Once upon a time there was a garden, and in it grew all manner of plants and herbs. This garden had been enchanted, so it was always in bloom, regardless of season or weather. But it was surrounded by a high wall, and no one dared to enter it, for it belonged to a cruel and powerful sorceress. Her name was Gothel, and she used the plants for healing potions and herbal remedies.
Gothel was always in a sour mood. Whenever she was out and about, most of the villagers kept well away from her. They were fearful of what she might do to them if they upset her. But whenever she sold her potions at the marketplace, her stall would be swarming with eager customers. For nobody could deny that Gothel was as accomplished as she was disagreeable.
Now Gothel was quite satisfied with this arrangement. She was distrustful of the world, and allowed no one into her life. But deep down, Gothel was very lonely. Her dear mother had long been gone, and she missed her terribly.
When Gothel had been younger, much younger, she would sit in front of the mirror every night while her mother would brush her hair for minutes on end.
“Your hair is so glossy,” her mother would say. “Your eyes are so sparkling. And your skin is so smooth and delicate.”
Gothel would have otherwise not given a fig about her appearance. But admiring herself in the mirror, applying lotions and creams to her skin, combing her hair — all these brought back memories of her mother. Gothel felt especially sad whenever she looked at her mother’s flower-shaped necklace, which she always wore around her neck. “How I miss her,” she’d sigh, sorrow seeping through her heart. Sometimes she’d burst into tears.
Now Gothel wished for a child of her own — someone she could love and love her in return. Someone youthful, who could make her forget about her old age. But she knew this wish seemed unlikely to come true. So instead she took care of the plants in her garden, as though they were her children. She doted on them, nurtured them, sang to them, and the plants, in turn, became big and strong and beautiful. And that was enough to make her happy.
***
Gothel lived at the very edge of the village, near a great forest. Right next to her lived a couple of bakers, named Jim and Greta. They both longed to have a child — someone they could love and love them in return. But as the years passed, and none came, the couple began to despair.
Then one spring day, Greta said to her husband: “We are going to have a child at last!”
Their joy knew no bounds. It wouldn’t last long, however.
Greta was soon struck by an unknown illness. Her belly pained her, her face became thin and frail, and she eventually took to bed with a severe fever. She barely ate anything, for nothing tasted good to her anymore. Not even the sweetest of honey could appease the bitterness that had formed in her mouth.
Jim, loving husband that he was, became desperate. Losing a child during pregnancy was very common at the time, and he was greatly concerned for both his wife and child. Kneeling at her bedside and holding her hand, Jim begged his wife: “Please, darling, there has to be something I can do! It pains me to see you in so much agony. I would do anything to see you well again.”
Ever so slowly, Greta pointed to her bedside window, which looked over the sorceress’s garden. “There is a white and purple flower growing through a crack in our neighbour’s wall,” she said weakly. “It looks so fresh and appetising. I would very much like to have a taste of it.”
The plant she was referring to was called rapunzel, a type of bellflower. Its leaves and parsnip-like roots were used in salads.
Quicker than thought, Jim fetched the plant for Greta, and she devoured it with even greater speed. The bitter leaves had somehow sweetened the taste in her mouth, and the pain in her belly eased. For the first time in a while, she was at ease.
“I must have more rapunzel,” Greta said. “It, and it alone, will make me well.”
Jim went to the market for rapunzel, but they had none. Nor did any other neighbour grow the plant. The only place it could be found was in Gothel’s garden.
Now Jim was in a dilemma. He was terribly afraid of Gothel, and he was certain she would spare him nothing, even if he begged her. But he was also afraid his wife would die for want of rapunzel. So he reasoned some mild thievery wouldn’t do any harm, provided he was cautious.
When it grew dark, Jim climbed over the wall into the sorceress’s garden. Slowly, quietly, he walked towards the patch where the rapunzel grew. He quickly plucked out handfuls of the plant and stuffed them in his bag.
But just as he was about to leave, he suddenly heard a terrible screech.
“Stop, thief!”
Jim turned and looked up. To his horror, he saw Gothel standing over him, her eyes glittering with malice.
“How dare you sneak into my garden and steal my rapunzel like a common thief?” she hissed. “You shall pay for this with your life!”
“Please, have mercy!” Jim begged. “The plant isn’t for me, it’s for my wife. She is going to have a child. If she cannot eat rapunzel, she will die!”
A child! Gothel softened at the mere mention of it. She fell silent for a moment thinking, a scheming smile forming on her face.
Jim tried to use this moment to escape. But he found his feet were firmly planted to the ground, and his muscles could barely move. He realised he was under a spell placed by Gothel.
“Please!” he begged. “I will do anything, give you anything, if you would only let me go back to my wife!”
“Very well,” said Gothel, grinning. “Your wife shall have all the rapunzel she wants. But under one condition: you must give me your child when it is born.”
“M-my child?” said Jim, horrified.
“Do not worry, I shall take care of the child like a true mother,” Gothel said, “and it will want for nothing.” She held out her hand. “So what do you say? Do we have a deal?”
Tears forming in his eyes, Jim stood in stunned silence, not knowing what to do. Never in a million years would he ever give his child away, but what else was he to do? He was completely powerless against the sorceress. So, reluctantly, he shook hands with Gothel. “You have my word,” he said, disgusted by his own words.
“Good,” said Gothel happily. And she turned on her heel and went back to her house.
As soon as her door was shut, Jim found he could move again. His head hung down, he grabbed his bag and went back home.
Greta’s eyes grew wide at the sight of the rapunzel. She quickly seized the bag from her husband and ate its contents with much relish. Jim didn’t dare tell her what had happened back there; he did not want to worry her further.
Within a week, Greta was strong and well again. However, the whole ordeal with the sorceress had taken a serious toll on Jim. So he began to drink his pain away. At first it was just a glass or two every other evening, but it soon turned to nightly visits at the pub. Jim was in such a terrible state, weak-minded and abrasive, that Greta could hardly recognise him anymore.
“Where is that sweet loving husband who would risk his life for some rapunzel?” she asked him one night. “And what about the child? What would the child think of you as a father?”
Jim said nothing. He just stood in front of her, blinking sleepily, too ashamed to meet her gaze. Yet he still didn’t have the courage to tell her the truth. He hated himself even more for that.
