Grounded: The Adventures of Rapunzel

by Megan Morrison

“Rapunzel …”

  Witch was too weak to stop her. Rapunzel took rolls of parchment from her little desk and ripped them up. She crinkled them into balls and stuffed them under the grate. Then she looked around for furniture she could break and decided that the desk chair was her best option. She held it sideways against the ground and stomped on one leg with her booted foot. When the chair was entirely in pieces, she brought her wood to the fireplace and dug into the pouch in her belt where she kept flint and tinder.

  She lit the fire. As the sun went down, the flames caught hold of the broken bits of chair and a healthy fire roared up. The tower looked very different than Rapunzel had ever seen it; orange flames were cozier than blue ones. She stifled a yawn and sat down beside the fire, in front of Witch’s chair. She propped up one knee and leaned an arm on it. It was then that she noticed Witch’s expression.

  “What is it?” she asked. “Why are you looking at me like that?”

  “You have become very capable.”

  “I made a lot of fires on the journey,” said Rapunzel. “I did a lot of things.”

  “Tell me.”

  Rapunzel shook her head. “I’m the one asking the questions.”

  Witch looked disappointed, but said nothing, and Rapunzel tried to decide whether the disappointment was real or whether Witch was only faking it to trick her. Then she remembered that she could ask anything and Witch would have to give an honest answer.

  “Do you actually care what I did on the journey?” she asked. “Or do you just want to distract me from asking more questions?”

  “Both,” said Witch.

  “You know everything already, don’t you?” she demanded. “I thought you followed me.”

  “No. I met you at the end.” Witch looked smaller now, and her cloak hung more loosely from her frame. “I could not risk following closely.”

  “Why not?”

  “As long as you intended to return to me, you were still mine. And once you were out of the Red Glade, I could still do magic — I was significantly weakened, but not ruined. But I did not know what had passed in the Red Glade. I did not know how much the Red fairies had told you of your history, or how much you believed. If I had approached you and asked you to come home and you had said no, then I would have lost my power completely. I had to be certain that you would say yes.”

  “How did you know where I was going?”

  “I learned your destination from a royal guard of Yellow Country.”

  “I won a jacks competition there,” Rapunzel said, and she realized that she would never play in the championship match at the ATC. She wouldn’t know she was supposed to go.

  “So the guard told me,” said Witch. “I always said that your skill at that game was great.”

  “I wish you could have been there.”

  “I wish so too.”

  “Do you really mean that?”

  “Yes.”

  Rapunzel didn’t understand why this meant so much to her. Everything Witch had done and planned to do should have made Rapunzel care nothing about her opinion. But she did care.

  “Are you proud of me?” she asked.

  “In many ways, yes.”

  “Then why don’t you want me to stay as I am?”

  “I need you innocent if I am to survive and regain my power quickly.”

  More of Witch’s hair had fallen from her head. Her scalp was visible in the firelight, and it was covered in dark spots.

  “On the journey,” said Rapunzel, “Jack answered all my questions. He wanted me to know things. I’ll miss him.”

  “You won’t know to miss him.”

  Rapunzel shook her head. “I don’t think that’s true,” she said. “I won’t know him, I won’t remember him, but I’ll miss him. I just won’t know what the feeling is, or why I’m feeling it.”

  “Perhaps that is the case.”

  They fell silent. Rapunzel wondered what else there was to ask, and her stomach gave a ravenous growl.

  “I’m hungry,” she said. She hadn’t eaten in a long time. “And thirsty.”

  “I have nothing for us to eat or drink.”

  Rapunzel reached for her belt and grabbed her water skin. At least she had that much. She uncorked the skin and drank from it, then held it out to Witch.

  Witch stared at her. “You are offering it to me?”

  “Of course. Are you thirsty?”

  Witch looked torn. “Yes,” she said reluctantly.

  “Have a drink, then.”

  “No.”

  Rapunzel looked down at the skin, bemused. “It’s fine, it’s clean. I washed it out the other day,” she said, corking the skin and setting it down where Witch could reach it if she changed her mind. “Why don’t you want to drink from it, if you’re thirsty?”

