NOTE: The following is a sequel to "Tom Thumb" by The Brothers Grimm. A translation of the original text
can be found here.
Tom Thumb and the Conscience of the Crown
by
William Haskins
Tom Thumb, having returned to the bosom of his family, lived a peaceful, quiet existence on the edge of the forest. In the evenings, their bellies full and their minds at rest, his father and mother would sit in the glow of the hearth, where Tom would recount to them all the stories of his travels, and how he had deceived and mocked the gullible people of the countryside.
By and by, Tom found his sleep haunted by dreams of new mischief and would often awaken to find his devilment still gnawing at him. Boredom with his comfortable life led him down a path of devious daydreams until simply relating his tales no longer brought satisfaction.
One night, stirred awake by visions of adventure and the pounding of his own heart, Tom slipped out of the farmhouse, disappearing into the forest to devise new acts of roguery.
When he emerged, there followed a series of pranks that ensnared all manner of farmers and townspeople, craftsmen and maidens.
Tom sneaked into the local church and stowed away in the confessional, where he refused parishioners forgiveness for their sins, instead heaping upon them scorn and curses, sending them into the streets fearing for their souls.
He hid in the thick wool of a goat, convincing the beast to refuse the milkmaid any milk, and then confusing and frightening the poor woman by bleating that one day, the goat would come and milk
her.
Soon, the countryside was filled with legends of the mischievous imp, whose trickery knew no bounds. His victims lamented their misfortune, while others laughed at their expense.
In time, news of Tom Thumb’s antics reached even the King, a fat and impatient man who became increasingly fascinated by this tiny man who could engender such tales from the peasantry. Unable to tolerate his curiosity a moment longer, he dispatched his royal courier to find Tom and bring him back to his court.
And so it happened that the courier traveled the countryside, escorted by the King’s best soldiers, where they inquired and searched until—at last—they found Tom and imprisoned him in a velvet purse for the journey back to the palace.
But, as the courier entered the court, Tom cleverly escaped from the purse and scurried beneath the King’s throne before anyone could see him.
“Have you completed your charge?” the King inquired of the courier.
“I have, Your Majesty,” the courier replied. “We found the imp and have brought him to you, as was your wish.”
“Then keep me waiting no longer,” the King ordered. “Bring him forth.”
And, with that, the courier opened the purse—only to find it empty. The blood drained from his face, and the King turned red with rage.
“You dare disregard my orders and mock me in my own court?” he bellowed.
The courier tried to explain, but could not find words or reason. The King grew angrier and summoned his soldiers: “Off with his head!”
The soldiers dragged the poor fool away and, in the chaos, Tom climbed undetected up the back of the King’s throne, stowing himself away in his jeweled crown.
Despondent over not having the imp for his amusement, the King dismissed his courtiers and sat alone in the darkness.
Late that night, as the King began to drift off to sleep, Tom crept to the edge of the crown nearest His Majesty’s right ear and whispered: “Your enemies laugh at your folly.”
The King bolted upright, certain the voice he heard was that of God Himself. He fell to his knees. “My Lord,” he cried, “Reveal thy will to me so that I may do your bidding!”
“Your rivals have heard of your humiliation, and they think you weak… and given to foolish fantasy.” Tom could scarcely contain his laughter at the sight of the King’s desperation. “You must move against them before they take your kingdom and enslave your loyal subjects.”
The King was pained by wounded pride and, by the time the sun came up the next morn, he had ordered his armies into battle against all enemies of the kingdom, real and imagined. His soldiers marched proudly to war for their sovereign, and the people cheered their bravery.
But across the land, rival kingdoms heard of his aggression and struck alliances, laying waste to the King’s armies in battle after battle.
Informed of this bitter defeat, the King paced along the marble floors of his palace and turned his eyes toward Heaven. “Speak to me, my Lord,” he said. “Show me the way to victory.”
Tom felt fear grip his throat, knowing that his mischief had put his very homeland at risk. Unsure of what to say, he spoke foolishly, and in haste. “Send in reinforcements,” he told the King, “and I shall guide thee to certain victory.”
And so the King sent reinforcements, for whom the same bloody fate awaited. When word reached the palace that his armies had been wiped out, the King fell into depression, and Tom knew surely that he had undone the Kingdom.
The land was now weakened by constant war, its people hungry and frightened. The peasantry rose up and, before Tom could escape, they stormed the palace and overthrew the King, locking him away in a tower for his crimes. The King petitioned the Lord, but as Tom had fallen silent, the poor King was driven to madness.
And though Tom slipped undetected from the tower and made his way back home, he was forced to witness, with every step, the misfortune his pranks had brought to his people. When he returned home, he found his parents starving, in rags and overwhelmed by sadness, and realized the enormity of his sins.
He vowed to never play a trick again and, each night, his dreams were vexed by the horror of what Judgment Day held in store for him.