“My name isn’t Mistress Miller,” I said. “And you don’t know my name or my son’s name, so you have no power to turn us to stone.” I was infinitely glad right then that I hadn’t named the baby.
Rumpelstiltskin shrieked in indignation and tried to pull his hand away from me. He was stuck though—his fingers were an unbendable golden band around my arm. He stared at me, his eyes wide and furious. The gold traveled up his wrist haltingly as he fought the transformation. I couldn’t tell how fast it was progressing but I had no doubt he would cut off his own arm if it would do any good.
“The story,” he gasped out and looked to where he had thrown the book. “I’ll find your name in the story.” He waved his free hand and uttered breathless words I couldn’t understand. The book flew to him like a tame bird, landing on his outstretched palm. The pages ruffled open in front of him, showing him the text.
“It won’t do any good.” I couldn’t keep some smugness from creeping into my voice. “The only name the fairy tale ever mentions is yours. I guess the writer thought my name didn’t matter since women are only here to raise flowers and babies.” 308/356
Rumpelstiltskin didn’t look at me. His eyes sped hungrily across the flipping pages. He grimaced when he reached the end of the story and saw I was right. The heroine was referred to as “the miller’s daughter” at the beginning of the story and “the queen” at the end.
No name. Not for me, and not for my baby. Rumpelstiltskin threw the book down and clawed at his chest, as if hoping to halt the gold’s progression this way. He only succeeded in ripping off his cloak. It fell to the ground, revealing a golden edge that traveled up his neck. He couldn’t stop it. “No!” he screamed, and it rang across the forest, sending the leaves into another rattling chorus.
He was still screaming “No!” when the gold crept onto his face.
The word broke off sharply and seemed to fall back, silent, against his lips.
I stared at him for a moment, making sure he wouldn’t suddenly open his eyes and shake off his gold coating.
He didn’t. He was frozen there, the rage permanently engraved on his twisted face.
Now that my mind was no longer wrapped up in fear, I felt several things at once: the squirming baby in the sling, startled by Rumpelstiltskin’s shout; pain—both sharp in my heart from using the gold enchantment and throbbing in my arm from Rumpelstiltskin’s unbendable grip; and panic. How was I going to get him off of me? He was solid gold and too heavy to move. I was trapped here. The thought of being stuck alone in the forest with a dead fairy clutching onto me made my skin crawl.
I pulled my arm hard. It didn’t budge.
Off in the forest, I saw a bobbing stream of light. The beam of a flashlight. “Tansy!” Hudson called out. He must have heard Rumpelstiltskin’s screams. I could tell he was running.
309/356
“I’m here!” I yelled back. I watched the beam come closer. He wasn’t far away. “And I am so glad you didn’t call out my name a minute earlier.”
Who would have thought my name could have been used as a tool against me?
The baby let out another cry of protest, and I rubbed his back to calm him, but I, too, was shaking. Not with fear, but with relief. I was foolish, really, not to figure out beforehand that my enchantment could be used as a weapon. It seemed so clear now that in the fairy tale, Rumpelstiltskin had asked the queen if she knew his name not because he wanted to offer her a second chance to keep her baby, but because he knew the queen could change him into a golden statue with one touch. He had asked the question for his own protection.
Hudson came closer. He wasn’t alone. My father was just a few paces behind him, along with my family, Robin Hood, and the Merry Men. Flashlights and torches weaved their way through the forest in my direction.
Hudson and my father reached me first. “What happened?” Hudson asked, swiping his beam of light across the fairy’s form.
“Rumpelstiltskin tried to kill me—I was so afraid.” My liar’s hat disappeared at this truth, dimming the area around me. “I turned him to gold and now my arm is stuck.”
Both Hudson and my father went to my side but kept their flashlights pointed at the grimacing statue, checking to make sure it didn’t move. Hudson tried to wrench my arm out of Rumpelstiltskin’s hand, without any better luck than I’d had. My father gave Rumpelstiltskin’s fingers a useless tug. “We need something slick.” He turned to find Sandra getting closer, and called out to her, “Do you have something slippery to put on Tansy’s arm?”