Free Spun by Emma Barron Page A

craving for her.
    So there was the physical, yes, but what he wanted extended beyond that. He wanted … everything from her. It was as though he had come to know her from watching her in the village. He saw her strength and wit and compassion—and he wanted it all. And it scared him, this wanting. He had spent his life avoiding any entanglements with others, protecting himself from further tragedy or cruelty or disappointment. But he could not keep himself from Anja. He had tried to keep his heart closed off to anyone, but she had found her way in, and he was helpless to dislodge her.
    Tillz watched the cottage for several more hours. Finally convinced she would remain safe until that night when he could go to her, he walked back down the hill to the village. He decided he would find her father and see how the miller was faring.
    He found Gregor walking the village streets, going to different houses and shops, trying to gather a group of people who would go with him to the manor to free his daughter. Tillz remained out of sight, observing, and gathered Gregor had been to see the sheriff several times, pleading with him to arrest Werner and gain Anja’s release. But it seemed that while the sheriff had promised to uphold the law and punish Anja’s kidnapper, he had not actually taken any action. It appeared that, like the sheriff, the rest of the townspeople were too afraid of Werner to confront him. While they sympathized with Gregor and Anja, they would not go with Gregor to the manor.
    Dejected, Gregor went home, and Tillz watched from the window while Gregor sat at his table and proceeded to get drunk off homemade spirits. Tillz had been content to watch Gregor from the shadows, but when the miller stood, swaying drunkenly but clearly resolute-looking, grabbed a battered bread knife and moved toward the door, Tillz knew he had to overcome his aversion to human interaction and stop the man. He was obviously determined to wage a one-man assault on the manor, hoping to get his daughter back himself since no one else was willing to help him. Tillz felt obligated to prevent Gregor from getting himself killed trying it.
    Tillz intercepted Gregor as he stormed out of the cottage, pushing him back in the house and shutting the door behind him.
    “Sit down, man, and listen to me before you take any rash action,” Tillz commanded.
    Gregor stared at him, blinking, his eyes red and blurry. He gaze traveled slowly from Tillz’s face, down to his boots, and then back up to his face. Gregor’s gaze lingered at his scar. “It’s you,” he said. “It’s the rumpelstilzchen .”
    Tillz rolled his eyes. This was not the time for that superstitious nonsense. “Yes,” Tillz said, “it’s me, the hermit from the woods. Though I am no goblin. Just a man trying to prevent you from getting yourself and your daughter killed.”
    Gregor opened his mouth, closed it, opened it again. The grief combined with the alcohol made him particularly slow-witted. “What do you mean?” Gregor asked.
    “I know you are thinking of storming the rittergut , just you and your bread knife, and I’ve come to tell you I won’t allow it.” Tillz pushed Gregor back down into his chair.
    “You can’t stop me!” Gregor cried, rather unconvincingly.
    “There’s no need for you to do it,” Tillz said, ignoring Gregor’s outburst. “I have seen myself that Anja is safe and unharmed, and that she will be released in the morning.”
    “How can that be?” Gregor asked, his speech slightly slurred. “Werner has demanded she make him gold, but that’s impossible. I was lying when I told him she could. Made it up to save my own skin, and now she’ll be killed.” Gregor sobbed into his glass of spirits. “Anja! My Anja!”
    Tillz grabbed Gregor roughly by his shirt. “Keep it together, man. Werner has his gold, I have seen to it, and tomorrow he will release her or I will remove her from the cottage myself.” Tillz shook Gregor slightly, then