Rapunzel, Rapunzel

by LeBibish

Once upon a time, an old witch called Mother Goethel adopted a little girl. And she wasn’t about to let Rapunzel throw away all of that power just because she wanted to be “normal.”

Disclaimer: Rapunzel belongs to everyone, as a common fairy tale. It was first told long, long, long before I was born. Therefore, I didn't come up with it myself.

Mother Goethel heard the crash of the gravel as the girl's body slammed into the ground—again—and sighed. The child was more graceful than any other girl in the village—but she was also as active and rambunctious as any healthy child should be and had an unusual disadvantage. She would start running around and inevitably trip on her long hair. At six years old, the girl's hair was long enough that even when tied back in a thick braid it dragged along the floor.

Small choked sobs wound their way into Mother Goethel's ears. The old woman frowned down at her knitting, then sighed shook her head and put it aside. She hauled herself out of her chair and went to check on her young charge.

The girl was curled up on the gravel, her face hidden against her knees. Mother Goethel hugged the small body to her and tried to calm her down. It wasn't the pain of falling—or of pulling her hair so viciously—that made the child cry. She had amazing pain resistance and it was likely that she hadn't even noticed the hurt. No, she was crying for an entirely different reason, the old woman knew. These were tears of rage and frustration, not pain.

Rapunzel—named after the plant that had gained Mother Goethel her adopted daughter—resented her long braid. She complained about it daily. None of the other girls in the village had to spend over an hour every morning brushing and braiding their hair. None of the other girls ever tripped over their own hair nor did theirs get snagged on fences, branches, doors, and so on nearly as often as Rapunzel's. None of the other girls had to wash their hair everyday—because their hair didn't drag on the ground picking up dust, twigs, and occasional insects. None of the other girls lost every game they played because they had tripped on their hair or caught their braid on a fence post.
None of the other girls in the village had magic nearly as powerful as Rapunzel's either.

Mother Goethel had known the child would be special ever since she had first found that pathetic peasant nosing around in her garden. They had been neighbors for years and the old witch knew that his young wife wasn't nearly so silly as to kill herself for a simple craving. She could have made do with some other greenery to eat and likely would have, if it had been a normal craving. The fact that she was wasting away so quickly and supposedly for want of a magic plant told Mother Goethel quite a bit about what was really going on.

It was the child who craved the magic held within the witch's rapunzel plants. It was the child who was sucking all the magic and life out of her mother. Mother Goethel had been sure of it. And it was the child that she demanded, in return for the woman's life. Such a potentially powerful infant should not be left to be raised by a simple peasant and his wife. They might have other children—and the witch gave them a blessed doll to insure fertility before she disappeared—but this child would likely be Mother Goethel's only legacy beyond some half-remembered tales villagers might tell of the "terrible witch" that had once lived among them.

The old woman was not disappointed in her chosen heir. Rapunzel's power was bound in her hair (as was true for many human females, young and old). And from the day the girl was born, her hair grew faster and stronger than any other child's could have. So fast it grew that it swept across the floor even now when the child was barely even learning to read. So strong that it could hold the girl's weight when she fell from one of the trees she insisted on climbing—leaving her dangling from a branch until the boys stopped laughing at her and went to get an adult to help her down.

The old witch refused to let the child cut it. In fact, she relied on a charm that told her anytime the girl tried to pick up a knife. Mother Goethel wasn't about to let Rapunzel throw away all of that power just because she wanted to be "normal." A silly thing, this desire to be normal. One day the girl would realize how much better it was to be powerful. Then she would thank her adopted mother for watching over her.

For now, the girl simply accepted Mother Goethel's comforting embrace. For all that she might rage at the old woman when she was caught trying to saw off her braid, the witch provided the only love Rapunzel knew. Certainly she didn't get any from the villagers, who were well aware of what Mother Goethel was. They had looked suspiciously at the girl who accompanied the witch from the very beginning. As her hair grew and grew, that suspicion started to turn into fear. Now the children who sometimes played with the girl (and sometimes mocked her viciously as children are wont to do) were beginning to shun her based on their parents' reactions.

As she lifted the girl and carried her into the small cottage, knees creaking and bones complaining at the load, Mother Goethel wondered if it wasn't time to leave the small village. The villagers fear would turn to anger and hatred soon enough, flared by rumors of witch hunts in other parts of the land.

Removing the girl from the presence of the villagers might help rid her of this ridiculous desire to be normal, as well. She was old enough to truly start learning some of the craft. And that was better done in the proper atmosphere anyways.

