Becoming Rapunzel

Friends

While my adoration for Ansel grew, I became more concerned with what Gothel would say if she knew. I was even more concerned with what she would do to us. But try as I might, whenever I tried to summon the wherewithal to ask him to never come back, for his own safety, I could not. I yearned for company. I loved Music, but I could not converse with her as I did Ansel.

It had been two whole moons since Ansel first came to me, and we were finally coming to a point in our friendship where Ansel could speak more than a sentence without me interrupting with a question. My new education was giving me confidence in myself. Ansel assured me I was a quick learner and intelligent, which helped.

Gothel, when she visited, did not seem to notice my lack of questions or my lack of interest in making any sort of conversation at all. I began to realize I was worth having a conversation with—at least in Ansel's eyes, and I was fulfilling my need of communication with him rather than Gothel. Gothel, though still the reason for my survival, was no longer my entire world. I was happy to turn much of my attention to someone eager to receive it.

On Ansel's next visit, after he pulled himself over the ledge and into my chamber, I greeted him with a short embrace. It had become my habit, for I drew great comfort from the physical touch, and I assumed as friends, for that was what Ansel said we were, it was an appropriate display of affection for one another. Ansel suffered patiently through the embrace, though I began to suspect that he was growing accustomed to it and enjoyed it almost as much as I did.

“Would you like to eat?” I inquired, already knowing the answer. His visits were developing a sort of routine that comforted me.

He nodded, and I beckoned for him to follow me down to the kitchen. Our manners were growing thin between one another, and the familiarity growing between us eliminated all formality. Ansel sat on the counter as I cut a slice of bread and tore a chunk of cheese off the ball. “Here you go.”

I watched him wolf down his sustenance, and it amazed me how fast and how much he could eat.

“May I have another slice of bread?” he asked, smiling.

I couldn't help but smile back, and against my judgment, I cut a thin slice. Gothel would notice how fast I was going through the food she brought me if I kept giving it away to a hungry man. I decided to forgo supper to make the meals last longer and keep Gothel's suspicions at bay as I handed him the bread.

“I feel terrible,” he said, talking through his food.

I was still growing used to someone expressing their emotions. I did not know how to react. “Why?” I asked, unsure if that was the correct response.

“Because all we have done is talk about me and my life and what I know.”

Despite his declaration, I was still unsure of his own family life. I knew he was a nobleman and that he had an elder brother and two younger sisters, but that was all. “Well, what else would we talk about?” I questioned. “You know so much, and I want to learn it.”

“What do you do all day long, when I am not here?”

“I spend my time wishing you were here,” I responded truthfully, making him blush. Was that not an appropriate response? I was quite confused. Ansel told me that telling the truth was important, but when I did speak freely it seemed to make him uncomfortable. Perhaps only some truths were acceptable in Alamann’s mindset.

“What else do you do?”

“I keep the tower. I cook and clean and keep our herbs.”

“But the library. Do you often go in there? Can you read?”