Rapunzel, the One With All the Hair Read Online Free PDF Page B

one else would say a thing like that to the prince of the castle. When Andrew first came to live here, six years ago, we were exactly the same height. In the years since, my legs have sprouted a life of their own and I have shot up nearly a foot! “Just so I am clear — you are telling me that somewhere out in the forest, a big hairy troll stands guard over a secret cave full of abandoned bandit treasure. Is that correct?”
    â€œCorrect,” Andrew replies with a wide grin. His teeth glow white by the dusky light of the oil lamp. I must remember to ask him sometime how he gets them so clean.
    I continue. “And this troll is so fearsome that even the bravest knights in the kingdom refuse to face him.”
    â€œCorrect again.”
    â€œAnd although even the bravest knights quiver in the presence of this troll, I, Prince Benjamin, who has never even been allowed inside the forest, am supposed to conquer the troll and claim the treasure?”
    â€œYes!” says Andrew enthusiastically. “You will certainly be a hero then. Admired near and far. Traveling minstrels will sing songs of your greatness, yessir!”
    â€œSongs of your greatness, yessir!” the cook mumbles in his sleep. His eyelids flutter but remain closed.
    â€œ Shh , c’mon,” I whisper to Andrew. We try not to scrape the floor too loudly when we push back the chairs. He leads the way with the lamp and we ascend the narrow stairs to the second floor where our bedchambers are located. When we reach my doorway, I tell him, “I think it will be a while before I fight any trolls. But I thank you for your confidence in me.”
    â€œI shall not give up,” he says, before turning toward his own quarters around the corner. “They will sing of you yet!” As he disappears into the darkness, he whistles a little tune that I recognize as the ballad the jester was singing the night Elkin and I were caught behind the couch. I surely doubt there will ever be songs of Prince Benjamin rescuing any damsels in distress or fighting off big hairy trolls. The bravest act I have thus far committed was to jump in the moatto rescue Annabelle, who had leaned in too far to pet a duck. In my hurry to get her into the waiting arms of our hysterical Mum, I scraped both of my legs on the moat wall. Instead of applying bandages, the royal doctor insisted on placing leeches on my thighs. I cannot understand why he thought it best to have more blood sucked from me whilst I was still bleeding.
    It took a fortnight before the smell of the moat was off me.
    Father did make a special toast in my honor at supper that night, and I got an extra portion of rutabaga pie. Still, it was nothing to write a song about.

I wake up still full from supper, which is a good thing because, for the first time, no breakfast plate awaits me. As much as it pains me to admit it, last night’s meal was delicious down to the last pea. Better than Mother makes, for sure, and Mother has a fresh garden and a magical herb to work with. I do not see any garden from my window here, only treetops and birds. Where did the vegetables come from, then? And the pig! Surely no pigs are running wild in the forest.
    Sir Kitty slept in the crook of my arm all night, and I was grateful for her warmth. Whenever I woke up in the night — which was often — I heard the rhythmic breathing again … but it wasn’t coming from her. Each time I heard it, I sat straight up, frantically lit a candle, and searched the room. Nobody was ever there. I feel pretty stupid now because I have used up all my candles. I had five and managed to use them up in three nights. I am not looking forward to the coming sunset, when I will be plunged intodarkness with only the faint light of the moon to see by. And what if it is a cloudy night and I hear the breathing again and the moon sheds no light? I shiver at the thought of it.
    But night seems far off now. The whole day