The Land of Stories Page 6

  The maiden was so exhausted she wasn’t thinking straight. More than anything, she just wanted the nightmare to be over.

  “Fine—if you spin all the hay in this dungeon into gold, I will give you my firstborn child,” she said.

  The dwarf laughed wildly and did cartwheels around the dungeon. To date, it was the greatest trade he had ever made. He sat behind the spinning wheel and went to work. The longer he spun the hay into gold, the faster he went. Soon the entire dungeon was filled with gleaming stacks of gold.

  “You’ve saved my life again,” the maiden said. “But I didn’t get your name.”

  Instead of answering, he scrunched his nose and disappeared from the dungeon. The king and his soldiers returned at sunrise and were shocked to see all the gold in the dungeon. Even the king had thought the task would be impossible.

  “I apologize for threatening your life, but we were most desperately in debt,” the king exclaimed. “But now, thanks to you, we will have the richest kingdom in the world! Please rule it alongside me as my queen.”

  The circumstances were very bizarre, so the maiden had to think his proposal over. She either returned to a father who had almost gotten her killed, or married a man who had almost had her killed. Either way, it was a complicated future. But when she compared the life of a queen to the life of a miller’s daughter, the maiden found it was an easy choice.

  Thanks to the kingdom’s newfound wealth, the king and the maiden had an extravagant royal wedding. The maiden became queen and was never forced to spin anything again. She enjoyed her new life as queen so much, she forgot all about the magical dwarf and the debt she owed him.

  Within a year, the queen was pregnant with the heir to her husband’s throne. She gave birth to a beautiful baby princess, and the kingdom rejoiced. Unfortunately for the queen, the dwarf had not forgotten about their agreement. He returned to the castle ready to collect on his end of the bargain.

  “The princess is mine!” he said.

  “No! You can’t take her!” the queen said.

  “A deal is a deal,” the dwarf said. “You wouldn’t be queen if it weren’t for me! Now hand over the child or I’ll tell the king who really spun all that hay into gold.”

  “Please, there must be something else I can give you,” the queen said. “I can give you riches and jewels beyond your wildest dreams! I could give you land and a title! I could make you a knight, a lord, or a duke!”

  “The child is all I’m interested in,” the stubborn dwarf said. “However, if you can guess my name, I will let you keep the child.”

  The queen guessed all the names she knew.

  “Is it John, Michael, or William?” she asked.

  “Nope,” the dwarf said.

  “What about Harold, Robert, or David?”

  “Not even close!”

  The queen guessed every name from Adam to Zachariah, but not one was correct. The dwarf squealed in delight watching her agonize over it.

  “You’ll never guess!” he said. “Give me the child!”

  “Wait! At least let me have until the end of the week,” she pleaded. “Just one more week and I will give you my daughter.”

  The dwarf was certain she would never guess his name, and since he enjoyed watching her struggle so much, he agreed to give her one more week. As soon as he left, the queen sent for her royal guard.

  “Yes, Your Majesty?” the guard asked.

  “I have a very important task for you, one that the king must never know about,” she instructed. “There is a dangerous dwarf living in the kingdom who is trying to take the princess. I want you to find him and learn his name. If we know what he is called, the princess will be saved.”

  In all his years of service at the castle, this was by far the strangest task the guard had ever been assigned. He spent the whole week searching the kingdom for the dwarf, asking everyone from the young to the elderly if they had seen such a person. Finally, he was pointed in the direction of a strange woods where the dwarf lived. He found the odd little man singing and dancing around a large fire.

  “The queen is sure to lose this game, for Rumpelstiltskin is my name!” the dwarf sang joyfully.

  “Rumpelstiltskin!” the guard said. “That’s it—that’s his name!”

  The guard raced back to the castle and told the queen what he had seen and heard in the woods. At the end of the week, the dwarf returned to the castle grinning from ear to ear, certain he would be leaving with the young princess.

