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It was true that she had always been clever with her hands. Still, there was no reason for her father to boast about it so noisily. Especially when the Prince might overhear. Everyone knew the Prince was a bit weird about some kinds of things.
The miller's daughter stared out the tiny, barred window as the last of the sunset drained from the sky. This tower room was not officially part of the dungeons, although it did have a certain austere and dismal quality, which was largely the fault of its furnishings: a spinning wheel, a few other odds and ends of furniture, and a large bale of straw. A couple of lanterns hung on the walls, providing a gloomy minimum of light as the night darkened. The heavy iron-bound door was solidly locked from the outside.
She picked up a clump of straw, sat resignedly on a three-legged stool, and set the wheel in motion. Experimentally, she tried feeding her handful of straw into the mechanism, which caused dry stems to fly all over the room in a shower of chaff. She spat fragments and tried to brush debris off her hair as the wheel spun to a stop again.
"This is incredibly stupid," she said, and made a noise of disgust which turned into a stifled yelp of surprise when she realized that someone was standing in the shadows at the far corner of the room.
He was dark and sturdy-looking, and short enough that she could have looked him straight in the eye without standing up, if he chose to come over to where she was sitting. However, he didn't; he merely regarded her impassively from his corner. He had a wicked face, with eyes that looked black in the dim light, peering at her from under a curling mop of hair and a pair of wild, bushy eyebrows.
"Fair maiden," he said, "Why are you crying?"
"I'm not."
"No, you don't seem to be," he agreed. "How unusual."
"Has the Prince sent you to check up on me? I didn't hear you come in."
"I do not answer to the Prince," he said, and grinned at her, a tip-tilted asymmetrical smile. His teeth were very white.
She realized then that she ought to be frightened. She was trapped in this room with a stranger, who, though small, was probably strong enough to overpower her. Who had arrived silently, out of nowhere, and who seemed like he might possibly be dangerous. But she had already spent some time being frightened earlier, when the ill-advised boasting of her father had brought her to the Prince's attention. When she'd been brought to the palace and given an impossible task, and told that she would be executed in the morning if she failed. She had already passed through surprise, and disbelief, and outrage, and numbing terror, and now was merely tired and inclined to be sarcastic.
So she tossed her head, and said, "Why are you here, then? And for that matter, how did you get in?"
"I come and go as I please," he told her. "I dropped in out of...curiosity, let us say. It's always worth keeping up to date on the Prince’s latest follies."
She gave a snort of laughter. "Folly indeed! It would almost be funny, if I only thought I would live long enough to tell the story."
"Tell me now," he said, and for an instant his face was kind. Then he looked wicked again, and his dark eyes twinkled. "I could do with a good laugh."
"The Prince," she said, "wants me to spin this straw into gold." She picked up a handful of straw, waved it around in a gesture of utter disgust, and flung it away.
"Well, shouldn't you be getting on with it, then?"
She threw her arms in the air. "Idiot! You can't spin straw into gold!"
"As a matter of fact, I can." The grin showed for an instant, gleaming out of the dark as he came closer.
"Don't be absurd. No one can spin straw into gold. That's not how straw works. Or gold. Or spinning, for that matter." She got up from the stool, and stamped her foot against the stone floor. "Only, my fool of a father got tipsy at the village pub, and told his friends that I was so skillful, so quick with my hands, that I could turn dried grass into valuable precious metal, like some kind of domestic alchemist."
"It's not alchemy, really. Just a knack. All in the wrist."
"Show me, then, if it’s as easy as all that." She stepped back, and gave an exaggeratedly courteous gesture at the three-legged stool.
The stranger sat, took a handful of straw, and set the spinning wheel whirling. Then, with some kind of deft twisting motion, he began to spin the straw, which drew itself out into a fine line like a thread, and gleamed a soft warm yellow in the inadequate light. His first bunch of straw was quickly exhausted, and he added another, winding more impossible filament around the bobbin. After the second handful, he stopped, and turned to her again, looking pleased with himself.
