Cinder the Fireplace Boy: Rewoven Tales

By Ana Mardoll

Once upon a time there lived... a beautiful prince who kissed a frog. A cinder-smudged child who hid a secret. A princess who climbed a long braid of golden hair for love. A thumb-sized boy with the courage of a giant. And a valiant little tailor whose wit was as sharp as her needle. 

 

These stories and many more await you in this delightful collection of classic fairy tales, lovingly retold and featuring characters who receive wonderfully queer happily-ever-afters! Let these new takes on the Brothers Grimm warm your heart and nurture your yearning to see yourself reflected in beloved favorites.
 

"Mardoll has removed instances of racism, antisemitism, and Christian moralizing while introducing queer and disabled characters... a welcome, clever update of fairy tales." --Kirkus Reviews

• Language: English
• Publisher: Ana Mardoll
• Release date: Jan 4, 2022
• ISBN: 9798201920982

Ana Mardoll

Ana Mardoll is a writer and activist who lives in the dusty Texas wilderness with two spoiled cats. Her favorite employment is weaving new tellings of old fairy tales, fashioning beautiful creations to bring comfort on cold nights. She is the author of the Earthside series, the Rewoven Tales novels, and several short stories. Aside from reading and writing, Ana enjoys games of almost every flavor and frequently posts videos of gaming sessions on YouTube. After coming out as genderqueer in 2015, Ana answers to both xie/xer and she/her pronouns. Website: www.AnaMardoll.com Twitter: @AnaMardoll YouTube: www.YouTube.com/c/AnaMardoll

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This book is a work of fiction. Names, characters, locations, and events are products of the author's imagination. Any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, business establishments, events, or locales is coincidental. The author acknowledges the trademarked status and trademark owners of the word marks mentioned in this work of fiction.

Copyright © 2022

CINDER THE FIREPLACE BOY by Ana Mardoll

All rights reserved.

Published by Acacia Moon Publishing, LLC

Cover illustration by Anna Dittmann

Story illustrations by Alex Dingley

Books by Ana Mardoll

Rewoven Tales

No Man of Woman Born

Pulchritude

The Earthside Series

Poison Kiss (#1)

Survival Rout (#2)

To my darling Kissmate, who is the morning dawn and the evening sunset.

Cinder the Fireplace Boy

and other Gayly Grimm Tales

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Rewoven Tales

by Ana Mardoll

Table of Contents

The Frog Prince

The Faery's Goddaughter

The Story of the Youth Who Went Forth to Learn Fear

Faithful John

The Good Bargain

The Twelve Sisters

Little Brother and Little Sister

Rapunzel

The Three Little Men in the Wood

The Three Spinners

Sometimes Hansel and Othertimes Gretel

The Three Snake Leaves

The White Snake

The Fisherman and His Wife

The Valiant Little Tailor

Cinder the Fireplace Boy

The Riddle

Mother Hulda

The Seven Ravens

Little Red-Cap

Bremen Town Musicians

The Singing Bone

The Devil with the Three Golden Hairs

The Boy Without Hands

The Three Languages

The Wishing Table, the Golden Donkey, and the Magic Cudgel

The Robber Bridegroom

Thumbling

Thumbling's Travels

The Elves and the Shoemaker

Godfather Death

Version History

Author's Note

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The book cover was the color of dried blood and felt hard in my small hands. A dark twisted tree dominated the foreground and provided a stark visual contrast to the shining white castle in the background. Bright yellow text against the dark red announced I was holding Grimms Fairy Tales, though I didn't know what that was or what it meant. Nudged by my mother, I uttered a polite thank you because that was what I was supposed to say whenever I received a gift.

This gift was part of a series called Legendary Classics, which was probably why I was allowed to receive it at all. My parents lived in perpetual fear of modern attitudes corrupting their little girl and monitored my reading habits with unwavering paranoia, but anything marked classic was automatically allowed into the household under a vague assumption that such things came from goodlier, godlier times. They were educational in nature, and would edify me into a wise and pious young adult. Eventually the entire collection of Legendary Classics would reside on my shelf, but this was my first. My grandmother had given me the fairy tale collection first because I was a very young child and the bookseller had assured her that fairy tales were good for children.