A few months later, a baby girl was born to the couple. Jim had managed to stay sober for this occasion.
“What shall we name her?” Greta asked, as she and Jim admired their daughter.
“Rapunzel!” shrieked an unexpected voice.
Jim and Greta turned their heads and saw that Gothel had suddenly appeared into their room.
“Her name shall be Rapunzel,” Gothel screeched, “so what you stole from me and what was stolen from you shall be one and the same.”
“Jim, what is she talking about?” Greta asked. “What does she want?”
Jim bit his lip, not knowing what to say.
Gothel grinned wickedly. “Well, I suppose your doting husband will have plenty of time to explain our agreement to you. After I am done collecting my payment.” And with that, she snatched the child from the couple’s arms.
“No!” screamed Jim and Greta. “Not our child!”
They both reached out their arms, but found they were unable to move.
“Yes!” Gothel said, unmoved by their pleas and tears. “My child now!”
Then, holding the child tightly in her arms, she ran away and was seen no more.
That evening and the following days, the villagers could hear shouting and arguing from the bakers’ house. Eventually, they saw Greta storming out of the house. Her face was swollen with tears and in her arms she carried all of her belongings.
She moved to another village and became a schoolteacher, so she could be around children she knew would never be her own. The children said they had never had a teacher so loving and kind as Greta was, though they often remarked how sad she looked whenever they saw her after school hours.
As for Jim, he was never the same either. The bakery he worked at fell into ruin, and he eventually drank himself to death.
Whether Gothel knew of all this or not, it is uncertain. But she wouldn’t have cared either way. As far as she was concerned, she had just saved the child from being raised by a couple of insolent, good-for-nothing thieves. Now Rapunzel was in the care of someone who truly loved her, truly wanted her. But Gothel was also afraid. She feared that Rapunzel might be stolen from her, just like her rapunzel plant. She resolved to keep her safe, far away from the eyes and clutches of intruders.
***
Gothel went into the deepest part of the forest, deeper than any human or beast dared to venture. She soon reached a clearing, and there she used her magic to conjure up a tall tower, taller than the trees that surrounded it. Then she took Rapunzel to the tower and shut her up inside.
The tower had neither stairs nor doors, and its walls were as slippery as glass. There was only one room with one window at the very top. Red climbing roses grew at the base of the tower. They flooded the room with their sweet fragrance, but entangled the tower’s walls like barbed wire with their sharp thorns. The only way into the tower was through the window, so Gothel had to use her magic flying broom to go in and out.
The tower room was large and round. It was filled with every necessity and luxury imaginable: a four-poster bed with satin sheets and pillows, a large dining table, a wardrobe full of beautiful clothes, a desk filled with pens and ink and sheets of paper, shelves of books about spells and remedies, glass lamps for the evening and a fireplace for the winter, a velvet couch with luxurious cushions, a dressing table set with a gold-framed mirror and brushes and jewellery of every kind.
It must be said that Gothel was true to her word: she looked after Rapunzel with loving care and provided for her every need. She played with her, sang to her, fed her well, and told her wonderful stories at night. When Rapunzel was five, she taught her how to read and write. When Rapunzel was seven, she taught her the names of all the plants and herbs and how to turn them into healing potions and remedies.
Rapunzel grew up to be a sweet, loving child. Unlike the plant she was named after, she did not have a hint of bitterness to her; she always saw the best in everything. And, as the years passed, she proved to be very talented at making healing remedies. She also had a lovely singing voice, and Gothel delighted in hearing it whenever she had the chance.
But the most remarkable thing about Rapunzel — at least in Gothel’s mind — was her hair. It was long and lustrous, fine as newly-spun gold thread but as strong and thick as a rope. It grew over her shoulders, past her waist and right down to her feet. By the time Rapunzel was twelve, she had to braid it to keep it in place.
Gothel believed the magic in the rapunzel plant had enchanted Rapunzel’s hair, so she never cut it. She feared that if she did, it would lose its power. It also reminded Gothel of her own hair when she was younger, so it became her pride and joy.
“One day your hair will be the making of you, my girl,” she often said to Rapunzel.
It also turned out to be very useful.
After many years of good use, Gothel’s broom wore down to a flightless stump — even magical objects have their limit. Instead of using a new broom, Gothel decided on a different way of entering the tower: Rapunzel’s long hair. To put it to good use, Gothel argued.
Rapunzel was soon old enough to be left alone in the tower. Gothel was gone during the day, tending to her garden and selling potions. She came back every evening to check on Rapunzel, carrying with her two baskets: one with food and drink, the other with potions and herbs. Gothel would stand at the base of the tower and call out:
“Rapunzel, Rapunzel, let down your hair, So I may climb without a stair!”
As soon as she heard the call, Rapunzel would tie her braid around a hook near the window and let it fall down to the ground. Then Gothel would climb up the braid like a rope and crawl through the window.
Once inside, Gothel would help Rapunzel bring her hair back up into the tower. “Here is some food for you,” she would say afterwards, handing the first basket to Rapunzel. Then she would hand her the second, along with a list. “Mix these potions and herbs for me,” she would ask. “I’ll get them tomorrow.”
Then the two would talk about their day and have supper. After that, Gothel would take care of Rapunzel’s hair. She would untie it, wash it with special herbal shampoo, and brush it a hundred strokes with an ivory-backed bristle brush. Sometimes she would plunge her hands into Rapunzel’s locks and gently run her fingers through them.
“Your hair is so glossy,” Gothel would say. “Your eyes are so sparkling. And your skin is so smooth and delicate.”
Rapunzel thought her long hair was hardly practical, and she found this whole routine rather tedious. But she loved to see her mother happy, so she did not object.
“I expect you had long golden hair when you were younger, Mother?” Rapunzel said one time.
At this Gothel looked at herself in the mirror and sighed, thinking of her own mother. Rapunzel felt bad; she thought she had upset Gothel by reminding her of her age. She knew how much Gothel valued youth and beauty.
“Either way, I think grey hair is very distinguished,” Rapunzel added.
Gothel smiled sadly at Rapunzel. “Oh Rapunzel,” she sighed, “you are such a sweet child — the sweetest any mother could wish for.”
“Thank you, Mother,” Rapunzel replied, happy to see her smile again.