She bent to examine the results of his work. It was a twisted cable of fine wire, and looked to her exactly like gold, the kind a jeweler might use for some delicate filigree.
"...How?" was all she could manage to say.
"The point is, that it is possible, as you see. And seeing as how it's a matter of life or death to you, I think we might be able to make some kind of bargain."
"Humph. What could someone with that kind of skill possibly want from me?"
He looked her up and down, and his dark eyes glinted with deep sparks of red, like burning coals. She flinched a little, under his gaze, but held herself as still and proud as she was able.
"That necklace you wear," he said. "It has value to you?"
"It was my mother's. I have worn it since she died."
"Give it to me, and I will spin your straw for you."
She touched the clasp of the necklace, felt the delicate weight of the chain on her neck, and thought of her mother, who had always told her what a brave and clever girl she was. She closed her eyes for an instant, and told herself she was brave, and clever, and that she would not cry, not now.
She looked at the strange man, trying to decide if he was intending to help her or deceive her. "Show me your spinning once more, so that I may be sure it is not some kind of trick. Then I will decide what to do with my mother's necklace."
He held her gaze steadily, and gave a small respectful nod. Then he picked up some straw and spun the wheel again. This time she gave him all her closest attention, as she had in the past when she was learning something from one who was master of it. She looked at his fingers, how he moved them, and how he turned his hand just so.
"Let me try it, one more time."
That surprised him, she was sure of it. His eyes widened, and one eyebrow cocked, reminding her of a cat twitching its ear. But he said nothing, and relinquished the spinning wheel to her again.
She took a deep breath, and tried not to think about how much she hated attempting a new and tricky skill when someone was watching her. Then she took a handful of straw, and set the wheel in motion. Carefully, she adjusted her fingers and turned her wrist, feeling the strange tug when it caught. The strands, as they twisted, had a springy tension very unlike the flax she was used to, but it was working.
Her handful of straw ran out, and she stopped to look at what she had made. Hers was rougher, and twisted more unevenly than the wire made by the strange man, but it was just as golden, and her heart gave a leap. She had done it!
The dark stranger was staring at her with barely-concealed astonishment. The ember-sparks in his eyes danced.
"Well! You are no common maid, who can learn the art of it so quickly," he said. "I suppose you will have no further need of me, but can while away the night spinning at your leisure." And he turned, as though to leave.
"Wait!" she said. "If I am to spend all night spinning this straw into gold, I would be glad of some company. I will give you my necklace, if you will stay and talk with me."
He had not been expecting that. "You would give me so precious a thing, purely for the sake of my conversation?"
"You are by far the most interesting person I've met in many years. Truly, I am like to weary you with questions, if you allow it. How did you learn this art of gold-spinning? What other unlikely skills might you have? How do you come and go from the Prince's castle, as though it were your own parlor? Where do you go, when you're not trespassing upon the property of the Prince? Surely you have a thousand stories you could tell!"
At that, he laughed. "Gladly will I stay, and answer such of your questions as I am able, for it is rare that anyone has interest in myself, rather than the favors I may do them."
"Your pardon, then, good sir. May I instead start by asking your name? Forgive my rudeness in not thinking of it earlier."
He looked away from her, and hesitated.
"No one ever asks me that," he said. "People call me by many names, according to their own ideas, and few of them are flattering. Very likely you will think less of me, when you hear them."
"Oh! That is easy, then," said she. "Tell me what name you would like best to be called, and I will call you by it."
So they talked the night away, while she spun her straw into gleaming twists of fine gold. They chatted and joked and laughed, and when all the straw was gone, and the eastern sky was beginning to show a faint paleness, she could hardly believe how quickly the hours had flown.
"I must be gone now, truly," he said, "for the Prince will be coming soon, to see how you have fared at your task."