Though I wasn't sure what to expect from the little red book, I soon melted happily into its pages. The stories were unlike any I'd ever read before: violent, strange, gory, adventurous, and often just plain weird. After I'd devoured the 27 selected Grimms stories in the little hardcover volume, my bemused parents found themselves on a quest to satisfy this new hunger. Fresh classics trickled into the house at a rate that was never quite fast enough for me: Grimms collections by the handfuls, the Lang color books, fairy tale collections organized by country of origin, and of course the Thousand and One Nights. I read them all and loved every page.

As an adult, I found myself with less time for reading but I made a point of gifting Grimm collections to friends and relatives with children. I was proud to share my love for these tales, even if sometimes I felt a gnawing hunger when I remembered how heteronormative the stories were; how much sooner would I have found my queer self if those old tales had contained queer representation? Then, too, I felt misgiving when I picked up my own Grimm collections for pleasure only to notice how many of the stories are undeniably racist, sometimes in ways that children might not be primed to recognize and their parents might not be equipped to explain.

I was learning what my parents never did: that a book could be a classic and yet contain material not best suited to the needs of the modern reader.

From here my mission was clear, as well as delightfully indulgent. I would rewrite those fairy tales which were collected and edited and published by the Brothers Grimm. I would include all the queer and disabled representation that I'd longed for as a queer disabled child. I would edit, or remove entirely, stories that contained hateful, racist, or antisemitic elements. I would remove the morality tales that didn't include a plot and existed only to instruct children in the Grimms' preferred brand of Christianity; indeed, I would remove religion as much as possible from the tales in order to increase accessibility for a diverse audience. Christian angels and devils would be rewritten as fae folk, which seemed especially fitting given their wildly chaotic nature in the source material.

That is how I came up with this first volume of Gayly Grimm Tales, a collection of 31 tales from their work which I hope will please and enthrall modern readers. I hope that adults will enjoy reading these tales for themselves and find representation they needed as children. Most of all, I hope that children will read these tales and find themselves in these pages. We all deserve to see ourself in a fairy tale and I hope that I have accomplished this much at least. These are stories I needed to read as a child, but they are also stories I needed to write as an adult. I am sending them out into the world for others who might need them too.

Pronouns

Pronouns included in this collection are:

Some of these pronouns are new to the English language, and as such we call them neopronouns. Like all pronouns, neopronouns do not convey a gender and can be used by anyone of any gender. If you would like to try on a pronoun to see how you like it, a great resource is the Pronoun Dressing Room online.

The Frog Prince

Content Notes:

Pronouns:

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In older times when wishes could come true, there once lived a King whose children were each as beautiful as the stars. The youngest boy was so handsome that the sun itself, though it has seen much, was astonished whenever it shone in his face.

Near the castle of this King was a shady forest in the midst of which stood an old linden tree beneath whose branches splashed a little fountain. Whenever the weather was hot and dull, the King's youngest son would wander into the woods and sit by the side of the fountain, diverting himself by throwing a golden ball into the air and catching it. His favorite amusement was to daydream under the spreading boughs where legends said lovers met, justice was done, and truth could always be unearthed.

One day it happened that when the young man threw his golden ball into the air it did not fall down into his hand but onto the grass, only to roll right into the fountain. In vain he scrambled to retrieve the ball, but it disappeared beneath the water which was so deep that he could not see to the bottom. Then the young man began to lament and to cry loudly, for the ball had been a present from his father and was very dear to him. Yet as he cried, a voice called out, What ails you, son of the King? Your weeping would move a stone to pity.

The Prince looked around for the voice and saw a frog stretching its thick ugly head from the water. Ah! Old water-splasher, is it you who spoke just now? I am crying for my golden ball which has fallen into the fountain.

If that is all, quiet your tears, replied the Frog, for I can assist you. But what will you give me if I succeed in fetching up your plaything?

What would you like, dear Frog? said he. My clothes, my pearls and jewels, or the golden crown which I wear?

The Frog replied, Fine clothes and shining jewels and golden crowns are not for me. But you could choose to love me and let me be your dearest companion. Let me sit at your table and eat from your golden plate and drink from your cup and sleep in your bed. Promise me all these things and I will dive down and fetch up your golden ball.

