Part IV
Alternately called, 'the part where Hans talks funny and nearly dies' or 'robots have sweethearts?'
“Can we stop now?” the little girl panted, chest heaving and tiny hands pulling on the tin man’s arm. She winced as a branch pricked the sole of her left foot, and without waiting for a reply, she squatted on a smooth stone nearby another stream. Her feet were too sore to continue on fleeing, and she was pretty sure the old alchemist would have stopped searching for them.
Hans sighed. “I guess so, little one.” His rusty metal joints creaked as he bent his knees in an attempt to sit right next to her, but he gave up after a screw threatened to drop out.
She looked up at him. “Aren’t you tired?”
He shrugged. “Of course not. I am only tired when I do not have any oil left. My bio-fuel oil capacity is now down to three litres out of five. According to my calculations, I can walk for another six kilometres, which will be enough for me to arrive at the castle where the boy is kept.”
“Then can you please tell me why Rune ended up there?” Klara begged. “And why did you know all about this?”
“I was made in the smithy and laboratory at the castle that I have spoken of,” he began his tale, “By the very hand of the princess living in the kingdom of Amarovia. I was programmed to keep her company, and respond to her wisdom.
“You might have gathered from my words that she was --- and still is --- a brilliant woman, but she is not immortal, like how many brilliant and good people are. And she still is a woman; social etiquette requires a fine, noble woman of her breeding to “marry a fine man and produce a viable heir”, or so it says in the Guide to Social Grace & Good Manners in my database.
“So she advertised in the newspapers throughout the kingdom for a ‘handsome young man to take her hand in marriage’. But though many grand-looking young men came inside the throne room where she sat regally on top of her throne inlaid with the most precious jewels and pearls (though it was not a really comfortable seat), none of them could speak properly and could not offer any comments that could give the displeased princess a glimpse of their minds. All she wanted for a husband was someone with “half of a brain”, or so she said to me on the sixth of June the year before.
“Soon, a whole year passed, and with my absence, the poor woman did not have anyone reasonable to talk to; and no-one succeeded in their attempts to woo her.”
“But wait --- if you’d gone away, then how would you know all about this?” Klara said, tilting her head. The sun was setting slowly but surely, and she shivered as the wilting willow trees cast shadows all around her and the robot.
“I would not have known if I was not still in contact with my sweetheart, a servant robot that served the princess herself,” he showed the little girl his pager and instant messenger.
“And I can give you my word that what I am saying here must be correct, for my sweetheart would not lie to me, especially when I was broken and the alchemist took me away to help tend to her plants. But let us carry on, before the night has come upon us.
“One day, a few months ago, when the poor princess was particularly upset and tired of all the obnoxious cretins that made their ways to her castle, a young fellow, with yellow curls and worn out clothes, marched up to her.”
The little girl bounced up and down in joy and said, “It must be Rune, I know it must be!”
“He had a backpack with him,” Hans added.
“That must be his sled, then.”
“Perhaps it may be so; my sweetheart was not standing close enough to see clearly. But you can be sure of this: he did not feel uncomfortable when the guards outside the castle stared at him when he entered it, nor did he feel nervous when ambassadors scurried about. He did not falter, his shiny boots creaking and clacking on the marble floor until he arrived in front of the princess.”
“Oh! It must be him,” Klara said, “He was wearing his new boots when he left for the Square.”
“Then you must be pleased to hear that he did not feel uneasy under the haughty gazes of the ladies of the court, or their maids; nor did he quail under the snobbish gazes of the cavaliers or their servants. Every servant and maid had another servant or maid waiting on them; they all looked grand and those who stood near to the entrance looked so proud of themselves, like they were princes and princess themselves.”
She shook her head. “These people must be awful. But tell me, before we hurry on, did Rune win the princess?”
“Yes, he did, but not in the way you would have expected. The young man said he was not there to woo the princess, nor to win her over with fancy words and expressions; but to hear her wisdom and perhaps offer some opinions of his own.”
“Then that must be Rune! Only he would be so clever, with her metal arithmetic and geometry. Can you please talk me to him, Hans?” Klara beseeched the tin man.
Hans paused and thought for a while. “It is possible, but I shall talk to my sweetheart and ask her. We cannot go in through the main entrances anyway; it is already dark, and it will be darker still when we arrive.” He immediately turned on his pager and started to text his sweetheart.
After a while, he looked up and said, “My sweetheart sends you greeting, little one; and she has found out a way for us to enter the castle. But we must hurry; my night-vision will cost me a lot of bio-fuel oil.”