Gothel was silent for a moment, then she said, “You do love me, Rapunzel, don’t you?”
“Of course, Mother.”
“And are you happy living here?”
“Oh yes, Mother, I am,” Rapunzel replied, for she had known no other life. “Only… it does get lonely sometimes, just the two of us here. It would be nice to have some company from time to time.”
Gothel scowled at her. As she made another stoke, she pulled at Rapunzel’s hair just a little too tightly.
“Mother, you’re hurting me,” said Rapunzel fearfully.
“We are company enough, Rapunzel,” Gothel said sternly. “We don’t need anyone else. The world outside is full of thieves and liars who’d take advantage of an innocent girl like you. You’re much safer here with me, do you understand?”
“Yes, Mother,” Rapunzel sighed.
***
When she was younger, Rapunzel used to ask why she couldn’t go out of the tower like Mother did, or why she couldn’t pick the roses growing down below. But then Gothel came back with buckets of roses, and Rapunzel learned that whatever she wished for outside the tower, her mother would deliver inside it.
Gothel brought Rapunzel a new present every day: potted lilacs and orchids, rose-scented soaps, a diamond-studded hair-comb, a light blue silk dress. Rapunzel was grateful and hugged the sorceress and they had happy times together.
But then something changed.
Rapunzel grew up and became a young woman. She still loved the sorceress, but there was now an emptiness inside her that she could not understand. She began to have less patience with her mother’s doting, as if their ritual had grown old, but there was nothing to replace it.
Sometimes Rapunzel was restless and resentful.
“I don’t want your presents. I don’t want you combing my hair. Just leave me alone!” she screamed one night.
“You ungrateful child!” Gothel fumed. “I give you everything you need — food, clothes, a home — yet you are never satisfied with anything. There are people out there with far less than you, that would do anything to have the kind of protection you have. You should be grateful for the life I have given you.”
At this Rapunzel felt ashamed and apologised, and when Gothel came back with another gift, she accepted it — more dutifully than willingly. After a while Rapunzel stopped rebelling. She went about her daily tasks like in a dream. She behaved in a kindly way to Gothel, but with no feeling.
And so time went on in the tower. All day long, Rapunzel felt sad and lonely. She spend her days mixing potions and reading Gothel’s spell-books. Sometimes she sang to herself to while away the time, her sweet voice echoing through the trees. Sometimes she sat by the window and gazed out at the forest around her. Sometimes she did both. She did not want to disobey or hurt her mother, but deep down she couldn’t help but wonder: what was it like out there?
***
One summer morning, Rapunzel was sitting by the window, singing to herself as usual. Suddenly she heard the sound of ferocious growls, followed by a loud, urgent voice calling for help. Rapunzel peered down below. She saw a young man trapped against the tower’s thorny hedge, surrounded by a pack of wild, snarling wolves. Rapunzel had never seen any person apart from Gothel before, nor any wolves. But she quickly understood that the young man was in serious danger.
Rapunzel didn’t know what to do. Her mind raced with many thoughts and doubts. Should she intervene? Should she help the young man? The only way to save him was to bring him into the tower, but should she do it? Gothel would certainly never approve of it, she couldn’t just stand by and let the wolves make him their prey. In the end, Rapunzel took a deep breath and decided to follow her heart.
“Quick! Climb up my hair!” she called out, slinging her braid around the window hook and letting it tumble to the ground.
The young man turned, his eyes tracing the long braid before looking up at the tower. It was so high he could barely see the top. Without a second thought, he grabbed hold of the hair-rope and began climbing. Some of the wolves leapt towards him, but they were too late; he had already reached the top.
Once inside the tower, the young man slumped to the floor and panted for breath. “Th... thank you,” he gasped. “I was… I was walking in the forest when… when those wolves started chasing me. I heard singing… from somewhere far off, and I followed it, hoping for a refuge. That is how I found this tower. Was it your voice I heard, by any chance?”
Rapunzel gave a nervous nod, unsure of what to say.
The young man’s eyes wandered to her hair. “So… it was your hair I climbed,” he said in awe. “How unusual. Still, I am eternally grateful to you for saving my life.”
But Rapunzel remained silent, her gaze fixed on the young man. He was about the same age as her, and he had kind eyes and a soft face. He captivated her in a way she had never felt before. But then she remembered that he was still a stranger and intruder. She tried to walk away, to hide somewhere, anywhere. But her hair was wound tightly round the window hook and she was caught fast.
“Allow me,” said the young man. He deftly unhooked her braid and helped her haul it back up into the room.
“Thank you,” said Rapunzel gratefully. He had such a friendly smile and gentle voice that she quickly lost her fear. “Pardon my silence,” she said shyly, “but I’ve never met anyone apart from my mother before.”
“How can that be?” asked the young man curiously.
“I’ve lived in this tower for as long as I can remember,” Rapunzel explained. “My mother wants to keep me safe from all harm.”
The young man simply nodded.
“Oh, please excuse my manners. I haven’t asked for your name yet,” said Rapunzel.
“It is Felix,” he said, as he took her hand and kissed it.
“And mine is Rapunzel,” she said, blushing. “May I ask where do you come from, since now you know where I do?”
“The village at the edge of the forest,” replied Felix.
“There is a village at the edge of the forest?” Rapunzel said, her eyes growing wide at the idea. “Do please tell me all about it!”
So Felix told her all about his home in the village. He told her about all the roads, shops, markets, houses, and schools. He told her about his parents, who worked at an apothecary. He told her how it was his job to gather certain certain roots, herbs, and plants from the forest, as they were hard to come by in the marketplace.
“I don’t mind it, really,” Felix explained. “I like wandering through the forest and and discovering its many wonders and secrets.” He paused, rubbing the back of his neck in contemplation. “And dangers, as you’ve already seen,” he added with a sheepish smile.
Rapunzel thought of Gothel’s warning about the outside world. “Do these wolves always prowl the forest?” she asked with trepidation.
“Not usually,” said Felix, sensing her fear. “They dwell near the mountains, but every so often they wander into the forest in search of prey. I was sent to gather some yarrow and elderberry — plants that grow where the wolves sometimes roam. I suppose I was too distracted to notice them this time. I’ll just have to be more careful in the future, that is all.”
Rapunzel still seemed uncertain.
