Rumplestiltskin

ONCE UPON A TIME THERE WAS A MILLER WHO was not only very poor but also a great chatterbox. These were two misfortunes, as you'll agree. But to make up for them, he had a very pretty daughter, of whom he was very proud. He was so proud of her that he was always chattering away to everybody, telling them how clever she was. (They could see for themselves that she was pretty of course.) One day he happened to have some business with the King, and when the business was finished, the miller's tongue ran away with him as usual, and he said to the King:

"That daughter of mine, your Majesty! She's so clever that, upon my word, she can spin straw into gold thread!"

Now this King was as fond of money as the miller was of talking, so, though at first he had scarcely been listening to the miller's chatter, he now began to prick up his ears.

"What's that you say?" said the King.

Whereupon the foolish miller repeated his silly boast and again told the King that his daughter could spin straw into gold.

"We'll soon see if that's really so!" said the King. "Bring her to me tomorrow morning."

Well, the miller wasn't sure whether to be glad or sorry when he heard the King say that. However, she really was such a very pretty girl that he thought that perhaps, if the King saw her, he might take a fancy to her, and even marry her.

So the miller went home and told the girl that next morning she was to comb her hair and put on her Sunday clothes and go to the palace, and, though he felt rather worried, he reminded himself that stranger things had happened than a King marrying a miller's daughter. Of course, as for spinning straw into gold... But surely a clever fellow like the King would understand that this had been just the miller's fun?

Anyhow, next morning the miller took the girl, who was dressed all in her Sunday best, up to the palace, but he felt a bit frightened when he was told by the guards to leave her in the guardroom and to go about his business.

Well, the girl hadn't waited long before the King came in, and almost before he had greeted her, and quite with­out looking at her, he told her to follow him. He led her to a room that was half full of straw but had nothing else in it except a stool, a spinning-wheel and a lot of empty bobbins.

"Set to work now, my girl," says the King. "All this straw has to be spun into gold! Do it before tonight or it will be the worse for you!" and with that off he strode across the room. Still he didn't look at her, and what's more he wouldn't listen when the poor girl tried to tell him that she couldn't do any such thing, and that all this nonsense had just been her poor old father's usual boasting. No! The King didn't listen to a word of all that, but just went off, locking the door behind him.

Now what was she to do? She couldn't spin straw into gold thread. She could only sit down on the stool and wish that her father hadn't talked such nonsense. The poor thing hadn't sat long before big tears began to well up into her eyes, and presently she began to cry in good earnest. Then it was that, between her sobs, she thought she heard a strange sound. She listened—the sound seemed to be a sort of scrabbling, low down on the door. Then she saw that the locked door seemed to be opening of itself. It opened just wide enough to let in a most extraordinary little black mannikin.

"What's the matter with you, my girl?" says the mannikin. "Why do you sit there crying?"

Well, she wouldn't tell him at first, for, after all, it had been too much talk that had brought her to this. But after a while, she thought that she couldn't be much worse off than she was however much she talked, and so, little by little, the black mannikin got the story out of her, first and last.

"What will you give me," says he, when she had done telling him, "if I do the work for you?"

"My necklace," says she.

Well, the little man seemed content with that so he collected some straw, motioned her to get off the stool, and at once sat down on it himself and pulled up the spinning-wheel. He span so fast and his fingers moved so quickly that the girl couldn't properly see what he was doing, and as for the wheel, it fairly whirred round! So fast did it turn that she couldn't so much as see the spokes. In a few minutes the first bobbin was full of something that shone and the girl could see that sure enough, the little black thing really had been able to spin a whole bobbin-full of gold thread.

As bobbin and bobbin was filled the wheel seemed to go faster and faster. She couldn't even see his little feet now, as he worked the treadle, and it wasn't long before, to her amazement, all the work had been done.

That evening, when the King came back, he was very much pleased and rather surprised at what he saw, praised the girl and sent her off to be given some supper.

So far so good. But when she asked to be allowed to go home, she was told that the King had ordered a bed to be made ready for her at the palace and this, she thought, was not so good! She could guess only too well what might be coming next.

Sure enough, next morning, the greedy King came and took her to a much larger room furnished in the same way. There was just a spinning-wheel and a stool again, and this time a still larger heap of straw and a whole row of bobbins to be filled with gold thread.
Once more, when she was alone, the poor girl sat down and began to cry. Again she stopped sobbing when she heard the same scrabbling sound, low down on the door. Once more she saw how the locked door opened. And then the queer little man stood before her. This time she had to promise him the ring from her finger if he would do the work for her.

