It had been one day, with the summer sun shining, that the aged Grandma Gowdie found herself with a Graceless Handful. Not her hands, of course, as they were always full of grace, but the small stubby creatures that scuttled around her.
When Handful and Graceless were bored and without a task, they would get evermore graceless and evermore of a handful for the poor old grandma. Today, the two skulked in the front yard, pouring malfunctioning brews down anthills to gleefully witness their effects.
Grandma Gowdie tried her best to ignore the chaotic beasts while rocking on the porch and working on her quilting. She had been working on the most beautiful tapestry, you see. She weaved a giant blanket, far too large for any one person, and the blanket was so large she had to weave it in three separate parts.
The first part of her blanket was a dark red canvas with a white cross topped with a circle that itself was topped with horns. She wove this part of the blanket to represent quicksilver as it burnt harshly, and brilliantly, and ever so briefly. Grandma Gowdie wanted to trap quicksilver in her blanket so that she could capture the fleeting indefinitely.
The Second part of her blanket was a dull grey canvas with a silver crescent moon in its center. She wove this part of the blanket to represent the moon that shone light onto the miracles of night. But miracles could be both wondrous and terrible. Grandma Gowdie wanted to trap the moon in her quilt so she would never forget to be wary of great promises.
The Third part of her blanket was a brilliant yellow with a large red circle inside an even larger and even redder ring. She was weaving this part of the blanket because the sun was brilliant and completed everything. Grandma Gowdie wanted this part of the blanket to be perfect, taking her time with every thread of the needle, so she was still working on this section.
With a stretch of her back and a crack of her weary bones, Grandma Gowdie looked into her hut to a simmering cauldron. It had been boiling for three days and three nights, but it still hadn't changed from its milky white colour. Then Grandma Gowdie looked back to her Graceless Handful, which had begun to fight and bite and cause that ruckus, which would inevitably lead to another broken something.
"Oh Dearys!" Grandma Gowdie called, and when Grandma Gowdie called, all fervour and violence would leave the goblins, and they would rush to her side.
"I find myself low on thread. I need my two capable champions to find a string of yellow so lustrous; one would ask if it were gold. But you can't get me just any gold thread. It can't be too dull or thick, nor can it be too shiny or frail. This thread has to be just right."
Graceless preened at Grandma's compliment, and Handful gleefully snickered at having something to do. "Of course, Grandma, we will get a spool of perfect string for you. You'll be so surprised by what we bring."
Now, neither Handful nor Graceless knew a single thing about quality yarn or the brilliance of gold. Still, they knew that Grandma Gowdie must always get what Grandma Gowdie wants.
Setting out into the dark woods, the goblins searched down in the deepest valleys and found nothing but moss and moats. The goblins searched up in the tallest mountains and found nothing but snow and goats. The goblins searched high and low, but by the time their hope was dead, they still had not found the perfect thread. With their heads slumped and egos bled, they slowly trudged down the mountain edge.
About halfway through their return, the goblin's luck finally turned when they came across a blinded man with broken legs. "Look!" hissed Graceless, grinning from ear to ear. "A crippled man. We may not have found Grandma's string, but we can find some cheer in robbing a helpless fool."
Handful agreed that a good mugging would always lighten a sour day, and the two helped themselves to the invalid. Because the man was blind he could not see who accosted him. When the Goblins began to loot him, he cried loudly, "Damnable Witch, now you've come to rob me too! Is it not enough that you've stolen my beautiful golden Rapunzel?"
Greedy Handful ignored the whining man and helped himself to his pockets, but Graceless was intrigued by her victim's odd cries and mocked the pitiful stranger. "Silly blind man, rapunzel is not yellow. It is purple, vile, and ugly. Why would a witch want to steal such a weed?"
"You are not the witch who ruined me! Please, I need you to save my Rapunzel, not a flower but a beautiful woman with the most brilliant hair—one would wonder if it were gold! I beg of you, take what you want from me as only a credit for what I can offer you from my vaults. I will give you it all if you can free my beautiful Rapunzel from that wicked witch."
Graceless maliciously smirked, and even Handful stopped his perusal of pockets to listen. "Goblins have no use for gold or beautiful maidens, but brilliant yellow hair we do. My brother and I will save your damsel, but we do not need your vaults or your riches. Our payment will be the thing you love most about your woman; we shall take her golden hair."