“Well then,” Felix continued, “have you never seen any of the forest animals from your window before?”
“I have seen birds flying past the tower,” Rapunzel said.
“And did they do you any harm?”
“No,” Rapunzel said, shaking her head. “In fact they are quite friendly. Sometimes they sit by the window sill and sing to me and let me feed them seeds from my hand.” Rapunzel paused and thought for a moment. “I suppose then that some animals are harmless and some are dangerous. I just have to know how to approach them.”
Felix nodded happily. “The same goes for people,” he added. “Including me, I suppose.”
Rapunzel said nothing, but a small, relived smile appeared on her face.
“Enough about me,” Felix said. “Tell me more about yourself.”
So Rapunzel told him about her mother, and how it was her job to make potions for her. “I don’t know much magic,” she explained. “But I do know how to make healing potions and balms. Which reminds me, I was trying to come up with a healing balm that is even more effective than the one I have already. One that heals the skin more quickly and smoothly.”
“Hmm,” said Felix, intrigued. “I do have some suggestions, if I may.”
The two continued to talk like this for hours — talk mostly about plants and herbal remedies — and it all seemed as if they had always known each other. Before they knew it, the sun began to set.
“You have to go,” Rapunzel said to Felix. “My mother will be here any minute, and she will be furious if she sees you here.”
Felix wanted to interject, to insist that he was not afraid to meet her mother. But he saw the desperate, pleading look on Rapunzel’s face and decided to go along with her wishes. “May I at least come back and visit you again?” he asked hopefully. “There’s a lot more I would like to tell you.”
Rapunzel nodded her head excitedly. “I would love that,” she said. “Just be sure to come by day. Mother comes in the evening and she must never see you. Just call out to me:
““Rapunzel, Rapunzel, let down your hair, So I may climb without a stair!”
“And I’ll let down my hair for you to climb.”
Before long, Felix had just climbed down Rapunzel’s hair and disappeared into the trees when Gothel scuttled into the clearing. She called out as usual:
“Rapunzel, Rapunzel, let down your hair, So I may climb without a stair!”
And the long braid of hair tumbled out of the tower.
“Hmmm,” said Gothel, once she was inside. She looked at Rapunzel suspiciously. “You seem happier than usual,” she said. “Did something happen while I was gone?”
“Not really,” Rapunzel said, trying as hard as she could to conceal her joy. “I just realised which plants I should use for my healing balm.” She said this with so much ease and conviction that Gothel was no longer suspicious.
***
So it was that Felix began to visit Rapunzel every day. He would stand at the base of the tower and call out:
“Rapunzel, Rapunzel, let down your hair, So I may climb without a stair!”
Then Rapunzel would drop down her hair and Felix would climb up to her.
Every evening, Gothel would come to the tower and call out:
“Rapunzel, Rapunzel, let down your hair, So I may climb without a stair!”
Then she would climb up the same way.
Felix always took care to come during the day, and that way Gothel suspected nothing.
Each day, Felix would bring something new to show to Rapunzel.
“I brought you some books!” he said sometimes. But they were not about spells and potions — they were about the places and people Rapunzel never knew existed.
“I brought you some maps!” he said other times. And these maps were of his village, of the forest, of the realm, and of the whole known world.
Rapunzel and Felix spend much of their time talking and telling jokes. At first they talked about herbs and remedies, then about their childhood. Soon they talked about the outside world and all the things Rapunzel had never seen from within the tower.
As time passed, Rapunzel seemed to change. She seemed much more light-hearted, much more zestful; the emptiness inside her was gone. She now knew that the outside world wasn’t as dangerous as her mother had made it seem. But she was too happy and excited to be angry with her.
Rapunzel was always looking forward to Felix’s visits; time seemed to pass so much more swiftly and pleasantly with him. The more time they spent together, the more they grew to like each other, and eventually they fell in love.
Still, Rapunzel was pressed by a lingering thought.
“If only I could leave this tower and see the world with my own eyes,” she said wistfully to Felix one day.
“Then I’ll help you leave the tower,” he suggested.
“Oh no,” said Rapunzel, shaking her head. She stopped for a moment to think. “I’m sorry,” she continued, “it’s just that… this room is the only place I’ve ever known, and the ground below looks so… distant and vast. And even if I do get out, then what? I’ll be all alone in the world, with no one to turn to.”
“You know me,” Felix said. “And as for the others, they’ll be glad to meet you.”
“But what about my mother?” Rapunzel said. “I’m the only one she’s got. She’d be heartbroken if I left.”
“I’m sure she’d understand.”
“She would rage if I did.”
“Then I’d protect you from her.”
“You don’t understand. She loves me. She would weep.”
“Loves you!” Felix blurted out. “She has you prisoner here!”
He gasped and quickly clasped his hands over his mouth. “I’m sorry,” he said, his voice trembling. “I didn’t mean to offend you. It’s just… I couldn’t help but notice… ever since I first met you…”
But Rapunzel did not seem troubled at all — almost as if deep down, all along, she knew it too.
“She loves me,” she repeated softly. “She wants to keep me safe.”
“Then why would she lock you away from the rest of the world?” Felix said. “Why won’t she let you meet new people, have experiences, fall in love?”
So saying, Felix leaned closer to Rapunzel and gave her a kiss. For the first time in her life, Rapunzel felt well and truly happy — happier than she had ever been. Right there and then, she made up her mind.
“I will leave this tower,” she declared joyfully, “even if it’s the last thing I do. But how?”
Felix thought for a moment. “How about I bring a skein of silk each time I visit?” he suggested. “You could weave it into a ladder, and once it is finished, you can use it to climb down from the tower.”
Rapunzel shook her head. “No, that won’t work. Where could I hide it? Mother would find it right away; nothing escapes her watchful eyes. Besides, it would take far too long to make.” Rapunzel thought for a moment as well. “How about you bring a ladder or some rope to the tower?”
Felix shook his head. “It’s a long way from the village to the tower, and they would both be too heavy for me to carry. How about you climb down the rose branches?“ he suggested. They both looked out and down the tower wall and saw the jagged thorns.
“That would be a painful fall,” Felix admitted. “Perhaps we can just cut off your hair—”
“NO!” Rapunzel yelled, hugging her golden braid. “I dare not. My mother says it’d be a pity if I did. Nobody has hair as strong and shining as mine; it’s what makes me special.”
