She still hadn’t guessed his name and everything was set for the child’s arrival. He rubbed his hands together, pacing the floor of his ramshackle cottage. He looked with pride at the cradle he had fashioned with his own hands which was carved with intricate designs. Gold was marvelous, but this was the work of a true craftsman.
He had not taken the portrait down, and didn’t know that he ever would. Edward’s face looked back at him, fair haired, freckled, and smiling, his son. No child could ever replace his Edward, but perhaps now he could begin to be the man he once was, perhaps unwitting amends might be given to him. He had a chance.
He gave to gain, and took what he must. Few would call him kind, but he was only cold because he had once been so warm. Who was the miller’s daughter? Nothing more than a very foolish girl. She knew nothing!
Everyone wanted something; the miller wanted renown, the king great wealth, but he would gain something far more precious. No one knew his name, for he was an outcast, and now what had been his bitterness would be his greatest joy, for none would be able to guess it.
As far as he knew, he was the last of his kind. None of the others had escaped. He had just begun to teach his son the secrets, the mysteries, both of gold, and of the soul.
Could a human child learn such things? Perhaps, perhaps not, but at least he hoped for a young heart who would listen to his tale, who would love him, and whom he would love in return. This, he knew, would in some measure restore him.
He walked into the palace confident that she would never guess his name, that she would bleat out ridiculous suggestions as she had done before this third day.
‘’ Is it Fred, is it George?’’ the miller’s daughter asked, as if in fun. Then she clapped delightedly. ‘’ Oh, I know, it’s Rumplestiltskin!’’ She shook her blond curls, and giggled.
His name fell on his ears like a dirge. He left as cold, as empty, as he had come. They did not even know what they had condemned him to. They were shallow, the lot of them.
He went to his cottage, and breezes blew across the fields. He could hear the wind as if it were really speaking to him. But no one was there, and no one ever would be.