The prince cried and cried, "Her locks are of no more use to me now that I am blind, so you may take them, and I will have to be grateful for just her life." The prince gave the goblins directions to the prison tower where the golden woman was kept and the required password to ascend the tall spire.
Within a short skulking march, the goblins found a clearing in the forest with a garden full of ugly purple rapunzel and, in the middle, a massive cobble tower in the shape of a cross. At the top of that cross was a large spherical prison with a single window.
The goblins stood beneath the window and called out as instructed:
"Rapunzel, Rapunzel, Let down your hair."
And like the prince had promised, a rope was let down for them. It was a thick, heavy yellow twine. It was nothing like the price promised, too dull, too thick, and too trampled to be useful for Grandma Gowdie's blanket. The goblins hoped that Rapunzel's hair wasn't as ratty as that used to climb the tower.
Graceless was about to climb the rope when Handful stopped her. The witch would be up there waiting for them. They will need to lure her out with a devious plot. Handful put one of Grandma Gowdie's quicksilver torches to the rope. The white flame jumped onto the rope and flashed up the length like a head of hair. From the top of the tower, there was a brief moment of brilliant white flashes followed by harsh shrieks and curses and a smoking witch on a broom flying out the window.
Graceless, with surprising grace, climbed the tower to rescue their damsel. Peering through the window, she was shocked to see not a single thread of golden hair. The only thing in the room was the charred remains of an oddly shaped anchor for the rope. Graceless descended the tower and told Handful the poor news. The two would have to keep searching for their golden thread.
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The goblins searched close to home, and found nothing but tomes and herbs. The goblins searched away to the edge of the world and found nothing but stars and bergs. The goblins searched near and far, but by the time their hope was dead, they still had not found the perfect thread. With their heads slumped and egos bled, they slowly trudged back to Gowdie's stead.
About halfway through their return, the goblin's luck finally turned when they heard a farmer crying. "Oh, I should have never given my daughter away to that greedy king. Now she will lose her firstborn child just so that she can spin enough golden string to sate his hunger!"
The goblins cheered up to his lament and popped their heads through the farmer's window, "We goblins have no use for expecting mothers or greedy kings, but spinning hay into golden string we do. We'll save your daughter, but she must spin a spool for us, too."
The farmer agreed and told the goblins of the keep's vault where she was being held. They waited for the deep of night when the guards were all asleep. With only the silver light of a crescent moon to shine on them, the goblins snuck into the greedy king's castle and found a vault of straw.
In the vault, they found a young lady shackled to a loom, dressed in the finest silks but bearing the dirty face and calloused hands of a peasant. A sword rested above the lady's head, crowned with the queen's tiara and dangling by a single golden string.
When the Goblins entered, the lady hugged her swelling stomach and shouted at them, "No, it is too early, vile creature! You told me I had until midnight to find your name, but the moon has barely crested the sky."
Graceless and Handful shared confused looks. "What a strange lady you are. You speak as if you know us, but we've never met. You dress like a queen but work like a slave. You move to protect your child but bargain its life for riches."
The peasant queen gasped in horror, "You were supposed to be someone else. If you are not the small demon I know, why are you here, beasts?"
"We have come for your legendary golden string." Graceless sneered, then sneezed, her hay fever kicking in. She went to the curtained windows, threw them open, and let a chilly breeze swoop in with the moonlight.
The vault doors opened, and another fellow goblin entered. "It is now midnight, and I have come to collect my child unless you have somehow guessed my name?"
The young lady wailed, "Look how you two have distracted me, and now I am unprepared to defend my baby." She started guessing every name she could give.
"Wilhelm?" she tried
"That is not my name." the mysterious goblin said.
"Perrault?" she tried instead.
"That is not my name." the mysterious goblin smiled.
"Anderson?"
Handful and Graceless laughed, "Those aren't goblin names! A goblin's name would be something like Puxlqr!t or Nusoln!ts if from the dark forest, or Ratbelcher or Crowstealer if from the northern prairies, or Bortelnestein or Rumpelstiltskin if from the mountains. Your names are just ugly human names."
The peasant queen got excited. "Well, evil child thief, are any of those your names? Is your name Puxlqr!t, or Nusoln!ts, or Ratbelcher, or Crowstealer, or Bortelnestein, or Rumpelstiltskin?"
The mysterious goblin stomped his feet, "That's not fair, you cheated!" he yelled, "You got help from those goblins; no human should be able to guess a goblin's name! It's not fair!"
Handful and Graceless fell to the floor with laughter, "You had her guess your name when it's Rumpelstiltskin? With a name so lame you deserve to lose your game!"
