An exchange occurred, just moments before the beginning of this tale. Some would call it an uneven exchange—an unfair trade. To all outside observers, one party gave more than they got, and the other party got more than they gave. But what did they know? Not both sides of the story. At least, not until now. Things are not always what they seem. There’s always more to the story.

An old man stood on the side of a muddied country road, holding an old cow’s coarse rope halter loosely in his hand. He watched keenly as a young man hurried down the road away from him, a spring in his step. He didn’t seem all that disheartened to leave his cow behind. He had something far more valuable now. The old cow ignored her former owner’s callous departure and began grazing contentedly on grass growing on the side of the path.

The old man watched the youth a moment longer and then smiled nervously. Shaking his head, he chuckled to himself and turned to the old cow. “He didn’t even think to ask why I thought five magic beans for an old cow like you would be a fair trade, now did he?”

Still chuckling, he patted the cow’s flank several times, and then gently pulled on the coarse rope halter, leading the cow down the road in the opposite direction. They ambled along the muddied country road and the old man went on, speaking conversationally to the old cow.

“Either he’s more trusting of strangers standing on roadsides offering magical items, or maybe he thinks he can sell the beans for more than he’d get for you. That’d be a bother. No one else in a hundred miles of here would believe they’re actually magic beans besides him. I really hope he doesn’t try to sell them.”

He paused. “Or eat them, thinking magic beans taste better than normal beans. Now that’d be a real disaster. I’m not sure what would even happen if he did that. Perhaps I should have told him a few more details about what they do, those magic beans.” Then, he shrugged. “Ah, well, it’s out of my hands now. The boy will do with them what he thinks best. I can only hope he does what’s right.”

The old man walked with a slight limp in his gait; an unwanted reminder of an old injury that never fully healed.

He had gaunt features and looked as though he hadn’t eaten a good meal in years. Maybe ever. His clothes were threadbare; they hung off his skinny frame. His cloak was patched over in multiple places, and his leather boots were well-worn.

His hair and beard were long and gray. His eyes were old and tired, but there was a warmth and kindness to them. They held onto hard-won wisdom—the sort only gained through painful experience. Oddly, he seemed invigorated to be talking to a cow, as strange as that was. He seemed hopeful and perhaps even happy.

“I’ve held on to those magic beans for a long time, yes, I did. Longer than I’ve held on to anything else. I know what happens if they’re ever planted too—a great big beanstalk reaching up to a castle above the clouds—but who would ever believe such a fantastical tale? I’d have liked to see the boy’s expression if I spoke to him about it plainly. Would he still have made the trade, I wonder? No, it was enough that he knew the beans were magic. That was all he needed to hear.”

His amused expression faded ever so slightly. “Still,” he told the cow, “there’s a terrible risk in all of this. Perhaps I should have told the boy about the giant living in the castle above the clouds, preparing him for what lay ahead. I should have warned him.”

The old man stopped in his tracks on the muddied country road. The old cow continued for a few slow steps, then came to a halt when the coarse rope halter tugged on her. She could go no further. The cow turned a baleful eye to her new owner as if asking why he wouldn’t go on. The old man seemed lost in the memories of his past. His injured leg throbbed uncomfortably, bringing him back to the present. He looked at the cow with a saddened gaze.

“I was a powerful wizard once,” he admitted to the cow. “I know I don’t look like it, but I was. I don’t dabble with magic anymore. I still work with my hands—I’ve always been good at inventing things. I created the magic beans—a clever invention if I do say so—and I used to have more than five of them. They allowed me to travel with ease from the ground below to the sky above. There, past the gathering of clouds, I built a large castle for myself using powerful magic.

“I filled it with all sorts of treasures—my most prized possessions. I had everything I could have ever wanted—vast amounts of gold too numerous to count, a hen that would lay golden eggs, and a magical harp that played the most hauntingly beautiful melodies. I still can’t get those songs out of my head, even after all these years.

“I was obsessed with my possessions; I’ll admit that now. I wouldn’t allow myself to see that back then. I thought they were all I needed—that they brought me happiness. I jealously guarded my possessions, hoarding them like a dragon perched on his treasured gold. I wouldn’t part with it—not a single coin—even though I could have used my wealth and possessions to help those who were hungry and impoverished. I turned a blind eye to their suffering.”

The old man sighed wearily and shook his head before going on.

“Knowledge of my storied treasures spread far and wide, but I didn’t care who heard about them. Let someone try to take my castle from me! I’d make them sorry they ever tried. I should have known better, of course. But I was foolish and arrogant, as young wizards usually are. I also thought I was invincible, as young wizards usually do.

“All it took was a clever giant to climb up the beanstalk after me one day. He surprised me, and we fought—a fierce and terrible battle that shook the sky, filling it with thunder and lightning and smoke. For a time, we were well-matched. I was overconfident in my abilities—my downfall. Then, the giant dealt me a terrible wound, one that hasn’t ever fully healed. I lost.

