Rupert and the Queen, by Kelly Madden. Page 3/5
Poor girl, she held up some straw and placed it into the spinning wheel like it was really going to happen. I saw two tears run down her face, and heard her whisper oh father I believed you. My heart turned over. I had to help.
Getting in was simple. There’s not a lock your kind can use to keep us away. Getting her out would be easy too, but that wasn’t the problem. The king, once having designs on her, would never have let her escape. But I popped that silly excuse for a bolt and let myself in anyway.
My disparaging thoughts disappeared when she gazed at me with those storm-blue eyes, filled with hope. Can you help me, she said, my father says I can spin straw into gold, but I can’t seem to do it.
Now hold on. I see you shaking your head. My lady wasn’t stupid. Sheltered, naive, and good-hearted maybe, but she was as smart as any. So don’t you be putting any of that in your story or I may stomp my foot.
Ha. Got you again.
So I tried to tell her it’s impossible. And I start to say something about her father, but that lovely face clouded and I couldn’t do it. And then she told me how bad she desired to be the queen, so I asked do you really want a man who’d kill you if you can’t give him gold? But she really wanted to be queen. And like I said, she won’t see bad in folks. Never could, even after she agreed to…but we’ll wait on that part. I keep getting ahead of myself.
She told me her name and I told her mine. I was embarrassed. Rupert. Can you get any plainer than that? But my lady, she liked it. Grinned even. Did I tell you when she smiled her cheeks dimpled? Like a cherub. But anyway. She really perked up after hearing my last name. Sew-A-Skein, she said, all excited like. A tailor?
Well, I knew what’s coming next and you probably do too. When she batted those big blues and asked do I weave as well as sew, what do you think I said? A kiss on the cheek sealed the deal, so while she bedded down in the straw I figured I could call in a favor from a drinking buddy.
That’s right. I didn’t do it. Were you not listening when I said I was an elf? We don’t work with metal. I know you folks have your ideas about us, what we can and can’t do. Partly because of those brothers. And dwarves fare no better than elves. Live underground, carry pickaxes around, make golden cups and metal swords? Actually they do, but what you may not know about is the delicate golden cloth they weave.
So after telling my story – dwarves are suckers for any romantic yarn – my friend gave me enough to fill three wheelbarrows. I only gave her half of one, because I’ve got a funny feeling about that king.
My lady, she’s so relieved and wants to repay me, but all I want is to see her happy. She ends up giving me a necklace which I’ve never taken off.
I’m fine. Just need a minute. I’m not crying.
All right, then. Pay attention. This is where it gets good, and you’ve never heard the real story.
