Becoming Rapunzel

Pt. Two: Stranger

While I have told my story in the traditional way, noting the changing seasons, the passage of time, this is where my tale must change. My life, for sure, is not the traditional life of a girl in Alamann, so it makes sense that my tale must be somewhat different than the ways most are shared. This part, and several following, do not follow the previous format. This is of my own making, for my own life—and Ansel’s.

Still shocked, I stared back at the ugly woman without skirts. I backed away like one would with a savage animal.

Reading my body language, she eased into a standing position and raised her rough hands, showing nothing was there. She took a dagger at her belt and laid it on the table and slowly approached me with a hesitant smile stretching her broad features.

“What are you?” I whispered.

“By the deep, you are more beautiful than your singing,” she said, her low voice appreciative.

I blinked, more surprised. That was not what I had expected. I had never received a compliment before, and some of my unease released from my body. Not all, some.

“My name is Ansel. I came up because I wanted to meet you. I heard you singing, and I wanted to meet you,” she articulated.

“How did you know?” I asked, still wary.

“I saw the old woman come. I wasn’t sure how to react to golden braids drawing her up—and wasn’t sure you could lift a full grown man up, but I gave it a shot.” His smile widened, his eyes crinkled at the corners.

“Man?” I repeated fearfully. “You are a man?” As I spoke, Music daintily hopped off my bed and tip-toed to the stranger, sniffing. He reached down and scratched behind her eyes and she started purring and sat on his boots. Traitor.

He frowned, puzzled at my reaction as he bent over to continue scratching my errant cat’s ears. “Well of course I am! What did you take me for?”

“Please leave,” I begged, my fear returning full force. “Go!” I pointed to the window. “You have to leave.”

His face fell, and sadness etched his features. “I’m not dangerous, if that’s what you think,” he said finally. He turned to face the window and gestured to my hair spilled around us. “Can you let me down then?” he sounded so dejected, so disheartened that I relented.

I should have told him to leave. I should have screamed, hoping Gothel could still hear me. I should have pushed him out the window.

But instead I mimicked his smile and spoke, “You don’t have to go yet.”  I had never made anyone sad before—I didn’t know I could. It made me feel awful.

But Ansel, the first man I ever laid eyes upon, whirled around and gave a short bow. “My lady,” he said with fervor. “Thank you! I do apologize for my…uh…surprise visit. But I wanted to hear more of your singing, if you would do me the honor.”

I blushed, unused to such attention or praise. “Mother says my singing is terrible and gives her a headache.”

He shook his head vigorously. “Nay, it’s lovely.”

I looked at him, examining his features once again now that I knew he was a man. Would a man look like an ugly woman, as I assumed at first glance?

“Do all men look like you?”

He started to answer, then hesitated. “What do you mean? People have all sorts of different eye colors and weight.”

I gestured to his body. “So sharp and flat, all at the same time.”