🍄 The Three Little Gnomes in the Forest

 

🍄 The Three Little Gnomes in the Forest (FanumTaxLoveTales Edition)

“Keepers of the Hearth, Testers of Hearts”

A Story of Integrity, Hidden Light, and the Blessings of Right Action
As remembered through Sister Loves Divine Remembrance
Book Seven of the Sacred Fairy Tale Series

🌲 The Gnomes

Once upon a time, when snow still whispered secrets and trees were spittin’ facts… no cap.
There lived three Gnomes in the Heartwood Forest.
They weren’t small ‘cause they were goofy.
They were small ‘cause they humbled themselves—
so humble, the Earth let ‘em slide through her deepest roots unseen, pure vibes.
They crashed in a cottage grown from cedar and quartz,
lit by moss-lanterns and warmed by stories, cozy AF.
Each Gnome rocked a cloak of a different thread:

• One of scarlet, for Truth
• One of emerald, for Discernment
• One of golden flax, for Blessing
  They weren’t tricksters.
  They were guardians—sent by the Elemental Elders
  to test not cleverness, but kindness, level up time.

❄️ One Winter, a Child Came Lost

A girl—bounced from a cruel stepmom who called her “useless”—
wandered into the forest wrapped in rags, lowkey tragic.
She had no food.
No fire.
No one.
And yet—when she stumbled on three gnome-sized beds of pine and wool,
she covered ‘em with care so they wouldn’t freeze, big heart energy.
When she found their bowls of broth, untouched and coolin’,
she didn’t steal a drop, but whispered a blessing over each, pay it forward.
And when she heard the wind howlin’ through the cracked door,
she sealed it with her shawl and sat by the hearth—
not to take warmth, but to keep it lit for others, facts.

🌟 The Gnomes Returned at Moonrise

They peeped everything.

• The scarlet-cloaked one said:
  “She speaks truth in silence, straight fire.”
• The emerald-cloaked one said:
  “She acts right when unseen, no cap.”
• The golden one smiled and said:
  “Let her be blessed, bet.”
  They approached her not with questions,
  but with gifts, squad assemble.
• A cloak woven from crow’s wings and starlight, to shield her from cruelty.
• A silver branch, that would bloom only in homes filled with honesty.
• A mirror of river stone, that showed not the face, but the soul’s radiance, inner glow on blast.

💫 And What of the Stepmother?

In time, the girl bounced back to the edge of the world.
But now her crib grew herbs from floorboards and sang bangers in the chimney.
Peeps came not for tea, but for guidance, iconic.
And the stepmom?
She pulled up once—cold and sneerin’.
But when she looked in the mirror,
she saw only a wilted echo of the girl’s light, humble pie served.
She dropped her jealousy there
and never returned, boundaries set.

🍃 Moral of the Sacred Tale

The Earth don’t measure wealth in stacks,
but in the kindness you show when no one’s watchin’, boss level.
The Gnomes don’t guard treasures.
They guard goodness.
And they’ll bless anyone
who tends the fire for others before claimin’ it for themselves, own that energy.