"Far better than I could have ever hoped, thanks to you. I owe you a very great debt, good sir." And she made him a curtsey, just as the first rays of sunlight shone above the horizon.
There was a rattle at the door, the sounds of locks opening. She looked up, and saw that the Prince was coming into the room. The strange dark man had vanished, as though he had never been there at all. Suddenly she discovered that she was overcome with weariness, and could hardly keep her eyes open.
The Prince examined the bobbin on the spinning wheel, and his smile was full of satisfied greed.
"You have done well, maiden!" he said. "Your father spoke truly, when he said you were a woman of rare talent. Rest in the palace, this day, and enjoy such hospitality as we may offer you."
She admired the beauties of the palace, its elegant furniture and lavish food and opulent gardens, but at the end of the day the Prince put her into the not-a-dungeon room again, with twice as much straw as before.
"If I am to spin more straw for you, you must send for a new spinning wheel," she said. "This one is worn away from spinning hard metal, and I fear it may not last another night."
The Prince closed the door with a slight bow, and soon people came and brought a second spinning wheel, which they left with her.
She was well started on her work when the small dark man appeared, looming out of the shadows.
"I am glad to see you again, my friend!" she said to him. "I would ask another bargain of you. I will give you the ring I wear, which was my mother's, if you will use this second wheel and spin with me tonight, for there is more straw than I can hope to finish by myself."
So they both sat and spun, and while they did they talked and laughed and told stories. And the night flew by.
In the morning, the Prince came to see how much gold his straw had turned into. Again, he insisted that the maiden enjoy the hospitality of the palace for the day, though she would have much preferred to go home to her father. And in the evening, he took her to the now-familiar room, piled to the ceiling with straw, and told her, "If you can spin all this into gold by morning, I will marry you." She watched the door close, and gave a shudder of despair.
Her friend appeared, out of his usual shadow in the corner, and asked why she looked so sad.
"I am caught in a trap," she said, "and can see no way out. If I do not spin all this straw by morning, the Prince will put me to death. But if I succeed, he says he will marry me, and I do not know which is worse. I would bargain with you again, that you might teach me how to flit in and out of a locked room, as you do."
"I can teach you that," he said. "What do you offer me in exchange?"
"Alas! I have already given you my mother's necklace and ring, and I have nothing left."
He looked into her eyes, and took her hands very gently. "If you will promise me your firstborn child, I will help you," he said.
"You would ask such a thing of me?" she said, and was silent for a time, thinking. But she kept hold of his hands, and looked long into his face, and there was a kind of hope in her voice when she said, "Very well. I accept."
In the morning, the Prince found a room with a few stray wisps of straw on the floor, many bobbins wound with shining gold, one broken spinning wheel, and one very worn spinning wheel with a note pinned to it. It read:
Your Majesty,
I wish you joy of your gold. Please send my regards to my father.
Neither the Prince, nor anyone else in the town, ever heard from the maiden again. She had gone out into the world, to travel to new places and seek her fortune according to her own wishes. And the stories say that she was successful, and that she saw many amazing sights and met many kinds of people, and that after having any number of wonderful adventures, she married and was happy.
And so it was that in the fullness of time, she was brought to bed of a child. She lay resting with her newborn on her breast, when a small dark man with fiery glints in his eyes appeared out of some shadowy corner. He stole quietly over to her bedside, and examined the sleeping babe.
"So you have come to collect on your bargain?" she said.
"I have," said he, and gently picked up the child and nestled it in his arms.
"I'm afraid I can only consider it half-payment," she told him, "for I refuse to give up my share in her."
"Oh! Is that so," he said, cuddling the infant to himself and rocking it gently.
"Yes. She has your eyes, as you will see when she wakes and opens them, but she looks otherwise just like my mother."
He laughed softly to himself. "We will give her the necklace and the ring, when she is old enough. But what about my rightful payment, then?"
She smiled fondly at him. "Well, at some point I suppose we'll have to have another one. But for now, perhaps we can all get some rest."