“Hurled down to the earth below, I was cast out from my castle above the clouds. Even as I fell, my thoughts were dark and filled with hate. I schemed for ways to exact my vengeance. I still held on to several magic beans and was determined to regain my castle and possessions from my dread foe. But that just wasn’t possible.

“It took months for me to recover from my injuries enough to walk without assistance. I came to the painful realization that I’d never be able to match my foe’s strength, not even with all my magic. If I tried to reclaim what I lost by myself, the giant would kill me. And so, I tried to convince brave heroes of the realm to fight my battle for me, but I had no gold. Even if I did, I doubt they would have helped me—I hadn’t made many friends in my selfish ambitions, you see. None at all, actually.

“I languished in misery, feeling sorry for myself. No one would help me. I was all alone. It took me a long time to realize that I had been greedy and selfish. I hoarded my wealth and didn’t use it to help others in need. I made enemies and didn’t care that I had. I realized that I deserved what I got. I certainly didn’t deserve what I had.”

The old man smiled and shook his head, laughing to himself.

“Being hurled from the sky by that giant was perhaps the best thing that could ever have happened to me. That wasn’t an easy discovery for me, but it was one that I desperately needed. My exile changed me for the better, I think.

“I’ve given up the thought of ever reclaiming my castle and treasured possessions for myself. I’ve realized that they don’t really matter in the grand scheme of things. What good is it to have everything you could ever want and yet have nothing that truly matters? Possessions don’t matter. People matter. I realize that now.”

The old man turned and led the old cow down a country lane. A small hovel was in the distance. They started walking toward it. The old man limped and the cow ambled. The old man continued talking softly to the cow in a quiet, one-sided conversation. The cow was a good listener, at least.

“I’ve held on to those five magic beans all this time, though. I’m not entirely sure why. At first, it was because I wanted to reclaim what had been stolen from me. But that desire fell away and I still held on to the beans. Perhaps it was because I wanted to give them to someone worthy of my castle and treasured possessions. The giant didn’t deserve them any more than I did. But finding the right person—that hasn’t been easy, you see?

“They’d have to be kind, and not overcome and consumed by greed. They’d have to be brave and clever, but not arrogant and foolish. And here’s the most important one—they’d have to truly appreciate my once-treasured possessions and use them to help others—not just for themselves.”

The old man paused.

“Someone like that boy who traded a cow for five magic beans, I think. I’ve been watching him for a while now, him and his mother both. Sure, he’s drawn to dreams of adventure from time to time, and she’s constantly worried about having enough food to put on the table, but they care for each other and appreciate what’s truly important in life. Family.”

He nodded to himself, convinced that he was right in his decision to finally let go.

“They’re the ones who should have my castle, my gold, and all my magical possessions. And if the boy is brave enough, if he’s clever enough, they will.”

The two odd traveling companions came to a stop in front of the hovel. It was quaint and homey. Flowers were planted in the garden beside it, but none of them grew past the shutters. None of them were magic. A small lean-to with feed and a place for the cow to shelter at night was to the left of the hovel. The old man turned to the cow.

“I know it’s not much to look at,” he said apologetically, “but it’s enough for me. It’s home.”

He paused again and shook his head with a wry expression.

“I suppose I never did tell you why I thought giving a young boy five magic beans in exchange for an old cow was a fair trade. Well, maybe for most people, it wouldn’t be. But for me? The chance to see my once-treasured possessions going to people who actually deserve them—all in exchange for a wonderful cow such as yourself?”

Before he could answer the cow, the hovel door creaked open. An old woman stood in the doorway. She looked surprised but happy to see the old man. She smiled at him and he couldn’t help but grin in response. Her smile melted away what little sorrow and weariness remained in the man.

“Back from the market already? Why so soon?” she asked. Then, she noticed the cow next to the old man. Her eyes widened in shock. Her hands covered her mouth.

“Elyas,” she whispered. “Where did you get enough money to buy us a cow?”

The old man shook his head. “I didn’t buy the cow, Magdalena, dear. I traded for her. She’s old and tired, but so are we, eh? Wasn’t worth all that much to her former owner. She can put a little milk on our table, and we can give her a place to stay—much better than if she’d been sold at the market for meat. I figured we’d be able to help each other out that way.”

The old woman still looked overwhelmed. But there was relief in her expression as well. “Was it a fair trade?” she finally asked.

The old man hesitated and considered her question. Then, he winked at the cow as if there was a secret shared between them or a conversation that only they knew about. The cow blinked back at him, but whether or not she meant to, the old man couldn’t tell. He looked back to his wife and smiled in satisfaction.

“I’d say so.”

---