Silently, the witch mourned her old house near the peasants that had been Rapunzel's parents. It had been far enough away from the village to only have the one pair of neighbors and old enough to have the most powerful protections set deep into its stone, and into her garden. Oh, but her garden had been magnificent. The magic had soaked into the ground and witches and sorcerers had been starting to travel from miles around to buy her plants.

Mother Goethel had hidden the garden under the strongest protections she could manage—bolstered by the newborn strength of the infant she had taken with her. She had been tempted to simply keep the girl there, hidden under the same magics. It risked too much though—the girl could never know her real parents. Her loyalty and love belonged to Mother Goethel. The parents would never have stopped looking for her and if the girl had ever seen her mother, the strength of her longing and love might have called the girl to her. Even now, she couldn't risk Rapunzel meeting them. The girl had enough fancies of living a pathetic, peasant life without knowing her true parents.

No, they had had to move away. And the girl had needed other people around—to watch her when she crawled away while Mother Goethel was immersed in a spell and to teach her at least a little about how to interact with others. Even a witch had to deal with petty minded villagers sometimes and it was easier if she learned some of the social niceties when she was young.

Now though, she was old to begin to truly be corrupted by the small minds of others. Yes, it would be better to leave and find some place isolated to teach the girl the truths of the world.

Mother Goethel tucked Rapunzel into her small bed, muttering a small sleeping spell over the girl's tear-streaked face and then began to pack.

The girl threw a tantrum when she woke to a bare cottage and a wagon filled with their things sitting outside. In any other house in the village, the girl might have been slapped into silence but Mother Goethel simply let her scream herself hoarse and then forcibly put her on the wagon. A witch needed to be strong-willed, not like those weak goodwives cowering in their husbands' shadows.

It took them days of traveling through the dark woods to find the old cottage the witch vaguely remembered as belonging to another of her persuasion who had died at the hands of some woodcutter's brats. The girl sulked the entire way though she occasionally slipped when confronted with something interesting, such as the birds Mother Goethel called down for directions from time to time.

The cottage itself was practically falling down. A family of foxes had staked their claim on it and droppings and dust covered everything. Mother Goethel and Rapunzel were busy sunrise to sunset for days cleaning up the mess. Hard work pulled the girl out of her snit—tiring her beyond her ability to pout. One day was devoted to the ritual required for Mother Goethel to pull some of Rapunzel's magic out and use it as her own. It took more power than the witch was willing to spare to strengthen the sagging roof and repair the broken shutters and one crumbling wall. She didn't want to risk bringing out some man to fix such things in a more mundane fashion. Besides, the girl had magic to spare and she barely had the first idea how to use it herself.

The cottage wasn't very far from yet another small village and the news of a new witch moving in spread quickly. The old woman took her small charms and potions to market and occasionally someone wanted something more powerful (or less harmless) enough to make the trek out to the cottage.

Rapunzel spent her days tending to the witch's new garden, doing chores around the house, and continuously cleaning and brushing her own hair. She spent some time playing outside, but without anyone to play with and with her long braid constantly proving a liability, the girl swiftly started to prefer indoor activities. As her hair continued to grow longer and longer, Mother Goethel knew that the girl would be far more than a countryside witch. She had the potential to be a grand sorceress, sought out by princes and lords for her powerful spells.

Mother Goethel started to teach the girl how to act the lady. Fine embroidery and court manners were not well-known to the witch, but a few of her birds visited the courts and were able to bring back lessons. Mother Goethel also knew how to read, one of the telling signs of a witch in any small village in the forested lands. She tracked down books of etiquette and history and set her ward to studying them as well as the books of magic that the old woman already had. Of all the things that the girl was taught, the one lesson she never complained about was music. The old woman had little talent herself, but Rapunzel sang more beautifully than any of the witch's birds. Any instrument the old woman could find, Rapunzel taught herself to play within days. Her music was enchanting—and Mother Goethel knew it was the outlet her magic had chosen. Every song was like a small charm and the wise old witch encouraged Rapunzel to learn more and more.

Mother Goethel herself delved into new books of magic—magic she had never had the power to perform before. With Rapunzel at her side, the witch found herself becoming more and more able to use spells she had barely even dreamed of. She was starting to gain a reputation among other magic practitioners and her garden was once again a magnificent show.

When Rapunzel's braid was twice again as long as the girl's own height, Mother Goethel began to notice a certain look in the eyes of the few men who sought out the cottage. Moreover, the number of those brave men grew larger and larger. The old witch was not about to let her daughter's potential be lost to the lust of men such as these. Cutting the girl's hair might lose the magic stored within but it would eventually build up again. Magic lost to the babes a man would insist she bear would never return. They would suck it out of her as she had sucked out her own mother's pitiful magic. And none of her babes would be as powerful as she. Power like Rapunzel's was far, far rarer than once in a generation.