  Again, Witch looked as though she would rather not have answered. “I do not want to take from you,” she said.

  Rapunzel wondered why, when Witch was about to steal so much from her, she would hesitate to accept a little water. And then she knew in a flash what the answer was.

  “It’s a bad feeling, isn’t it?” she asked, remembering how Jack had described guilt. “Heavy. And it sits right here….” She rested a fist under her rib cage and closed the other hand over the back of her neck.

  Witch had stopped rocking. “Yes.”

  “Then don’t do it,” said Rapunzel, looking up at her. “Don’t hurt me, Witch. Please.”

  They looked steadily at each other through another long silence.

  “Rapunzel, if you wish to tell me about your journey, then now is your chance,” Witch said at last. “Or, if you still have questions, I will answer them.”

  Rapunzel had only one important question left. But she was not sure she could bear the honest answer.

  “Have you ever been inside the Red Glade?” she asked Witch instead.

  “No.”

  “Do you want to hear what it looks like?”

  Witch was quiet for a moment. “Yes,” she said.

  Rapunzel described it. And then she described what it had been like to walk for days in slippers and a nightgown, carrying her hair. She told Witch of the Stalker and of climbing out of the river, of making a canopy with her hair in the rain, of Cornucopia and Governor Calabaza, and of the Blue fairy Serge. She told her of being robbed by bandits, Prince Frog’s near death, the lifebreath, and Prince Mick and Nexus Keene and Princess Daigh. She told her of the Ubiquitous dogsled, and camping in the snow, and the beauty of the Woodmother.

  She did not mention Purl or anything that had occurred at her house. And she told Witch nothing of Jack’s home or his bargain with Geguul — Jack would not have wanted Witch to know his business.

  She talked for hours about everything else. Sometimes she stood, to show Witch a thing she meant or to pace from one thing in the tower to another as she grew more excited by the telling. Witch’s quiet attention was fixed on Rapunzel. She asked questions, but more often she only smiled, or looked frightened or angry at something Rapunzel would say.

  The story was a long one, and Rapunzel was exhilarated and exhausted together when she had finished telling it. The world was dark, although the sky outside was bright with stars. Rapunzel went out onto the balcony to look at them.

  “Come out here with me,” she said. “I want to see the world before I forget it.”

  “I cannot go that far.”

  “I’ll help you.”

  Rapunzel took a chair to the balcony. She helped Witch to stand and hobble into the night, and she settled her in the chair, covering her knees with a blanket. She sat on the stones beside her and rested her head on Witch’s knee, looking up at the sky.

  Witch’s hand touched her hair. “You could kill me now, you realize.” Her voice was paper-thin, and her breath rattled. “You could throw me from this tower.”

  Rapunzel shuddered. She knew that she should kill Witch, for the sake of the Redlands, if not for her own life. To push her from the tower would have been so
easy — Witch was so light.

  “No,” she said. “I couldn’t.”

  They were quiet together for a long time, perhaps even hours, until the darkness began to change. The stars were not so visible. Dawn was near.

  “Was your mother always unkind to you?” asked Rapunzel, gazing at the disappearing stars. “She was cruel when I saw her in the Woodmother.”

  “Is that your final question?” Witch’s voice was unreadable.

  “No. I have one more.”

  “Very well. Yes, my mother was always unkind. I don’t know what you saw, but I imagine it was a fair sample of the rest.”

  “I saw the time when your heart was broken,” said Rapunzel. “When Phillip sent you roses and you decided to go to Geguul. You wouldn’t have gone if your mother had been kinder. Would you?”

  “I don’t know. Perhaps not.”

  “She should have sat with you like this. Comforted you.”

  “She was not that kind of mother.”

  “Did she love you?”

  “No, I don’t believe she ever did.”

  Rapunzel drew a deep breath and exhaled. The last question. Though she feared the answer, this was her only chance to ask.

  “Do you love me?”

  The wind blew softly across the balcony. The sky lightened. If the answer was no, she would not have to know it long.

  “Yes,” Witch said.

