Rumpelstiltskin

There was once a miller who was poor, but who had a beautiful daughter. One day he happened to speak with the king, and to make himself seem important he said, “I have a daughter who can spin straw into gold.” The king said, “That is an art that pleases me well. If your daughter is as clever as you say, bring her to my castle tomorrow and I will put her to the test.”

When the girl was brought to him, the king led her into a room full of straw, gave her a spinning wheel and a reel and said, “Now set to work. If you have not spun this straw into gold by early tomorrow morning, you must die.” Then he locked the door and left her alone. The poor miller’s daughter sat there and could not think what to do. She had no idea how to spin straw into gold, and she grew more and more frightened until she began to cry.

Suddenly the door opened, and in stepped a little man. “Good evening, mistress miller. Why are you crying so?” “Oh,” she answered, “I have to spin straw into gold, and I don’t know how.” “What will you give me if I spin it for you?” “My necklace,” said the girl. The little man took the necklace, sat down at the wheel, and whirr, whirr, whirr, three turns and the reel was full. Then he put on another, and by morning all the straw was spun and all the reels were full of gold.

At sunrise the king came, and when he saw the gold he was astonished and delighted, but it only made his heart greedier. He had the miller’s daughter taken to a much larger room full of straw and ordered her to spin it all in one night if she valued her life. Again she wept, and again the little man appeared. This time she gave him the ring from her finger, and by morning the straw had become shining gold.

The king was overjoyed but still not satisfied. He led her to an even bigger room full of straw. “Spin this tonight, and if you succeed, you shall be my wife.” Even if she is only a miller’s daughter, he thought, I could not find a richer wife in the whole world. When she was alone, the little man came a third time. “What will you give me if I spin the straw this time?” “I have nothing left to give.” “Then promise me your first child when you are queen.” Who knows how things will turn out? thought the miller’s daughter, and since she saw no other way, she promised. The little man spun the straw into gold once more. When the king found everything as he wished, he held the wedding, and the miller’s beautiful daughter became a queen.

A year later she brought a lovely child into the world. She had forgotten all about the little man, until one day he suddenly stepped into her room and said, “Now give me what you promised.” The queen was horrified and offered him all the riches of the kingdom if only he would let her keep her child. But the little man said, “No. Something living is dearer to me than all the treasures in the world.” Then the queen began to weep and wail so bitterly that the little man took pity on her. “I will give you three days,” he said. “If by then you know my name, you may keep your child.”

All night long the queen racked her brains for every name she had ever heard, and she sent a messenger across the land to collect any others. When the little man came the next day, she began with Caspar, Melchior and Balthazar, and went through every name she knew, one after another. But each time he said, “That is not my name.” On the second day she had her servants ask around the neighbourhood, and she tried the strangest names of all: “Is your name perhaps Ribs-of-Beef? Or Mutton-Chops? Or Lace-Leg?” But he always answered, “That is not my name.”

On the third day the messenger came back and said, “I could not find a single new name. But as I came round a high mountain at the edge of the forest, where the fox and the hare say good night to each other, I saw a little house. In front of it a fire was burning, and around the fire a ridiculous little man was leaping about, hopping on one leg and shouting:

‘Today I bake, tomorrow brew,
the next I’ll have the young queen’s child.
Ha! glad am I that no one knew
that Rumpelstiltskin I am styled.’”

You can imagine how glad the queen was to hear that name. Soon afterward the little man came in and asked, “Well, my lady queen, what is my name?” First she asked, “Is it Conrad?” “No.” “Is it Harry?” “No.” “Then perhaps your name is Rumpelstiltskin?”

“The devil told you that! The devil told you that!” shrieked the little man, and in his fury he stamped his right foot so hard that it sank into the ground up to his waist. Then in his rage he seized his left foot with both hands and tore himself in two.