The Rumpelstiltskin Problem (5 page)

Now, the biggest house in Russia at that time was the palace of the king, and the domovoi who lived beneath the palace basement was named Rumpelstiltskin. The king, as his father before him and
his
father before him, enjoyed balls and parties more than politics and running a kingdom, so he and his household were generally happy. And if the people of the land were not happy, nobody in the king's house knew it. The household included many servants who knew all about domoviye, and they all left out cream and sweets for him. As a consequence, Rumpelstiltskin had gotten rather fat and very lazy, though he remained as shy and good natured as ever.

But one day Rumpelstiltskin was awakened from his early evening nap by the sound of someone crying.

Crying?
he thought. Someone was
crying
in the house he was supposed to make safe and happy? Rumpelstiltskin had already had his morning nap, and he'd already had his afternoon nap. So he knew he wasn't hearing things from being overtired. He had already had two saucers of cream this evening, so he knew he wasn't hearing things from being weak from hunger. Someone was crying: not laughing, not sniffling with a cold. Crying.

Rumpelstiltskin burrowed up through the floor—the tunnels a domovoi makes are magical and close up after him—and he burrowed through the walls, and he burrowed through the ceilings, all the while following the sounds of the crying.

He ended up in a tower room, filled with sweet-smelling, soft straw.
Wonderful fresh straw for snuggling into and going to sleep in,
Rumpelstiltskin thought.
THAT should make someone happy.

But the person in the room was
definitely
not happy. The person in the room was a young woman, sitting at a stool pulled up to a spinning wheel, and her eyes were red, and her cheeks tear-streaked. Though she wasn't one of the house's usual occupants, as long as she was here, she was Rumpelstiltskin's responsibility.

So he said, "Don't cry, pretty lady," hoping that by calling her "pretty lady," he would make her happy, even though she was too puffy and slimy with tears and snot to be honestly called pretty. She looked so young—a girl, really, and that gave Rumpelstiltskin an idea. "Don't cry, and Rumpelstiltskin will do a trick for you." He tried to stand on his head, which sometimes in the past had made little children forget their troubles. But he'd gotten so fat he kept tumbling over until finally he gave up and did it propped against the wall. "Ta-dah!" he said, spreading his arms wide.

But even upside down he could see that the girl had buried her face in her hands, and her shoulders were shaking. If the blood wasn't rushing to his head, he would have heard her crying still.

Rumpelstiltskin scrambled back to right-side up and ran to the girl's knee, which was just about how tall he was. "Don't cry, don't cry," he begged her. "Rumpelstiltskin can make everything right. Tell Rumpelstiltskin your troubles, and he'll make your troubles go away."

The girl didn't even look at him. "You can't," she sobbed.

"Look," Rumpelstiltskin said. "Look." He picked up a handful of straw and tugged at her sleeve. "Look, pretty lady. She what Rumpelstiltskin can do."

She finally looked up.

"Rumpelstiltskin can make your troubles go away like this." He held out the handful of straw and made it disappear, hoping that magic tricks would cheer her up.

"I don't need the straw to
disappear,
" the girl wailed. "I need it to turn to gold."

"Gold straw?" Rumpelstiltskin asked. "Rumpelstiltskin doesn't understand."

"The king wants me to spin this straw into gold," the girl said, gesturing to that whole big roomful of straw. She was crying so hard she began to hiccup.

"Ooooh," Rumpelstiltskin said, impressed. "Such a
clever
pretty lady to know how to spin straw into gold." It had taken Rumpelstiltskin a good fifty years to learn how to spin straw into gold.

The girl stamped her foot, coming close to stamping on Rumpelstiltskin. "But I
don't
know how to do it," she told him. "That's the whole point. And the king is going to burn me at the stake in the morning."

That didn't sound happy
or
safe.

Rumpelstiltskin sat down on the floor, close to the girl but far enough away to keep his toes unharmed in case she brought her foot down again. "Tell Rumpelstiltskin," he said. "Tell from the beginning."

The girl wiped her nose on her sleeve. "From the beginning," she said, her voice giving a little quaver, but then she gave a great sniffle and continued more strongly. "My name is Katya."

