Rapunzel: The One With All the Hair Read online

  “Just in case,” he says, “take this horn and use it if you need help.”

  “Where did you get this?” I ask, admiring the brass-and-leather horn. It is heavier than I would have thought.

  “I borrowed it from the hunt master,” Elkin says with a wink as he turns to follow the path to the hermit’s cave.

  “You borrowed it?” I call after him.

  “Okay, so I stole it,” he calls over his shoulder. “But he won’t need it today and you’ll make sure I give it back.” He laughs as he disappears into the trees. Perhaps Elkin has not totally changed his ways … but I did notice a big satchel of clothes tied to the back of Dusty Rose’s saddle. I have a feeling the hermit will be dressing better soon.

  By following Elkin’s arrows, which thankfully were not felled by the heavy rains, I easily find the spot where I first heard the singing. With a deep breath, I close my eyes. For a few minutes I do not hear anything but the beating of my heart and the occasional squawk of a bird. Then the wind picks up a bit and I hear the singing, ever so faintly. I am tempted to gallop off in the direction I think it’s coming from, but I force myself to do as the hermit said and just listen. Snowflake whinnies, almost like he is trying to tell me something. Can he hear the girl, too? What if I drop his reins and let him find her? Could that possibly work? Well, it wouldn’t be any more surprising than all the other things that have happened in the last few days. I drop the reins.

  “Okay, Snowflake, let’s go find that girl!”

  And off he goes! We weave in and out of trees, sometimes hitting an old bridle path, sometimes climbing over logs and under low branches. I break off a thin twig and use the tip to paint a slash of yellow on the tree trunks as we pass. The song is getting louder and louder until I can finally hear the words.

  Oh, a dipsy and a doodle and a doodle and a dip,

  The maiden drops her bonnet and upon it he does slip,

  But he loves her fully anyway and she agrees to wed,

  Oh, a dipsy and a doodle and a doodle and a —

  As we round the final bend, the song suddenly cuts off. Snowflake comes to a halt just as suddenly and I am thrust forward in my saddle. I strain to listen. Nothing. My chest is tightening up. Have we come this far for nothing? I move Snowflake forward a few feet and see past the trees into a clearing. In the middle is the last thing I thought I would see — a tower as tall as our castle watchtower! Until now, the treetops have restricted it from view. Just below the top of the tower is a small window. I peer closer and see that inside the window stands a girl. I have found the singing girl! She lives in a tower? How strange. I am about to charge forward when a stooped old woman approaches the bottom of the tower. In a cackling voice she says, “Rapunzel, Rapunzel, let down your hair.”

  A few seconds later, a thick golden braid is lowered from the window all the way down to the grass below. My jaw falls open. How could one girl’s hair be that long? Why did the strange woman want her to hang it out the window? Then the most bizarre thing of all happens — the old woman starts CLIMBING UP THE GIRL’S HAIR!!! Hand over hand, she shinnies up at a steady pace. When she reaches the window ledge, the girl backs up and the old woman climbs inside. I rub my eyes. Did I just see what I think I saw? Snowflake paws the ground with his hoof, and whinnies. I back us up a few paces, fearing the woman might not like having company.

  I dismount from Snowflake’s back, give him some hay to nosh on, and sit on a nearby tree stump to wait. What I am waiting for, I do not know, but I keep my eyes focused solely on that window. After about ten minutes, the girl steps to the window again and I jump to my feet. I’m about to run to the tower when the old lady climbs out onto the ledge and starts sliding down the braid. I shrink back again and hide behind a tree until the woman disappears around the back of the tower.

  The girl pulls her hair back inside and does not return to her singing. I wait by Snowflake for a long time, until I am certain the witch is not returning. Then I pace back and forth beneath the tower, unsure what to do. Should I toss a rock in her window to get her attention? That’s probably not a great idea, considering my history with anything that requires aim. No doubt I would strike her in the head by mistake. I circle the perimeter of the tower, looking for any way in. On the opposite side from the window I see a door, but it has been sealed up tight with cement. Does the girl never leave the tower? Is she a prisoner there?

  I see no other alternative but to climb up the same way as the old woman. I stand under the window, clear my voice, and call out, “Rapunzel, Rapunzel, let down your hair.” Truth be told, since my voice hasn’t completely changed yet, I don’t sound all that very different from the old lady. It works! She lets down her hair! I grab hold of the end of it and pray I am not so heavy that she comes flying out the window. My ascent is not as smooth as the old woman’s, and I occasionally bang a knee or elbow against the hard stone wall. When I finally get to the ledge, I swing my leg over and hop in. That is the last thing I remember before waking up some time later on the hard stone floor. The girl with the hair is standing over me, a heavy pewter bowl held firmly in her hands. My head is throbbing and — unless I am going crazy — a cat is licking my ear.

  Perhaps I acted a bit rashly. I suppose I could have let the boy speak his peace before knocking him out. In my own defense, he HAD tricked me by pretending to be the witch. I am standing over him now, bowl poised to strike again if necessary. Sir Kitty sniffs the boy’s clothes, which look very fine and well tailored even to my untrained eye, and is now licking the boy’s ear for some reason. When he awakens from his bowl-induced sleep, his eyes slowly open and his hand reaches out to rub the spot on his head where I struck him. His glasses have fallen off his face and are dangling from one broken stem.

  “What did you do THAT for?” the boy asks, grimacing. He slowly sits up and leans against the tower wall for support.

  How could he ask me that? I had forgotten how dense boys could be. “You just CLIMBED UP MY HAIR! Uninvited, I might add.”

  “I could not figure out any other way to get in,” he says. “This place is locked up tighter than a prison.”

  “Look around,” I tell him. “This IS a prison.”

  He feels for his glasses and discovers the broken stem. With a deep sigh, he reaches into a pocket inside his cloak and pulls out an extra pair. “These are my last ones,” he says, fitting them on his face and looking around at last. “So you are a prisoner, then. I feared as much. You do not look like a very dangerous criminal.” He smiles slightly and adds, “Although you know how to wield a salad bowl quite well! You can put it down now. I assure you, I mean you no harm.”

  I debate my options. Compared to the witch, he does look pretty harmless. I lay the bowl down on the floor and Sir Kitty runs over to check it for milk. Disappointed, she climbs up onto the boy’s lap and curls up to sleep.

  “Well, my cat seems to like you. Perhaps now you will tell me why you are here?”

  “Ladies first,” he says. “Tell me why YOU are here.”

  Might as well get it over with. I sit down a few feet away and tell him my sorry tale. He gasps in all the right places, and even laughs a few times, such as when I tell him how my shoe fell off when I was dangling from the window.

  “That is some story,” he says, shaking his head. “I did not think such things as witches and little green creatures who live in underground caverns existed anymore.”

  My face darkens. “Are you saying you don’t believe me?”

  “Oh, no,” he says hurriedly. “Of course, I do.”

  “Good,” I say, relieved. “Or else I might have to hit you with the salad bowl again.”

  He grins. He has a nice smile. He could use a haircut, but who am I to talk about that? “So now you know who I am, but I do not know your name, nor why you are in my tower.”

  The boy gently moves Sir Kitty from his lap to the floor, stands up slowly, and bows. He is quite tall for his age. “Prince Benjamin at your service, Lady Rapunzel. I h