  “Today is your last chance, Your Highness,” he said.

  The queen knew better than to come right out and say his real name, so she guessed the most ridiculous names she could think of to appear as genuine as possible.

  “Is it Pickledphil, Slimbutter, or Jackytabby?”

  “No, no, no!” the dwarf sang.

  “Is it Fuzzlebee, Wunkadunka, or Hurshquilt?”

  “Wrong, wrong, wrong!” the dwarf replied, laughing.

  “What about Crustylumpkins, Lullytufkins, or Quackysimons?”

  The dwarf roared with victorious laughter. As far as he was concerned, he had already won.

  “You’ll never get it right,” he said. “Now give it up and hand over the princess!”

  “Wait, allow me one final guess,” the queen said. “Just one more guess and the princess will be yours.”

  “Fine, fine, fine,” the dwarf said. “One more guess and then hand her over.”

  “Is it Rumpelstiltskin?” the queen asked.

  The dwarf’s mouth dropped open. He couldn’t believe the queen had guessed his name correctly—no one had ever guessed his name correctly. He hopped around the castle in a furious rage and then disappeared.

  The queen raised her daughter at the castle in peace and they never saw Rumpelstiltskin again.

  The End

  THE ELVES AND THE SHOEMAKER

  ADAPTED FROM THE BROTHERS GRIMM

  Once upon a time, there was an old shoemaker who worked and lived in a small shop in a tiny village. The shoemaker was known throughout the town as a kind and generous man. He made a point to help the hungry and needy as he came upon them, believing with his whole heart that they crossed his path for a reason.

  After a series of unfortunate events, the shoemaker found himself in a time of need. He had become very poor and barely had enough money to feed himself or his wife. All he had left in his possession was enough leather to make one final pair of shoes.

  If he couldn’t sell the shoes, he and his wife would lose the shop and live on the streets. And with winter fast approaching, he worried how they would survive.

  The shoemaker was so exhausted from worry, he decided to go to bed early. He cut the leather into pieces, laid the pieces out on his worktable, and planned to make the shoes first thing in the morning.

  The following day, the shoemaker awoke early, eager to get started on the shoes. To his amazement, a pair of perfectly sewn leather shoes was waiting for him on his worktable. Someone else had made the shoes for him!

  The shoemaker examined every inch of the shoes. Each piece of leather had been sewn together flawlessly. They were far better than the shoes he made—perhaps the nicest pair he had ever seen.

  “Honey, come look at this!” he called to his wife.

  “What a lovely pair of shoes you’ve made,” she said sweetly.

  “But I didn’t make them,” the shoemaker said. “I left the pieces on the table last night and then woke this morning to find they had been made without me.”

  “You silly old fool,” his wife said and pinched his cheek. “It’ll take more than that to trick me.”

  The shoemaker didn’t press the matter any further. Had the positions been reversed, he probably wouldn’t have believed it either. The shoes were both a miracle and a mystery. He just wished he had someplace to direct his gratitude.

  He placed the leather shoes in the window of his store, and they caught the attention of the first man who walked past. The man was so attracted to the
shoes, he went inside to inquire about purchasing them.

  “How on earth did you make such a beautiful pair of shoes?” the man asked. “I’ve never seen stitching that fine in my life!”

  “I wish I knew,” the shoemaker said with a shrug.

  “I appreciate a man who keeps his business secrets to himself,” the man said. “Name your price. I simply must have them.”

  The man gave the shoemaker enough money to live off for another week and buy enough leather to make two new pairs of shoes.

  Not expecting the miracle to happen twice, the shoemaker cut the leather into the pieces he needed and went to work on them. His old hands weren’t what they used to be and his joints ached with arthritis. So the shoemaker went to bed and planned on coming back to the project in the morning.

  The next day, the shoemaker walked into his shop only to find that another mysterious miracle had occurred while he slept. Two pairs of impeccably sewn leather shoes had been put together without him.

