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“Allow me to introduce myself, I am Rumplestiltskin and my price,” the Dark One announced to the roomful of nobles, “is her.” He pointed his long fingernail to the young woman in the gold dress.
“My name is Belle.” She corrected him.
“Whatever.” Rumplestiltskin shooed away her correction like he would a pesky fly. “To me, you’re just another princess. A desperate soul in times of war. A broodmare in peacetime.”
The little woman--and she was tiny, Belle barely came up to his shoulders--stepped forward and jerked her chin at him. “No one decides my fate but me.”
Take me away from my family, friends and the only home I’ve ever known?! I’ll make him wish his father had never met his mother.
-=-=-=-=-
In the great hall of the Dark Castle, Rumplestiltskin sat at the head of a long oak table.
“You will make my meals, clean the Dark Castle, wash and mend my clothes.”
The tiny girl looked up from inspecting her fingernails. “You say something?”
“Go make me some tea!” Rumplestiltskin shouted.
Belle shrugged and meandered into the kitchen. She filled a pot with water and while it warmed on the stove she pulled a dusty teapot and cup from a cupboard. Belle found an old rag in the pantry and was about to use it to wipe off the tea service when she had a better idea.
Rumplestiltskin expected the girl to shake with fright as she approached with the silver tea tray, but her hands were steady.
Belle placed the tray down so that the service rattled. She poured tea into a chipped cup with smudges of dirt in it (ten minutes prior it was holding a pansy on the windowsill).
“Sugar? Milk?”
Rumplestiltskin nodded.
“Too bad, there isn’t any.”
The Dark One waved his hand, “The kitchen now has every supply you can imagine. Now get me some milk and sugar!” Belle rolled her eyes and slunk into the kitchen. When she returned the tea in the Dark Ones’ cup was ice cold.
“Here.” With her bare hand Belle plunked a handful of sugar cubes into Rumplestiltskins’ cup and drowned them with milk. She stirred the tea with her finger--which moments before had been digging ear wax from her delicate ear. “Enjoy.”
Rumplestiltskin sipped the tea and grimaced, “What...do you not know how to cook?” He sat the cup down as far away from himself as possible.
“I can make tea, but I didn’t have a tea ball strainer, so I improvised.” Belle smirked at her captor. “How is it?”
“Earthy.”
With a dramatic yawn and stretch, Belle announced “I’m tired, where’s my room?”
Rumplestiltskin giggled and rose from his seat. The princesses’ behavior thus far made him feel off kilter; he expected her to cry or whine for home. Once she saw her sleeping arrangements, she’d wail like a Banshee and that would make him happy.
“This way, dearie.” Rumplestiltskin crooked his finger and bade Belle follow him as he headed to a flight of stone steps that went down, down, down…
“No way.” Belle announced. “I lived in a castle and know we’re not headed to a storm cellar.” She turned on her heel and double-timed it up the stairs; she opened up every door to look for an appropriate suite of rooms. “Too cold. Too dusty. Too dark.” Finally she found a large bedroom; it had a king-size bed with a canopy, copper tub in the corner, a sitting area, writing desk and most importantly: books. Shelves of books going from floor to ceiling. “This’ll do.”
“No it won’t, this is my room!” Rumplestiltskin declared.
“Was your room.” Belle said, “Now it’s mine.”
The Dark One huffed and puffed and smiled. “This isn’t over, dearie.”
“Goodnight.” Belle threw a pillow and blanket into the hallway and pushed Rumplestiltskin out the door. “Sleep tight, wherever.”
-=--=-=-=-=-=-=-
Rumplestiltskin couldn’t sleep; how could he with a princess in his (big, comfy) bed and himself trying to get comfortable on a wooden bench in his laboratory. Not only that, but his stomach was growling.
I’ll remind her who’s boss around here. Rumplestiltskin summoned a huge brass school bell with a wooden handle out of thin air and with a maniacal laugh disappeared in a purple poof, to awaken his little maid to make him a midnight snack.
He hung upside down from the canopy, gazing at the beauty in his bed. Belle slept on her back, her brown hair spilled across the pillows, a book open in her left hand.
“Wake up!” He screeched and rang the bell over her head. “Your master wants foo..ow!”
Without waking, as if her back was spring-loaded, Belle sat up and punched Rumplestiltskin in the nose, then fell back into her original position. Rumplestiltskin flipped upright onto the floor, blood now dripping down his shirt, and slunk out of the room.
-=-=-=-=-=-=
“For that little stunt you pulled last night, you now have to remove blood from this.” Rumplestiltskin tossed his yellow silk shirt at Belle, who was in the kitchen eating toast. “After I have my breakfast, of course.”
