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"I have done as you asked, fair people of Hamlin. The plague of rats that once infested your beautiful town is no more. No longer need you worry for your children in their cribs, or the food in your pantries, or the health of young and old. No longer shall Hamlin be known as the city of rodents, but as the great center of wisdom and trade that it once was. The rats are dead, drowned in the waters of the river that turns your waterwheels and grinds your corn. And I shall now take my leave of your town, for while it is truly a beautiful place, my duty calls me elsewhere. So, if I may but collect the fee owed to me as promised, for these services rendered, then I shall be on my way."
The Mayor of Hamlin looked upon the man who called himself only "the Piper" with a look of awe and mistrust. He was dressed all in green, save brown leather boots and a scarlet sash. At his waist was a short sword and scabbard, and around his neck hung a flute. The flute. Truly, thought the mayor, this man was a warlock, to be able to conjure up such power as to send all the rats of the town to their doom in the river. And now he stood here, in the midst of the town hall, much of the town present to see how this final meeting with the Piper would unfold. No one wanted to cross this Piper, least of all the Mayor, for fear of what he might do in anger. But the Mayor was also loath to give up such a great sum of gold. If there had been any doubt that one man could never solve what the entire town had been unable to for years, he would never have agreed to pay such an outrageous fee. But now, after seeing this Piper's magic, the Mayor was torn between a love for money and a fear of the unknown.
In the end, however, it was greed that ruled the day.
"I am sorry, sir Piper," said the Mayor at last. He was a smart man, and as he spoke the wheels turned in his mind, crafting a reason why he could not pay this Piper. "While I would be more than happy to give you the reward for ridding this town or rats… there is a technicality that stops me from doing so. The original agreement was that it would be you yourself who would rid the city of rats. As all the people of this city have witnessed, it was in actuality the magic of your pipe that brought an end to this plague. Therefore, we should accordingly give this fee up to your pipe. But as the pipe is an inanimate object, this is obviously out of the question. Therefore, we cannot give this money to anyone." The Mayor smiled inside, proud of his own wit.
The Piper could only stare at the man who called himself the Mayor. "Is this a joke? Are you blind? You saw what I did for your town. I have done less for far more money in the past. I took this commission, against my better judgment, and have rendered services do. And now you give me weak excuses and draw back on your promise to me, and refuse to give me my fee?"
"What promise? What fee?" asked the Mayor. "We saw you play a tune on your pipes, and the rats left to go to the river. There is no proof that you yourself did anything, sir Piper. As I stated earlier, if anyone is responsible for this, it is your pipe. Not you."
The Piper was furious. But when he spoke again, his voice was calm and controlled, although tainted by bitter acid. "Very well, Mayor. If you will not pay me my fee as promised, then I have no recourse but to take my fee… in my own way."
"What... what does that mean?" asked the Mayor, suddenly concerned.
Without a word, the Piper spun on his heel and walked out of the room. The Mayor followed, afraid of what was going to happen, but unable still to give so much money to a stranger, even one with such magic. The rest of the people followed as well.
The Piper made his way to the town square. He didn't enter the square, but he stood just outside it. He looked at the Mayor once last time, to see if the man had perhaps come to his senses. But such was not the case. So at last, the Piper drew out his pipes, took a deep breath, and began to pipe a tune.
The notes that flowed from the pipe were, in a word, beautiful. They passed from the Piper through his flute and out into the town square, dancing around and dispersing down the many roads of the town. The notes twirled about upon the cobblestone roads and sidewalks, leaping into the breeze and through the air. The music played in the streets, begging for a companion in its game, inviting someone to come out and play. The melody was happy, but longing for something or someone to come and end its loneliness.
And the children came.
From every house and home, from the schools, the children left, and began to make their way to the square. Older siblings and other children carried those who were not old enough to make their own way. Every child and young person, from newborn babies to adolescents and teenagers, came at the Piper's beckon. And following them were concerned parents and adults, fearful of the glazed looks in the eyes of the young, wondering why they would not respond to their own mothers and fathers. The eyes of the parents held no playful glaze, but instead horror of what lay in store for their loved ones.
It was not long before all the children of Hamlin were gathered in the center of the town square, the parents and adults at the outside of the square, surrounding the children and looking on in fear. The Piper at last stopped his playing, but the children remained paralyzed in the middle of the town.
"People of Hamlin," began the Piper, his voice carrying in the still air. "I am the Piper, known the world over for my magic, and for the deeds I have done. I saved your fair city from a plague that no other could put an end to. I did this, because I was told that I would be paid for my services, for such magic never comes for free. And upon the completion of my end of this bargain, I find out that I am to be denied my fee? All my work, ignored for the sake of convenience and greed? Well, it seems that I must teach this town a lesson, that none should cross the Piper, lest they suffer. I am a man of my word. It is a shame that I am the only such person in this whole city."
And with that, the Piper began to play a new tune. But this song was different from the first. This new song was one of change. The melody flowed from one beautiful song quickly into something new. The song was fast and upbeat, with transition between one segment and the next coming as nothing harsh, but always unexpected, and yet making sense. The notes moved from one to another as the Piper's fingers danced nimbly about the pipe. The notes and melodies were small, scampering about in the air, and in the ears of those listening. The song never stood still for long, but was always frantic, always shifting, always changing. And as the tune changed, so did the children.
In complete silence, the children gathered at the center of the town square began to change. Their bodies grew smaller, long thin tails sprouting from below their spines, poking though clothes that were more and more too large for them. Ears grew larger and round. Noses extended from their faces, and sprouted whiskers. Fur began to sprout all over their bodies, covering all skin in shades of white, black, and mottled brown. Before long, all human features were gone, and anyone looking on saw little more than a swarm of rats in the middle of the square, crawling over and through a pile of children's clothes, but otherwise not going anywhere.
"What have you done?" demanded the Mayor, shock and amazement as strong in his voice as fear for his own life. Parents started crying, and approaching the Piper with looks of malice in their eyes. "What have you done with our children?"
"I have simply given back to you what I took, as you would not give to me what you promised. You said that I would be paid my fee in gold if I rid the town of rats. You did not give me any such fee, and thus the town is still plagued with rats."
"But those were our children!"
The Piper shrugged. "Sometimes the children must pay for the sins of the father. I gave this town more than enough of a chance. I was more than fair in what I did. All I have done was undo the past, as I was not paid for my services. However… this does not count as punishment for the people of Hamlin. For it was all of you who refused me my fee. Not one person in this whole town stood up for what was right. If you did not directly choose to deny me my fee, then you stood by and said nothing. What I have done to your children was done to return this city to what it was without my help. What I do to you now … is for my betrayal."
The Piper began to play a third and final time. This tune was one of change, as the last had been. But now the music one had a slightly harsher edge to it. The notes didn't follow one another so much as hunt each other down, every part of the melody chasing the part before it, one note consuming another. And the people of Hamlin themselves began to shift forms, unable to act against it, compelled by the music to change. People lost size and mass. Fur sprouted in various colors. Tails extended from the base of the spine. But these tails were longer and thicker, and covered with fur. Ears became larger and pointed. Hands sprouted claws, and faces sprouted whiskers. While the sounds of squeaks and scurrying came from the center of the square, from the outside came hisses and meows.
And finally, with nothing else to stand in his way, the Piper tipped his hat and left the square, headed for the gates of the town and who-knew where else, whistling a merry tune. And once he was out of sight, the spell keeping those in the square sedated dissipated. And the swarm of rats in the middle of the square let out a collective squeak of alarm as the ring of cats surrounding them pounced.
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