It was the dead of night when Rumpelstiltskin was woken from his sleep. The fire had burned down to the coals and the house creaked. It shouldn't have been creaking. Rumpel sat up and his thin blanket fell down to his boney knees. His father was up and about.
The Coward that was what he was known as in their small town. It's what his only son called him. And that's what he was but it was more then that. Rumpelstiltskin's father was a coward and a lire and a cheat. He borrowed money and bid it away. He was a man in trawled by drink. But above all the man was a coward. He always had been. This time it would be no different.
Rumpel was silent as he slid out of the sheets that were bed. Dirty feet touched the dirty floor but still the father didn't seem to notice his son. He continued to pack up things in a frantic rush of cloth and crumbs. A few moments more and he was running out the door. Rumpel grabbed his cloak and flung it over his shoulders as he ran. The cloak was old, a faded green and tearing at the edges. It had once belonged to his father.
His father threw his sack onto his shoulder and rested it there before the men approached. The first was a smaller chubby fellow who wore fine clothing. He was clearly in charge, the one with deep pockets. The other two were taller in peasant clothing. Both were thin as twigs but they had muscles in the right places. The slightly taller one had blond hair that was nearly white and the other one had hair that blended with the night.
The Coward stopped, knowing he couldn't dare to run. He placed the rather small bag on the ground and put his hands up, "It's..." The short one cut him off, "I don't need nor want to hear your stories. And by the look of things you don't even have one." Rumpelstiltskin, frightened as he was, walked and stood beside his father. He looked from the strange men to his father wondering who they were and what they could possibly want.
"You owe me the money and I'm not waiting any longer. If you don't plan to pay in gold I'll have to take back the debt in blood." the short one sneered. And Rumpel finally understood what was happening. He may have been a mere child but he was quite clever for his age. He finally knew where his father paid for his drink. Where the bread came from. It came from this man's money and now was the time to return what had been given.
The father glanced down at his son. He should have said something meaningful or comforting but instead he locked eyes with the man and said, "If it's blood you want take the boy." He didn't look sad and he didn't even regret his words. But the three men only laughed not even reaching for the child. Rumpel couldn't move or speak. He wanted this all to be a dream. He knew he was a disappointment ever since his mother died. He had nearly died with her. The sickness that took her had nearly taken him. But he was getting stronger each day. One day he would be able to take up a sword and make his father proud. But here The Coward was ready to let his only child die so he could live awhile longer.
The laughter died in the air and all was silent again. "I could take the boy and let his blood run over your boots. But I want you. I'm sick of listening to your lies. It's time for you to pay." the short one said this as his henchmen drew nearer. They pushed the child out of the way. One grabbed the left arm the other grabbed the man's right arm. Rumpel's eyes where wide with horror. He was going to lose his Papa. He was going to lose the only family he had left. But all he could do was stay laying in the dirt and watch.
His father begged. He wanted more time. He offered them anything and everything he owned. But the cries fell upon dead ears. A sword was taken from its sheath and the little leader held it to the man's neck. A thin line of blood ran down and shimmered in the light of the moon. The begging stopped in an instant. No more words were spoken to The Coward or by him. The little man drew his sword back and in a flash it sunk into flesh. Blood spilled to the ground and fell upon the killer's body. A smile slowly widened across his face and he turned to the child.
He walked the few steps to Rumpelstiltskin and leaned in close, "That's what happens to cowards who run, cowards who hide, cowards like you." He wiped his bloodied hands on Rumpel's cloak and sauntered down the road. The two other men followed close behind and dragged the body behind them.
That was the last image Rumpel had of his father. A lifeless body kicking up dust as it was taken away. That day the young boy swore he wouldn't live to be like his father, a coward. He would fight for honor and for the family he would one day have. He would never let his sons see the disappointing things he had seen.
With those thoughts in his head Rumpelstiltskin stood up and shook the dust off. He made his way to a cottage on the other edge of town. In that cottage lived several spinners who would surely take him in. They would raise him and care for him. They would be his family.