One

His four brothers and two sisters, even the younger ones, are all taller than he is. Except for his youngest sister Helewise they all call him "the runt"—rarely affectionately, for competition is high in a large family that possesses few resources. Their father Eustace's occupation is pig farmer, which already sets the family at the bottom of the social scale; but his profession is drunkard. Their mother Albreda spends most of her time doing Eustace's work, leaving the household chores for the children, and since his brothers have hired out and his sisters are too small, that means most of the housework falls to Rumplestiltskin. Eustace would have protested this indignity for his son, except that Rumplestiltskin is lame and not sturdy enough for farm work. . . and Rumple isn't really Eustace and Abreda's son. As they remind him whenever he fails.

Eustace traded a shoat for him when Rumple was an infant.

The story goes—and Rumple has no cause to think it's untrue—that a woodsman carrying a blanket-wrapped bundle wandered in to Loameth one morning. He went from villager to villager, starting with the well-dressed ones, and tried to sell the bundle, which he claimed to have found on the road—though many thought this claim suspicious. Most of the villagers waved him off; those who considered his offer changed their minds as soon as the blanket was pulled back and they could see the baby was indeed a runt.

Eustace happened to have been deep in his cups that day.

Rumple doesn't know how old he is. He knows, because his family reminds him, he's smaller than other boys his age; he's the size of a five-year-old, but he can do everything a seven-year-old can do, despite his lameness, and he's smarter than most nine-year-olds: he can calculate sums in his head (the one skill his father praises him for). . .

And he can read. No one else in his family can, so he keeps it a secret. A neighbor taught him and he picked up on it right away. Sometimes he dares to sneak off to see that neighbor and devour the man's library: four entire books, plus two fragments. At these times Rumple doesn't feel lonely any more and he dares to hope he'll someday be as rich as the neighbor.

One day Eustace calls him outside. Rumple can't tell if he's been drinking—his natural state these days is drunkenness—but Eustace grabs him by the arm and directs him without explanation down the road. Silent hours later, they arrive in Alsford, a village twice the size of Loameth. Rumple is fascinated and overwhelmed—and nearly run over by a donkey cart.

Eustace takes him to a hut near the center of town. He hullos and an elderly man comes out. The man looks Rumple up and down, then inspects the boy's hands—and smiles. He reaches into his purse for coins, which he passes to Eustace. "His name is Rumplestiltskin," Eustace says, then without a goodbye the pig farmer walks away.

Rumple starts after him, but the old man stays him. "You work for me now. My name is Saer." He pushes back the heavy curtain that covers the entrance into the hut. "Welcome, Rumplestiltskin. This is your home now."

Saer shows him around the hut, points out the mat in the corner upon which Rumple is to sleep. The hut is the same size as Eustace's, which is to say, it's quite spacious, because only Saer lives in it. It's a whole lot cleaner too, which is remarkable because Saer is nearly blind.

That's why he's purchased Rumple, he explains; the boy will be his apprentice, learning the trade and the art of spinning. He will produce yarn from wool and will sell the yarn to be woven into clothing and blankets.

Rumple is pleased. At last, something he does will earn money, will be rewarded, and there will be no more housework, for his time is valuable now.

Saer leads Rumple to the spinning wheel, which takes pride of place in the center of the room, near the fireplace. Saer sits him down at the bench and invites him to watch as Saer spins. They don't speak, and Rumple soon finds the steady rotation of the wheel and the clicking of the treadle put him to a strange state, asleep but alert at the same time.

He wants this for himself. He begs to be taught. The old man nods. "Aye, you'll do, lad."

There's much to learn: how to select, wash, comb, card and dye the wool; how to identify, clean and assemble the spinning wheel, how to use a hand spindle. Days later, Saer calls him back to the bench and guides his hands as he threads the wheel and begins to spin. "To the right, lad, always spin to the right."

"Why?"

"Bad magic otherwise. Only a holy man may spin to the left."

Rumple smiles over his shoulder at the old man. "Look!" He's producing something that will soon become something else, something people need, something that will last for years; someday, when he walks through this town, he will see the results of his work on people's backs.

And then the old man stands away, leaving Rumple alone at the wheel, trusting Rumple to be alone at the wheel, for Rumple realizes that it's his most precious possession. It's been not just his livelihood but his life.

Rumple sets both hands on the wheel and turns it slowly, listening to its soft rumble. He feels the vibrations beneath his fingers.

The old man tells him he's a natural; whereas other boys would quickly grow bored, Rumple has found the spinner's secret place, a place in his mind he can retreat to, where the world is blacked out, memories are pushed away, dreams are distant, and there's only solitude. Rumple's hands, the old man says, are large and his fingers are long, and that will be an advantage; his small body is an advantage too.

When he spins he's no longer the runt, the cripple. For the first time in his life, Rumple is powerful.