Once upon a time, there was a man who made pretty little swords. They were finely crafted, perfectly balanced, and could fetch the finest price when it came time to go to market. It was oftan said that his pretty little swords could cut time in half.

One day when he was selling his trade at market, a little girl no more than 5 years of age walked up to him and tugged on the sleave of his robe. Her clothing was poor and she was pulling along a skinny-looking chicken with a rope tied around it's neck like a leash.

'Excuse me sir, but my daddy is going off to war and his sword is old and rusted. I only have a little bit of money, but I think it is enough to buy a new one for him.' Without hesitation, she pulled a few gold coins from her pocket, chewing her small bottom lip in concentration.

The man bit back a laugh, thinking inside to himself that three or four meager gold coins would never be enough for one of his finely crafted blades. However, these thoughts left his mind as he looked at her large eyes. She had known she didn't have much, but she still had the courage to ask him, and she was willing to give what little money she had so her daddy could be safe from getting hurt.

The man knelt down and examined the coins closer, than eyed the poor chicken.

'I'll tell you what. You keep these coins. I just recently lost my pet chicken and have been looking all over for another one. How about we make a trade. One of my blades for your chicken.'

The little girl continued to chew her lip and looked down at the chicken, who happened to be happily pecking the ground.

After a moment, she nodded and put the coins away, holding out her hand for the sword as if afraid that he would change his mind if she gave him the chicken first.

He laughed inwardly again and picked out his finest sword, handing it down to her. She winced at the weight of it, and handed him the leash so she could hold the sword better. The chicken clucked at the sudden movement and flapped it's wings, a couple of feathers flying here and there.

"Well, we have a trade, young lady. Give my best to your father. I hope he can use it and it will protect him.'

The little girl beamed and ran away, the sword clutched tightly against her little person.

The man watched her disapear and then looked at the pitiful chicken who had gone back to pecking the earth. He felt elation at his actions. The rest of the day, business boomed and he went home with nothing he had brought with him.

The moral of the story? Sometimes, pitiful looking chickens bring good luck.

-----

Yeah. Wrote that so long ago. Years even. Consider this the official 'christening' of my blog. Don't ask me wtf this is. LOL, I remember being in a really weird mood when I wrote it.