Where Dwells The Spinner
"Do you know where the spinner lives?" Belle asked at the inn. If she were to establish a reputable knitting trade she would have to find access to yarn in this town as soon as possible. The last two towns she had traveled through had been very disappointing- their yarn coarse and harsh, even what she was told was lamb's wool- and the prices ridiculously high.
"Oh, we have a spinner alright, that's about all he's good for." With this strange remark she was directed to the end of town to a small cluster of buildings and sheds, set slightly apart from the rest of town.
A small boy with tousled hair and large dark eyes answered her knock, peering from around the edge of the partially opened door.
"Is this the spinner's home? "
"Yes," his reply came slowly.
"I was told I might be able to purchase some yarn here?"
The boy eyed her, without answering and she wondered at the disbelief she caught in his glance.
A deeper voice within called. "Who is it, Bae?" and the door swung further open to reveal a slender man leaning against a staff, his face tanned from days outside, brown hair tousled, rough clothes of soft tanned hide. He froze when he saw her, a frown on his brow, hesitation and caution in his eye.
"I am the spinner. What can I do for you?" he asked.
"Oh lovely," she smiled. "My name is Belle. I've just moved to town and as knitting is my vocation I had hopes of finding a spinner close by who might sell me a few balls of yarn."
The man stared suspiciously for a moment and she wondered why he would be so wary of strangers.
"Yes, I do have some I have been saving for market day in Newbridge if you would like to see them." He glanced at his son who immediately understood the unspoken request and disappeared into the hut. He returned carrying a large pannier. The spinner lead her to a wooden bench in the grass at the side of the house and his son set the basket on the ground. He began pulling various skeins from the basket for her examination, explaining each with a description of the spinning technique used and quality of wool and age of each sheep that each skein had been spun from. He discussed his trade with an easy confidence, without hesitation or doubt.
Belle was amazed at his knowledge of yarns and fiber quality. Here was a man with whom she could discuss yarn and her knitting needs without getting the blank stares she was accustomed to receiving as she traveled from town to town looking for quality goods. She was even more amazed as he handed her skein after skein of the softest yarn she had ever come across. The twist was firm but the fibers slid gently through her fingers whisper light.
She turned to him in wonder."You spun this? All of these? From your sheep?"
"Certainly, sheep I raised from lambs," he eyed her in puzzlement. "You do not like the weave? Is there something wrong with the yarn?"
"They're- they're perfect. These are the softest fibers I have ever found. I have been getting my yarn from Milltown until now but these far surpass any I have found there." At his continued puzzlement she added, "do you have a special technique you use to achieve such a soft yarn?"
The spinner took a skein from the pannier. "Well my father taught me a different twist technique that he learned from his grandmother, it makes the yarn stronger without losing softness." There ensued a detailed explanation of spinning and twisting techniques that she only vaguely understood.
This whole time his son- she assumed it was his son- had waited at the spinner's elbow following the conversation quietly. Now he stepped forward and pulled a smaller skein of yarn from the bottom of the basket and held it out.
"Here's the one that I finished last night," he said shyly. Belle smiled and took the proffered skein. It was knobbly and bumpy, uneven the entire length that she pulled out, but in a consistent pattern that was quaint and appealing.
"He's just learning," the spinner said with a wry fond smile, reaching for the yarn to take it back. A proud and loving father, this man obviously had a close relationship with his son who grinned back. Her heart ached to see this special bond, and she clamped down on the visions that sprang to mind from her own past.
She smiled weakly. "But you will sell this to me, won't you? This would be perfect for a little baby's cap that I have been asked to make."
"No," the spinner said with a shake of his head, "this is just a beginner's yarn. The quality will improve but it's not quite ready to be sold."
"It may be a beginner's yarn but it is so unique, it is exactly what I have been looking for." As the spinner continued to look doubtful, she added, " no, please, I really do want it." She turned to Bae. "Won't you please let me have it?" And she reached into her coin purse tucked away beneath her apron, pulled out a coin, and set it in his hand. He grinned proudly and his father put an arm around his shoulders in acquiescence.
Looking into his basket Belle counted skeins. "I really need at least half of these now. How soon will you be selling the rest? I will probably need that many more next week." She began to count out coins for the yarn. When she looked up, the spinner was frowning at her.
"You want to buy half of these?"
"Yes, is there something wrong? Are they not for sale? I'll pay more than your normal rate for them if-"
"No, no, they are for sale, of course, " he said. "I just usually only sell that much in a month, never in one day."
"Oh good. Then you will save the other half for me? I am afraid I won't be able to pay for the other half until next week so I'll just take the one batch now." And she handed him the coins she had pulled out. "I hope this is enough. It is what I have paid in the last two towns but really the quality of your yarn is far superior to theirs."
The spinner examined the coins she placed in his hand. "Wait, this is too much. It's twice what I ask for."
"Really, do you give everyone such problems when they try to buy from you?" she asked in pretended severity, then smiled. "Well, then you have been underpaid long enough. This town should be grateful to have a spinner of such quality as you." Father and son exchanged a look which she could not decipher. She collected her skeins then leaned back with a sigh of relief to examine the yard and fields around the side of the house.
"You really have a beautiful view here." Her eyes traveled across a green meadow dotted with a few grazing sheep and a shaggy dog resting in the shade overseeing them. She turned to Bae. "Are those your sheep? Are you the shepherd?"
A quick grin sprang to the somber face. "Yes, they're ours. Braith takes care of them almost by himself," indicating the dog.
"It's so peaceful here. If I lived here I would sit on this bench and knit here all day and watch the bees buzz by and the sheep and ..." She paused lost in musings and memories. Open fields in the summer stirring with the gentle sounds of wooly sheep, a lone cow, tyrannical goats, and the cluck of satisfied chickens. A home where loved ones waited. There had been a place like this once for her, but that was long past.
Perhaps sensing her sadness, Bae stepped to her side and touched her shoulder timidly. "You can come here and sit and knit anytime you want. We wouldn't mind."
"Thank you," she smiled up at him, grateful for the kindness behind his generous but impulsive offer, then turned to his father. "I'm sorry, I didn't mean to intrude." She stood to go and the spinner rose with her.
As they rounded the corner of his home, the spinner extended a cautious hand and with a tentative smile said, "Bae was right. You are welcome to use our bench for your knitting anytime you like."
His manner was much more relaxed compared to the suspicious and wary man that had come to the door earlier. He smiled down at her openly now and she was surprised at what a change that made. Smile lines spread out from the corners of his mouth, the smile reflected in his deep brown eyes. She would almost call it a handsome face were it not for the edge of sadness that seemed to hover over him, never quite gone from his careful manner. It was evident he wore his past heavily.
"Now I just have to find the old smith's house. Do you know which way it is?" she asked him.
Bae jumped in," Just across the road. The old smith is our nearest neighbour." His face lost its carefree grin. "Or he was."
"Oh, I'm sorry. Did something happen to him?"
Again father and son exchanged a look she could not decipher but gave no answer.
"Well, I will be staying there and I was told it was at this end of town." There was a strange undercurrent here between father and son that she was obviously not privy to.
"We'll take you," the spinner said, and while Bae carried the yarn back in their house, the spinner lead the way back toward town.
"By the way, my name is Rumpelstiltskin," he finally introduced himself.
"It's a pleasure to meet you. You are the best thing to happen to me all week," she smiled gratefully. She craned her neck to see the house she was to live in and so missed the spinner's startled expression and incredulous stare. He opened his mouth to reply but finding no words to compass his surprise, merely bowed his head and smiled.