Such was the tradition, as it had been for as long as the family records existed. Every third generation, on the eve of the eldest son's eighteenth birthday, a fairy would appear and grant the boy a wondrous magical gift. No one knew why, but it was said that my great ancestors had helped the fairies in some way, and that as a reward the king of the fairies had decreed that every third son of the family should be given a gift by a powerful fairy. I had never met my great grandfather, but I was told that he had possessed the ability to control the weather, and that he had used that ability to great success, purchasing a small serfdom with his inheritance and using his magic to make the crops rich and abundant, and my family very wealthy. This had been many years ago, of course, and we were not so rich now. For my part, I was raised modestly, but always reminded of the day when I would receive my fairy blessing and use it to restore the family's wealth. I couldn't say that I was terribly excited about the prospect, but I was, shall we say, resigned.
