The Imp and the Babe

Of all the faerie folk, imps were the most mischievous. She knew this now. Her panic and fear filled her from head to toe. He would be here soon. He would snatch her babe. He would rip all joy she has in the world from her arms.

As she held her newborn daughter, her cold tears chilled her face. Her legs were shaking, and her breathing was shallow. She had carried this child for nine months, and finally, she was holding her safe in her arms. For now. She knew that at any moment, that horrible faerie man would appear and rip the child away from her. All for what? For an impossible situation he saved her from. How was she to spin straw into gold? What kind of father would put his daughter in a position to do such a thing? So that he could get an audience with the king? Was it really that important?

Not only did she have to promise her firstborn child, but also be married off to a man whom she did not love. Whom she was forced to spend the rest of her life and bear children and grow old with. Her life has been stolen from her for the price of an audience. Now, her husband, the king, has no idea what she has promised, and she must tell him.

As she explained the story to her husband, his heart filled with rage. She told him everything. How she is unable to spin straw into gold. How she gave her jewelry to an imp who appeared so that he may save her threatened life from the king. How when she was out of jewelry to offer, she promised her firstborn child. All this was too much for the king to register, so he sat on her bed and began to weep at the thought of his condemned daughter. When his weeping was done, he made arrangements to guard his wife’s room with every available soldier. That no one should be allowed in or out without the king’s permission and escort. He wasn’t taking any chances. There was no way he would let some small thing come and steal his daughter away.

Three days passed before the queen was awoken in the middle of the night to the sound of humming. She startled awake and turned on the lamp to see what creature had made its way into her chambers. It was then she saw the small man-like creature from years before, looking just as he did back then. His red hair peeked from underneath a green hat, and his beard was full and curly, making his chubby cheeks appear small in comparison.

“Good evening, my queen. I have come for what is mine,” he said with a grin.

The queen begged and pleaded with him to spare her child, and the sound of her voice woke her sleeping husband on the other side of the bed. Startled and enraged, he stood to attack. Before he was able to reach the being, he was struck with a rock, thrown straight at his head. It struck him square between the eyes, and he collapsed, ceasing to breathe from the trauma. The queen wailed as she saw this, and the creature started laughing and dancing about.

“Why do you wail so? Have I not just saved you from a marriage you never wanted?”

Although she was forced into the marriage, she had grown attached to the king, and seeing him lie lifeless at the foot of her bed sent the queen into a state of shock.

As she registered the event, the imp skipped toward her, and she screamed for the guards, but no one came. They could not hear her through the thick door between them. When he was at the bedside, she grabbed her daughter and ran to the door. Though she ran with all the speed she could muster, she was cut off by the horrid creature and had nowhere else to go.

“What can I offer instead of my daughter? I will give you anything you desire.”

The imp thought about this for a moment and told her that there was nothing she could offer him that would be as precious and valuable as a living, breathing child.

“What do you want with her?” the queen asked with a shaky voice.

The imp grinned a horrible grin and went on to recite the recipe he had in mind for the babe. The queen fell to her knees and vomited on the floor, and began to weep and wail. As the imp listened to this, he grew tired of the trouble and told her to be quiet.

“Okay, okay, I will give you a chance to win back your daughter. I’m a compassionate being and like a good game. If you can guess my name in three days’ time, I will allow you to keep your child. If you can’t, though… she’s mine.”

The creature returned each night and heard the names guessed by the queen. Though they were all common names, none of them were correct. She reached out to her kingdom in a desperate attempt to come up with new names, and they were happy to help.

When the creature returned the next night, she repeated the process with more rare names, though none of them were correct.

During the day on the third day, a guard burst through the door and rushed to the queen’s feet.

“Milady, I know the name! When I was on my way to the next village, I came across a camp with a small man dancing around a fire. He sang and laughed, and this is what he sang:

In one days time, the babe is mine, and then I’ll surely feast She guesses so, my name to know, though is no easy feat I win I do, her tries be true, but I’m the king of the game Her guesses none, contain the one, Rumpelstiltskin is my name

The queen jumped from where she sat and laughed. She would keep her child after all.

When the imp returned that night, she decided to play the game a bit longer. She guessed ridiculous names and watched him laugh as she did so. When she had had her fun of making him think he was winning, she smiled a devious smile.

“What about… Rumpelstiltskin?”

His eyes grew wide, and he wailed a horrible wail. He started shouting and swearing. Claiming that she must be a witch to have that information. In a rage, he started stomping his feet. He stomped and stomped so hard that his foot broke right through the ground and became stuck.

When a creature like him gets into a tantrum, it doesn’t end well. He pulled at his leg over and over, trying to break free. In one last furious yank, he pulled is foot clear off his leg. Seeing her chance, the queen reached for a letter opener sitting on her nightstand and plunged it into his throat.

Rumpelstiltskin grasped his throat and stumbled backward. Blood spouting from between his fingers, pouring from his leg where his foot used to be, spilling out of his mouth… He lay there helpless and hopeless as the queen stood. She picked up her daughter and walked toward the cowering, whimpering creature. As she did, she sang to him.

The night has come, he thought he’d won, but queenie she knew more And in delight, on that night, the queen evened the score Her life was stolen, heart was broken, father was to blame Someone had to pay, be who it may, Rumpelstiltskin is his name