  Rapunzel buried her face in Witch’s cloak and stayed there, still and silent, her blood coursing with relief and fear. She heard the morning birds begin to sing, but she did not move.

  “Dawn,” said Witch in her rattling voice.

  Rapunzel raised her head.

  The end of the bargain had come. She wondered if she would ever leave the tower again. She supposed that she would not.

  “Close your eyes,” Witch said softly. “It will soon be over.”

  Rapunzel pulled away from Witch and looked up at her. She tried to be still, but her body was shaking, shivering, and it wouldn’t stop.

  “Don’t do this,” she whispered through chattering teeth. “Don’t kill me.”

  “I’m not going to kill you.”

  “I’ll be gone,” said Rapunzel. “It’s the same as being dead.”

  Witch gazed at her.

  “Witch, if you love me … if you love me …”

  “Close your eyes.”

  It was no use. Tears came to Rapunzel’s eyes, and she looked through them at Witch, who swam in her vision, unrecognizable.

  “Good-bye,” she said, her voice quaking as she shook.

  “It isn’t good-bye,” said Witch. “I’ll be here with you still.”

  “But I won’t — know you —” The awful shaking worsened. Rapunzel hugged herself to stop it, but it was beyond her control. “I won’t — love you — anymore —”

  Witch looked as though Rapunzel had struck her. She cringed, and her already shrunken form grew smaller yet.

  “You will love me better,” she said, “when you know me less.”

  “That’s not — the way it is.” Rapunzel shook her head. “You’re not good — I know it — you’ve done terrible things, and you’re going to do another.” She reached out for Witch’s hands and took them. “But I see you — and I love you. It means more now. It’s real now. It wasn’t real — before.”

  Witch’s thin chest rose and fell rapidly.

  “It is time,” she said.

  “Wait! Take these first —”

  Rapunzel released Witch’s hands and dug jittering fingers into the belt pouch where she kept her jacks. She laid them in Witch’s lap. “To remember me by,” she managed. “I won’t remember — this Rapunzel. You will. Don’t — forget me — when I’m gone. Please.”

  The sun rose over the mountains in the east. The Violet Peaks. Rapunzel thought of Jack and his sister, Tess, and how they would be safe. It was the best last thought she could give herself. Jack would be safe. Jack would finish his journey. She had failed in the rest of it, but at least she had done one good thing.

  Witch raised her hands to either side of Rapunzel’s head.

  “Close your eyes,” she rasped again.

  Rapunzel closed her eyes.

  Through her mind went a thousand memories at once. The first time she cracked a Ubiquitous acorn — the first time she felt the falling snow — the smell of the campfire — Prince Frog’s clammy skin — Purl’s hair — Glyph’s wing — Jack’s laugh —

  Witch’s fingertips touched her temples.

  IT was like being underwater in the river again, only this time, she would never surface. Rapunzel kept her mind fixed on Jack. As long as she could remember him, it had not happened yet. In a moment, she would not remember. In a moment … any moment …

  Rapunzel’s shaking redoubled, and a low sound escaped her lips. Why was Witch waiting? It was agony to know that it was coming….

  Something warm and papery pressed Rapunzel’s forehead. Then it ended. Rapunzel dimly realized that it had been a kiss. She heard Witch’s rattling voice.

  “I release you.”

  Witch’s fingertips slipped from her temples. Rapunzel opened her eyes. Witch had fallen back in the chair. Pale dawn light touched the crags of her shriveled face and lit the sparse white tufts of hair that remained on her head. Her eyes were closed, and her hands lay curled in her lap.

  “Witch?” Rapunzel said uncertainly.

  “Go” was all she said.

  “Go?” Rapunzel repeated. In the pink light of dawn, everything seemed to be moving. Spinning. “Go? You’re letting me …”

  Witch’s eyes fluttered open. They shone in the light.

  “Do not forget me,” she managed, and then her eyes fell shut again, and she drew a shallow, rasping breath.

  “Oh, Witch —”

  With a cry of joy, Rapunzel flung herself at Witch and held her tight, half speaking, half sobbing. “Witch — Witch, I knew — I told them —”

  “You must go.” Witch’s hand touched her hair, then fell away.