“Mmmhmmmm.” Belle replied.
“I want four scrambled eggs, whole wheat toast, strawberry jam and kippers.”
“Sure you do.” Belle said, taking the tiniest nibble from her toast. “After I’m done eating.”
Flustered, Rumplestiltskin shook a long, bony finger at Belle, “Make it quick!”
The Dark One stormed from the kitchen and took his place at the long table. Where a plate should be lay a pile of scrolls. He decided to go through the mail while he waited; carriage washing coupons, farrier advertisement (Buy Three Horseshoes and The Fourth One’s Free!), a business offer from someone named Foulfellow (yeah, he sounds trustworthy.) Rumplestiltskins’ stomach growled loudly. He left the dining room and entered the kitchen where Belle was still eating.
“Is that the same toast you had when I--your master--ordered you to make my breakfast?”
“Ayup.”
“It’s been half an hour, how long does it take a person to eat two pieces of toast?!”
Belle licked her lips and took a dainty bite. “To do it right, it might take hours.”
Rumplestiltskin summoned his magic and moved Belles’ breakfast from in front of her to a countertop near the stove.
“You can eat and cook at the same time, dearie.”
“Yeah, I could.” Belle said, her tone indicating a certain southern hemisphere would develop ice first.
“You will deliver it to me in my laboratory.” And for his own safety, Rumplestiltskin skittered out of the room.
Two hours later Belle knocked on the door (actually she kicked the door because she was balancing a breakfast tray.) Rumplestiltskin cleared a spot for the food, but Belle decided to place it next to a gurgling, bubbling set of beakers. While he moved the tray to a safer spot, Belle pulled a table napkin from her pocket, blew her nose on it and tossed it next to the cloche.
“Is this cooked to my specifications?” Rumplestiltskin asked before uncovering the food.
Belle removed the cover revealing something resembling what food used to be. “It’s cooked anyway. Did the best I could, considering the circumstances.”
Fluffy eggs looked like a burnt offering. Still smouldering toast was covered in globs of strawberry jam. Where did she find live herrings?
“Never mind. I can do without food.” Rumplestiltskin pushed the tray away and pointed at the teapot. “Is that tea?”
“Yeah, leftover from last night.”
“I can do without that too.” Rumplestiltskin fluttered his hands at Belle, “Take that away. Find a pig to feed.”
“Okay. If you need me I’ll be in the laundry room.”
“Good, maybe you’ll be of some real use around here.”
-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-
After Belle removed the tray and her insolence Rumplestiltskin used magic to summon a bowl of oatmeal with berries and a glass of milk. It was not as flavorful as real food, but at least he wasn’t suffering food poisoning.
Speaking of Belle and her talents, he wondered how the stain removal was coming along. Rumplestiltskin walked down the long, stone stairway to the room behind the kitchen where he found Belle in the laundry room, reading a book. That wouldn’t have been so terrible, had he not found his favorite silk shirt boiling in a bean pot on the stove in...what was that smell that took his breath away?
“Bleach!” Rumplestiltskin cried out. “You’re cooking my shirt in bleach!” He grabbed the shirt with a pair of wooden tongs and threw it in the sink. Upon seeing the pale, fragile fabric fall apart he cried out in pain.
“God, you’re such a drama queen. At least they’re clean.” Belle yelled over Rumplestiltskins’ objections. “You’ll have the most sanitary clothes in the realm!”
“Clothes? Clothesssss? Plural? As in all my laundry?”
“Ayup. Got a load going and one already drying on the line.” Belle patted Rumplestiltskin on the back as he wobbled back and forth. “Hey, you look a little dizzy. Let’s get you into the fresh air.” Belle led him into the back yard where the contents of the Dark Ones’ wardrobe hung in ruins. Rumplestiltskin opened his mouth wide and pointed, an inhuman scream filled the air. “Yeah, about your leather pants, you didn’t give me washing instructions, so I assumed they could be boiled and scrubbed with lye soap. I did the same for your wool sweaters too.” Belle paused to look up and smiled at the pale blue sky. “Good thing it’s a sunny day or it’d take forever for the clothes to dry.”
Rumplestiltskin fell into a wooden chair sitting in the shade of a tree. “You’re not really this incapable. Someone’s pulling a trick on me; Durza, Jareth, Zelena.” He scanned the surrounding flora and forest, expecting the Unholy Three to jump from behind a bush. “Oh, gods I’m dizzy.” Rumplestiltskin put his head between his knees until the world stopped spinning. “I mean, I’ve met some royalty that were dumb as doorknobs, but you, you don’t take the cake, you take the whole damned bakery!”
