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What's in a name?	By : jinna1979 Category: Fairy Tales, Fables, Folklore, Legends, and Myth > Fairy Tales Views: 16599 -:- Recommendations : 1 -:- Currently Reading : 1
Disclaimer: This is a work of fiction,I do not own Rumpelstiltskin. Any resemblance of characters to actual persons,living or dead, is purely coincidental

Chapter List
- 7
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A/N: I kind of debated cutting this chapter in half, but decided to make it just one big long chapter. I had lots of fun writing it!!

Rumpelstitskin woke to a feeling of intense discomfort. The sun was still high in the sky, and Millicent lay in his arms, her eyes closed and her breathing deep and even. His entire body ached, but not with the pleasured aching of love making. What he felt was more akin to pain. He extricated himself from Millicent's hold, and gingerly stood up. The ground seemed to sway beneath his feet, and he had the strongest urge retch, though his stomach was empty. It felt as though every part of his body were contorting, pulling, and reshaping itself.

The moment he shared with Millicent had seemed so perfect. It was as though the fates had ordained that sublime encounter, and he almost believed that there would be no price to pay for it. Besides, wasn't love supposed to conquer all? And yet, he had broken a rule - a law as old as his very existence, and punishment had to be meted out. He looked at his body, and limbs, almost expecting himself to dematerialize into a ghoul. That was what the rumour spoke of after all. Yet, there was no dematerialization, no fading of his essence. He was as solid as ever, except that everything was reforming, and the refined and elegant was become the misshapen and ugly. His long graceful appendages were becoming thick, squat and fleshy, with his skin taking on a sickly yellowish green hue. Coarse black hairs were sprouting everywhere, curling, thick and knotted. He could feel his face contorting, and he clawed at his facade in horror, as though his actions could possibly stop the change.

If faeries had nightmares, Rumpelstiltskin would have been trying to convince his agonized mind that it was all a bad dream. However, faeries never suffered nightmares, and Rumpelstiltskin knew his experience was all too real. He could not let Millicent see him like this. Awkwardly, he stumbled off into the woods, snapping twigs and branches in his clumsy wake.

The clamoring of broken branches and snapping twigs roused Millicent from her contented sleep, and she sat up only to see a shadowy form disappearing into the depths of the woods. Once again, she was abandoned. Millicent, however, was no shrinking violet, ready to accept whatever fate doled out to her. Unconcerned with her nakedness, she sprang up, and sprinted after the lumbering shadow like a warrior maiden, fighting for what was hers. Aware that he was being followed by Millicent, Rumpelstiltskin shambled gracelessly through the forest, desperate to remain unseen. There was only one way in which he could elude her, and though he hated to leave her with no warning, he felt he had no choice. Whatever had befallen him was more horrifying than he anticipated. The last thing he needed was for Millicent to witness whatever change was coming upon him.

Rumpelstiltskin escaped into the land of the fey where Millicent could not reach him. He was out of breath, and panting heavily, unaccustomed to the strangeness of his body, but before he could gather his wits about him, he was assailed by a sharp hiss. Faeries big and small were gathering around him, expressions of horror on their faces as they screeched and hiss and spat, pulling his hair, scratching his face, demanding that he get out. Troll, goblin, monster - these were the words they called him as they chased him from their kingdom, warning him never to return. He was no longer one of them.

The differing flow of time assured that when Rumpelstiltskin returned to the world of mankind, Millicent would no longer be looking for him. In fact, it was full dark when Rumpelstiltskin found himself back in the woods, scratched, bloodied and tired. He collapsed beneath a tree, exhausted, miserable and alone, and fell into a restless uncomfortable sleep. When he awoke, the sun was peeking out over the horizon, and he stumbled towards a little spring to get a drink. Movement was unfamiliar and uncoordinated, making him feel like a stranger in his own skin, and when he saw his reflection in the spring, anguish tore at his soul.

What he witnessed was no longer the boyishly handsome face he once had but instead, a lumpy, pox-marked, doughy visage that would cause anyone to recoil in disgust. His eyes were asymmetrical, squinty, and lined, and his nose was bulbous and reddish. The hair at the top of his head was thinning, despite the general hairiness of the rest of his body. In short, he was ugly.

When Millicent returned home, it was dark, and she was aching, heart sore, and ragged in appearance. Her parents were waiting at the kitchen table with worry, dismayed by tattered and worn sight of their beautiful daughter. They took her into their arms, fussing over her, demanding to know what had happened. Millicent accepted their loving worry in a daze. Though some part of her wanted to spill out all the sorrows of her confused heart, she knew she could not tell her parents what had come to pass, so she only mentioned her close encounter with the boar.

Shocked at the danger that that had befallen their child, the miller and his wife showered their daughter with loving care, exclaiming that she was not to go into the woods again. After all, hadn't she been listening to their daily discourse about the king? Didn't she know that he would be stocking the woods with game because he was passing through the town with his hunting party? Assured that Millicent had suffered no real harm, the miller and his wife once again excitedly discussed the King. He would be arriving in two days time, and what's more, his hunting party would be passing by quite close to the mill. Joy of joys, the miller and his wife thought, for they would not have to ride into town to see the king from amidst a crowd. They would have a chance at a close and personal encounter, much better to show off their daughter with.

Unwilling to hear the word 'King' one more time, Millicent stumbled into her bed, falling into a fitful and unrestful sleep. Worried about the safety of their daughter, the miller and his wife attempted to keep her as busy as possible before the imminent arrival of the king, but Millicent was not a force to be reckoned with. She slipped out of the house easily, venturing straight towards the woods, which she desperately searched, but to no avail. At times, she thought she felt a presence, or believed she could hear twigs snapping behind her, but she could see nothing.