Mother Goethel thought and schemed, and one day she took Rapunzel deeper and deeper into the forest. In a small clearing far from any road or other sign of mankind, the witch pulled enough magic out of the girl to leave Rapunzel unconscious for a good fortnight. She called the stones in the forest to her and built a tower around them, taller than the tallest tree and as wide as their cottage.

The tower had no door nor stairs, only a large window at the very top. Inside the tower had stairs from the top room to the bottom room—which was itself still half way up the tower and further than any man could climb on the smooth stone surface even if he should somehow find a way inside the tower.

The old woman used the magic to fashion a luxurious interior to her ward's new home. A bedchamber suited to a queen, a library full of all the books the old woman had collected over the years, a tapestry loom and a harp for the girl to entertain herself, a small kitchen and a magically emptying chamber pot.

Rapunzel threw another of her tantrums when she woke to find herself imprisoned in the tower. Mother Goethel explained that the tower was not a cage, but a fortress to protect her. But the girl still pouted for days beyond her guardian's tolerance.

Mother Goethel left the girl to her sulks. Too much of the girl's own magic was woven into the spells on the tower—she would never be able to leave by herself. The magic called to itself too strongly.

Slowly, as Rapunzel got over her anger, she and the witch settled into a routine. Mother Goethel visited her adopted daughter most days, bringing her food, thread, and new books. Rapunzel's hair was long to reach the bottom of the tower and strong enough to hold up the old woman and anything she cared to bring with her. She continued to teach the girl what she knew and bring her stories of the outside world from her birds. Rapunzel sang away some of the old woman's aches and cooked them a dinner to share together. It was a pleasant life.

Something changed though. Rapunzel, who had always been more than eager to see Mother Goethel, began to grow more distant. At first, the old woman thought it was merely that the girl was growing up. And, of course, sorceresses tended to be a bit distant and cold, their power separating them from the rest of the world.

The girl was also secretive though, hiding things away from her old mother. At times she seemed flushed, her eyes sparkling as if fevered. There were dangerous things a sorceress could get into, far too much for an innocent girl to handle by herself. Mother Goethel decided to find out what her charge was up to. It wouldn't be hard to secret herself away when the girl wasn't looking and observe what she was doing.

In fact, there were few places to hide in the old tower and Rapunzel's magic was growing more aware and protective by the day. Mother Goethel sent one of her birds instead, a little sparrow to watch the girl. Rapunzel would be wary of Mother Goethel's birds, so the old woman instructed the small creature to hide carefully.

Mother Goethel was tending her garden when the little bird flew into her hair, chirping madly. She listened to the bird's story—but she could not believe it. Her Rapunzel, trysting with a man? No. No man would ever find the tower, set back into the woods as it was. Someone would have to lead him there and Rapunzel herself could not leave.

The only part of Rapunzel that could escape the pull of the tower was her voice. Her magic-enhanced songs. Perhaps, the old witch mused, tearing the weeds in front of her into tinier and tinier shreds, one of Rapunzel's songs could have led a man to the tower, if he had been lost deep enough in the woods to hear it. A foolish man then—or a brave one, a small voice in the back of her head whispered—to venture so far into these dark woods.

Still, Rapunzel would never let him in to the tower. Not on purpose. The bird was wrong about that. Perhaps the man had simply heard Mother Goethel asking Rapunzel to let her up and repeated her words. The girl was innocent enough not to realize who he was or what he wanted. It would not happen again.

The next day, when Mother Goethel visited her daughter, she looked carefully around the tower. Rapunzel was happy to see her, as always. Was there an extra flush to her cheeks though? Was her smile brighter? Mother Goethel was distracted throughout the visit. She left as always, cautioning her daughter on the dangers of the outside world and her own love that kept the girl safe.

She hid in the woods, in the shade of own of the older trees. The tall elm stood between worlds and times and even Rapunzel's magic would have difficulty finding one hidden by such a tree. She watched as the man rode up, his saddle gleaming gold and silver. This was no woodcutter, nor even petty lordling. This was a prince of the realm. The old witch sneered. His cockiness would disappear when Rapunzel refused him entrance.

His voice echoed through the clearing. His cultured accent would never be mistaken for the old witch's rough tones. Yet, at its sound, a thick golden braid fell down the tower's wall shining bright in the sunlight. The prince climbed it eagerly and was met at the window with a kiss. The old witch sank deeper into the shadows of the trees, watching silently for hours, until the braid appeared again and the prince climbed down.