Rumpelstiltskin jumped to his feet and bowed. "Rumpelstiltskin," he introduced himself.

Katya wiped her nose again and said, obviously not caring
what
his name was, "My father is the miller in the town."

"That must be very interesting," Rumpelstiltskin said encouragingly, sitting down once more.

"Do you want to hear the story or don't you?" Katya demanded, and Rumpelstiltskin, being a clever domovoi, guessed he'd do abetter job of making her happy if he listened rather than encouraged. He nodded his furry little head to show how eager he was to listen and not speak.

"Well," Katya continued, "this evening, after work, my father decided to go to the tavern for a drink of vodka, and who else should be there?"

Rumpelstiltskin had to make a quick decision and decided she didn't really want an answer, so he just cocked his head to show he was still eagerly listening.

And, sure enough, Katya continued without waiting for him. "The king. The king was there in our tavern. He'd been riding in his royal carriage and the wheel broke, right in front of the tavern. So he decided to go in and have some vodka."

Rumpelstiltskin began to notice a trend in all this, but he didn't point it out.

Katya said, "So there's my father, and there's the king. My father, of course, has never seen anybody more important than the master of the Millers' Guild, much less been in the same room with the king. So what does my father do?"

Rumpelstiltskin raised his eyebrows to indicate he wondered—but would never ask—
What?

"My father goes up to the king to offer to buy him some vodka."

Rumpelstiltskin didn't know what reaction Katya wanted so he tried to look impressed and aghast all at once, and—of course—deeply interested.

"So my father buys the king a vodka, and the king buys my father a vodka, and my father buys the king a vodka, and so on and so forth: nobody wants the other to outdo him. So, they're drinking and they're talking, and guess what my father tells the king?"

Rumpelstiltskin smiled to encourage her to go on.

"Well?" Katya snapped. "Aren't you listening? How can you help me if you aren't listening?"

Rumpelstiltskin guessed she wanted an answer this time. "Rumpelstiltskin is listening," he assured her. "Rumpelstiltskin just doesn't know what your father said to the king."

"
He said,
" Katya explained from between clenched teeth as though she was tired of dealing with Rumpelstiltskin, '"My daughter can spin straw into gold."' She gestured around the room as though to ask how Rumpelstiltskin could possibly have forgotten. "Now why," she asked, "would my father have said such a thing?"

Rumpelstiltskin suspected that maybe all that vodka might have had something to do with it, but then again Rumpelstiltskin preferred saucers of cream.

"And why," Katya asked, her voice rising into a wail again, "would the king ever have believed such a thing?"

The answer was the same as last time, but still Rumpelstiltskin didn't say it.

"And now the king has said," Katya finished, "—in case you weren't listening before—that if I don't spin this straw into gold by morning, he's going to burn me at the stake."

Rumpelstiltskin doubted the king would do such a thing: he'd always seemed such a reasonable man. Rumpelstiltskin said, "In the morning, king will have forgotten all about it. King will drink tea for his headache and say to himself, 'What is all this straw doing in my tower room?' and he will send Katya home to her father, who will be needing tea, too. Rumpelstiltskin will give Katya a good tea for headaches."

Katya brought her foot down so sharply Rumpelstiltskin was glad he had moved his toes. "You're hopeless. The king will burn me at the stake, and you're talking about tea."

Rumpelstiltskin saw that she wouldn't be convinced. She would spend all night fretting and weeping, certain she was to die in the morning. A very unhappy household. The thought made the domovoi shiver. He said, "Rumpelstiltskin will lead Katya out of the castle so she can go home tonight."

"Oh, that's clever!" Katya snapped. "Then tomorrow morning the king can come and get me, and then burn me at the stake in my very own front yard."

"No, no, no," Rumpelstiltskin said. "King would never do that."

"You didn't hear him," Katya sniffed.

Rumpelstiltskin thought and thought. How could he make this girl happy? He said, "King is not here. King will not see if Katya spins straw into gold or if Rumpelstiltskin spins straw into gold. Rumpelstiltskin will spin straw into gold for Katya."
That,
he thought, should cheer her up.

"You know how to spin straw into gold?" Katya demanded.

Rumpelstiltskin nodded.