Oh, I promise all that and more, said the Prince lightly, if you will only get me my golden ball. For he thought to himself, What nonsense he talks! As if a lowly frog could do anything but sit in water and croak with the other frogs. How could he ever be loved or considered a dear companion to any human?

As soon as he had received this promise the Frog drew his head under the water and dived down, swimming up again presently with the golden ball in his mouth and throwing it onto the grass. The King's son was full of joy when he saw his beautiful heirloom and, taking it up, he ran off immediately. Stop, stop! cried the Frog. Take me with you! I can't run as swiftly as you! But this croaking was of no avail, for although it was loud the Prince did not hear it in his haste.

The next day, when the King's son was sitting at table with his father and all his courtiers and was eating from his own golden plate, something was heard coming up the marble stairs outside: splish-splash, splish-splash. When the sound arrived at the top of the stairs, there followed a knock at the door and a voice said, Open the door, youngest son of the King!

He arose and went to see who it was that called to him, but when he opened the door and caught sight of the Frog he was much frightened and shut the door again very quickly and with great passion. He returned to the table and sat down, looking exceedingly pale. The King perceived that his son's heart was troubled and jokingly asked whether a giant had come to challenge him in combat and now stood at the door.

Oh, no! answered the son, trying to make his trembling voice light and airy. It is no giant or troll, but only an ugly Frog.

Much astounded by this answer, the King asked, What does the Frog want with you, my son?

The Prince did not wish to answer, but was bound to be honest with his dear father. Yesterday, when I was playing by the fountain, my golden ball fell into the water. This Frog fetched it up again because I cried at the loss, but he pressed me to vow that he should be my companion. I never thought he could come out of the water but somehow he has managed to jump out and now wants to come in here, to join our illustrious society. Yet I know you would not approve, Father.

But the King said, Whatever a man of honor has promised, he must perform. Go and let him in.

So the Prince went and opened the door, and the Frog hopped in after him right up to his chair. When the Prince sat down, the Frog said, Lift me up, but the Prince hesitated so long that the King had to order him to obey. Once the Frog sat on the chair he jumped on the table and said, Push your golden plate near me so that we may eat together, and the Prince did so unwillingly.

Though the Frog seemed to relish his dinner very much, every bite the King's son ate nearly choked him, for he was deeply ashamed to keep a lowly frog as his companion. He was sure that the lords and courtiers at the table would judge him as an unsuitable Prince and an embarrassment to the King.

At last the Frog said, I have satisfied my hunger and feel very tired. Will you carry me upstairs to your room and make your bed ready so that we can sleep?

At this speech the King's son began to cry bitterly, for he felt this mischief from the frog had gone far enough in humiliating him. Moreover, he did not relish the idea of a cold slimy frog sleeping in his warm clean bed. His complaints made the King very angry and he said, Have I raised my children to be so ungrateful? He who helped you in the time of your trouble must not afterwards be despised!

Shamed by his angry words, the Prince took up the Frog gingerly with two fingers and placed him in the far corner of his chamber. But as he lay in his bed, the Frog crept up to it and said, I am so very tired. Do take me up into bed so that I may sleep.

This put the King's son in a terrible passion, so angry was he at the compiled humiliations of the long day. Catching up the Frog, he threw him with all his strength against the wall, saying, Now will you be quiet, you cruel Frog!

Silence descended onto the chamber and the Prince found it weighed heavily on his heart. He had not wanted to harm the Frog; he had simply been unhappy with the bargain he had made by the fountain, when he had not paused to consider his promise and had given his word lightly. Yet the Frog was not to blame for the Prince's regrets. It was not the Frog's fault if his presence caused the haughty councilors to look down on the Prince, and it was not the Frog's fault that the King had become angry and shouted at his son. It was not even the Frog's fault that he was clammy and slimy, unlike the warm clean sheets.

Feeling heartily sorry for his harsh actions, the Prince crept from his bed and carried the Frog gently in his hands to lie upon the bed pillows. I have harmed you in my ingratitude, Frog, and I am dearly sorry for my terrible actions. The only honorable act left to me is to apologize and treat you forever as the dear companion we agreed you would be.

He feared his change of heart came too late, for the Frog's body was very still, yet as soon as he touched the bed the poor animal was changed from a frog into a handsome young man whose beauty rivaled that of the King's son just as the silvery moon rivals the golden sun.

