Disclaimer: See chapter 1.

When the king saw that all the straw had again been turned to gold, he was even more delighted. He took the miller's daughter to a third room filled with straw, even larger than the first two. "Spin this straw to gold," he said, "and I will make you queen."

Chapter 5: On the Consequences of Traditional Plotlines

Rumpelstiltskin left behind him gains of two hundred thousand dollars. Rachel, stiff from so many hours on the stone floor, enjoyed her bath very much. She was dismayed, but not surprised, to find another evening gown waiting for her, this time in yellow. However, she was hopeful that tonight would be the end of it. She was quite convinced within her own mind that M. F. King was insane, but madmen, or so she had been told, held true to their own peculiar logic. She had proven to him that her father's story was true. Therefore, he should let her go.

The view from the balcony was different tonight. Instead of wooded hills a rocky coast lay beneath her feet. The breeze was scented with salt, and the muted roar of breakers reached her ears. M. F. was already seated, but he rose when she appeared, and graciously pulled out her chair.

Max was again the perfect companion, solicitous about her food, amusing in his anecdotes of a safari in Egypt, but Rachel refused to be lulled. As they finished the tiramisu, Rachel smiled brightly and asked, "I trust I've lived up to your expectations?"

"And beyond." His voice was warm, and when he leaned toward her, Rachel once again felt her sense of reality slip. No, she told herself desperately, and ignored the admiring look in his eyes. "I've never met a woman quite like you, Rachel." She could not help the blush that stole up her cheeks. "Trade for me just once more," he whispered, "and then become my wife."

She froze. He pulled out a small velvet box, and she offered no resistance when he slipped the blazing diamond on her finger. "We will be married the day after tomorrow, seven o'clock. I've already sent out the invitations. I know you won't fail me, Rachel."

He drew even closer. He's going to kiss me, Rachel realized in horror. Desperately, she clapped a hand over her mouth. "Max," she mumbled between her fingers, "I feel sick."

His retreat was as close to unpolished as she had ever seen him. "My poor dear, I'll send someone to you immediately. The eel must not have been properly done."

Max left the balcony, and a moment later Herman appeared. He offered his arm, and Rachel leaned on it heavily as they made their way up the stairs to the elevator. Once in her room she dropped the pretense of weakness. "He wants me to marry him!"

"As you must. You are a very lucky woman."

"I refuse!"

"You do have that option, but I'm afraid the consequences might be…unpleasant."

"I don't care. He's got to learn that he can't control people this way! He can accuse my father of anything he wants, we'll prove it's a lie!"

"There are terrible accidents that sometimes happen in these hills."

Rachel felt cold, as if she had been suddenly transported to a penguin colony in Antarctica. "He wouldn't…"

Herman was apologetic. "You have seen too much, you understand."

"If I promised not say anything?"

He shook his head. "We could not take that chance. He is an important man. Nothing must touch him."

The girl wept most piteously, and the little man had compassion on her. "I will give you three days. If in that time you can guess my name, I will release you from our bargain."

When Rumpelstiltskin arrived, Rachel was in her usual position against the wall, listlessly fiddling with the ends of her shoe laces.

"My, aren't we cheerful this morning?" When this raised no response, he began a conversation with himself. "Good morning, Rumpelstiltskin, how lovely to see you. I must say you look exceptionally well this morning. Why thank…"

"Your beard is on crooked," interrupted Rachel, "and I baked these for you, to thank you for helping me, even if it turned out to be useless in the end. They're carmel-rasberry-triple fudge."

Rumpelstiltskin felt his chin with one hand and accepted the Ziplock bag with the other. "I was in a hurry, that was thoughtful of you, and what sort of nonsense have you picked up? Useless indeed." Rachel burst into tears. "For pity's sake, don't start that now!"

"Well, how would you like to marry some c-crazy m-millionaire just to c-continue the p-privilege of b-breathing." Rachel wiped her nose on her sleeve, and Rumpelstiltskin flinched.

