Rumpelstiltskin

Once upon a time, there was a poor miller who lived in a small village. One day, while he was in the king’s court, he made a boastful claim to impress the king. “My daughter,” he said, “can spin straw into gold.”

The king, who loved gold more than anything, was intrigued. “Bring her to the castle,” he demanded. “If she can truly spin straw into gold, I shall make her my queen. But if she fails, she will pay with her life.”

The poor miller regretted his words but had no choice. He rushed home, his heart heavy, and brought his daughter to the castle. Her name was Amelia, and she was kind and beautiful, but she had no idea how to spin straw into gold.

That night, Amelia was locked in a tall stone tower filled with piles and piles of straw. The spinning wheel stood in the center, its wooden spokes casting shadows in the flickering candlelight. The room felt cold and empty, and Amelia was scared. She sat down, tears running down her cheeks. “What am I going to do?” she whispered to herself.

Suddenly, out of the shadows, there came a strange noise—tap, tap, tap. Amelia looked up and gasped. In front of her stood the tiniest man she had ever seen. He wore a funny little hat, and his eyes twinkled mischievously.

“Why are you crying, dear girl?” the little man asked, his voice curious but kind.

Amelia wiped her tears and explained, “The king expects me to spin all this straw into gold, but I don’t know how.”

The little man chuckled softly. “Oh, that’s no trouble at all! I can spin straw into gold. But what will you give me if I do this for you?”

Amelia thought for a moment. She didn’t have much, but she had a beautiful necklace that her mother had given her. She took it off and handed it to him. “Will this do?”

The little man’s eyes gleamed. “That will do just fine!” he said.

Without another word, he jumped up to the spinning wheel, and soon the wheel was turning whirr, whirr, whirr. Amelia watched in amazement as the piles of straw were transformed into shimmering, golden threads. By morning, the entire room sparkled with gold.

When the king saw the gold, he was thrilled. But his greed was insatiable. “Wonderful!” he exclaimed. “But let’s see if you can do it again.”

The next night, Amelia was taken to a larger room with even more straw. The same thing happened—she wept, and the little man appeared.

“What will you give me this time?” he asked with a sly grin.

Amelia offered him her ring, the only other thing of value she had. The little man nodded and once again spun all the straw into gold, leaving Amelia both relieved and worried.

On the third night, the king brought her to the largest room yet, filled to the ceiling with straw. “If you succeed,” he promised, “I will marry you, and you shall become my queen.”

But this time, Amelia had nothing left to give the little man. When he appeared, she pleaded with him, “I have nothing left to offer. Please help me!”

The little man rubbed his chin thoughtfully. “Then promise me this,” he said. “When you become queen and have your first child, you will give that child to me.”

Amelia gasped in horror. “No! I could never do that!” she cried.

The little man shrugged. “Well, it’s your choice. But without me, you cannot spin this straw into gold.”

Amelia was trapped. She thought about the future, and with great reluctance, she agreed. “Very well,” she whispered. “I promise.”

With a gleeful laugh, the little man spun the straw into gold one last time. The next morning, the king was so pleased with the gold that he kept his word and married Amelia, making her his queen. But Amelia never forgot her terrible promise.

A year later, Amelia gave birth to a beautiful baby boy, and for a while, she was the happiest she had ever been. But one evening, as she rocked her child to sleep, the door creaked open, and the little man appeared once more.

“I’ve come to collect my payment,” he said, smiling wickedly.

Amelia’s heart sank. “Please,” she begged. “I’ll give you all the riches of the kingdom—just let me keep my child!”

The little man’s eyes sparkled. “Riches? I care nothing for riches. But... I’ll make you a deal,” he said, crossing his arms. “If you can guess my name within three days, you may keep your child. But if you fail, the boy is mine.”

Amelia agreed, and the little man disappeared.

For two days and nights, Amelia sent messengers all over the kingdom to gather every name they could find. She tried all the common ones: William, John, Henry—none of them were right. She even tried the most unusual names, but still, the little man shook his head.

By the third day, Amelia was in despair. But just as hope seemed lost, one of her servants returned with a strange tale. “Your Majesty,” the servant said, “I saw the strangest thing deep in the forest. A little man was dancing around a fire, singing, ‘Tonight, tonight, my plans I make. Tomorrow, tomorrow, the queen’s child I’ll take. The queen will never win the game, for Rumpelstiltskin is my name!’”

Amelia’s heart leaped. That night, when the little man came to her, she smiled and said, “Is your name... Rumpelstiltskin?”

The little man’s face turned pale. “How did you know that?” he shrieked in fury. He stomped his feet so hard that the ground opened beneath him, and with one last scream, he disappeared into the earth, never to be seen again.

Amelia breathed a sigh of relief, her child safe in her arms. From that day on, she ruled the kingdom with kindness and wisdom, never forgetting the lesson she had learned about the dangers of greed and the power of names.