The young man revealed to the Prince how he had been bewitched by a wicked witch, and how no one could have delivered him from the curse but the Prince himself. He promised that tomorrow, if the Prince should like, they would go together into his kingdom and see all that was worth seeing. The Prince was much amazed by this handsome speech and readily gave his consent. By the King's will, the Frog Prince became his son's dearest companion and loving husband, and they lived happily ever after.

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[Source] The Frog King, or Iron Henry (Der Froschkönig oder der eiserne Heinrich). Grimm, Jacob, and Wilhelm Grimm. Household Tales by Brothers Grimm. Translated by Margaret Hunt. London: George Bell and Sons, 1884. Project Gutenberg, http://www.gutenberg.org/files/5314/5314-h/5314-h.htm. Retrieved 30 August 2020.

The Faery's Goddaughter

Content Notes:

Pronouns:

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Once upon a time a woodcutter and his wife dwelt by a great forest with their only child, a little girl three years old. They were so poor that they could no longer afford daily bread and did not know how to get food for their child. One morning the woodcutter went sorrowfully out to his work in the forest, only to find standing before him in a clearing a tall and beautiful woman with a crown of shining stars on her head. I am a queen among my people, she told the woodcutter. You are poor and needy. Bring your child to me; I will take her with me and be like a mother to her. She will never know hunger or poverty.

Stunned but unwilling to disobey, the woodcutter brought his child and gave her to the woman, who took the child with her back to the land of faeries. There the child fared well, feasting on sugar-cakes and drinking sweet milk. Her clothes were spun from silver clouds, and pixies were her playmates. When she came of age as an adult, the faery queen came to her and said, Dear, I am about to take a journey. I will leave in your keeping the thirteen keys to the thirteen golden doors of my realm. You may open the first twelve and behold the glories behind them, but the thirteenth door, to which this little key belongs, is forbidden to you. Beware of opening it, or you will bring misery on yourself.

The girl promised to be obedient. When her godmother had left, she began to examine the golden doors of the realm. Every day she opened one of them and rejoiced in all the magnificence and splendor of faeryland. Behind one door rolled vast emerald fields under skies of soft chartreuse; behind another lay beautiful sapphire mountains capped with turquoise snow and clouds of cool aquamarine. At last only the forbidden door remained and the girl felt a great desire to know what could be hidden behind it.

She said to the pixies, I promised not to go inside, but what if I were to unlock it so that we can crack the door and see through the opening?

Oh, no, cried the pixies. That would be a danger! The faery queen has forbidden it, and it would bring misery.

The girl fell silent but the desire in her heart grew until it tormented her. At night while the pixies slept, she found herself quite alone and imagined she could peep inside the forbidden door without anyone ever knowing. Taking the tiny key in hand, she put it in the lock and turned it round. The door sprang wide open before she could stop it, and she saw crimson fields of fiery flowers and burning trees, with dark scarlet smoke filling the sky.

Amazed and fearful the girl scrambled backward, pulling the door closed behind her. A bit of gold rubbed away from the door and coated her skin, causing her finger to become quite golden. Though she rubbed and washed repeatedly at the spot, the gold would not go away. Terror filled her heart until it beat faster, no matter how she struggled to still the drumming. Soon the faery queen returned from her journey and called the girl before her to ask for the keys. When the girl handed them over the queen said, Have you opened the thirteenth door?

No, replied the girl.

The queen placed her hand on the girl's heart. She felt the rapid beat and knew that the girl was lying. She said once more, Are you sure you haven't opened the thirteenth door?

I am sure, the girl replied.

The queen held the girl's hand and saw the finger which had become golden from touching the forbidden door. She said for a third time, Have you opened the thirteenth door which I forbade you?

No, answered the girl, unable to meet her gaze.

Then the queen said, You have disobeyed me and you have lied to me. You are not worthy to remain in my realm.

Before she could object, the girl fell into a deep swoon. When she awoke, she lay in the midst of a strange wilderness. She wanted to cry out but her mouth brought forth no sound. Nor could she run away; wherever she turned, she was held back by thick hedges of thorns. The only shelter available to her was an old hollow tree nearby. When night came, she crawled inside and found sleep, and the tree shielded her from both wind and