  “Honey, come look at this!” the shoemaker called to his wife.

  “What lovely pairs of shoes,” she said. “They’re just as nice as the pair you made before.”

  “That’s what I’m trying to tell you,” the shoemaker said. “I didn’t make these shoes, and I certainly didn’t make the pair from the night before!”

  His wife knew exactly how long it took her husband to make a single pair of shoes. It was unlikely he could make one pair overnight, let alone two.

  “Just because you’re an old dog doesn’t mean you can’t learn new tricks,” she convinced herself. “Now stop teasing me with this foolishness or I’ll take you to see a doctor.”

  “Trust me, if we could afford a doctor, I would have taken myself already,” the shoemaker said.

  He placed the new shoes in his store window, and both pairs sold for even better prices than the day before. The shoemaker had enough money to eat for another week and enough left over to buy leather for four pairs of shoes.

  Things took such a turn for the better, the shoemaker was starting to feel guilty. He still had no clue who or what had been helping him.

  That night he cut the leather into pieces to make four pairs of shoes. Business was so great that there was no rush to finish them, so the shoemaker went to bed as soon as he finished dinner.

  You’d have thought the old man would be used to it by now, but the next morning he was just as amazed as ever to find four new pairs of shoes on his worktable.

  “Honey, come see this!” the shoemaker said to his wife. “And this time you’ll have to believe me!”

  Now, the shoemaker’s wife had gone to bed much later than her husband the previous night. She had seen the leather pieces on the table with her own eyes and knew the shoemaker couldn’t have made the shoes himself.

  “Well, bless my soul,” his wife said. “Who could have done this?”

  “I don’t know, but we must find out so I can thank them,” the shoemaker said.

  Once the new shoes were sold, the shoemaker purchased enough leather to make eight pairs of shoes. That night, he cut the leather into pieces and laid them out on his worktable. He and his wife hid in the doorway and anxiously waited for the help to arrive.

  They waited and waited, but nothing happened.

  “Perhaps they’ve taken the night off,” the shoemaker suggested.

  Just then, the leather pieces began moving on their own at the worktable. It was as if two invisible hands were sewing the shoes together.

  “It’s a spirit!” the shoemaker whispered to his wife.

  “The shoes aren’t being constructed by a spirit; they’re being made by elves!” his wife said. “Your eyes aren’t what they used to be. Here, take my glasses and see for yourself.”

  The shoemaker’s wife handed her husband her glasses. There were two elves making the shoes at his worktable, and they were so small, he couldn’t see them from the doorway. Each elf did the work of one human hand using its entire body, all while completely naked.

  “The poor dears,” the shoemaker’s wife said. “They must be freezing! Tomorrow, I’ll knit them both a wardrobe as a way of saying thank you.”

  The next day, the eight new pairs of leather shoes sold even more quickly than the previous pairs. It would be a very long while before the shoemaker had to worry about poverty again.

  That night, instead of laying out pieces of leather for the elves, the shoemaker’s wife laid out two tiny hats, two scarves, two pairs of pants, two pairs of socks, and two sweaters she had knitted during the day. The shoemaker even crafted two pairs of tiny boots for the elves to wear.

  They hid in the doorway like before and waited for the elves to arrive. When the elves appeared on the worktable, the shoemaker and his wife couldn’t believe their eyes. However, the elves didn’t try on any of the clothes as expected. On the contrary, they tiptoed around the clothes as if they were afraid of them.

  “Go on,” the shoemaker said. “We made them for you. We can’t thank you enough for helping us.”

  The elves were startled to see that the shoemaker and his wife had been watching them.

  “You mean it’s a gift?” the first elf asked.

  “Of course it is,” the shoemaker’s wife said. “I don’t know anyone else they’d fit.”

  “But to give an elf an article of clothing is to give him his freedom,” the second elf said. “We would never have to make another pair of shoes for you again.”