  “No, I won’t leave you!” said Rapunzel, wiping her eyes on Witch’s shoulder. “I’ll stay with you — I’ll stay because I want to stay. I don’t want you to die. I don’t want you to go to Geguul. I won’t let you.”

  “Your ring,” Witch said weakly. “Your clothes. They hurt me.”

  Rapunzel drew back — she had forgotten how cloaked she was in fairy magic. She untangled her arms from Witch and stood up.

  “I must eat something,” said Witch. She winced and appeared to age yet another degree; her eyes were bleary now. “In the woods, just west of here, blueberries grow wild. Will you go and pick some for me?”

  “No, I can’t. I’m afraid you’ll die.”

  One corner of Witch’s sunken mouth twitched. “I will not die,” she said. “That I can promise. But you must hurry…. I am hungry. Please, Rapunzel. If you love me.”

  Rapunzel hesitated. “Can I at least give you water before I go?”

  “Water,” Witch said. “Yes.”

  She ran into the tower for her water skin. Her trembling fingers slipped as she uncorked it, and she nearly dropped the cork. She could scarcely focus. Witch loved her, and her memories still belonged to her — Jack was safe, and so was the Redlands. Relief made her dizzy. She returned to the balcony, and though the sight of Witch’s patchy, spotted scalp disturbed her, she kissed it gently before bringing the water to Witch’s lips. Witch took the pouch from her hand and drank.

  “Do I really have to leave you?” asked Rapunzel, distressed. “Are you sure you’ll be all right? You look so frail —”

  “Find me food,” Witch wheezed, “quickly.”

  Rapunzel glanced through the open balcony door and across the tower room, toward her window wheel. It was empty.

  “I’ll have to cut my hair to climb down,” she said. “Won’t I?”

  “Yes.” Witch slipped a hand into the pocket of her cloak and withdrew Rapunzel’s dagger. Rapunzel took it and pulled
her braid over her shoulder. She held the hair out in front of her chest and braced herself. She had faced worse than this. Far worse. But she felt a stab of regret as she raised the knife.

  “A little longer, please,” Witch said hoarsely. “Your beautiful hair …”

  Rapunzel took a few feet of it into her hand and then laid what would soon be the end on the balcony railing. She placed the dagger’s blade to the golden cord.

  One — two — three — she sawed through it. She looked down at the shorn, blunt end of the rope she had created.

  “That’s it, then,” she murmured to herself. She sheathed the dagger and reached out to touch Witch’s face with gentle fingertips. “I’ll wind it on the wheel,” she said. “Don’t move — just rest. Get better.”

  Rapunzel went to her window wheel. With fingers that still shook, but now for very different reasons, she wound her severed braid several times around the wheel, tucking it in as she went to be sure it was secure. She tossed the rest through the window and looked down. She would have to jump about ten feet at the bottom, but that was all right.

  “Witch, I’m going,” she called out, and was startled when she felt a touch at the back of her shoulder. She spun to find Witch standing there, more aged and fragile than ever, yet somehow erect.

  “I want to make sure that the braid remains secure,” Witch said in a voice that was thin and cracked. “I will be here watching as you descend.”

  Rapunzel didn’t argue. As she had seen Witch do thousands of times, she straddled the window, took the braid in her hands, swung her other leg through, and braced herself on the tower wall.

  She hung there for a moment, looking up at Witch. It had always been her standing in the window and Witch climbing down. It was strange and wonderful to see things from this angle.

  “I’ll be right back,” Rapunzel said. “I love you, Witch.”

  Witch’s eyes glistened.

  Rapunzel climbed down. It was so easy. She shook her head as she descended and felt the near weightlessness of her remaining hair. Her braid came loose at the back of her neck — it had unplaited itself with nothing to tie it off. Wind caught at the strands, and Rapunzel laughed when she saw a golden wisp float up beside her.

  When she came to the end of her braid, she jumped. She landed badly and stumbled to the ground in a heap, breathing hard.