Written in response to this lovely list, from the site Sunday Whirl
Rose knew some things. She knew there was a spare spell under the old bridge. And she knew how a human could get it. The spell, marked by no sign, had wedged itself tight into the right angle where bridge met ground. In high summer, a wide flair of purple loose strife hid it from view. In winter, the spell was plainly visible, tarnished gold and glowing, for anyone to see. But since the trouble a few years back with the goats and the bridge troll, humans were scared to come down here. Rose knew that had been a different bridge, clear across the county and besides that, that old troll was long gone. But humans stayed away. And the others wouldn’t come here. There were some lines even royalty did not cross. This bridge was one such line.
So the spell stayed, hidden for half of every year. Rose tried to tell the humans who jumped from the bridge, usually late at night and always ending badly, that this was no way to retrieve the spell. Magic didn’t work that way and following the only logic she knew, Rose thought they jumped to get the spell for themselves. They never listened. So Rose waited for the right human to come along. She knew for sure—the only way to find the spell was to fall from the bridge. Jumping didn’t count.