Slowly, the old woman hobbled through the forest, back to her own little cottage which she had shared for so many years with her child.

A few birds followed her worriedly. They huddled together on branches around her cottage, chirping and whistling sadly. A great crash startled most of them away, leaving only a single raven brave enough to poke its head through the window.

Shattered crockery was scattered across the floor, broken and useless as the witch's own heart. That stupid, foolish little traitor! How dare she! How could she!

The girl had no idea what she was giving up. She had the potential to be the most powerful sorceress in the world, to learn mysteries that pierced the heart of the world, to travel to places and speak to creatures that most humans never even dreamed of. And she would throw it all away for some man. Her magic would be drained, bit by bit, with every child she bore him. Trapped in the mundane world by the demands of court life and motherhood, she would never have the chance to learn as she should. The old woman slumped into an old chair, huddling into the dubious warmth of her tattered shawl. So much time spent with the girl, protecting her from the banality of the human world, teaching her of the world sideways of mortal perceptions. All wasted, now.

It would never last, of course. The power that slept in her would never let her forget the majesty and wonder of the world beyond. Enough magic would be left in her to torment her continuously with visions of what she had lost. Would she abandon her family one day, drawn by her own whispering power into other worlds? Others had before her. Many of them became sorrowful recluses, tortured by guilt and yearning for their loved ones but unable to bear the human world. Some few grew bitter and shared their torment out with the world through malevolent spells and curses.

Would Goethel's sweet little girl truly become such a sorceress? Lost in her own pain and sorrow? She could have been a sorceress glorying in her own power. Goethel's heart swung madly between rage and sorrow.

As you sow, so shall you reap. If the girl met such a fate it was only as she deserved, having broken her own mother's heart so. Goethel would not protect her from it, the selfish brat. She could not. The child had already stepped too far along that path—Mother Goethel had felt the magic falter as Rapunzel and that man lay hidden in the tower. The girl was already carrying a babe; foolish, naïve child.

She wouldn't be able to go with him anyways. The magic in the tower would never let her leave. Her own magic, stored for years and years in her carefully tended braid, tied her too strongly to the tower's magic. Mother Goethel chuckled, the raw sound close to a sob as it scratched through her throat. Take away the braid—cut the girl's hair for the first time in her life—and the tower would let her go. It would take years to grow long enough to pull her away from her mundane little life with the prince. It could be the old woman's last gift to her daughter after having her heart torn apart so thoroughly. A last parting gift.

Still, there was a price to every gift. The girl had not proved herself worthy of it; and that man certainly was not worthy of having her even for so short a time before her magic called her away. That man. The prince. It was only fair he lose as much as she. She would have to find a way to test them both then.

What would maim a prince as thoroughly as taking a sorceress's magic away? His hands? His feet? No, there had to be a way for him to redeem himself and such a loss could not be recovered by any but the strongest of magics.

His sight then. Even with her hair cut and the fullness of her power stolen by the babe she carried, Rapunzel would have enough magic to heal him. If he managed to find her again. Well, true love—the two of them seemed to think it would triumph. Let them see if it truly did. If he loved her enough to wander blind and let her magic guide him to her. If she loved him enough to wait for him even after the pain of birthing alone in the woods. Let them see.

Mother Goethel expected a tantrum when she sawed the braid off her girl's head. Her daughter had been raised to be strong and to have a temper. It seemed that man had already softened her though. The stupid little thing only wept at the sudden shock of her magic being torn from her.

She put a bit more of a fight when Mother Goethel dragged her away from the tower and out of the woods. The strength of Goethel's anger, sparking against her own magic and the suddenly freed power of Rapunzel's, propelled them forward though, far beyond what a person should have been able to walk.

Mother Goethel left her on her the edge of the forest, far from human lands. Let the girl know what it truly meant to be alone with no other providing for or protecting her. Let her see how much the outside world cared for her.

At the tower, Rapunzel's magic was still raging freely. Goethel harnessed a bit of it and used it to grow briers around the base of the castle. Their long thorns clustered threateningly together, scratching at the smooth stone of the tower.

The witch waited patiently for the prince, letting the loose braid swing down when he called. She sneered at his surprise when he found not his beautiful lover waiting for him, but a shriveled old hag. She laughed at his anger and again at his fear as she pushed him out the window. Her face grew shuttered and blank as she watched him lie broken in the briers. She watched silently as he woke and stumbled away, his ruined eyes weeping blood and his fine clothes tattered and dirty.

Pulling more of Rapunzel's magic about her like a cloak, the witch named Goethel disappeared.