Felix gazed into Rapunzel’s eyes and smiled at her. “Your mother may think that, but what do you think makes you special?” he said. “You’re the kindest, most talented person I know, Rapunzel. Isn’t that special enough?”
Rapunzel smiled back at Felix. “You’re very talented too,” she said. And deep down she thought: “Felix is very nice. He is certainly far better company than dear old mother is.” And so she kissed him back.
The two were soon locked together in a passionate embrace, kissing and caressing each other all over. Felix stayed longer than usual that day. Rapunzel did not complain.
***
Felix managed to leave just before Gothel arrived. However, as soon as Gothel reached the tower, she noticed something that made her scowl.
“What is that on your neck?” she demanded.
Rapunzel saw, to her surprise, that there was a red mark on her neck. “Oh, it’s just a wound. I must have hurt myself while making potions today,” she replied, not knowing what a love bite is.
But Gothel did. And she was livid.
“Someone has been visiting you!” she shouted, pointing her finger at Rapunzel. “Tell me who it was this instant!”
Rapunzel’s eyes widened in fear and confusion, but she said nothing.
This only made Gothel even more furious. She grabbed Rapunzel’s hair and yanked it sharply. “Tell me who’s been visiting you,” she demanded, “or I will curse them when I find out who they are!”
“Just a young man from the village at the edge of the forest,” Rapunzel whimpered, wincing in pain.
Gothel pulled her hair again.
“And why did you let him in?”
“He was being chased by wolves. He would have died if I hadn’t helped him.”
A third pull followed.
“You wicked, ungrateful child!” Gothel growled. “After everything I’ve done for you, after keeping you safe from the world, you have deceived me!”
“But Mother, I can’t help it — I love him,” Rapunzel pleaded. “If you just met him, you’d see that he is kind and honest.”
Gothel gave a fourth tug.
“Honest indeed!” she spat. “They are all the same. They pretend to love you, they pretend to care for you, they worm their way into your heart, and crush it once they get what they want.”
Now it was Rapunzel who was angry. “Whether he’s right for me or not, that’s for me to decide, not you!” she shouted. “I’m no longer a child, Mother. I’m old enough to think for myself.”
Rapunzel cried out as Gothel pulled her hair for the fifth time, the pain nearly unbearable.
“How dare you speak to me like that!” Gothel roared. “You are mine, Rapunzel — mine and mine alone. And I’ll make sure no one ever sees you again!”
In her rage, Gothel reached towards the dressing table. She seized a large pair of scissors and — snip, snap — Rapunzel’s hair was cut off. Gothel tied the braid around the window hook and climbed down from the tower.
“You’ll stay in this tower for the time being,” Gothel called from below, “while I think of a proper punishment for you!” For she thought that Rapunzel might want to spend one last night in the tower. One last night in the only world she’d ever known.
Rapunzel ran to the window. She reached for the braid and started to pull it up again.
“Drop that!” Gothel shouted from below.
But Rapunzel refused to obey. Furious, Gothel pointed a finger upward and sent a sharp sting into Rapunzel’s hand.
“Ouch!” Rapunzel cried out, flinching in pain. She lost her grip, and the braid tumbled down in a heap to the ground below.
“Ha!” Gothel cackled triumphantly. “Now you’re trapped!”
She snatched up the braid like a prized possession, stuffed it into her basket, and disappeared into the forest.
Rapunzel paced around the tower room. “Mother cannot keep me trapped forever!” she thought. “I’ll escape from this tower and find my way out of this forest!” She dropped to the floor. “But how?”
Rapunzel thought and thought and soon she had an idea. She took all of her clothes from the wardrobe, cut them into strips of fabric and wove them together until she had a rope as long as her shorn braid. It was hard, laborious work, but she managed to finish it just before dawn.
Quickly, Rapunzel fashioned a bag from a sheet and stuffed it with food, a few phials of potion, and her special healing balm. She slung the bag over her shoulder and tied the rope to the window hook.
Rapunzel was filled with excitement and fear. Gothel had always told her that she could never leave the tower. But now, Rapunzel was going to do exactly that.
Before leaving, she caught her reflection in the mirror. Her hair, now cut short, barely touched her shoulders.
“Actually,” she said aloud, “I never liked my long hair — not even a little! It was always Mother who loved it.” She smiled, feeling lighter, as if a burden had been lifted. “And so she can have it.”
And with that, Rapunzel grabbed hold of the rope and slid down from the tower. She soon found herself standing on the ground — for the first time.
“At last,” she cried joyfully, “I’m free!”
She turned and looked back at the tower. It was a dark and dreary place, a terrible grey spot against a sea of vivid greens and browns. It made Rapunzel sick to look at it. She turned away and, without looking back, walked deep into the forest.
***
It wasn’t long before Gothel returned to the tower. She had just decided that she was going to take Rapunzel into the desert, where no one would ever find her. But her thoughts were cut short when she saw a rope dangling from the tower. Alarmed, she scrambled up the tower, only to discover Rapunzel was gone.
“Noooooo!” Gothel shrieked. “That wretched girl has escaped!”
Gothel fumed and raged, but then she remembered that Felix would be arriving soon at the tower. And so she made a plan. First she pulled the rope back up into the tower. Then she took Rapunzel’s braid from her basket, tied the shorn end to the window hook, and lay in wait for Felix.
Sure enough, Felix came to the tower, a cheerful skip in his step, and called out:
“Rapunzel, Rapunzel, let down your hair, So I may climb without a stair!”
With an evil smile, Gothel let Rapunzel’s hair fall down to the ground.
Felix climbed eagerly upwards. In his joy, he did not notice that the braid was cold as ice between his hands. He swung over the stone sill into the tower room — and was face to face with the towering sorceress.
“Aha!” she cackled. “So you are the thief who has come for my little bird! Well she’s not in her nest anymore. The cat has got her, and it will scratch out your eyes too!”
Felix gasped in horror. “Where is Rapunzel?” he demanded. “What have you done to her?”
“Rapunzel is lost to you forever. You will never see her again!” Gothel screeched, cackling madly — and she pushed Felix out of the window.
Down, down, down Felix fell — right into the rose branches below. The thorns broke his fall, so he did not die, but they pierced his flesh so that he writhed in pain and screamed in agony. But the pain of losing Rapunzel was even greater to him.
