The Spell-Bound Giant

The Spell-Bound Giant

Once there lived a widow with three sons. The family was close, but poor. They had a little cottage, a vegetable garden, and several old fruit trees that bore generously one year and seemed to forget that apples were expected of them the next.

One morning the eldest son said, “Mother, I am grown. I will go and look for work. If fortune favours me, I will return with money to help us all.”

His mother did not want him to go far away, but she knew he had made up his mind. So she baked cakes for his journey, put apples in his bag, and said, “Remember: good wages do not always mean a good master. Look not only at what you are promised, but also at what is demanded of you.”

The boy promised to be careful and left at dawn.

He travelled from village to village until he heard of a wizard who was always in need of assistants.

“The work is strange,” the innkeeper warned him, “but the pay is good.”

The boy knocked at a tall black gate.

A thin man in a dark cloak opened it.

“Looking for work?”

“Yes.”

“You will receive a coin for every day. But you must ride with me wherever I say and carry out my orders.”

The boy remembered his mother’s words, but a coin a day seemed grand pay.

“Very well,” he agreed.

That night the wizard ordered two horses saddled. They rode along dark roads through forests and stony fields. At dawn, a mountain rose ahead, so high that its peak hid in clouds.

“We have arrived,” said the wizard.

He took out a great canvas sack embroidered with strange signs.

“Climb inside.”

“Why?”

“This sack will lift you to the summit. Treasures lie there. Fill several bags with gold and jewels, tie them to the magic rope, and I will pull them down. Then I will send the sack back for you.”

The boy did not like the sound of it.

“Why do you not go up yourself?”

The wizard smiled too quickly.

“Because the mountain will not admit me.”

But it was too late to turn back. The boy climbed into the sack. The wizard opened an old book, whispered a spell, and the sack rose into the air.

Above the pines.

Above the rocks.

Above the clouds.

In a moment, the boy stood on the very summit.

Coins, jewels, and silver cups shone all around. Nearby lay abandoned bags and old walking sticks. The boy guessed that others had been there before him.

From below came the wizard’s voice.

“Fill the bags!”

The boy did as he was told. One by one, he lowered the bags on the rope.

When the last vanished over the edge of the rock, he called, “Now send the sack back!”

There was no answer.

“Sir Wizard!”

Only the wind whistled among the stones.

The boy understood that he had been deceived.

At first he was angry. Then frightened. Finally he told himself, “If I am here, tears will not become a ladder. I must find another way.”

He walked around the summit and noticed a large iron ring hidden in the grass. He pulled it. A stone slab lifted to reveal a stairway.

The boy lit a little candle left in his bag and went down.

The stairs led not to a dark cellar, but to a marvellous underground palace. Lamps burned there though no one had lit them. A warm supper stood on the table though no cook could be seen. Doors opened of themselves before the visitor.

In the farthest hall sat a giant.

His head nearly touched the ceiling, and his palm was as large as a table.

“Who has entered my palace?” he thundered.

The boy nearly dropped his candle.

“I did not mean to disturb you. A wizard abandoned me on the mountain. I was looking for a way out.”

The giant listened carefully and sighed sadly.

“The same wizard enchanted me. In truth I am not a giant, but a prince. While his magic is strong, I cannot return to my true form, and this palace cannot rise to the earth.”

“How can the spell be broken?”

“It will disappear completely when the wizard loses his power over the mountain. But first, three other prisoners can be freed. At dawn, three doves come to the pond: one white, one grey, and one the colour of cinnamon. They are three sisters whom he has enchanted too.”

The next morning, the boy hid beside the pond.

The sky was only beginning to lighten when three doves flew down.

They settled near the water.

The boy threw a thin ribbon, hoping to catch the white bird, but the doves flapped away. Only two white feathers remained in his hand.

“I failed,” he sighed.

“One failure is not the end,” said the spell-bound giant. “Do not try to seize them by force. Magic often holds fast because of fear.”

At the next dawn, the boy laid a white ribbon by the pond and stepped away.

When the doves came, he said, “I will not harm you. If one of you seeks a way out of enchantment, touch this ribbon.”

The white dove watched him for a long time with shining black eyes. Then she stepped onto the ribbon.

Soft light flashed around her.

In place of the bird stood a young woman dressed in white.

“At last,” she whispered. “Part of the spell has broken.”

The grey and cinnamon doves circled above the pond as if rejoicing for their sister, but their enchantment still held.

Days passed. The elder brother could not leave the underground palace, but now he was not alone. He helped the giant search old writings about the spell, while the girl in white remembered more and more about the wizard.

Meanwhile, at home, their mother worried.

“There has been no word for far too long,” she said.

Then the youngest son decided to go in search of his brother. The middle brother stayed with their mother, and the youngest took the same road. In the city, he asked questions and learned that his elder brother had entered the wizard’s service.

The youngest knocked at the black gate.

The wizard opened it.

“Looking for work?”

“Exactly.”

Soon they were riding toward the high mountain.

When the wizard brought out the familiar sack, the youngest brother pretended to suspect nothing.

On the summit, he saw the old bags and knew his brother had truly been there.

“Fill them with gold!” the wizard shouted from below.

The boy filled the first bag with stones, covered them with a few coins, and lowered it.

He did the same with the second and third.

The wizard rejoiced.

“What a treasure!”

While the wizard untied the heavy bags, the boy noticed a metal clasp in the rock to which the magic rope was fixed. Beside it were carved the words: “Who gives the mountain back what he took without right breaks the knot of enchantment.”

The boy poured the few coins remaining in his pocket back onto the earth.

The mountain began to hum.

It was not frightening, but deep, like a great bell waking.

Below, the wizard’s bags opened by themselves. The gold he had stolen from the mountain for years vanished from his chests and flew back to the summit in sparks of light.

“No! My riches!” cried the wizard.

He opened his book, but the pages had become blank.

His spells would no longer obey him.

The wizard fled and never returned to that mountain.

At the same moment, the underground palace trembled and slowly began to rise.

With every floor that reached daylight, the giant grew smaller. At last, before the elder brother stood not a giant but a young prince.

Over the pond, the grey and cinnamon doves circled. They touched the water and regained their human forms. They were the two sisters of the girl in white.

When the palace had fully emerged from the mountain, one more wonder took place: it stood not far from the widow’s cottage.

The mother opened the door and froze.

Before her stood her two sons.

“Mother!” they cried together.

She embraced them both as tightly as if she had decided never to let them go.

The middle brother ran in from the garden, saw the palace, and asked only, “Did I miss something important?”

Everyone laughed.

The freed prince thanked the brothers for their courage. The girl in white stayed close to him, for during their time in the palace they had become dear friends, and later they chose to marry.

Her sisters were no longer obliged to live under someone else’s magic. They chose for themselves where to travel and what to do. For a long time, they all visited the widow’s home, and the little cottage no longer seemed small, though it had more guests than chairs.

Remembering his first journey, the elder brother often said, “Mother was right. We must listen not only to what we are promised, but to what is required of us.”

The younger added, “And if someone promises a mountain of gold, it is best first to check that you will not be left on the summit without a road down.”

So the family made a new rule: before any great undertaking, think carefully; and when someone close needs help, never leave them alone on a mountain.

May this story leave a little light in your heart ✨