Belle stood looking out of the window of the tallest tower in her father's castle. It wasn't a large castle, but it allowed her a view of the village spread out in front of them. The townsfolk were bustling around, but there was a quick purposefulness to their steps that didn't usually exist. There was no gathering in the square, no gossiping outside the bakery. What she missed most however, was the sound of children playing. She had always taken it for granted as part of the background noise in the village, until it had suddenly disappeared. Nobody would take the risk now, not with the constant risk of impending war.
She forced herself to look up into the dark of the mountains that sat behind the village. Smoke had been rising from them for days now. Thick black plumes that brought with them a snow of ash that blew with the wind and settled in a gray layer over everything in sight. Sometimes on clear nights, they could even see the distant lick of orange flames on the horizon, burning through the tree lines. They could deny it no longer; war was coming, bringing death and destruction in its wake.
Her father had sent out riders with consignment scrolls to raise the militia, but Belle knew, deep down, that there was little hope. They had lost contact with the armies that had been sent into the mountain, and with it, their hopes had begun to fade. There had to be another way that her father's war council didn't see. The best solutions in history were those that the enemy never expected, and she was sure that they had missed something.
Not that they had allowed her to participate in the conversation, she thought, somewhat bitterly. Her betrothed, Gaston, had seen to that. He didn't believe that women had a place in war, despite the many peasant women throughout the realm that had been sent to their deaths fighting against the ogres. Her father, despite being a loving and doting man, had given in at his insistence, much to Belle's dismay.
In a way, she almost envied them their chance to defend their homes, their friends and family. Heroism was something that was not often spoken of in regards to females, and certainly not amongst those of her social station. Duty and honor had been her governing principles, which were admirable, to be sure. But they spoke nothing to her of adventure.
It was the one thing that she allowed herself to wish for, secretly at night when she was alone in her room. The kind of adventures in the books she read deep into the night in the dying embers of the fire. She heard the bards sing of it, heard the poems. Her own life however, seemed destined to becoming the dutiful daughter and wife. She sighed, thinking about how Gaston would feel if he ever knew her feelings on the matter.
She immediately she scolded herself for her misplaced longings. So many had died, and were continuing to die in vain against the ogres, and here she was wishing to be removed from the continued safety and shelter that the castle had provided her. Until this point, anyways. If the war continued on as it was, she was unsure how much longer they could continue to hold the borders.
If there was only something that she could do, she thought fretfully, turning away from scene before her. Her eyes fell on a gold tapestry hanging above the fireplace and she froze. She had heard whispers, as had most children, of a creature, somewhere between man and beast, that could spin straw into gold. She doubted it was anything more than a children's story of course, but it was said that he could make your deepest dream come true, for the right price. Some stories claimed he demanded all the gold of a kingdom, while others claimed that he stole and ate misbehaving children in the night. She guessed that the truth lay somewhere in the middle, not quite mercenary, but not a monster either. Her father's hold had been prosperous, and gold was one of the few resources they had. Perhaps there was a way in which to conjure such a fighter for their side?
But what if he asks for something more?, the tiny voice in her head whispered to her. How much would her father be willing to give? She sighed, rubbing a hand across her brow before looking back out the window. If their sacrifice saved the lives of everyone in the village below them, it had to be worth it. Sometimes the needs of the many outweighed the needs of the few.
Her mind decided, Belle snatched up her cloak and pulling her hood up, strode purposely out of the castle. Nobody stopped her, for which she was glad. If she had been questioned, she wasn't sure if her resolve would have stood. She walked through the quiet village, unnerved by the silence that had begun to settle as twilight began to fall. Quickening her steps, she headed towards the edge of the forest, where the small dwellings became more sparse on the landscape.
On the very edge of the forest, a small cabin sat alone, surrounded by an expansive garden. It had been one of Belle's favorite places when she was a child, and despite the circumstances, it still brought a smile to her face. Unlike the darkness of the village, Belle could see a cheery fire through the open shutters. Before she could even knock, the door flew open, a short stout little woman had enveloped her in a hug.
For as long as she could remember, Belle had called her Granny Rose. In truth, she had actually been her grandmother's sister. Belle, however, who never knew her maternal grandmother or her mother, considered Granny Rose to be the closest thing to a mother that she had ever known. What she didn't know as a child was that Granny Rose was considered by most of the town to be a witch. While Belle knew this title meant little more than a greater understanding of the herbs and healing than most people, it was enough to make townsfolk whisper. While she knew her father was also wary of her, Belle also knew that what he didn't know could not possibly hurt him.
"Ach, girl, it's been too long since you've been to visit me," Granny Rose said, holding Belle at arm's distance so that she could look at her. "You look more like your mother every time I see you. She was always so thin too. I hope that father of yours is feeding you properly."
"Hi Granny," Belle said, smiling at her. "And yes, of course father is feeding me."
"Then you must be worried," Granny said shrewdly. "You never eat enough when you're worried. It's not good for you."
Belle sighed. "Yes, I've been worried," she admitted. "It's the reason I've come to talk to you, actually."
"Well, you best come in then," Granny replied. "I made stew for dinner. I had a feeling I'd be seeing you soon."