After much struggling, Felix freed himself from the thorn hedge, all bruised and bleeding. “I will go back to the village,” he thought, as he struggled to his feet. “Then I will come back and find Rapunzel.” But he was so dazed and disoriented that he stumbled down the wrong path and quickly lost his way.
For three days and three nights, Felix stumbled through the forest. He ate nothing but roots and berries, and drank only the morning dew from the leaves. He called and called for help until his voice grew hoarse, but no one ever heard him. He had gone so deep into the forest that no bird sang and no animal stirred — only a hushed, empty silence surrounded him.
At last, exhausted and downcast, Felix sat on a flat stone, buried his face in his hands, and wept. Suddenly, he heard the faint sound of someone singing. It was soft and distant — but unmistakable.
“Rapunzel?” he called weakly. “Rapunzel, is that you?” With new-found hope, he stumbled through the trees, following the voice.
And it was Rapunzel, singing softly in her solitude. For not knowing the way out of the forest, she had become lost as well. She had been hoping that her song would catch the ear of a passerby, just as it had when she first saved Felix from the wolves. When she heard Felix’s voice calling out to her, her heart skipped a beat.
“Felix?” she called, turning around. She saw a thin, ragged figure staggering towards her, but despite his bedraggled appearance, she recognised him at once.
“Felix!” she cried, running to him.
“Rapunzel!” he gasped as he neared her.
And they threw their arms around each other and wept for joy.
“Oh, how happy I am to see you,” Felix sighted with relief.
“And I you,” Rapunzel said softly. “But what happened to you?”
Felix told her what had happened, and as he spoke, Rapunzel gently checked his wounds. Then she opened her makeshift bag and set to work. She dripped a few drops of potion into his mouth. She rubbed her healing balm onto his skin. Soon, all the pain in Felix’s body was gone, though he was still too weak to move on his own. Rapunzel helped him to his feet.
“We must get you back to the village,” she said.
So they set out on the long journey through the forest. By day, they walked, and by night, they rested, sharing stories and jokes to lift their spirits. After four days, they reached the tower, only to find a strange sight before them: the red climbing roses had risen from the ground and wrapped themselves around the tower, concealing it entirely from view. Now no one could enter or leave the tower.
“This must be my mother’s doing,” Rapunzel thought. And it was.
Now able to recognize the forest around them, Felix guided Rapunzel to the village where he lived. Once they reached it, Rapunzel gazed in awe at the bustling streets. Shops, buildings, and statues lined the roads, and people moved busily about their day. Rapunzel marvelled at all the sights, but she quickly reminded herself of her purpose. With Felix’s directions, she led him to his parents’ shop, where they immediately put him to bed to rest.
Felix’s parents were relieved to see their son alive and well. They thanked Rapunzel and offered her a place to stay in exchange for helping them in the apothecary. Rapunzel gladly accepted.
Within a few days, Felix had fully recovered and returned to work, with Rapunzel by his side. They spent their days making herbal remedies for the villagers, and in time, they were married, living happily and contentedly. When Felix’s parents retired, the couple took over the apothecary, turning it into a prosperous business.
At first Rapunzel struggled to adapt to her new life. Like a bird released from its cage, she was shy and nervous around people. But with time her fear faded. The villagers grew fond of this strange girl with her sweet, old-fashioned manners and remarkable talent for making herbal remedies. Occasionally, Rapunzel let her hair grow long again, but never past her waist, and certainly never as long as it had once been.
There were days when Rapunzel missed the tower — that lost, quiet world with its beautiful view of the forest, the solitude of her work, and even her mother’s loving care. Sometimes the ache to return was so strong, she felt she would go back there in an instant. It was as though the tower still had a hold on her.
“It’s gone, Rapunzel,” Felix would say whenever he sensed her longing. “Those rose branches have enveloped it completely. No one can go in or out.”
“I know,” Rapunzel would reply wistfully. Then she would remember the loneliness she had felt in the tower, how desperately she had wanted to leave, and how much happier she was now. With a smile, she would give Felix a kiss.
As for Gothel, she was never seen again. Some said that she had gone far away, for her once-thriving garden had been abandoned, its plants left to rot and wither away.
One day, while Rapunzel was attending to some customers in the shop, a dark figure entered quietly. The figure wore a long, dark robe, the face hidden beneath a flowing hood.
“How can I help you?” Rapunzel asked, smiling warmly.
“Some ointment for my aching joints, please.” It was a woman’s voice, old and raspy. It sounded strangely familiar too.
Rapunzel went to the backroom and returned with the ointment. She handed it to her customer.
“Did you make this yourself?” the old woman asked, seemingly surprised.
Rapunzel nodded. “Well, me and my husband,” she replied modestly.
“And who taught you to make remedies?”
Rapunzel hesitated for a moment before she answered: “My mother taught me everything I know about herbs and plants.” There was a sudden sadness in her voice.
The old woman took the ointment and paid Rapunzel. “You are such a kind and talented young woman,” she said. “As a token of my gratitude, I want you to have this necklace. It belonged to my mother, and now I want you to have it. And I won’t take no for an answer.”
Without revealing her face, the woman removed a necklace from around her neck and handed it to Rapunzel.
“Oh, you don’t have to…” Rapunzel began, but her words trailed off when she saw the necklace. It was shaped like a flower — the very same pattern she had seen before…
Her heart skipped a beat. “Excuse me…” she called, looking up. But the old woman had vanished.
“Who was that?” Felix asked, walking in from the backroom.
Rapunzel stood in silence for a moment, staring at the necklace in her hand. Finally she whispered: “It was my mother.”
Author’s Note
The story of Rapunzel has its roots in ancient mythology. Among them is the Greek myth of Perseus, or more specifically the birth of Perseus: King Acrisius of Argos learns from a prophecy that he would be killed by his grandson. To prevent this, he locks his daughter Danaë in a bronze chamber, but Zeus comes to her in a shower of gold and impregnates her. When he finds out, Acrisius seals Danaë and her son in a chest and throws it in the sea, but the two survive.