Rumplestiltskin looked up and brushed his hair from his eyes to see Belle crying. One, two, then a dozen tears streamed down her face. “I’ve been trying!”
Belle used her sleeve to wipe her face dry. “I’ve been told that I’m especially good at cataloging books and cutting hair. Speaking of which, would you like me to…” Belle pointed at Rumplestiltskins’ wavy locks.
“Stay away from my floof!” The Dark One cried and ran back inside the castle.
-=-=-=-=-=-=-=
Ensconced in his laboratory--The Dark One wasn’t hiding--Rumplestiltskin worked on a potion for everlasting youth and beauty, or it could’ve been for acid indigestion. The Dark One was so distracted by thoughts of surviving another day with his hostage he couldn’t think straight. There was a knock at the heavy, double bolted door. Rumplestiltskin held his breath, hoping Belle couldn’t hear.
“I know you’re in there.”
How could a voice so sweet sound so menacing?
“Go away, dearie, I’m working on something important.”
“Since I’m up here mopping the steps, do you want me to clean your lab again?”
Rumplestiltskin stood up quickly, nervously adjusted the front of his brown housecoat and looked around. Was anything out of place? Missing? “You’ve been in my lab?” He could picture Belle smiling and nodding.
“Uh-huh. I dusted in there the other day. It was a mess.”
“What did you touch?”
“Oh, everything.”
Rumplestiltskin studied the rows of assorted beakers, bowls and boiling flasks on the shelves behind him, wondering which one would explode.
“By the way, you have a visitor.”
The Dark One leapt from his seat, opened the door and stared menacingly at Belle, who smiled sweetly.
“They’ve been knocking a long time.” She said.
Rumplestiltskin bared his teeth, “It never occured to you to open the door?”
“Do you practice that expression in front of a mirror?” Belle pointed to the Dark Ones’ face.
“I don’t use mirrors!” He tried to move past Belle, who was blocking the stairs.
“That explains your teeth.” She tapped her chin, “I needed to tell you something, walk on the left side of the steps when going down; I just finished mopping them.”
“Get out of my way!” Rumplestiltskin said, pushing Belle aside and with a sure step, tumbled ass over teakettle down the stone steps to the landing, two floors below.
Belle walked gingerly around the heap that was the Dark One. “Sorry, my mistake. I meant walk on the right side; that’s the dry side.” The heavy pounding continued at the door. “I’ll get it.” Belle opened the oak door revealing a woman wearing head to toe black.
“I’m sorry for your loss.” Belle said, swinging the door open so the woman could plainly see Rumplestiltskin struggling to stand upright.
The woman in black looked down her imperious nose at Belle, “Announce me, girl.”
“Alright,” Belle said, walked over to the dizzy Dark One and yelled, “Somebody’s here!”
Rumplestiltskins’ eyes rolled in their sockets as he regained his balance. “Who is it?”
“I dunno, some goth chick.”
The lady in black strode to where the Dark One was almost standing upright. “Queen Regina!” she announced with certainty.
“I don’t remember inviting you to tea, dearie.” Rumplestiltskin said, taking his place at the head of the table.
“Speaking of which,” Belle interjected, “I’ll be right back.”
“The spell you gave me didn’t work.” Regina called to Rumplestiltskins’ back as he leapt from the table and tried to stop his maid from entering the kitchen. “Are you paying attention to me?”
“Right,” Rumplestiltskin turned and faced Regina, “wonky spell, you probably did it wrong, got it.” Then he turned and faced Belle, “She doesn’t want your tea.”
“Yes she does.”
“No,” Rumplestiltskin shook his head, “she doesn’t.”
Regina stormed to where the two stood arguing, “I’ll be the judge of what I want! Girl, get me tea and something to eat, I’m famished. And you, oh, Dark One, fix this spell.” She produced a scroll from thin air and pointed it at Rumplestiltskin like a knife.
Rumplestiltskin watched helplessly as his maid retreated into the kitchen. He took the scroll from Regina, rolled it out onto the table and began to read. “Are you absolutely sure you used eyes of newts?”
“Positive.”
“You didn’t use a lizard by mistake, dearie?”
Regina parted her lips to complain, but was interrupted by the jostling of an overloaded tea cart.
“Here we are, fresh, hot tea and something to nibble on!” Belle smiled brightly and set the table for two. “Your majesty, if I may,” Belle pointed to the serving trays filled with goodies. “Here we have cucumber sandwiches with crusts cut off, or smoked salmon finger sandwiches. Over here are choices of plain scones with lemon curd, cranberry scones with walnuts, or pumpkin scones; those are extremely popular with women of a certain age and socioeconomic stature in my kingdom.”
