A long time ago there lived a miller and his daughter.
One day, in drunken braggadocio, the miller lied to the King, and told him that his daughter could spin straw into gold. The King took the girl, locked her in a tower filled with straw, and told her that if she had his gold by morning he would have her hand in marriage.
If not, he would have her head.
She lamented the night away, praying to God.
He did not answer.
But a strange Dwarf did.
He appeared in a dark corner from thin air, and asked the miller’s daughter what was the matter, and when she told him he capered and danced.
“Tis an easy thing for me!” he sang, as he transformed a piece of straw into a golden necklace. Astonished, she reached for the jewelry, but the Dwarf snatched it away. “Such a gift will not come cheap!” he shrieked. “You must give me something of equal value!” But the miller’s daughter had nothing to give. The Dwarf leered, stroking his belly obscenely, and said. “The price shall be a prince!”
She begged the Dwarf to reconsider, and after arguing half the night away he finally added an addendum: he would make her the gold and if she could guess his name in three months their contract was void. If she could not, both she and her first born would be his.
The next morning the tower overflowed with gold, and that very evening the King married the miller’s daughter, and she became the Queen. The King took her that night, despite her protests. It was her duty as Queen, he said. She could not fight him off, nor could she convince him that if her womb were to quicken, both her and the child's lives would be in danger, for doing so would reveal the truth behind the miraculous alchemy of her night in the tower. And so she was forced to suffer through it.
Being Queen was not without its benefits, however. Immediately she sent her soldiers, squires, sailors, and spies to all corners of the kingdom to learn the Dwarf’s name. Weeks passed, then months, and during that time, the King continued to visit her in the night and eventually her greatest fears were realized: she had became heavy with child.
Finally the eve of her deadline was upon her and she still had not learned the Dwarf's name.
The Queen sat in her chamber, her hands resting on the slight bump on her belly, once again praying to God that her life and her future child’s not be forfeit to the Dwarf. She had lost all hope when, like the night in the tower three months before, she was visited.
This time by an even stranger guest.
The next evening, the Dwarf came to collect his due. He entered the great hall and skipped towards the Queen, sat alone on her throne. When he reached the dais, the Dwarf swept his jester's cap off and bowed mockingly. “Tonight's the night, and we mustn't dawdle!" He squealed, anticipating victory, "What is my name?”
“Rumpelstiltskin.” The Queen answered softly, and the Dwarf’s face dropped.
“Impossible! Inconceivable! How did you learn this!”
“I made a new deal.”
And with that, the torches guttered out and an oily shadow overcame the Dwarf. Boney, clawed hands emerged from the flagstones, dripping with ichor, and grabbed hold of his ankles. He screamed, and with the sound of a fresh cabbage ripping, was torn in half and consumed, bones and all, by the horror that materialized before the Queen. It was as tall as three men, and formed from the parts of dragons and goats and stranger beasts.
“It is done.” It purred in a syrupy, sensual voice that belied its monstrous appearance. “Now tell me Your Grace. What is MY name?”
The Queen thought of her father, who sold her to the King on an impossible promise. She thought of the King, who threatened to behead her, and then raped her the very next evening. She thought of the Dwarf, who would have enslaved her and her child, or worse.
And then she thought of that which had visited her in the night when despair threatened to consume her. That which offered her aid in exchange for three fresh souls. That which answered her prayers when none other had.
And the Queen smiled.
“I suppose it’s God now, isn’t it?”
One day, in drunken braggadocio, the miller lied to the King, and told him that his daughter could spin straw into gold. The King took the girl, locked her in a tower filled with straw, and told her that if she had his gold by morning he would have her hand in marriage.
If not, he would have her head.
She lamented the night away, praying to God.
He did not answer.
But a strange Dwarf did.
He appeared in a dark corner from thin air, and asked the miller’s daughter what was the matter, and when she told him he capered and danced.
“Tis an easy thing for me!” he sang, as he transformed a piece of straw into a golden necklace. Astonished, she reached for the jewelry, but the Dwarf snatched it away. “Such a gift will not come cheap!” he shrieked. “You must give me something of equal value!” But the miller’s daughter had nothing to give. The Dwarf leered, stroking his belly obscenely, and said. “The price shall be a prince!”
She begged the Dwarf to reconsider, and after arguing half the night away he finally added an addendum: he would make her the gold and if she could guess his name in three months their contract was void. If she could not, both she and her first born would be his.
The next morning the tower overflowed with gold, and that very evening the King married the miller’s daughter, and she became the Queen. The King took her that night, despite her protests. It was her duty as Queen, he said. She could not fight him off, nor could she convince him that if her womb were to quicken, both her and the child's lives would be in danger, for doing so would reveal the truth behind the miraculous alchemy of her night in the tower. And so she was forced to suffer through it.
Being Queen was not without its benefits, however. Immediately she sent her soldiers, squires, sailors, and spies to all corners of the kingdom to learn the Dwarf’s name. Weeks passed, then months, and during that time, the King continued to visit her in the night and eventually her greatest fears were realized: she had became heavy with child.
Finally the eve of her deadline was upon her and she still had not learned the Dwarf's name.
The Queen sat in her chamber, her hands resting on the slight bump on her belly, once again praying to God that her life and her future child’s not be forfeit to the Dwarf. She had lost all hope when, like the night in the tower three months before, she was visited.
This time by an even stranger guest.
The next evening, the Dwarf came to collect his due. He entered the great hall and skipped towards the Queen, sat alone on her throne. When he reached the dais, the Dwarf swept his jester's cap off and bowed mockingly. “Tonight's the night, and we mustn't dawdle!" He squealed, anticipating victory, "What is my name?”
“Rumpelstiltskin.” The Queen answered softly, and the Dwarf’s face dropped.
“Impossible! Inconceivable! How did you learn this!”
“I made a new deal.”
And with that, the torches guttered out and an oily shadow overcame the Dwarf. Boney, clawed hands emerged from the flagstones, dripping with ichor, and grabbed hold of his ankles. He screamed, and with the sound of a fresh cabbage ripping, was torn in half and consumed, bones and all, by the horror that materialized before the Queen. It was as tall as three men, and formed from the parts of dragons and goats and stranger beasts.
“It is done.” It purred in a syrupy, sensual voice that belied its monstrous appearance. “Now tell me Your Grace. What is MY name?”
The Queen thought of her father, who sold her to the King on an impossible promise. She thought of the King, who threatened to behead her, and then raped her the very next evening. She thought of the Dwarf, who would have enslaved her and her child, or worse.
And then she thought of that which had visited her in the night when despair threatened to consume her. That which offered her aid in exchange for three fresh souls. That which answered her prayers when none other had.
And the Queen smiled.
“I suppose it’s God now, isn’t it?”