Rump: The True Story of Rumpelstiltskin (10 page)

“Oh … Thank you.…” A seed. She had given me a tiny seed. What good would a seed do me in a mountain that refused to grow anything but pine trees and wild shrubs?

“Little things can grow big,” she said.

I put the seed in my pocket and nodded, too exhausted to argue.

“One last thing,” the witch said. “Watch your step.”

Red and I walked in the snow, the stones on either side the only sign of the path. We didn’t talk the whole way home. We were both thinking, though, and probably about the same things, but in different ways. I was thinking that I should help Opal. Red was thinking that I shouldn’t. I was thinking about bargains and death. Red was thinking I was an idiot.

My thoughts turned again to my name and my destiny. Maybe there was more to it than I really knew. I felt it, as if it were hovering just above me but I couldn’t grasp it. I did have a whole name. My mother had whispered it in my ear, and somewhere in the world it existed or I
wouldn’t be here. That’s what I thought, anyway. But for now I wondered if the destiny I was following was connected to my real name or only the bit of the name I knew.

Just as we approached my cottage, I stepped into a ditch and went sprawling.

So much for heeding good advice.

CHAPTER FOURTEEN
Rump to the Rescue

It was afternoon when we reached my cottage. Red stood by me and finally spoke her mind.

“You’re going to go, aren’t you? To help Opal.” It wasn’t a question, really, and the declaration cleared my own doubt. I had to go.

Red let out a heavy sigh. Her brow was knit and her mouth curved down, but she didn’t look angry. Was she sad? I’d never seen Red sad. That’s when I realized that, even if she did call me an idiot, Red really cared what happened to me. She was my one true friend.

“Will you take care of Milk for me? She gives some milk still.”

She nodded. “What about your donkey?”

“I’m taking him with me.” I didn’t want to burden Red too much, and even though Nothing was ornery and
stubborn, he might be able to carry me or my things, if I could get him to move.

“How will you find Opal?” Red asked.

I shrugged.

“What if she’s locked up?”

I shrugged.

“What if you get caught and shot with an arrow, or poisoned, or—”

“Then I’ll be dead, Red.” I smiled because of the rhyme, even though it wasn’t a happy one.

Red gave me one of her rare smiles. “You’re an idiot, Rump, but the smartest idiot I know.”

I put my hands in my pockets, pulled out the seed Red’s granny had given me, and held it up to the sun. I thought how the odds were stacked against both the little seed and me, a boy all tangled in life and magic. We didn’t have a chance, really, but sometimes you still have to try.

“Little things can grow big,” I said.

“Under the right circumstances,” said Red, and she bent down and dug up some cold earth. I placed the little seed in the hole, and we covered it up.

After Red left, I stuffed just a few things in a satchel: a dry loaf of bread, some biscuits, a skin of water, and my mother’s bobbin from her spinning wheel. I knew that it wasn’t the reason for the magic, but I wanted it with me. A little piece of Mother, a piece of home. I wished I could take a piece of Gran with me too, but there was nothing. I would have to carry a memory.

It was late afternoon as I walked through The Village,
toward the road that led down The Mountain. I stopped once and looked back on The Village. I had never seen it from this view. The houses were stacked in jumbled clusters up the mountainside, some so lopsided they looked like they might slide right down. Smoke rose from chimneys, and windows were lit with candles. The mill stood above all the houses, the biggest building by far. High above the village were the mines that I had worked in my whole life. I had never been anywhere but this village. Even though I knew there were other kingdoms and villages and probably mountains all over the world,
this
had always been
my
world. I imagined my mother leaving Yonder and feeling the same.

In my mind I thought I would not be gone for very long, but in my heart I felt like I was leaving on a great expedition, and if I ever returned, I would be very different. I hoped I would be different.

I was leaving The Mountain at last. True, my leaving might have sounded far grander if I were leaving a place with a real name, like Ochenleff or Asteria. But I left just the same.

It all sounded so big and adventurous, but my lofty sentiments were squashed before I had gotten even halfway down The Mountain. Nothing didn’t carry a thing. Instead, I hauled
him
. It was about as fun as playing with pixies. When I tried to ride him, he either wouldn’t move or moved so fast I couldn’t hold on. Then he stumbled
and I fell off. I ended up pulling him the whole way while he bellowed and spit in my ear.

When I finally reached the bottom of The Mountain, it was night. Luckily, there was a little moonlight or I wouldn’t have been able to see at all. I met a man driving a wagon and asked him how far it was to The Kingdom and what direction.

He pointed in the direction I was already going and said it was a good twelve miles. My heart sank. “I would gladly give you a ride in my cart,” said the man, “but your donkey doesn’t look like he’d keep up with the horse.”

“No,” I said, “he wouldn’t.” I wanted to kick Nothing. Maybe I could just tie him up here and get a ride anyway, but then someone might steal him. Worthless as he was, he was the only company I had on this journey. I gave another tug and we plodded down the road.

After an hour I was starving, so I ate all the biscuits in my sack. We found a stream to drink from and some early spring grass for Nothing. After that he settled right down in the grass and didn’t want to move. I pulled and pulled, but he just bellowed. I got on his back and kicked him as hard as I could with both legs. He still didn’t move. I pulled out my mother’s bobbin and poked his side with it. He bellowed and jumped right up and started trotting down the path, with me hanging on him sideways.