“You made these yourself?” Rumplestiltskin sputtered out.
“Be quiet, she’s not finished.” Regina waved at him.
“There’s also a choice of ham and mustard, egg and cress and…” Belle looked all over the tray and frowned. “Forgive me, your majesty, I left the champagne in the kitchen. Excuse me. Please, help yourself.”
“I certainly will!” Regina said, her stomach growling. She filled her plate with a bit of this and that, making sounds of delight as she took a bite from each treat.
“Stop making that noise, dearie, it’s upsetting my digestion.”
Regina glanced at the Dark Ones’ empty plate. “I don’t see how, you’re not eating anything!”
Rumplestiltskin huffed, “That’s beside the point.” He noticed that Regina had scarfed down two scones, a finger sandwich and lemon curd with two cups of hot tea and hadn’t fallen over dead from Belles’ cooking yet, and decided to take a chance. He was about to take a huge bite of a salmon finger sandwich when Belle returned, pushing a wheeled serving cart. On it was a single champagne flute, a magnum of champagne and a covered dish.
“Now, now, don’t be impatient, Rumplestiltskin,” Belle pried the sandwich from his grip and sat the covered dish in front of him. “Your special meal is ready.”
“Special meal?” Regina asked, biting into a watercress sandwich. “Why does he need a special meal?”
“So he’s not distracted while reading and writing contracts and spells and such.” With a flourish Belle removed the cover to reveal plain chicken broth, brown bread without butter, a glass of milk and…
“What the hell is that white lump?” Rumplestiltskin poked at it with a fork.
“Steamed whitefish.”
“A meal for an invalid. I refuse to consume this.”
“But,” Belle batted her lashes at him, “don’t you want to give your attention to Queen Reginas’ problem?”
“She’s right,” Regina said, licking crumbs from her fingers, “I demand your full concentration. Girl, take this away, including the champagne. Nothing should distract the Dark One from finding out why his spell didn’t work.”
“As you wish madam.” Belle bobbed in a curtsey, “To remove temptation, I’ll throw it out.”
“Very good.” Regina nodded in agreement.
Regina turned her back on Rumplestiltskin and grabbed one last sandwich before it was taken away. Behind her the Dark One mouthed at Belle “I hate you.”
-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-
A grueling six hours passed before Rumplestiltskin was released from Reginas’ nitpicking over the placement of punctuation marks (“You know where you can put that comma, Regina!”) and a violent debate whether salamanders and newts were interchangeable in spells. (They’re not.)
After the Queen left (with an enormous picnic basket filled with goodies for her driver, footmen, ladies maids and random strangers she found on the road) the Dark One ate a magical meal of chicken, bread with butter and cooked apples. Every bite tasted like glue.
-=-=-=-=-=-
“Who let you in?” Rumplestiltskin stared wide-eyed at Durza, who was lounging in a high-backed chair in front of the fireplace.
“Your maid. Which,” Durza adjusted his tunic, “when did you get a maid?”
“I don’t want to talk about her.” The Dark One rubbed his temples.
As if on cue Belle entered the great hall pulling a small wheeled cart of firewood. “It’s getting colder outside.” She placed the wood near the fireplace. “Would you like another hot chocolate, Durza?”
Rumplestiltskin fussed, “He’s not staying, there’s no need to feed him.”
Belle continued as if the Dark One wasn’t there. “It’s no trouble; I just filled the urn and was about to wheel it out to your soldiers.”
Rumplestiltskin glared at Durza, “You brought Urgals with you?”
Belle turned to Rumplestiltskin and smiled, “They’re camped in the garden. But like I said, it’s getting colder out, I was about to invite them inside.”
The Dark Ones’ head whipped around, “They’re not house trained!” He hissed at Belle, who smiled as if to say ‘They will be when I’m done with them.’
“Not necessary my dear,” Durza rose to warm his hands by the fire, “their hides are thick as leather.”
“True,” Belle tapped her chin thoughtfully, “but I noticed some of their horns are starting to shrink. Hard to be terrified of a man with tiny horns.”
“Which brings me to my problem. Rumplestiltskin, I need your assistance. Belle, if you’ll excuse us?”
“Of course, Durza. It’s time I started lunch anyway. Hope you’re hungry; it’s chicken soup with French bread today!” Belle called over her shoulder and entered the kitchen.
Rumplestiltskin ground his teeth together, “Since you won’t leave until I hear your tale of woe, start talking.”
“It seems my Urgals aren’t as intimidating as they used to be.”
