They say Rumpelstiltskin was not born, but rather emerged from a mud puddle. They say he was kicked in the head by an old woman who had not noticed the silent infant coated in mud on the quiet dirt path. They say the old woman took him in and raised him until the day he disappeared. No one is quite sure where this was or when this was, but, it surely was.
A small man appeared in the King's town one day. He wore a smile and a wide brimmed hat which covered his eyes to all those taller than him. Children say his eyes never smiled. When children began to vanish the townspeople wasted no time capturing the stranger who had lingered around the schoolhouse too often. He was presented to his majesty, the King, who swiftly cast him into the castle dungeon. It was a small town with no troubles, the strange stranger was no doubt the perpetrator. The man never said a word.
The King's daughter, the Princess, a frail girl prone to sickness, had never left the castle walls. She had only one attendant, a woman charged with keeping everyone a safe distance from the Princess, lest she fall ill once again. The Princess spent most of her days spinning golden thread in her room while her quiet attendant rolled the neverending pile into balls. Years passed like this. Eventually she couldn't sleep at night. She was an adult, she hadn't been poorly in years, why must she remain. By moonlight, and candlelight as she got bolder, the Princess would wander the castle. It was wonderful to have her own slice of freedom. Unbeknownst to her, the guardsmen stationed throughout every hall would scatter when they saw the Princess approaching. It would cost their head to be in the same room. It didn't take very long for the Princess to find herself the dungeon.
The man she met in the deepest reaches of her home was a nice man. He told her stories about his simple life as a traveler and the tale of the cruel false imprisonment he was enduring. He told her about his childhood love of weaving and how he was driven out of his hometown for it. The Princess wept for the poor soul caged before her. The man thanked her for her compassion, something he has rarely experienced. He only wished there was some way to while away the time in that cold damp dungeon. The Princess suddenly had an excellent idea. She weaved so much thread every day there was more than enough to share with her new friend. After some convincing, the man agreed it was a swell idea. He would hide the tools and weavings under his bed of hay. At night the Princess would always return with more. While he weaved he would regale her with every story he had in his head.
One night after another lonely day, the Princess came to the man with a request. She had been thinking about one of the man's stories. The one about the boy who used wings to escape his tower prison. The boy had crashed to his death, but only because of the weak material he had used. A single strand of her golden thread was stronger than even spider silk rope. Surely with the man's masterful weaving he could construct a pair of wings. The man's mouth stretched into a smile he had never smiled before. Of course he could make these wings. The Princess was overjoyed. For a moment. Of course, such a project needs a price to match. A price higher than just the kindness she had shown him. Confused, she asked what he meant. What could she pay? She had no control over his release and he knew so. The man's face contorted further into his sickly grin. He only requires her firstborn child. For the child's life, she could be free. She thought about it. She had never seen a boy up close, when could she possibly be with child? Selling a false promise seemed a fair price to the Princess. She agreed.
It was taking the man long months to construct the wings. Much longer than the Princess had expected. In that time her father had taken note of her improving health. She had indeed not been sickly for years, and of late she had more energy. As a birthday gift the castle was opened up for her. She was no longer confined to her tower, and servants were allowed in the same room as her, as long as they kept some distance. When she did not fall ill the King celebrated with an introduction to the Prince of a nearby kingdom. He was almost her age and polite to boot. What else could a Princess ask for? The man in the dungeon all but forgotten, she married the Prince and departed to his kingdom to live happily forevermore.
The Princess first bore a daughter. The birth was difficult, but the baby seemed healthy. As the baby girl got older, the Princess began to wake up screaming more and more often. She could never remember what had terrified her so. Years passed, eventually bringing the terrors to her every night. On the morning of her daughters tenth birthday she found herself sobbing as well. But it was a happy day for a happy little girl so the Princess wiped her eyes and started the celebration. A feast was hosted in the gardens to give the children ample space to play. Ruling families from all across the land were in attendance enjoying the dancers, the music, and the nice weather. The Princess was proud of the life she had created, of her daughter for surviving past childhood. She looked to the clouds in a moment of peace. In that same moment a curious sight crossed the sky. A large bird perhaps? A very large bird. Others began to point it out as well. Soon everyone was watching the strange figure glinting in the sunlight, rapidly growing larger. Like a comet the thing dove on the party causing screams to erupt. Those who tried to retreat found the doors locked. Again it dove, this time practically skimming the ground before pulling up sharply. The group of children screamed in terror and ran to their parents. The Princess could not find her daughter, no matter how loud she yelled the girl's name. A voice screeched from the castle wall yanking all attention toward it. Everyone beheld 10 foot wide simmering golden wings attached to a small grubby man who held the Princess's daughter. Confusion swept the crowd, except for the Princess. Her heart fell through the ground as she realized what she had done.
"I CAME ONLY FOR WHAT IS MINE." The man's booming voice traveled easily over the stunned crowd.
With a flick of his wrist the golden wings fell from his back and crashed down to the gardens. Hundreds of eyes watched them disappear into some unlucky rose bushes. Hundreds of ears heard those beautiful wings snap and tear. When they looked back up the man and child were gone. The Princess could do nothing but fall to her knees to scream and weep. It felt as if she had been practicing for this moment for years.
This tale began with the naming of this vile man. This baby born from mud with mud in his veins. A being beyond what even I can understand. Truth be told, his name holds power, and to name it brings favor. The man of mud, Rumpelstiltskin, shared this word with no one. The old woman named him in hopes he would abandon his origins. In hopes he could introduce himself and bring good luck to all he meets. But sometimes one cares not for silly things like hope or love. Some people bleed mud and enjoy seeing it. By sharing his name on this nearly pointless tragic tale I hope to shield you from him. Nothing else will.