Without saying another word, the tin man gently picked her up and began to sprint deeper and deeper into the very depths of the dark forest, Klara’s little arms encircled around his metal neck.
Night turned into day and day into night, and at last the two finally reached a staircase in the back entrance of the castle, when Hans’s sweetheart was waiting.
The tin man knelt in front of the tin woman, Klara still in his arms, and croaked, “Here is the little one, Grace,” before his bio-fuel oil ran out and his artificial heart slowed to a stop.
Frightened, the little girl clung to Hans’s sweetheart. “What is he doing?”
Bosom heaving, Grace started to cry, black, sticky oil outpouring from her unblinking eyes and onto her sweetheart’s unmoving metal body. “He has gone into a coma; the run has drained all the oil from him. But we must not tarry any longer, for we must take you to the prince.”
She pulled crying little Klara into her arms and fled up the dark stairs, while comforting her and wiping the tears from her eyes.
As they slipped through dark and empty halls, it became apparent to the little girl that the castle was even more grand and splendid than how Hans had described it. At last, they arrived at the bedroom chamber, and Grace unlocked the doors with her key.
Two beds made of aromatic agarwood, the most valuable of its kind in the whole wide world, stood grandly in the middle of the green and pink chamber; and two slept inside the warm and comfy quilts, one red, the another white.
Klara crept closer to the young man burrowed into his pillows; his soft golden locks were enough to prove to her that this was Rune himself.
“Rune,” she called, not daring to wake the princess. “Rune!”
He grunted and rolled over, small green eyes blearily peering at the little girl. “What the heck?”
And poor Klara, all hopes deflated, proceeded to bawl her eyes out.
The commotion immediately woke the princess up. Startled to see a crying girl inside her very own bedroom, she didn’t call the guards as most royals would have done, but gently asked her what was the matter.
Still crying, Klara told her tale, Grace sometimes interjecting to help the shaken girl.
Both the prince and princess were astounded at her courage, and her sorry story. “You poor, poor girl,” the prince said, “What has the boy done for you to make you come so far into the wide world? But no matter; come and sleep here,” he patted his bed, “And I shall go and see what I can do.”
The princess smiled. “Good idea, Jacob. And no, I am not angry at what you have done, Grace,” she addressed the frightened robot, “It was a great deed that far surpasses what my father has done, and for that, I shall fix poor Hans myself. But after this, do you want your freedom, or do you want to live here as a lady of the court with Hans?”
Grace was overjoyed and thanked the princess for her generosity, and said that she would love to have a fixed place at the castle forever.
As the tin woman, the prince and the princess went out of the bedroom chamber, leaving the sleepy girl all by herself, she climbed inside the bed and soon fell fast asleep, dreaming of the times when little Rune still valued their friendship.
The next day, Grace and a few other robots dressed her in the most pretty velvet and silk dress she had ever seen, and gave her a pair of lovely boots and a beautiful muff to go alongside it.
After a lavish breakfast, she was summoned to see the prince and the princess, who hugged her and said, “Klara, do you really have to go? You will be happy here, safe from the evils of the world. My men will seek for little Rune as well; they are preparing for departure as we speak, for some informants from the north are said to have some information on him. You don’t have to endure all this again.”
Klara curtseyed, like how she was taught to do at home, and shook her head. “I’m sorry, but I must go and seek for him. My heart will not rest until I see him for myself, and know that he is alive and well.”
The princess sighed. “Very well, then; you shall set off with my men, for they will protect you, even if it means their deaths are necessary for your survival.”
She rose up and beckoned for Klara to follow her out of the castle gates, where a whole legion of men was waiting. “Here is your coach,” she pointed at a white carriage; upon it was the shiny coat-of-arms of Amarovia. Behind it were men all saddling purebred stallions and carrying black rifles and firearms with them.
The prince and princess, along with Grace and her revived sweetheart Hans watched as the girl climbed into the carriage, while cheering her on and praying for their mission to become successful.
Jolting to a start, the carriage began its journey with Klara safely inside it. She peered out of the bullet-proof glass windows and waved at the adults bidding her farewell, secretly wishing that their paths would once again cross each other. But alas, it was not to be.
Part I ＊ Part II ＊ Part III＊ Part V ＊ Part VI ＊ Part VII
Spoiler
This is the fourth part of my contest entry for SporkPunk's 21 Century Fairytale Contest! Please tell me what you thought of it. 