There are some passages in ancient texts that echo the story, such as the Persian epic poem Shahnameh and the Indian holy book Jaiminiya Brahmana. Another likely inspiration is the legend of Saint Barbara, who was locked in a tower by her father to protect her virtue. However, as Maria Tatar observed, “the story of Rapunzel seems rooted in a more general cultural tendency to “lock daughters up” and protect them from roving young men.”
The first recorded variant of tale type ATU-310 “The Maiden in the Tower” is “Petrosinella” from Giambattista Basile’s The Tale of Tales. The story goes as follows: A pregnant woman steals parsley from an ogress’s garden, and agrees to give up her child when she is caught. The child is named Petrosinella, and seven years later, the ogress snatches her away and locks her in a tower, where she teaches her magic. Years later, a prince passes by, climbs up into the tower by Petrosinella’s long hair, and the two fall in love. A neighbour informs the ogress about the prince’s visits and warns that Petrosinella might run away. The ogress brags that the girl cannot escape unless she finds the three magic acorns hidden inside the tower. But Petrosinella overhears the conversation. She finds the three acorns, uses a rope to climb down from the tower and runs away with the prince. The ogress chases after the couple, but Petrosinella throws the magic acorns to the ground; the first turns into a hound, the second into a lion and the third into a wolf, the last of which devours the ogress.
Most oral variants of the story follow a similar pattern, albeit with some differences. For example, in another Italian variant, “The Fair Angiola,” the titular character is temporarily cursed with the face of a dog after the chase. In versions from Malta and Iran, it is three balls of yarn instead of acorns. In a version from the Kentucky Mountains, called “Reptensil,” the titular character tricks her captor into running off a cliff to her death.
Judy Sierra noted that these variants originated in societies where a girl started working for her family at the age of six or seven, such as tending the animals or learning household chores. “During this transition,” Sierra explained, “a mother or other female relative who had formerly been loving and undemanding might indeed seem to be an evil witch.”
The story we know today as “Rapunzel” comes from the Grimm Brothers. They based their version on another German variant by Friedrich Schulz, also called “Rapunzel,” which in turn was a loose translation of a French fairy tale, “Persinette,” by Charlotte-Rose de Caumont de La Force. Both Schulz’s and de La Force’s stories can be found in Jack Zipes’ The Great Fairy Tale Tradition. The Grimms reworked Schulz’s version and included it in their collection, Children’s and Household Tales, assuming it had authentic German roots, although they did acknowledge Basile’s version in their notes.
In the first edition of “Rapunzel” from 1812, the titular character asks her guardian, a fairy, why her clothes are so tight, unknowingly divulging her lover’s visits. The implicit pregnancy was deemed so unsuitable for young readers that one leading critic condemned the collection as “the most pathetic and tasteless material.” The Grimms took this criticism to heart, and changed the text so that Rapunzel’s children appear more subtly at the end of the story. By the final 1857 edition, the fairy had been changed to a sorceress, and Rapunzel asks her why she is so much heavier to draw up than the prince (the equivalent of Felix in my version).
Critics like Philip Pullman have since condemned this change, as “it makes (Rapunzel) stupid instead of innocent,” especially since “the story is preoccupied with pregnancy.” Marina Warner made a similar comment: “(This change) turns Rapunzel into a ninny, whereas before she was clearly a victim of ignorance, and the tale an unapologetic call for sex education for the young.”
This, to me, highlights the core theme of “Rapunzel”: not just that of growing up, but more specifically the fear parents may have of letting their children go. While most oral variants of the story, like Basile’s, might be fun, folksy yarn, this one hints at something more emotionally profound: the turbulent relationship that may arise between parent and child. Tempted though I was to include the pregnancy aspect from the 1812 version, I chose instead to convey these themes in a way that may speak more directly to today’s readers. Thus, in my version, I have chosen to put more emphasis — and overall elaborate — on the relationship between Rapunzel and Gothel — an aspect I felt was barely touched upon in the original.
“Rapunzel” is also based on a folk belief that the cravings of a pregnant woman must be fulfilled or bad things will happen, such as death or miscarriage. This belief might not be far removed from reality, as the story originated at a time when fresh produce was hard to procure.
The name of the protagonist is a German word for more than one kind of plant, though it’s unclear which one is it. In addition to their folk tale collection, the Grimms wrote the first German-language dictionary, which is still in use to this day. In it they listed the scientific Latin names of several plants under the word “Rapunzel,” including a type of bell-flower, sometimes called “rampion” in English, and “lamb’s lettuce,” used today as a salad herb. Because of this ambiguity, modern retellings of the story have used one plant or the other. For the purposes of this retelling, I have chosen the former.
Bibliography
Source Material
Grimm, Jacob and Wilhelm Grimm. “Grimm 012: Rapunzel.” Translated by D. L. Ashliman. sites.pitt.edu, https://sites.pitt.edu/~dash/grimm012.html. Accessed 12 January 2024.
Grimm, Jacob and Wilhelm Grimm. “Rapunzel.” The Complete Fairy Tales of the Brothers Grimm. Translated by Jack Zipes. 1987. Vintage, 2007.
Grimm, Jacob and Wilhelm Grimm. “Rapunzel.” The Complete Grimm’s Fairy Tales. Translated by Margaret Hunt, revised by James Stern. 1944. Pantheon Books, 1972.
Grimm, Jacob and Wilhelm Grimm. “Rapunzel.” Grimm’s Fairy Tales. Translated by Edgar Taylor and Marian Edwardes. Project Gutenberg, https://www.gutenberg.org/files/2591/2591-h/2591-h.htm. Accessed 12 January 2024.
Grimm, Jacob and Wilhelm Grimm. “Rapunzel.” Grimm’s Household Tales. Translated by Margaret Hunt. George Bell and Sons, 1884.
Grimm, Jacob and Wilhelm Grimm. “Rapunzel.” Grimms’ Tales for Young and Old. Translated by Ralph Manheim. 1977. Anchor Books, 1983.
Grimm, Jacob and Wilhelm Grimm. “Rapunzel.” Household Stories. Translated by Lucy Crane. 1886. Dover Publications, Inc., 1963.
Grimm, Jacob and Wilhelm Grimm. “Rapunzel.” The Original Folk and Fairy Tales of the Brothers Grimm: The Complete First Edition. Translated by Jack Zipes. Princeton University Press, 2014.
