wanted to show her a rare clearing. They walked for a long time among the fir trees, until the castle disappeared behind the hills.

Then the huntsman stopped.

“Forgive me,” he said. “I cannot carry out the queen’s order. She wants you to disappear and never return.”

Snowdrop felt cold all over.

“What should I do?”

“Follow this path to the mountains. Kind people live there. I’ll go back and say only that I never saw you again.”

“Thank you,” she whispered.

The huntsman gave her his cloak and a bag of bread. Snowdrop continued on alone.

By evening, she was very tired. The forest had grown darker, tree roots caught at her shoes, and every rustle sounded like footsteps.

Suddenly, a light shimmered between the trunks.

A little house stood in a clearing, with seven narrow windows.

Snowdrop knocked. No one answered.

The door was unlocked.

Everything inside was very small: seven chairs, seven bowls, seven cups, and seven neatly made beds. Bread lay on the table.

Snowdrop was hungry, but she did not want to take what belonged to someone else. She broke off only a tiny bit from each slice, poured a sip from each cup so no one would lose too much, and then grew so tired that she fell asleep across three of the little beds.

Late that evening, the owners of the house returned. They were seven little mountain craftsmen. Every day, they worked in stone mines, searched for crystals, repaired tools, and knew more about the mountains than most people knew about their own gardens.

“Someone sat in my chair,” said the first.

“And someone took a little piece of my bread,” noticed the second.

“And mine, too,” said the third.

At last, they saw the sleeping girl.

When Snowdrop woke, seven pairs of eyes were watching her curiously.

She told them everything right away.

The eldest craftsman stroked his beard.

“Stay here until it’s safe. But in the mountains, we all help one another.”

“I can cook, sew, read aloud, and care for a garden,” Snowdrop said.

“And I hope you know how to lock the door when no one is home,” the youngest added.

They all laughed.

So Snowdrop stayed in the little house.

In the mornings, the craftsmen went into the mountains. She kept house, learned to bake rye bread in the small oven, and slowly stopped jumping at every sound.

Before they left, her friends always reminded her:

“Don’t open the door to strangers. The queen may be looking for you.”

Meanwhile, back at the castle, the queen asked her mirror again:

“Who is the fairest now?”

The mirror answered:

“Snowdrop is alive. She lives beyond seven hills, in a little house by the mountains.”

The queen realized the huntsman had disobeyed her.

Envy whispered another wicked plan to her.

She dressed up as a traveling merchant and came to the house with a basket of ribbons.

“Beautiful ribbons! Strong laces!” she called.

Snowdrop looked out the window.

“I don’t need anything.”

“Not even this red ribbon? Look how lovely it is.”

The girl hesitated. The merchant seemed like an ordinary elderly woman. Snowdrop opened the door for just a moment.

“Let me show you how to tie it.”

The queen pulled the ribbon too tight. Snowdrop could not breathe and fainted.

The queen ran away.

That evening, the craftsmen returned, quickly loosened the ribbon, and opened the windows. Snowdrop came around.

“I broke my promise,” she said.

“What matters is that you learned from it,” the eldest replied.

But the queen did not stop.

The second time, she came with combs. One of them was enchanted to bring a deep sleep. Snowdrop did not let the stranger inside this time, but the woman held the comb through the window.

“Just take it in your hand.”

As soon as the comb touched Snowdrop’s hair, she fell asleep.

Luckily, the craftsmen came home early. They found the comb and pulled it out. The spell disappeared.

“Now I truly won’t talk to anyone through the door or the window,” Snowdrop promised.

But the third time, the queen did not come to the door. She left a basket of apples on a bench beside the well and hid nearby.

Snowdrop saw a ripe red apple. She thought perhaps a traveler had forgotten it.

“I’ll leave it here until evening,” she decided.

But the apple smelled so fresh, and the day was hot. At last, Snowdrop took a small bite.

It was an enchanted apple.

The girl fell into such a deep sleep that this time the craftsmen could not wake her.

They called forest herbalists, doctors from nearby villages, even an old woman who knew every mountain plant. No one could explain why Snowdrop would not wake.

Her friends did not want to leave her in the dark earth. They made a clear glass case, placed it in the garden beneath the fir trees, and brought her flowers every day.

Days passed.

One day, a young prince rode through the mountains with a small group of companions. A storm came up, and the travelers asked permission to spend the night at the craftsmen’s house.

In the garden, the prince saw the glass case.

“Who is this girl?” he asked.

The craftsmen told him the story.

“There is a healer in my town who studied rare poisonous and enchanted plants,” said the prince. “Let me take Snowdrop to her. Perhaps she can help.”

Her friends agreed and went along, too.

The road was uneven. At one turn, the cart’s wheel dropped into a rut. The glass case jolted gently, and a bit of the enchanted apple stuck in Snowdrop’s throat slipped free.

The girl took a deep breath.

Then she opened her eyes.

“Why is everyone looking at me?” she asked hoarsely.

All seven mountain craftsmen began talking and laughing at once, and almost cried with happiness.

After that, Snowdrop did not return to her stepmother alone. First she regained her strength. Then, together with her friends, the prince, the huntsman, and the royal advisers, she went back to the castle.

The truth could no longer be hidden.

The king learned about his wife’s orders and was stunned that he had not noticed how far her envy had gone. The queen was removed from power. She had to leave the court and live far away from those she had harmed.

The magic mirror gave her one last answer:

“Beauty does not grow by trying to make someone else smaller.”

Snowdrop did not return to her old life, but began a new one. She often visited the mountains, helped build safer workshops by the mines, and never forgot the seven friends who gave her a home when she had lost hers.

She and the young prince were friends for a long time, visiting and traveling together. Only later did they decide to marry.

The seven mountain craftsmen came to the wedding. The youngest brought Snowdrop a gift: a simple wooden comb.

“This one definitely isn’t enchanted,” he said.

Snowdrop laughed.

And from then on, whenever anyone in the kingdom became too fascinated with mirrors, people remembered the old story: a mirror can show a face, but it cannot measure kindness, courage, or the heart. And those are what most often make a person truly beautiful.

May this story leave a little light in your heart ✨