"Come out!" she cried, desperately and angrily. "I know you're here!" She screamed until her voice was hoarse, feeling wild, furious, hurt and betrayed. How could he possibly have left her after what had passed between them? She knew she felt something there; a connection that could not be denied. Angry tears threatened to spill from her eyes, but she refused to cry and would not allow herself a moment of weakness. The hours dragged, slowly, painfully. Her resolve was strong, but her body was not, and eventually, she had to return home.

The following day, Millicent was ready to go out into the woods to search again. She would not go down without a fight. However, when she exited her bedroom, she was greeted by the sight of her parents dressed in their finest clothes. They held out the gown that the seamstress had made for her, a lovely garment of emerald green, embroidered in cheerful yellow threads and accented with yellow ribbons. Though they knew that green and gold would have suited their exquisite daughter better, gold threads were far beyond their means.

The look of hope on their faces defeated her. She could not say no to their wishes, and taking the gown, she dressed herself, feeling as though she was preparing herself for her own demise. Millicent allowed her mother to brush her long copper hair, braiding it into intricate coiling patterns on her head. Her expression was distance and glazed. She felt as though she were moving through a dream and her body was not her own.

The day passed in a blur, and suddenly, her parents were ushering her outside into the late afternoon sun. He was coming, coming, they spoke in excited urgent tones, and Millicent could only wonder, 'Who? Why? What does it matter?'

A cloud of dust could be seen in the distance, drawing ever closer. The ground seemed to tremor with the clamouring of horses hooves, and excited yells and trumpeting. Dogs surrounded the royal party, howling and baying in exhilaration. Her parents were standing on either side of her, holding her arms as though she were a prisoner ready to flee at any moment. They were by the side of the road near the mill, for the road lead over a bridge that would take the hunting party towards the woods. Upon seeing the trio by the side of the road, the king called a halt to the hunting party.

"Greetings, Miller," the king boomed in his commanding voice. The miller and his family bowed low to their monarch. Though he was surrounded by colourful courtiers and servants, the king had an arresting presence, with his silver and black robes, as well as his iron grey hair, and steely eyes. His jaw was powerful and squarish, and his lips were thin, as though perpetually pulled into a grimace. His expression was that of a mistrustful man, suspicious and malevolent, with just the slightest hint of cruelty hiding behind the cool eyes. Most would have considered him a handsome man, except for the feeling that at any moment, he was ready to crush those that displeased him like the bugs he perceived them to be.

The king's eyes passed over the miller and his family, resting on the copper haired beauty with a slightly lecherous expression that made Millicent's blood run cold.

"May I present my daughter, Millicent," the miller said formally, and he was unable to hide the pride in his voice, aware that the King's gaze was drawn to her loveliness. Unfortunately, beauty did not hold the King's attention for long, and he was looking impatiently towards the woods that could be seen from the miller's house. His hunting party seemed equally restless, with the horses skittering nervously, and the dogs whining eagerly.

The miller knew that time was short, that his star was fading, and he needed to make an impression immediately if his daughter was to have a chance at life in the king's court. Without flinching, and without the slightest tremor in his voice, the miller declared, "She can spin gold out of straw, your majesty." Millicent paled as she looked at her father in wide eyed horror at the lie he told. The king's gazed returned to Millicent with renewed interest, calculating greed gleaming clearly in his steely eyes.

"Have her sent to the palace," the king announced, beckoning a servant over with a spare horse. As interested as he was in having his coffers filled with more gold, he was disinclined to stop his hunt over a mere slip of a girl.

"No," Millicent whispered fearfully, "Tis a lie." She shook her head frantically, unable to believe the situation that was unfolding before her. The king looked down on his horse towards her, his eyes narrowed, and his mouth thin.

"If your father lies, girl, then I shall have his life, and believe me, charlatans are not graced with an easy death," the king told her, before returning his attention to his hunting party with a look of disdain upon his face, as though he had lowered himself by speaking to a woman. Eager to be off, the King waved an arm at his entourage, signing that it was time to hunt. The trumpets blared, and the courtiers cheered, while horses whinneyed and dogs howled joyously. They set off in a dusty gallop, over the bridge, and away from the trio by the roadside. Only a couple of surly servants were left behind, with an extra horse in hand for Millicent.

Millicent looked towards her parents pleadingly, as though expecting them to stop this insanity, but there was only pride and happiness in their eyes. More and more, she wondered if she were somehow caught in a terrible nightmare. Her father had just told the king that she could spin straw into gold, and now, they were sending her off into a death trap with delight and rapture shining in their eyes. Had the world gone mad? She knew her parents loved her and had faith in her, but did her father really believe his own lies, or was he so desperate to see her rise in station that he would do anything?

"Why, father?" she asked him, brokenly, almost unable to look at his beaming face.

"Why, for you of course, my dear," he said, drawing her into a hug. "Your mother and I are so very pleased. This is more than we could have hoped for. I'm sure the king will be so dazzled by your beauty and cleverness that he will forget all about the gold." Somehow, as Millicent remembered the greed in the King's eyes, she doubted that this would be the case.

The king's servants helped Millicent upon the dappled grey mare, and they trotted off against her will, never again to see the beautiful countryside that she called home. She could see her parents in the distance, growing smaller and smaller, waving her off as they watched their dreams come true.

A/N: feeling kinda unmotivated to write right now... gonna take a break for a bit
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- 9
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What's in a name?