Rumplestiltskin chuckled, “So your shock army has lost its shock value? It’s no wonder with their shrinking horns and chocolate milk mustaches! What do you want from me?”
“Something that makes a populace tremble with fear. They should dread us before we reach the castle doors.”
Rumplestiltskin sat down in the comfy chair and threw his leg over the arm. “It should carry on the wind...a smell, perhaps? An unpleasant aroma?”
Durza shook his head, “Most people I deal with don’t bathe, so they wouldn’t notice.”
“A sound!”
The pair of dark wizards turned to see Belle smiling brightly.
“Like screaming?” Durza asked, his lips pulled back, revealing a grin of sharpened teeth.
“I was thinking something more organized, like a war chant.” Upon seeing the wizards’ confused looks, Belle gave a twenty minute tutorial on the history of war cries and examples in different cultures. The Dark One had dozed off somewhere between the haka of the Maori peoples and the use of bagpipes in the Highlands. When he awoke, Belle was handing Durza a small gray container. “Here, take this, it’s full of examples.”
“What is that?” Rumplestiltskin rubbed his eyes.
“It’s a magical cylinder that plays all types of music.” Belle said. “Jefferson gave it to me on his last visit.”
“I really should put more locks on the doors.” Rumplestiltskin said to himself.
“Which one should I choose?” Durza asked, “I have no ear for music.”
Rumplestiltskin blew a raspberry and rolled his eyes at the Shade, “You haven’t a brain in your head if you think this’ll work.”
Belle stomped to where Rumplestiltskin sat, put her hands on the chairs arms and leaned close to his face. “Yes, it will and I’ll show you.” With that she plucked the magical item from Durzas’ hand and marched out the kitchen door.
---=-=-=-=-=-
Rumplestiltskin was sound asleep in the comfy chair, Durza dozed in the second high backed chair near the fireplace, two empty bottles of red wine between the men. The Dark One dreamt he was in a forest, the sounds of wild animals filling the air: chirping of spring peepers, calls of ‘Look out!’ from blue jays, an unidentified animal barking ‘oooh ooohga ooohga’ practically in his ear. Rumplestiltskin awoke with a start, convinced the unnatural noise was coming from Durza.
“Roll over, you’re snoring.”
“I don’t snore,” Durza rubbed his eyes, “and stop hitting my chair.”
“I’m not touching you.”
Durza sat upright, struggling to open his eyes. “Then why is my chair shaking?”
Rumplestiltskin placed his feet on the stone floor, a tremble traveled up his bare feet causing him to shiver. His drinking partner--now sobering at the speed of magic--sat upright and dug his sharpened nails into the chair arms. There was a clinking of glass, Durzas’ eyes followed the noise to the two wine bottles on the floor knocking into and off of each other, like two drunkards trying to remain erect while walking. Rumplestiltskin stood next to Durza and grabbed the high-backed chair for support. Durza looked up at the Dark One and smirked.
“You’re scared?”
“I’m the most powerful sorcerer in the realm, nothing frightens me.”
Uneven cries of ooohga, ooohga grew louder.
“Then why are you shaking?”
“I’m trembling with curiosity; I want to know what’s causing the Dark Castle to vibrate!”
“Ooohga, chakaa, ooohga, chakaa!”
The sound advanced from wherever they started (the kitchen? Rumplestiltskin wondered) into the hallway before filling the arched doorway of the Great Hall.
The Shade covered his ears with his hands. “For Gods’ sake, man, don’t you want to see what it is?!” Durza shouted over the din.
Rumplestiltskin shook his head furiously and pointed to the oak doors, “Run!” He and Durza sprinted toward the doors; Rumplestiltskin put his hand on the door handle to find it vibrating under his touch.
“Ooohga, chakaa, ooohga, chakaa!” The chant came from the welcome mat side of the door.
“We’re surrounded!” One man cried and dragged the other under the dining table.
“Hold me!” The other man yelled.
Suddenly the doors flew open and a squad of Urgals advanced into the Hall. Rumplestiltskin and Durza turned their heads to see a second group of monstrous, horned beasts fill the doorway to the kitchen, blocking any escape. The dining table was grabbed with a sharpened, black claw and went flying across the room; the two mighty wizards clutched at each other for support (or to use one another as meat shields) when the groups of Urgals assembled above them and screamed at their fullest volume:
“Ooohga chaka, ooohga chaka, ooohga ooohga ooohga chaka! IIIIII-IIIiii-iiiiiii’m” a rib-breaking reverberation bounced the Shade and Wizard off the floor as the Urgals jumped up and down in unison, “hooked on a feelin’!”
-=-=-=-=-