Lang, Andrew, editor. “Rapunzel.” The Red Fairy Book. Longmans, Green, and Co., 1890.
Sauvant, Henriette, selector. “Rapunzel.” Rapunzel and Other Magic Fairy Tales. Translated by Anthea Bell, Egmont UK Limited, 2006.
Tatar, Maria, editor. “Rapunzel.” The Annotated Brothers Grimm. W. W. Norton & Company, 2004.
Variants and Scholarly Work
Basile, Giambattista. “Parsley.” Stories from the Pentamerone, edited by E. F. Strange, Macmillan and Co., Limited, 1911.
Basile, Giambattista. “Petrosinella.” The Tale of Tales. Translated by Nancy L. Canepa, Wayne State University Press, 2007.
Crane, Thomas Frederick, editor. “The Fair Angiola.” Italian Popular Tales. Houghton, Mifflin and Company, 1885.
“Fairy Tales.” Explained, season 3, episode 14, Vox, 15 Oct. 2021.
“Fenchelchen” and “The Princess and the Tower.” Britannica's Fairy Tales from Around the World, directed by David Alexovich, Encyclopaedia Britannica Educational Corporation, 1991.
Gray, William, Joanna Gilar and Rose Williamson. The World Treasury of Fairy Tales & Folklore: A Family Heirloom of Stories to Inspire & Entertain. Wellfleet Press, 2016.
Heiner, Heidi Anne. “Rapunzel Annotations.” surlalunefairytales.com, https://www.surlalunefairytales.com/h-r/rapunzel/rapunzel-annotations.html. Accessed 12 January 2024.
Messina, Christine, editor. “Parsley.” Cinderella and Other Classic Italian Fairy Tales. Children’s Classics, 1993.
Percy, Graham. “Three Balls of Wool.” Tales from Around the World. Barnes & Noble, Inc., 2003.
Philip, Neil. “Rapunzel.” The Illustrated Book of Fairy Tales. DK Publishing, Inc., 1997.
Pirotta, Saviour. The Lonely Princess: An Indian Fairy Tale and also Rapunzel. Franklin Watts, 2005.
Pullman, Philip. “Rapunzel.” Grimm Tales: For Young and Old. Penguin Books, 2012.
Roberts, Leonard W. “Reptensil.” South from Hell-fer-Sartin: Kentucky Mountain Folk Tales. 1955. The University Press of Kentucky, 1988.
Sierra, Judy. “About the Tales.” Quests & Spells: Fairy tales from the European oral tradition. Bob Kaminski Media Arts, 1994.
Thompson, Stith. “The Folktale from Ireland to India: The Complex Tale: Lovers and married couples.” The Folktale. 1946. University of California Press, 1977.
Warner, Marina. “In the Dock: Don’t Bet on the Prince.” Once Upon a Time: A short history of fairy tale. Oxford University Press, 2014.
Zipes, Jack, editor. “The Power of Love.” The Golden Age of Folk and Fairy Tales: From the Brothers Grimm to Andrew Lang. Hackett Publishing Company, Inc., 2013.
Zipes, Jack, editor. “The Power of Love.” The Great Fairy Tale Tradition: From Straparola and Basile to the Brothers Grimm. W. W. Norton & Company, 2001.
Retellings and Adaptations
Barber, Antonia. “Rapunzel.” Tales from Grimm. Frances Lincoln, 1992.
Chainani, Soman. “Rapunzel.” Beasts and Beauty: Dangerous Tales. Harper, 2021.
Colfer, Chris. “Rapunzel.” The Land of Stories: A Treasury of Classic Fairy Tales. Little, Brown and Company, 2016.
Don, Lari. “Petrosinella and the Tower.” Fierce, Fearless and Free: Girls in Myths and Legends from Around the World. Bloomsbury Publishing Plc, 2020.
Hoggarth, Janet. “Rapunzel.” The Princess Party Book. The Chicken House, 2002.
Impey, Rose. “Rapunzel.” The Orchard Book of Fairy Tales. 1992. Orchard Books, 2005.
McCaughrean, Geraldine. “Rapunzel.” The Oxford Treasury of Fairy Tales. Oxford University Press, 2003.
McFarlane, Susannah. “Rapunzel.” Fairytales for Feisty Girls. Allen & Unwin, 2018.
McKay, Hilary. “The Tower and the Bird or Rapunzel.” Hilary McKay’ Fairy Tales. Macmillan Children’s Books, 2017.
Rapunzel. Written by Jenny Moore, Little Fox Co., Ltd., 2023.
Rapunzel, Rapunzel. Directed by Tom Davenport, 1978.
“Rapunzel.” Britannica's Fairy Tales from Around the World, written and directed by Ed Newmann, Encyclopaedia Britannica Educational Corporation, 1991.
“Rapunzel.” Grimm Masterpiece Theatre [Gurimu meisaku gekijō] or Grimm’s Fairy Tale Classics, directed by Hiroshi Saitō and Kerrigan Mahan, Nippon Animation and Saban Entertainment, 1988.
“Rapunzel.” Sechs auf einen Streich, directed by Bodo Fürneisen, ANTAEUS Film- und Fernsehproduktionsgesellschaft mbH and Rundfunk Berlin-Brandenburg (RBB), 2009.
“Rapunzel.” Timeless Tales from Hallmark, directed by Don Lusk, Hanna-Barbera Productions, Inc. and Hallmark Card Incorporated, 1990.
Rapunzel oder Der Zauber der Tränen (Rapunzel or The Magic of Tears). Directed by Ursula Schmenger, DEFA-Studio für Spielfilme and Fernsehen der DDR, 1988.
Stanley, Diane. Petrosinella: A Neapolitan Rapunzel. 1981. The Penguin Group, 1995.
Storace, Patricia. Sugar Cane: A Caribbean Rapunzel. Hyperion Books for Children, 2007.
Tangled. Directed by Byron Howard and Nathan Greno, Walt Disney Pictures, 2010.
Telgemeier, Raina. “Rapunzel.” Fairy Tale Comics, edited by Chris Duffy, First Second, 2013.
Wilson, Jacqueline. “Rapunzel.” Magic Beans: A Handful of Fairy Tales From the Storybag. 1998. David Fickling Books, 2011.
Zelinsky, Paul O. Rapunzel. Scholastic Inc., 1997.