Chapter 1
The night seemed to be drowning in fear, agony and blood as the army of Wolfartswindler descended upon the village of Hebertshausen. The night sky lit up as the village burned red in the flames of mankind’s greed for power and control.
The knights were busy pillaging the village; capturing all the women, they murdered the men. Men were a liability. Male servants were aplenty. Women, however, were always in demand. Some of those old nobles could never quite get enough of them. Even the children were not spared. In fact, they were much more sought after; both male and female. They made for better slaves and brought a greater pay day, which sometimes equalled the revenue from ten women sold combined. Especially if they were female.
“Run my son,” said Hansdieter. “Run into the forest and hide yourself there!”
“But father,” Rumpelstiltskin protested. “What about you? And what about mother?”
Both father and son gazed upon the woman lying upon the small bed in the corner. Looking as pale as a ghost, her chest rose and dropped back down in erratic spurts. The smoke from the fires were adding to her discomfort. As streams of sweat rolled down her face, she kept losing consciousness every now and then. It was also evident that her suffering would be rather short lived. Nevertheless, both father and son were reluctant to leave her side.
“Listen my boy,” his father began while placing both his hands upon the lad’s shoulders. “The soldiers shall be arriving here any moment. We have not the luxury of time to discuss our bearings at length. You need to leave, and leave right now. As for your mother, I shall not leave her side until the last of my breath has ceased to exist. Run into the forest and come morning, travel up north to Mitterdorf. Tell your uncle there about the ill tidings you bear and he shall see to your well-being. Now go!”
His father raised his voice into a shout at the last bit as he heard loud banging at the door. Although reluctant, Rumpelstiltskin knew he had no choice but to obey his father. As their loving son, he owed it to them to survive against all odds. If not, his parents’ sacrifice would be in vain and their soul shall not find peace in the afterlife. He had to get away and so he prepared to leave. He was almost out of the back door when one of the knight’s axe managed to break through the door. His father picked up a broom and charged at him blocking his path.
“RUN!” he screamed.
Rumpelstiltskin did not linger a moment longer. He dashed straight out the back door. A cry of agony back from the house reinforced his fears. He knew that he could no longer hope to find his father alive or well ever again. His vision blurred as tears welled up in his eyes. Wiping them off as they rolled down his cheeks, he ran towards the forest as fast as his feet would carry him. Behind him the village burned, and with it, so did his house.
He only slowed down once he was at the first clearing of the forest. When he did so, he heard a rustling sound from the bushes. Changing his course immediately, he made his way to the opposite side; almost diving and hiding behind some bushes as he noise getting louder and closer. He, clasped his mouth shut with his hands. Then, turning around stealthily, watched from a small opening in the bushes to see who was approaching.
“Christof!” he shrieked emerging from his refuge as he caught a glimpse of his best friend.
He ran towards Christof who, using a sword soaked in blood as a crutch to walk, seemed exhausted and out of breath. He let his friend flung his arms around him as soon as they got within arm’s length of each other and let him support his weight a little.
“Am I glad to see you, my friend!” Christof spoke in between bouts of heavy breathing. “However, fate could not have chosen a time worse than the present for us to have met.”
As soon as he had finished speaking, his body slumped down onto Rumpelstiltskin’s. And that was when he saw it. Blood oozing out from of the side of his friend’s abdomen. Laying him down on the ground, Rumpelstiltskin tore open his companion’s shirt revealing the wound. He tried pressing down on it to stop the bleeding.
“It is too late Rum. I have lost a lot of blood,” said Christof in between bouts of coughing and wheezing.
“Don’t say that!” Rumpelstiltskin shouted at his friend while tying up his wound with pieces of the shirt he tore. “You’re not leaving me alone! Not yet!”
“Shh…” Christof said putting a blood-soaked finger to his friend’s lips. “Not so loud. There might be a few soldiers lurking about. Besides, I have no regrets. I was able to save Lyudmila.”
Lyudmila, the baker’s daughter, was the girl that Christof was smitten by. Most days, one could have found the boy hanging around the bakery doing all kinds of odd jobs in and around the place. All that effort just so he could catch a glimpse of the girl. However, it was a pity that the young man could never muster up the courage to confess his feelings to the girl. He was planning on asking the baker for his daughter’s hand in marriage once he had become a knight in the service of the king. It was cruel irony that he now lay on the ground breathing his last wounded by a knight’s blade.
He was making his way towards his escape when Christof heard the screams coming from the baker’s store. He peeked inside to find the baker lying dead in a pool of his own blood, a sword stained red next to his body. Lyudmila was crouched up in a corner trembling in fear as a knight advanced upon her.
“My-my… What a lovely girl! You shall fetch me a good price,” the knight said as he walked towards her removing his breastplate. “It would be a shame if I let you go before enjoying the goods myself for a tad bit.”
Christof turned red with rage. He burst in screeching, challenging the knight to a duel. He lunged forward as the knight drew his dagger. The knight swung the blade as he dodged the boy’s feeble unarmed attack, the dagger making contact with the soft skin of the boy through his plain peasant clothing. He suffered a deep cut to the side of his abdomen where the knight had struck him. He fell down onto the ground next to the dead baker while the knight towered over him.
“What were you expecting coming in here without even a weapon lad? You just threw away your life,” the knight said spitting on Christof’s face. He bent down and raised his blade to deliver the final blow. “And to think I could have found a better use for you if only you had not surprised me into retaliation.”
Lyudmila screamed and ran towards the door. The knight was distracted for a moment with the turn of events and that was all it took. Christof picked up the sword that lay beside the dead baker and plunged it deep inside the knight’s chest. The sharp blade tore through him as if he were made of butter and pierced the man’s heart. It was foolish of him to take off his armour but he had done so in his attempt to rape the girl. He ended up paying a hefty price for it.
The knight coughed blood from his mouth, fell to the ground and died. Christof, in his battered state got up and made his way out. He used the sword in his hand as support to help carry his weight. He followed the girl’s footsteps and saw that she’d already reached the end of the village, close to her escape. Sighing in relief, he hurried on his way towards the forest as well. He could hear the armoured footsteps approaching from an alley nearby, and he’d rather have his flesh rot than be of any use to those villains.
“Maybe I do have a regret Rum,” Christof started to speak once he was done reminiscing the moment of his bravery. “I did not get to confess my feelings to Mila.”
“Then do so later. We shall find her, and you can confess to her. Then, we all shall live happily together,” said Rumpelstiltskin, tears trickling down.
“Happily ever after eh? You sure are a jolly good fellow my friend. But, I would not say that I dislike the sound of that…” Christof said before his voice trailed off and his eyes lost their shine.
Rumpelstiltskin closed his dead friend’s eyes and moved his lifeless body to a tree close by. He propped him up against the tree and placed the sword upon his lap.
“Even if you could not become one in life, you did die no lesser death than that of a true knight. Watch over our homes my friend until the day I join you in your slumber. And one day, we shall awaken to a world where dreams shall never be shattered.”
He prayed beside his friend for a brief moment before heading deeper into the forest.