Nothing carried me for only a few miles before I had to start pulling him again, and after another hour I wondered if the man with the cart had been mistaken and it was really twenty miles, or even thirty. I had no sense for distance. Maybe I wouldn’t get there by tonight and
something really awful would happen in the morning. What would the king do to Opal and her family if she didn’t spin the straw into gold? How could I go back home if I failed?

The road widened and small houses started to appear, their windows all dark and quiet. It must have been very late, but the houses gave me hope that I was close to The King’s City. The houses got closer together and smaller, then very close and stacked on top of each other. They looked like little towers made of rubble that a wind might blow over. Then they spread out a little and got bigger. A lot bigger. The road began to wind and curve up a steep hill, and at the top was a giant stone wall. Beyond that wall was King Barf’s castle. Opal was there.

Nothing would not go up the hill. It was almost as steep as The Mountain, and no matter how much I poked and jerked and kicked, he wouldn’t budge. So I reasoned that if he wouldn’t budge for me, he wouldn’t budge for anyone else, either. I left him on the side of the road, by a tree. And I hoped a swarm of pixies would bite his bony stubborn rump!

Halfway up the hill, my courage started to drain with my energy. In all the excitement of being a hero, I hadn’t thought any of this through. When I started my journey, it was as if all the obstacles in my way weren’t really obstacles at all—just minor annoyances. But when I reached the top of the hill, I realized that they were definitely obstacles—and big ones. The castle was surrounded by towering walls with closed gates, and soldiers guarding those gates with spears and bows and arrows.

Would I be a coward if I went back down the hill? What would Gran do? It was a silly question. Gran would never have gotten into this mess in the first place. Oh, how I wished I could talk to her now!

I needed to think.

I thought about what was in my way, and what I had to do to get it out of my way. I needed to get to Opal in the castle, but in my way there were guards and spears and arrows and a stone wall and possibly more of that beyond the wall. What did I have?

An ornery donkey stuck at the bottom of the hill, a dry loaf of bread, and an old bobbin. And one more thing. At that very moment, a miracle happened.

A horse and cart came up the hill, and the driver hopped down to speak with the guards.

“Straw deliveries go to the stables,” said one of the guards. “Other side of the castle.”

“This ’ere straw ain’t for no stables. This is for a chamber. Had an order for it to be brought this way.”

“Tonight?”

“I’ve got a letter.”

Straw for a chamber! That had to be for Opal! The guard looked down at the letter the man was holding out. While they spoke, I crept to the back of the cart, unseen by the guards or the driver. I pulled myself up and dug myself into the straw until I was completely hidden. In a moment I heard the gates squeak open and the cart rolled forward. I almost laughed.

The cart ambled on for a minute but then stopped, and I heard the driver unhitch the mule. The driver spoke
with probably more guards, and then I was pretty sure we were inside the castle because everything started to echo.

The straw was scratching at my arms and neck and everywhere. I struggled to remain still, and the itching stirred up an uncomfortable memory also involving straw. It had happened a few years ago. I was hiding from Frederick and Bruno in a barn behind a huge stack of straw. They were mad at me because I had sneezed really loudly in the middle of their older brother’s wedding—right at the quiet part. So Frederick and Bruno were chasing after me, trying to light my pants on fire. I guess I should have realized that a haystack is not a smart place to hide when you’re running from fire. The whole barn burned down and I barely made it out alive. Needless to say, my pants did catch on fire. The memory made me shudder. I suddenly wondered that I’d jumped into this pile of straw so readily.

Finally the cart stopped and the man knocked on a door. A few muffled exchanges. I heard a woman’s voice, Opal’s maybe. Suddenly I was tumbling out of the cart, rolling in the straw as it came down. The straw still covered me on the floor, and I heard the cart trundle away as the door shut.

I was just about to peek when I felt hands digging into the straw, pulling out big clumps. I froze and then someone grabbed my hair and yanked. I yelped and flopped out of the straw, hitting my head on the floor with a loud crack.

“Oh!” said a voice. I looked up and saw a woman standing over me. But it was not Opal.

The woman had a feather duster and a rag tucked in her skirt. She was older but tried to hide it with lots of rouge on her cheeks and lips. She was holding a big piece of fabric in one hand and a fistful of straw in the other.

This straw was to stuff a mattress. It wasn’t for spinning.

The maid’s surprised face suddenly turned hard. She scooted back and reached for something behind her, a poker, and pointed it right at me. “Get out, you little rascal. There’s nothing in here for you to steal.”

“I wasn’t—”

She whacked me on the shoulder with the poker. “Get out!” She whacked me again. “You filthy mongrel, get out!” I scrambled to my feet, my satchel clutched to me. I tried to reach for the door, but the woman swung at me again and I rolled to the other side of the room.

“Thief!” the woman shrieked. “Thief!” I ducked as she jabbed at me again. “Thief in the castle!”

She lunged with the poker until I was pressed up against a window. A
window
! I hadn’t gone up any stairs, so the ground must be just below. I fumbled behind me until I found a latch. The window flew open and I tumbled out, landing flat on my back. All the air was knocked out of me and sparks flew in my eyes, but I had to run because the maid’s bellowing was sure to bring the guards after me any moment.