the first magic men learned

Parth was a bad farmer. His cows were skinny, his trees were frail, and his chickens would not lay. But Parth was not lazy. He worked hard, and kept land watered and his equipment in good repair, and he tried to learn what he could from his neighbors. One day, after Parth had lost a calf to sickness, he walked down the road to the old woman who lived by the river. He told her of his troubles, "I must be cursed. My calf died, my trees are bare, and my chickens give me no more than a few small eggs. I work hard every day, but for nothing. It must be a curse."
"Parth, I know you are a hardworking man. So tell me, which calf died?" The old woman asked.
"The brown one I got from the older black heifer last spring."
"Which one of your trees gives you the most fruit?"
"Well, I think that would be the cherry tree by the road."
"And which hen always grabs the juiciest grubs?"
"The large black and white one."
The old woman leaned back in her rocking chair and pursed her lips, and after rocking back and forth a few times, until Parth was half nervous, and half sorry he'd come, she spoke again.
"If I solve your problem, you will grant me a dozen eggs and a jar of milk every month, and bushel of cherries at harvest?"
Parth looked uncomfortable, but he was desperate, and he agreed. "Every month, every harvest, as long as the cure holds."
So the old woman gathered up her shawl and her walking stick and together they walked back to Parth's poor land.

When they arrived, the old woman stopped at the cherry tree beside the road. "This is the one you were telling me about eh?"
"Yeah that's the one. Does pretty well, I wish the rest of them would take the example."
"Parth this tree has a name, did you know that?"
"What? I thought it was just a regular cherry tree!"
"Oh it is, that's not what I meant. It's called 'Stifftwig.'"
"Stifftwig."
"Yes. This one next to it is Slowroot, and that lady across the road is Leafmend. Do you see what I mean?" And she fixed Parth with a sharp hard stare so that he could only nod in agreement. "Say the names now Parth, you must memorize them."

The two of them went over every scrap of Parth's land, and the old woman spoke the name of every tree, cow, and chicken that Parth kept. Parth was a serious, studious man, and so he memorized the names, every one.  Hundreds of names by nightfall, and when the old woman left she told Parth, "I'll stop by in a month's time and see how you're doing."

A month later the old woman collected a dozen eggs and a jar of milk. She asked after many of the trees and chickens by name, and Parth had to scratch his head only a few times to recall them all. She spoke the names of the three new chicks that were pecking in the yard. As the years passed she named every calf and seedling that Parth planted, and his farm flourished. And the old woman always had fresh milk and eggs, and cherries at harvest.

Parth married a woman named Linna, and when she bore children the old woman named them too. Parth and Linna raised their children to learn all of the names of everything on the farm. When the old woman was on her death bed, Parth went to her and said, "You have helped me so much, you have given me all I have, but now I am afraid I will lose everything. How will I know the names of the new seedlings and chickens and calves on my farm?"

She grinned like a skull, and whispered back to him, "You are lucky to be a farmer Parth. Trees are stupid. They'll take the name you give them. Cows are friendly, they'll oblige you by taking the name you give them. Chickens fear you, and will use the given name out of superstition. Only children, do you have to ask." And that was all she said to him.

From then on Parth made the names himself, and declared them to his family. And when his children grew he taught them the way of it.