The mirror held us all in the village in thrall. It stood there in the square, and somehow remained the source of the mesmeric field.
Our thralldom wasn’t so traumatic. Our captor seemed to be an abandoned spell, running for centuries without anyone at the controls. All it wanted from us (aside from our protection) was the occasional washing. Well, and it wanted us to stay in the village, and to breed more protectors of the mirror.
As time went on, some of us began to chafe at our bindings, no matter how generous they seemed from afar.
The mirror allowed us the freedom of our fields, to work our crops. It wanted us to provide a tax to its master, but since that was never collected it also allowed us to store it for future use in the village.
Last spring, we learned of a new crop that would provide much needed variety. With some trepidation, a few of us broached the idea of planting some carrots to go with the beans. Somewhat to our surprise, the mirror agreed.
The new crop is making many in town nervous. It is growing most below ground. It is bright orange. It tastes funny. The seed salesman say we have exactly the right conditions, and that is what they are supposed to look like.
Finally, the opportunity arose. The carrot crop was successful, but the mirror wanted a sample. We were allowed to approach the mirror with a bushel of carrots. Without warning, we dropped our baskets and threw carrots at the mirror.
By sheer luck, it broke, taking the enslavement with it.
We are free for the first time in decades.
Free, with a large crop of carrots, and our prospects for winter are looking rather orange. You don’t suppose I can interest you in some carrots?