"And you never told me till now?" She rolled her eyes in exasperation. Then she said, "Here," and she took off a tiny gold ring from her finger. "
If
you can really spin all this straw into gold, I'll give you this ring."

Since Rumpelstiltskin knew how to spin straw into gold, he didn't need a gold ring. In fact, being a domovoi, he didn't need anything but a house to live under, a saucer of cream every night, and—once in a while—a plate of sweets. So he shook his head.

"Don't you try getting more out of me," Katya warned, placing her hand protectively over the thin gold chain around her neck. "I'm offering you the ring: Take it or leave it."

Rumpelstiltskin decided she wouldn't be happy until he took the ring, so he took it.

"Ha!" Katya said, and got up from the stool next to the spinning wheel.

Rumpelstiltskin sat down and began to spin.

Spin and spin and spin, all night long while Katya slept on the straw.
Whir, whir, whir
went the wheel, changing straw to gold. Round, round, round went the spindle as Rumpelstiltskin worked through his late-night nap and missed his third saucer of cream. Till finally by morning—Rumpelstiltskin had to nudge the sleeping Katya off the last of the straw so he could spin that, too—finally he was finished.

There was a loud clattering at the door: someone unlocking it.

Katya jumped to her feet. "Don't let anybody see you," she warned Rumpelstiltskin in a whisper. She began brushing stray tiny pieces of straw from her skirt.

Rumpelstiltskin bowed and burrowed down into the floor, through the ceilings, through the walls, back to his place beneath the lowest basement, feeling the happiness of the household through every bone in his domovoi body. Exhausted but pleased, he settled down for a good morning's sleep.

He was awakened from his early evening nap by the sound of crying.
Someone is not happy,
he thought. It was strange that he had gone for almost a whole year without anybody being unhappy in the house, and now someone was crying for the second night in a row. He followed the sound.

There was Katya again, by a spinning wheel, sitting in an even bigger room than before, surrounded by even more straw than before. The king, Rumpelstiltskin guessed, must have realized that—vodka or no vodka—he had stumbled upon a good thing.

Katya jumped up as soon as she saw him and unclasped her gold necklace. "Here," she said. "I'll give you this if you spin more straw into gold."

Rumpelstiltskin shook his head. He couldn't possibly take her necklace. There was a crow that lived under the eaves of the castle, and Rumpelstiltskin had given him the ring, knowing he liked shiny things. Rumpelstiltskin was about to tell Katya she would spoil the crow by giving him her necklace, but she put the necklace into his hand and closed his fingers around it. "Take it," she insisted angrily. "I don't have anything else."

Since that was the only thing that would make her happy, Rumpelstiltskin nodded his head. Then he sat down and began to spin.

Once more Rumpelstiltskin worked through his late-night nap and his second as well as his third saucer of cream, till finally, just as morning dawned, he finished. There was scuffling outside the door and, as Katya straightened her skirt and fluffed her hair, Rumpelstiltskin bowed and left before he could be asked to. Back beneath the lowest basement, where it was dark and quiet, and at last feeling the happiness in the household, Rumpelstiltskin fell asleep.

And woke up yet again to the sound of crying. It was earliest evening, and he had had
no
saucer of cream at all. But, being a domovoi, he couldn't ignore the sound of unhappiness. It couldn't be Katya again, he thought: not three nights in a row. Surely she had to be happy now. Through the walls and floors and ceilings he burrowed, finding himself at last in a tower room that was bigger yet than the other two, and filled with—somehow he had guessed though he'd told himself
no
—straw.

"You've taken all I have from me," Katya cried.

Rumpelstiltskin wanted to tell her he could get the ring back from the crow, and the necklace back from the mouse to whom he'd given that. But he didn't have time.

Katya said, "All right, all right. I promise to give you my firstborn child."

Rumpelstiltskin knew this was wrong. A ring can go to a crow, and a necklace can go to a mouse, but the child of those who live above the basement belongs with its own kind.

"No," he said.

"The king has promised that this is the last time," Katya said. "He said that if I spin this straw into gold, he will marry me."

"No," Rumpelstiltskin repeated.

"It's the only thing in the world that will make me happy," Katya said, knowing what a domovoi was.

"No," Rumpelstiltskin said yet again.