The Elves and the Shoemaker
Once upon a time, there was a shoemaker who worked without rest.
He mended boots. He mended shoes. He mended everything people brought to him.
But even so, little by little, he began to run out of money.
One day, he had leather left for only one pair of shoes.
—I’ll make this last pair the best I can. After that… God will provide.
He cut the leather with care.
He laid the pieces out on the table.
And he put his tools in order.
—I’ll stitch them tomorrow…
—he murmured, tired.
And, with a peaceful conscience, he entrusted himself to God and went to bed.
That very night, when the house had fallen silent, two tiny shadows slipped through the workshop door.
They were very small. Barefoot. Quick as a whisper.
—Hurry up.
—You go faster.
They jumped onto the shoemaker’s table and looked at the pieces of leather.
—What fine leather.
—What careful work.
Then, humming softly, they began to work:
—Cut and sew, let leather gleam,
—By tonight there’ll be money, it seems.
—For the good shoemaker!
—For the good shoemaker!
Their little hands flew back and forth. The needle rose and fell. The thread ran on without tangling.
And while the shoemaker slept, in his workshop, the magic gently crept.
Stitch by stitch, the elves sewed the last piece of leather until day began to break.
The next morning, the shoemaker got up, said his prayers, and went to the table to begin his work.
But there were no loose pieces there.
There was a finished pair of shoes. Perfect. Shining.
—Well, now!
Who could have done this?
He looked at them from the front, from the back, and from the sides. There was not a single stitch out of place.
—They are… marvelous!
Before long, a customer came in. He tried on the shoes. He walked a little.
—They’re wonderfully comfortable.
—And very elegant.
He was so pleased that he paid more than usual for them.
—With this, I can buy leather for two pairs of shoes.
That night, he cut leather for two pairs, left it ready on the table… and went back to bed in good spirits.
—Tomorrow I’ll start stitching.
But while he slept, someone else set to work.
Again, the two tiny shadows slipped into the workshop.
—More leather.
—More work.
—More shoes!
—More shoes!
They climbed onto the table, moving their bare little feet.
—Leap, little needle, soft and light.
—Make these shoes fit snug and right.
—Sew, sew, shoemaker dear, for tomorrow money will appear!
—Sew, sew, shoemaker dear, for tomorrow money will appear!
And while the village slept, in the shoemaker’s workshop the magic leapt.
Stitch goes here. Stitch goes there.
When the shoemaker woke the next day, the two pairs of shoes were finished on the table, as perfect as the first.
The customers came, tried them on, and were delighted.
They paid well. They paid with smiles.
And so the shoemaker was able to buy leather for even more shoes.
Time went by.
Each night, he cut the leather and left it ready on the table.
When the house fell silent, the two tiny shadows appeared in the workshop and worked without rest.
And while the village slept, in the shoemaker’s workshop the magic leapt.
The shoes turned out so lovely, so soft, so comfortable, that he was never short of customers.
The shoemaker was no longer sad. His wife was no longer worried. The two of them lived much better now.
One day, when they were no longer poor and Christmas was drawing near, the shoemaker’s wife said:
—Listen… For many nights now, we’ve been leaving cut leather on the table. By morning, the shoes appear made. We must find out who is helping us.
—You’re right. Tonight we won’t go to sleep. We’ll hide and wait to see what happens.
When night came, they left the leather ready on the table, turned out the workshop light, and pretended to go to bed.
But they did not fall asleep.
They hid behind a curtain, very still, holding their breath.
The house fell silent.
Then, near midnight, they heard a soft creak at the door.
Two tiny figures slipped into the workshop.
They were the elves.
The shoemaker and his wife opened their eyes wide.
The elves were wearing old clothes, with torn trousers and little shirts full of holes.
They were barefoot, with their tiny toes freezing cold, but they laughed softly as they ran to the table.
—What fine leather.
—What careful work.
—The shoemaker cuts better every time.
They climbed onto the table and began to sew with all their energy.
Their little hands flew back and forth. The needle rose and fell. The thread ran on without tangling.
Stitch goes here. Stitch goes there.
The shoemaker and his wife looked at each other, deeply moved.
—Poor little things. They brought us out of poverty, and look how they are dressed.
—We have to thank them.
—And not with words!
The next day, very early, they set to work.
Together, they measured, cut, and sewed until they were satisfied.
The shoemaker’s wife made two tiny outfits:
Little jackets with shiny buttons. Trousers without a single tear. Warm little caps for their heads.
The shoemaker made two pairs of tiny shoes, as finely made as the ones he sold in the shop.
—This will be our gift.
—Our way of saying “thank you.”
That night, instead of cut leather, they left the clothes and the shoes on the workshop table.
Then they put out the light and hid once more behind the curtain.
Everything fell silent.
Until, once again, two tiny shadows slipped through the door.
The elves ran to the table and stopped all at once.
—Where’s the leather?
—Where’s the work?
Instead of leather, they found the little clothes neatly folded and the tiny shoes shining in the dark.
—For us!
—They’re for us!
Quick and happy, they got dressed right there.
—Listen to how they sound!
—Look at how they jump!
The two elves began to dance, twirling round and round.
—Now we look so elegant, no more ragged little fellows.
—With new clothes and shoes so fine, we’re two splendid little gentlemen.
They gave one final leap, jumped down from the table, and left the house, never to return.
And so the shoemaker and his wife lived on, happy and never again knowing hunger or fear, with bread, work, and money, thanks to the secret help of the shoemaker’s elves.
And that is all… for the moment.
Til the next tale.