Once upon a time, a wise old man decided to go on a journey. He packed a small bag, said goodbye to his wife, and set off to see the world. He traveled all day through quiet fields and over rolling hills without meeting a single soul. As the sun began to set and evening approached, he arrived at a small, quiet village. “I think I’ll stop here for the night,” he whispered to himself.
Near the center of the village, he saw a group of people gathered together. He approached them kindly and introduced himself. “I am a simple traveler,” he said. “I am looking for a safe place to sleep and perhaps a warm meal.”
The villagers looked at him with tired eyes. “We would be glad to offer you a place to rest,” they told him, “but we have very little food. Our crops were poor this year, and there is almost nothing to eat in the entire village. Most of us are barely getting by.”
The old man smiled warmly. “I am sorry to hear that,” he said. “But you needn’t worry about feeding me. I already have everything I need. In fact, I was thinking of making some stone soup to share with all of you.”
“Stone soup?” the villagers asked, puzzled. “What is that? We have never heard of stone soup.”
“Oh, it’s wonderful,” the old man replied. “It is the best soup I have ever tasted. If you bring me a large soup pot and some water, I will make enough for everyone.”
Curious, the villagers rushed to their homes. When they returned, one brought a large iron pot, another carried wood for a fire, and others brought fresh water. They built a fire in the middle of the square, and soon the water began to boil.
The old man took out a small silk pouch from his bag. With great ceremony, he reached in and pulled out a smooth, round stone. He carefully dropped the stone into the boiling water. The villagers watched with wide eyes. The old man began to stir the pot slowly, sniffing the steam and licking his lips. “I do love a tasty stone soup,” he said. “Of course, stone soup with a bit of cabbage—now that is truly special.”
One villager hesitated, then spoke up. “I might be able to find a small cabbage in my pantry,” she said. She hurried home and returned with a cabbage. “Wonderful!” said the old man as he added it to the pot. “This reminds me of the time I had stone soup with cabbage and a bit of salted beef. It was unbelievably good.”
The village butcher, hearing this, went to his shop and returned with a piece of salted beef. The old man added it to the pot and continued to stir.
“Can you imagine,” the old man continued, “what this soup would taste like if we had just a few onions… and perhaps some potatoes… a carrot or İtwo… and maybe a few mushrooms? It would be a meal fit for royalty.”
One by one, the villagers began to contribute. Before long, the pot was filled to the brim with all kinds of vegetables—carrots, potatoes, onions, turnips, and celery—all brought by the men, women, and children of the village. Even the baker came out with fresh bread and butter to serve alongside the meal.
As the soup simmered slowly over the fire, a wonderful aroma filled the air. The villagers began to relax. They talked, shared stories, and laughed together for the first time in a long while. The gloom of the poor harvest seemed to vanish.
When the soup was finally ready, the old man ladled it into bowls. They all sat down and shared the delicious meal together. There was more than enough for everyone to eat their fill. Afterward, they all declared it was the best soup they had ever tasted. The mayor of the village even offered the old man a large sum of money for the “magic stone,” but the old man kindly refused to sell it.
The next morning, the old man woke early and packed his things. As he was leaving the village, he saw a group of children playing by the road. He walked up to the youngest child, handed him the silk pouch containing the stone, and whispered:
“It was not the stone that performed the magic, my child. It was all of us, working together.”