So that evening, when the King came in and when he saw the gold, he was in high good humour. This time he even had a good look at the miller's daughter, as well as at the gold, and when he had looked at her he discovered something that everyone else knew already, and that was the fact that she was a very pretty girl indeed. However he said nothing about that.

She was given her supper as before, but, once more, she was forced to sleep at the palace.
Next morning back came the King and took her to a yet bigger room, with still more straw and yet more bobbins in it, but this time as he left her, he said:

"All this must be spun by tonight! But if you can really do it, then you shall be my Queen!" The King had thought to himself, you see, that, even if this pretty girl was only a poor miller's daughter, he would never find a richer wife in the whole world than one who could spin gold thread out of common straw.

This time the girl had hardly sat down when in came the little black mannikin.

"What will you give me if I spin the straw this third time?" says he.

"I have got nothing left," says she sadly.

"No pay, no work!" says he, grinning, and when she heard him say that, the girl began to cry again.

Then the little black thing pretended to begin to think.

"If you become Queen," says he (after he'd let her cry for a bit), "will you promise to give me your first child?"

Well, as you can guess, the girl didn't like the idea at all —not of a bargain like that! But what was she to do? Besides, she thought, perhaps the King didn't really mean to keep his promise.

"Who knows if all that will ever happen!" thought she. So the end of it was that she promised the little man the reward that he wanted. Then down he sat, round went the wheel again, whirring faster and faster, till bobbin after bobbin was filled with beautiful gold thread and till, little by little, the great heap of straw had all disappeared.

Sure enough when the King came back that evening, he saw the bobbins and next day he really did marry the miller's pretty daughter, so that she became Queen.

And now she had a glorious time, for there was many a feast and ball at the palace, A whole year passed, and the new young Queen had almost forgotten all about the funny little black mannikin. Indeed she never gave a thought to her promise, or him, until the day came when a baby was born to her.

Then, as she held her child in her arms, she began to remember, but still she hoped, as she played with her baby, that all might yet be well.

One morning however, very early, when she was quite alone with the child, the little man came to her room, reminded her of her promise, and then to her horror, he held out his skinny arms to take the baby. The poor young Queen clasped it to her breast and offered the little man all the riches of the kingdom if only she might keep her baby.

"No, you don't!" said he. "I don't want your gold! I would rather have something living than all the treasures in the world!"

But at last the poor young Queen held the baby so tight and she wept so pitifully that the mannikin said:

"I'll tell you what I'll do! Ill give you three days, and every evening I'll come back and question you. If, in that time, you can guess my name I'll let you off your promise!"

Now you must know that the little black thing be­longed to the tribe of gnomes and that gnomes don't have at all the same sort of names as are given to humans. So, because of that, the little thing didn't believe for a moment that the Queen would have any chance of dis­covering his name.

Next evening when he came, he was grinning away to himself, quite sure that the Queen wouldn't have found out. She said every outlandish name she could think of. All through the alphabet she meant to go, beginning with such names as Aldebron, Balthazar, Caspar, and so on. But at every name she said, he only shook his head. At last she got to the middle of the alphabet and the little man said she had had her share of guessing for that evening.

Next morning the poor young Queen felt even more worried. She sent messengers far and wide, and by evening, they had collected all the names they could hear of. But it was still no use! Every time she said a name the gnome only shook his head and at each wrong guess his grin grew wider, till at last it stretched right across his face, from ear to ear.

Next day the messengers were all out again, but it seemed that all the names had already been collected!

But at last, late in the afternoon of the very last day, one of them—it was one who had been sent out on the first day and hadn't come back—came to the Queen in a great hurry, very muddy and breathless, and knelt at her feet.

"Your Majesty," said he, "as I came over the mountain, just at the place where the hare and the fox say good-night to each other, I spied a strange little house. It was a real house, but hardly big enough for a cat! In front of the house burned a fire and round the fire a little black gnome kept jumping and hopping about and singing. I have remembered the words of the song for you just in case they might be some use!"

"Quick, quick," said the Queen, "what were they?"

Then the messenger repeated the words of the song:

“Today I brew, tomorrow I bake,
The next day I the Queen's child take,
Little does she guess, poor dame.
That Rumplestiltskin is my name!”

When she heard that you can guess the young Queen's joy, and you can imagine how richly she rewarded the clever messenger!

All this was only a few minutes before it was time for the little gnome to appear again. There he stood grinning, but this time the Queen was ready for him. First she pretended to go on guessing at names, but then, at last, out she came with it:

"RUMPLESTILTSKIN!"

The little creature screamed out in a passion, and shook his little black fist at her:

"The Devil told you that! The Devil told you that!" And with that he stamped so hard that he disappeared through the floor, and the Queen never saw him again.