Once upon a time there was a circular, looking-glass with a rim of the most beautiful polished oak. He longed for a reflection of his own, as he was forever forced to watch as many gorgeous animals preened themselves while staring into the crystal-clear lake, with their reflections copying their every move. Then they would always peer into the looking-glass and say, “What a pity this looking-glass does not show our reflections in it. One should think a simple piece of glass would reflect our shiny feathers and glossy fur coats. A pity, that wonderful oak rim would suit us.” And, shaking their heads with false empathy, they would prance away, laughing and quickly forgetting the lonely looking-glass. So the looking-glass envied the lake, and often was forced to bathe in self-pity for the taunts he was compelled to endure.
One day a stranger wandered by. He was tall, and thin, with strange dark skin that hung loosely on his body, and a mass of dark fur on his head. He looked strangely melancholy, and approached the looking-glass with a walk like a zombie. He told the looking-glass of a faraway land, full of shiny metals that glint in the sun. He told him of his nephew, who shaped these metals into plates, machines, and crafts of any kind. When the looking-glass mentioned his problem, the stranger told him of a journey that was long, dangerous, and terrifying. Yet if the looking-glass succeeded, he would be able to show all the other animals their reflections. The stranger gave him detailed instructions, and said farewell. Then he disappeared in an explosion of gold light.
The looking-glass decided that the only way forwards was on. So he hiked to a valley in which elves gladly gave him their hospitality in their protected realm. Then he journeyed to a misty mountain range, called the Murky Mountains, where rock-giants hurled massive boulders at each other in the night, and goblins roamed the undergrounds. Eventually he came to a trapdoor almost concealed in amongst the pebbles and stones on the path. With much straining, he managed to turn the ring and entered the ancient, long-abandoned dwarfish Musty Mines. Inside were horrors you and I could never hope to imagine. Fiery ogres roamed the corridors of stone, and spirits and ghosts of the dwarves who once mined their many jewels and precious stones haunted every room. A particularly fierce breed of goblins killed and ate anything they found. Somehow, the looking-glass managed to avoid contact with most of the monsters in the mines. Suddenly, right in front of him, he saw a glimmering block of silver. It was large, just the right size for what the looking-glass needed it for. He could barely lift it, but somehow he managed to carry it all the way to the exit.
Unfortunately, he emerged in total darkness. The looking-glass had long since learned it was unwise to be out in the middle of the night, and he would have to dodge goblins and rock giants to find shelter. A thunderclap roared in the distance, and heavy rain descended onto the poor looking-glass. What a thing to happen right at this moment! Suddenly, an especially enormous rock giant picked up the boulder that he was walking on and hurled him into the night sky. What bad luck!
He was now stranded in a valley far from the forges were he would get his block of silver smelted. It was on the other side of the Murky Mountains, and there was no way he could ever get both himself and his silver back over them. Then he remembered the parting words of the depressed-looking stranger. “Remember, all riches found in those mines are enchanted, and can only be shaped three times, in any heat at all, depending on what you need and what you have. My nephew, however, is the only one who has the skill for what you need.” Suddenly, his words made sense! The looking-glass made a campfire, and heated the silver in the flickering flames. His lack of hands made it difficult, but he managed to shape it into a live bird. The bird chirped, and the looking-glass managed to get onto his back. Then off they flew! They made it to the forges when the sky glowed grey with pre-dawn light.
Inside a hunched, grey-bearded man so withered and wrinkled he might disintegrate at the slightest touch. Although in many ways the looking-glass seemed stronger than the man, he radiated an aura of intelligence and wisdom. The looking-glass managed to stutter out his problem and request, and the old man cracked a smile. ‘Of course I will help you. You have had to endure much to reach me. It is the least I can do.” So at last, the poor looking-glass’ wish had been granted! He left the forges at sundown, with a stylish silver plate behind his glass. As the silver was enchanted, any being that looked into the looking-glass saw themselves beaming back at them. Never again was he tortured past endurance, and everyone enjoyed his presence.
However, looking-glasses are not manufactured this way anymore. The enchanted silver in the Musty Mines has been depleted to non-existence, and eventually forgotten. But the looking-glass lived a long and happy life, to the amazing age of one hundred and eighty-seven. And to this day, every looking-glass and mirror has adored their gift of reflecting.
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