"What is to become of me?" cried the poor
peasant. "My grain must fall and rot in the field from overripeness
because I have not the strength to rise and harvest it; then indeed must
we all starve."
Ethelried heard him, and that night, when the moon rose, he stole into
the field to cut it down with the giant scissors. They were so rusty
from long idleness that he could scarcely move them. He tried to think
of some rhyme with which to command them; but it had been so long since
he had done any thinking, except for his own selfish pleasure, that his
brain refused to work.
However, he toiled on all night, slowly cutting down the grain stalk by
stalk. Towards morning the scissors became brighter and sharper, until
they finally began to open and shut of their own accord. The whole field
was cut by sunrise. Now the peasant's wife had risen very early to go
down to the spring and dip up some cool water for her husband to drink.
She came upon Ethelried as he was cutting the last row of the grain, and
fell on her knees to thank him. From that day the peasant and all his
family were firm friends of Ethelried's, and would have gone through
fire and water to serve him.
After that he had many adventures, and he was very busy, for he never
again forgot what the Fairy had said, that only unselfish service each
day could keep the scissors sharp and shining.
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