Angry Man do that?” the troll asked. Gustav charged at the creature, but it grabbed him in mid-run and lifted him into the air. The troll spun the prince upside down and rammed him headfirst into the ground with a pile-driver-like maneuver. Dazed, Gustav tried to crawl away, but the troll, still holding him by the feet, swung him to the left, smashing him through a stack of wooden crates. The monster then swung him back to the right, wrapping him around a fence post. Gustav swung his fist at the troll, but his punch didn’t even land. The creature hoisted him overhead and was ready to chuck him up onto the farmhouse roof, when Rosilda stepped up behind the troll and smacked it in the back of the head with her shovel.
“Ow!” The troll dropped Gustav in the dirt and rubbed the sore spot on its skull. “Shovel Lady said Shovel Lady would not hit Troll.”
“That was before you started beating up on that poor man,” Rosilda snapped. “Now get out of here.”
“But Angry Man hit Troll first.”
“I don’t care. You get out.” She raised the shovel again.
“No more, no more. Troll go.” And the huge creature shuffled off toward the forest. The children burst into cheers and danced around the garden.
Rosilda held her hand out to Gustav, who still lay on the ground. He angrily waved the woman’s hand away and stood up by himself. “I had it under control,” he scolded. “You shouldn’t have put yourself in harm’s way.”
“You know, the troll was about to leave when you jumped on him,” Rosilda said. “Everything was fine. And now look—you’ve wrecked our garden.”
Gustav surveyed the yard. There were broken fences, smashed barrels, squashed beets, and row after row of flattened plants. “You care about a few vegetables? The monster ate your children!” he shouted.
“It did no such thing,” the woman scoffed.
“It had blood on its mouth.”
“Beet juice.”
“Are you sure?” Gustav asked, looking around at the giddy, dancing children. “It must have eaten at least one kid. Have you counted them?”
“Now look here, my knight in shining armor,” Rosilda said as she handed Gustav the beet-stained ax he’d lost. “I know how many wee ones I’ve got, and none of them are in the belly of a troll. Perhaps if you’d taken a second to stop and think before you—”
Rosilda paused and stepped closer to Gustav. “Wait a minute,” she said with a grin. “I know who you are. You’re the prince from that Rapunzel story.”
At that point, the children swarmed around Gustav, oohing and ahhing. He said nothing.
“Yeah, I’m sure it’s you,” Rosilda said. “Prince Charming himself.”
“My name is Gustav.”
“I’ve been to the royal castle, you know,” she said. “I’ve seen you there.”
Gustav looked stern. “No, you’re thinking of my brother. He’s Charming. I’m Prince Gustav. Gustav the Mighty.”
At that, a small boy and a small girl each started climbing up one of Gustav’s arms.
“Okay, Your Highness,” Rosilda said. “Why don’t you open up your royal wallet and pay us for the damage you’ve done to our farm?”
“I carry no gold with me,” Gustav said, with a child sitting on each shoulder pulling at his hair. “But I’ll tell the royal treasurer to send you some money.”
He tried to walk away before the woman pried any further into his least favorite topic, but was slowed down by two more children, one sitting on each of his feet, hugging his heavy, fur-lined boots.
“Tell me one thing, Your Highness,” Rosilda called to him. “Why didn’t you get a ladder?”
That question again? It was more than Gustav could bear. He shook off the children, who all dropped, giggling, into the dirt. “Pah!” was all he offered in response.
“When you get back to your castle, why don’t you tell that Lyrical Leif that he needs to write some new material?” Rosilda said with a smirk. “It’s been months now, and I’m gettin’ tired of hearing about how that sweet girl saved your life.”
“For your information, that weaselly song-spitter hasn’t shown his face around Castle Sturmhagen in weeks,” Gustav snarled. “And I say, good riddance!”
He abruptly turned his back on Rosilda and hopped onto his dark brown warhorse. He planned to speed off and kick up a cloud of dust at this annoying woman, but before he could spur the horse on, a newcomer approached the farm. This fellow was also on horseback, riding a light tan mare. He was hunched awkwardly in the saddle and moving very slowly. The rider stopped and looked up when he reached the farmyard gate. Gustav, Rosilda, and the children all stared at the stranger’s very odd attire: a dusty white suit, decked with gold trim and tassels.
“Hello,” the man said with a weary smile. “This might sound a bit strange, but are any of you familiar with the tale of Rapunzel? She’s a girl with really long hair, and—”
The delighted children bounced around and pointed at Gustav. “Oh,” said the stranger. “You know the story?”
Rosilda chuckled. “He is the story. That’s Prince Charming, right there.”
The stranger’s eyes widened, and he sat upright. “Really? You’re joking. No? Oh, that’s wonderful. You don’t know how terrible this last week has been. I came all the way from Harmonia. I’ve been riding all over, not getting nearly enough sleep, stopping at every village and farm I could find. I’m practically starving—you wouldn’t believe the things that pass for scones in some of these places. I have had to sleep at inns where they obviously don’t change sheets between guests; I have washed my face in the same water that fish do things in. I’m sorry; I’m rambling. The point is: I’ve gone through all of this in hopes of finding someone who could point me in Rapunzel’s direction. And now I’ve run into you. You, of all people. And it’s even more amazing than you think, because I’m Prince Charming, too!”
Gustav narrowed his eyes. “You’re a crazy man.”
“No, I’m sorry, I’m just a little excited. You see, my name is Frederic. But I’m also a Prince Charming. I’m from the Cinderella story.” He flashed a broad smile and offered his hand to Gustav. Gustav didn’t take it; he had no idea what this lunatic was talking about, and he certainly didn’t trust him. The children, on the other hand, applauded wildly at the mention of Cinderella’s name. Frederic gave them a quick salute.
“Okay, let me start over,” Frederic said to Gustav. “I’m looking for my fiancée, Ella—that’s her real name. She left Harmonia about a week ago. All I know is that she was going to Sturmhagen to find Rapunzel. So, if you could be so kind as to lead me to Rapunzel . . .”
“Follow me,” Gustav said, and started his horse off into the field.
“Oh, fantastic. So how far away is she?”
“I’m not taking you to Rapunzel,” Gustav said. “I