  The shoemaker and his wife had no idea the gesture would imply so much, but since it was the right thing to do, they didn’t hesitate.

  “You’ve done quite enough for us,” the old shoemaker said. “We’d be happy to give you freedom.”

  The elves erupted into high-pitched cheers. They had been slaves to mankind all their lives and had never thought this day would come.

  “Why did you start helping me in the first place?” the shoemaker asked the elves.

  “We used to belong to another man in the village, one you had helped get back on his feet a long time ago,” the first elf said. “When he died, he told us to look after you.”

  “My word,” the wife said. “Kindness certainly goes around, even if it doesn’t come back to you right away.”

  The elves dressed in their new, warm clothes and left the shop. The shoemaker and his wife never saw them again.

  Years later, the old shoemaker fell on hard times once more. He ran out of money and feared that he and his wife would be kicked out onto the street.

  Even though his hands were crippled with arthritis, the old shoemaker cut leather pieces to make a pair of shoes with the last bit of material he had left. It was all his poor hands could handle for the night, so he retired early.

  Miraculously, when the shoemaker awoke the next day, he found a pair of perfectly sewn shoes waiting for him. Even though they were freed, the elves were so thankful for the kindness of the shoemaker and his wife that they returned and offered him a helping hand whenever he needed one.

  The elves enjoyed their freedom, and they made sure the shoemaker and his wife enjoyed a happily-ever-after.

  The End

  BEAUTY AND THE BEAST

  ADAPTED FROM JEANNE-MARIE LEPRINCE DE BEAUMONT

  Once upon a time, there was a wealthy merchant who owned a trading company. While he had been blessed with success, the merchant had not been blessed with good business sense. He had made many terrible investments over the years and would soon come to regret it.

  He lived in a gorgeous palace with three daughters. The older two had grown accustomed to their privileged lifestyle. They were spoiled, entitled, and unpleasant to be around. Even though they had everything they desired, the sisters complained whenever they could.

  The youngest daughter, on the other hand, had enough compassion and elegance for all three of them. She was her father’s favorite daughter and far prettier than her sisters, and both qualities made the sisters resent her. Everyone called the youngest sister Beauty, for she w
as beautiful inside and out.

  On an unfortunate night, a brutal storm wrecked three of the merchant’s ships as they sailed home from abroad. The damage was catastrophic and bankrupted the merchant. The family lost everything and was forced to sell their mansion and move to a small farmhouse in the countryside.

  The older sisters were so distraught about losing their lavish home that they locked themselves inside their bedroom and never stopped crying. Beauty and her father did all the work around the farm so the family could survive.

  Beauty didn’t mind working on the farm, though. It kept her away from her terrible sisters and allowed her to spend time outdoors with the animals.

  Fortunately, good news reached the farm. One of the merchant’s ships had in fact survived the storm and docked safely at port. The merchant celebrated with his daughters, thinking their days of poverty were over.

  Just before the merchant left to see to the ship, he asked each of his daughters what they’d like him to bring back as a gift to celebrate their restored fortune.

  “I’d like a diamond necklace!” the oldest sister said.

  “I’d like pearl earrings!” the middle sister said.

  Not wanting to be any trouble, Beauty said, “I’d like the prettiest rose you can find.”

  Her sisters laughed at the simple request, but it warmed her father’s heart.

  The merchant saddled up his horse and set off. It took him several days to travel to port, and when he arrived he discovered he had traveled there for nothing. The cargo aboard his ship had been seized to pay off debts he had neglected over the years. His family was still poor.

  So the merchant traveled back home, devastated to tell his daughters the news. In his despair, he wasn’t paying attention to the roads and became lost in a giant forest and unknowingly crossed the border into a long-forgotten kingdom.

  A heavy rainstorm descended on the woods, and the merchant looked for a place to spend the night. He searched for a village for miles, but there was none to be found.