"Here." He handed her a soft handkerchief smelling strongly of Tommy Boy, which Rachel thought odd. "Naturally you have to marry him. Do you know the story or don't you?"

"This isn't a fairytale! It's my life!" said Rachel, not quite screaming.

"Marriage to M. F. might not be that bad. As his wife you would have everything you could ever want."

"Until one day he tips over his rocker and knocks me off. No thank you!"

"It was just a suggestion. Shall we discuss payment?"

Rachel stripped off her engagement ring. "I'll tell him it fell down the drain."

"I'm afraid not."

"Don't be difficult, it's worth fifty million times the other things."

"You give it up without a thought. To you it is worth nothing."

"But I don't have anything else." Rachel fought a growing sense of panic.

"If you have nothing else, then you must make me a promise."

"I suppose now you want the king's firstborn child!"

"Don't be ridiculous. What would I want with M. F.'s brat? No, we're going to skip ahead. I have a riddle for you. Solve it before your wedding, and I won't request any payment for my day's labor."

"It's a deal, and you're as crazy as King."

"Probably." He fumbled inside his cloak and produced a palm pilot. Turned on, the screen blinked, "Password required." Handing it to her he said, "There is your riddle, miller's daughter, I wish you luck with it. Now, if you will excuse me, I have a lot of spinning to do."

Rachel sat staring at the palm pilot. In the story, the queen had to guess the little man's name, but he had already given a name. Rumpelstiltskin was the first thing she tried. Then she had gone on to miller's daughter, king, gold, spinning wheel, and a host of other words connected with the story, but nothing met with success. Perhaps it is not his name, but the name of the man behind him. "Who do you work for?"

"You grow more clever every day, Miller's daughter. You didn't really believe I was a mythic elf with amazing daytrading powers, did you?"

Realization dawned. "He's arranged to sell you stocks online at ridiculous prices."

"Not ridiculous. We set up a convincing progression."

"Who is he?" Rumpelstiltskin ignored her. She stared at him for a moment, then her face twisted and she retreated to the far corner of the room, beneath the skeleton.

For the first time she examined Mr. Bones up close. His grinning skull hung at her eye level, but her gaze was caught by the elaborately engraved manacles encasing his skinny wrists. A string of foxes encircled the bands, except for the locks, around which were cunningly entwined a pair of initials. The scrollwork was so elaborate that Rachel had difficulty discerning the true shape. She at last decided the first letter was a 'P' and the second was an 'R' or perhaps a 'K.' But whatever secret they might hold, Mr. Bones wasn't talking.

The rest of the day passed in silence. Rachel ignored her own hunger pangs, and Rumpelstiltskin seemed content with his bag of cookies. After an eternity of echoing silence and frustrating attempts at the password, he pushed back his chair and stood.

"Half a million dollars, a worthy dowry. And now I take my leave." He lifted the nearly empty bag. "Excellent cookies, by the way." He stepped over to the fox.

"Wait," Rachel cried desperately. "Who sent you?"

"Rumpelstiltskin, my lady. Farewell." He bowed and was gone.

A/N You may have noticed the story summary has changed. I'm conducting a little experiment to discover what type of synopsis attracts what kinds of readers. If you would care to leave any comments about what kind of summary persuades you to read a story, please do so in your review or email me.

Notes to Reviewers:

Midreamer: This story was actually an assignment for a creative writing class. We were supposed to modernize a fairy tale. Left on my own, I doubt I would have created this particular setting, but I was pleased with the way it turned out.

Melissa: There is a plot twist, and I'd wager you'll figure it out before the end. Some of your comments are very on track. But I'm glad I've got you intrigued!

Miss Piratess: I wouldn't agree with the assessment that ALL men are creeps… (I love my daddy!) But Max certainly falls firmly in that category. Don't you just want to push him off his own virtual balcony?

Zagato: Thanks! Keep reading!

Equus: Boy, you are really late. And you think this is conducive to getting your hands on certain documents? Hmmm?