The two went into the small cottage, Belle being shooed into a seat at the table as Granny served them up a steaming bowl of stew with a hunk of warm bread and butter. She wasn't allowed to bring up the topic of the war before her plate was cleaned.
"So tell me what brought you here," Granny asked her, as she cleared away dinner.
Belle bit her lip, wondering how much she should say.
Granny smiled knowingly at her. "Let me guess, you are feeling helpless in the face of war. Your well-meaning father has been trying to shield you from the worst of it, but you've heard anyways. Am I right so far?"
Belle nodded..
"You aren't the type to come to me wanting a sleeping potion, so what is it? What kind of plan have you come up with?"
"Do you remember when I was a child, you used to tell me a story about the goblin that could turn straw into gold?" she asked, hesitatingly.
"Yes," Granny asked, careful not to betray any emotion in her voice. "Although he wasn't a goblin, despite what people say. I know what you're thinking Belle, and I will beg you not to think further of it."
Belle was taken aback. "I thought you'd understand," she asked, feeling her stomach sink.
"Oh, I do understand," Granny said, closing her eyes. "Better than you know. However, I also know that the deals that he makes are not to be taken lightly. He is an extremely dangerous man."
"So he is real," Belle breathed, her eyes widening. "I wasn't sure until now."
"Oh, he's real," Granny confirmed. "But I am warning you that to call on him will not end well."
"I am prepared for whatever the consequences are," Belle said firmly.
"Of course you are dearie," Granny replied with a sigh. She knew Belle, probably better than she knew herself. She knew the firm set of her chin, and wished that she could stop the events that she saw unrolling before her. There were few people that she had seen it in, but she always knew that Belle had a touch of destiny about her. She had never spoken of it before, as destiny did not always provide those it touched with happy endings. Deep down, she wished that she had been mistaken. If she didn't tell Belle what she knew, it was very possible that greater harm would come to her in the end as she tried to obtain the information on her own.
"He is summoned by his name," Granny explained to her. "Although few know what it is. Names have power Belle, as I have always told you."
"Do you know what it is?" Belle asked her eagerly.
Granny closed her eyes again, sighing. "Yes, although I wish I did not."
"Will you tell me?" Belle's voice had lowered to an urgent whisper. She had a glint in her eye that Granny had never seen before. The feeling of destiny once again filled the room. Granny wondered if Belle could feel it, the inevitable push towards a certain conclusion.
"If you ask it of me, I must," Granny replied sadly. "Although I will warn you that once you speak his name, a connection will exist between you that can't be broken."
"Please, tell me," Belle asked again.
Granny closed her eyes, and let out a sigh. Nothing was going to stop the storm that was coming. "Wait here," she told Belle.
Belle felt her heart racing as she watched Granny leave the room. You can still turn back, she told herself. She knew that she couldn't though. Whatever was about to happen, she was committed to it, heart and soul.
Granny returned a moment later, a small thin leather bound book in her hand. Belle took it, and watched as it fell open to a page with the illustration of a dagger on it. She traced the lettering across the dagger, sounding it out in her head, committing it to memory.
"Rumpelstiltskin," she whispered.
Belle felt a shiver go through her as she said it, as if some unseen eye had turned towards her and had looked her through, measuring her. She quickly shut the book, but the name was burned into her mind as if it had been branded there. Rumpelstiltskin.
As Belle said the name, Granny felt the tension in the air shift and resolve, although it did nothing for the dread that she felt in the pit of her stomach. She hadn't heard the name spoken aloud for over twenty years, and she had hoped with her deepest heart that she would never hear it again, especially from her dear Belle.
"Thank you Granny," Belle said, forcing herself to smile at the old lady while ignoring the fluttering in her chest. She wasn't sure why, but suddenly she wanted to be nowhere but in her room at the top of her father's castle, surrounded by a host of guards.
"Watch yourself Belle, my dear," Granny told her, reaching forward and clasping the girl's hand. "He'll know you now, if you call for him again."
Belle's smile faltered at her words, but she replaced it quickly. "I should probably get back to the castle. Father will be worried about me."
"I'll go with you," Granny said, pulling herself out of her chair. "You shouldn't be walking around by yourself after dusk."
"And you should?" Belle asked her, putting a hand on her shoulder. "Please, I'll be fine."
Granny looked at her shrewdly. "I will see you as far as the town," she told her in a tone that brooked no argument. "Your father's guards should be able to see you from there."
"And what about you?" Belle asked her concernedly.
"I've been living on the edge of this forest for more years than you've been alive, my girl," Granny told her with a chuckle. "You can trust me that they'll want nothing to do with an old lady like myself."
The two walked together in silence through the garden. The sky was still tinged with the dusky pink of twilight as they reached the edges of the village. Guards were already patrolling the streets, lighting lamps as they went.
"Take care Belle," Granny told Belle again, enveloping her in a hug. "And whatever you do, don't act out of desperation. You'll need a clear head in the days to come."
Granny watched as a member of the guard escorted her up to the castle. She felt a wave of sadness wash through her, although she couldn't say why. She wished more than anything that she could tell her more of what she knew, but it would be of little use. Destiny would have its way.
He had made sure of that.