The Light From A Winter's Fire
Years after Rumplestiltskin's return from the war he continues to pay the price for his cowardice. In another land a woman faces her own demons. The two are brought together during a snowstorm and discover each has the power to heal old wounds.
Chapter 1
Another northern winter…yyaaaaayyyyy. She ran her fingers through loose curls and sighed watching the morning snow fall fast and heavy across the lawn. Probably going to be snowed in again… she looked on, mind wandering as drifts grew and shrank outside the window. The yard was wide and uneven; leading into few rows of pathetic looking grape vines before casting down eventually into the street. The gnarled oak trees leaned tiredly over, like giants searching for a lost contact while the snow piled on their limbs.
Turning away, she took in her parent's house. This is my house…now...I guess… The wood floors were cool despite the heavy winterizing the couple had done in the 5o years they had lived in the farmhouse. The wind howled around the corners and still reached icy fingers under the doors at every opportunity. Echoes of a lifetime spent in every room nestled in every crevice of the antique furniture, mixed with the dust settled on the books, the mantles, the tabletops. Today, in weak morning light they seemed more like ghosts, rattling about looking for their absent companions.
"Well, Horatio, let's check on the soup" the Great Dane whuffed and followed her into the kitchen. She still could not sleep well, still expecting her pager to go off despite her leave of absence, waking every few hours expecting to be called for some trauma case, some car accident. The last few years at the hospital had eaten her life, consumed every moment, all her energy. Now, on a leave of absence to wrap up loose ends after her last parent's death, she found she could not sit still.
'"You have abandoned me!" Her mother always cut to the quick when she threw her fits. She saved her moments of clarity for guilt trips. "You care more about that damn hospital that you do about your own parents! Where were you when your father died? Huh? Where you gonna be when I die?' The cane hit the wall behind her. " Mom, I was in an exam when Dad died.. that wasn't my fault." She ducked as a handful of m&m's flew at her. "You could have come home to visit when he got sick! You just didn't want to face him, you coward. You think being a doctor and fixing all those people is going to change that?" The tears began to run down her face as her mother threw herself down on the couch, suddenly quiet. "Now I need you and you tell me you have to work.. you won't take the time to look after your own mother...You'll be sorry when I die... then you will HAVE to take time away from your precious hospital...you'll see." She sobbed, arthritic hands clutching at the cane. "What did I ever do to drive my own daughter away? She will fix everyone but she won't fix me" "Mom... I can't quit this job, you need someone who can help you to stay here...I am not trained for what you have...Even if I could stay here with you I couldn't help with what you need!" The pleading never made any difference, eventually her mother's sobs quieted and the faraway look crept back into her face. The months passed quickly as she faded.
She wiped the moisture from her eyes with her sweater sleeves and drew a shaky breath, poking at the vegetables bobbing in the broth absent-mindedly.
"He's dead because of YOU, you filthy coward!" The man's beard was flecked with spittle and ale, his breath was sour and hot on the smaller man's face as he wriggled in his grasp, tears streaming down his pinched face. "Please, Iven...I'm sorry about your son!" He gagged as a blow knocked his gut into his throat. "Sorry? Sorry doesn't bring him back, Rumplestiltskin! You worthless piece of dung!" Rumplestiltskin coward as the man drew back to hit him again, the blood on his face obscuring his view of the blacksmith's feet. " Please…" he whimpered his gut and shoulder afire with the spreading bruises. Suddenly the beating stopped, footsteps approached and a new voice spoke, thick with drink.
"Hello Brother, I see you found the cretin. I brought our cousins with, for they too have lost their children this day." The men crowded in as the spinner was hauled to his feet. Cold blue eyes bored into his as the new voice spoke again. "We know how much you like to run, Spindleshanks…run now… we will give you a head start, before we come after you." With a malicious grin, he thrust the walking stick into the smaller man's shaking hands… "GO."
Rumplestiltskin hesitated, "I don't understand..." He leaned heavily on the staff swaying.
"I'm going to count to five… then me and my cousins here are going to find you, make you pay for every death on your head… One…" Their chortles followed him as Rumplestilskin turned with a chocked sound of panic and limped away as fast as he could into the woods.
In a few short hours the snow had completely swallowed the street and had begin to pile up against the door. The television crackled and warned the buildup would not stop for days, to stay inside, to prepare for the blizzard that was fast approaching. "Good thing we never travel light, huh Horatio?" She took in the loaded cabinet, crossing to check the fridge then the stock pot bubbling on the stove.
Pausing to button up the oversized cable sweater over her faded jeans before pulling on the heavy coat, she padded to the garage door. "Horatio, let's get some wood!" Horatio padded over, allowing her to attach the sled to his harness before following her to the long stacked piles of wood they had built the week before. As she loaded the sled with dry wood she calculated how many days of fire she would have if the storm grew worse. Where did Mom keep the generator…? "Inside Horatio!" She opened the door for the dog and ventured back out to dig up the worse-case-scenario supplies, a knot forming ominously in her stomach as she listened to the banshee scream of the wind outside.
It didn't take long for the men to catch up to their limping prey. The closest felled him with a kick to the back. Crawling away Rumplestiltskin cried out when the yank on his tunic ripped the fabric and dragged him back, clutching at the ground pleading. They used the open shirt as a tether, taking turns batting him back and forth among them until it fell apart. Mouth forming broken words, nauseated from pain he cried out as they let him drop to his knees. They let him try to crawl away again before grabbing the bad leg savagely twisting as he screamed again and again, begging with short ragged breaths for forgiveness. He felt their rough hands on his body, yanking down his soiled trousers to expose more vulnerable flesh. Sobs racking his bruised chest, he flailed out at them, his last attempt to free himself before feeling himself slip away from consciousness. Blue light shimmered at the edge of his vision and he felt himself falling, down into the leaves, the scent of blood, bowel, and dirt. The air grew cold; the voices began to sound far away "The damn bean! It fell out of my pocket! The bastard ripped my pocket!" their alarmed cries faded into vacuum on then there was nothing. The light filled his head and the world went blank as Rumplestiltskin lost consciousness.