"You still cheated!" Rumpelstiltskin's little green head turned a bright red, and he stamped his right foot with such force that it went into the ground to his knee; then he seized his left foot with both his hands and yanked in such a fury that he split in two and died.
"Oh God!" the young lady cried in horror at what happened.
Handful shook his head. "Not God, just another mountain goblin, always so dramatic. Now that we helped you, you must pay us with one of your spools of gold thread."
The young lady spat back, "Ha, well, you'll be disappointed, miserable creatures! It was Rumpelstiltskin that could weave straw to gold, not I. So you will have to live with nothing but mud and misery like the rest of your wretched kind."
Gracless became dismayed until a glint from the moonlight caught her eye. "Ah, but you still have one thread of gold to offer us." She climbed into the rafters and untied the golden cord that suspended the crowned sword. It promptly plummeted down through the woman's skull, placing the tiara on her head.
Graceless played with the thread in her hand, but she found the thread too shiny and too frail to be useful for Grandma Gowdie's blanket. She threw the thread aside and the goblins carried on their search.
The Goblins searched in the most crowded cities, and found nothing but beggars and trash. The goblins searched in the most isolated plains, and found nothing but rocks and grass. The goblins searched packed and barren, but by the time their hope was dead, they still had not found the perfect thread. With their heads slumped and egos bled, they slowly trudged on the road's gravel bed.
About halfway through their return, the goblin's luck finally turned when they found a couple with beautiful golden hair. "Please, anyone that will listen, whether man or beast. Our poor darling girl has run away and is alone in the forests!"
Graceless mocked, "If your daughter means so much to you, then why don't you go and save her."
"The forest is full of bears and worse monsters. We are too scared. If you do this for us, you'll have our eternal gratitude and service."
Graceless and Handful shared an evil smirk. "We goblins have no use for gratitude or service, but golden hair we do. We will save your daughter with her locks as a fit reward."
"Her hair is a small price for our safety."
With directions given to them by the cowardly parents, Graceless and Handful went into the dangerous woods.
It took time to find, but eventually, they came across a beaten-up shack. They entered to see the place looking like a great tempest had flown through. Three beds were torn and fallen apart, three chairs were upturned, and porridge splayed across the floor. Walking further in, the goblins found three bears terrorizing a small blond girl.
"Yes!" Graceless whispered excitedly, "Look at that girl's hair. It is not too dull or thick but not too shiny or frail. It has the lustre of gold but is pliable, like yarn. That will be just right."
Handful nodded, "Yes, her hair will do perfectly. But how will we get the bears away."
The two heard the breaking of pottery. "What if we get a jar of sweets?"
A young, panicked cry screeched out, "Please, No!"
"You're right, not sweets, honey!"
The snap of gnashing teeth and menacing growls chorused.
"But we'll need to find a safe place to hide."
Another shout shrieked "Get away! Down! Down!"
Handful shook his head. "The bears can get us if we hide down. We should go high up somewhere."
The room went silent, only broken by Graceless's excitement, "Yes, it's perfect! Then we'll be able to get those nasty bears away from the girl and her hair." The two turned back to their prize only to see three bloody snouts snarling in their faces.
Graceless quickly corrected, "Did I say nasty? I meant poor hungry things who've had their porridge ruined. Clearly that girl was far too small of a meal. We know of a couple at the edge of the forest. The man may be too big a meal, but his wife would be just right."
The bears' gaze shifted between the little girl and even littler goblins. They shared a few contemplative growls amongst themselves and then left the battered cabin. As Gracless watched the hungry bears go, Handful gathered a headful of golden hair.
With their perfect thread acquired, the goblins hurried their way home. Upon reaching Grandma Gowdie's hut they ran to her. They eagerly declared, "We have returned bearing for you a lustrous yellow thread that is not too dull or thick and not too shiny or frail. Now you can complete that blanket you were quilting."
Grandma Gowdie laughed at her silly goblin wards. "Blanket? Oh, I finished that thing months ago. But you have completed your task in bringing me the ingredients for my special concoction." Grandma Gowdie took the golden blond offering with a grimace. "This is a little more than I asked for, but what is a little extra?" She then tossed the latest ingredient into the white contents of her smallest cauldron.
With a few twists of her ladle, the mix turned from a pure white colour to a brilliant, nearly glowing yellow, warm like the sun. Grandma Gowdie beamed smile, "It is nearly done."