A/N: As a music major, I feel I should apologize in advance for any musical anachronisms that appear in the telling of this story but in my defense, a handful already exist in the show. Also, I will master writing Rumplestiltskin even if it kills me. So far, he's winning.
Legend said he would appear at your most desperate hour. Others said you could conjure his presence by speaking his name thrice. William of Hamelin had lived too long to believe in men professing cure-all solutions to life's problems but they said this creature who governed kings and beggars wasn't a man but a monster. Monsters he believed in; monsters he'd seen.
Standing on the edge of the Eternal Forest under the full moon, a middle-aged man pulled his ratty, multi-colored overcoat tighter around his shoulders to shield himself from the burst of late-autumn air rattling the brittle leaves in the dead branches nearby. Long blades of grass crunched under thinning leather soles as he paced the field trying to summon the requisite courage to invoke the monster, all the while fiddling with the buckles of the hard leather case under his arm. He knew the longer he waited, the more likely he would flee back to his wretched rented garrett at the tavern with his tail between his legs. So he whirled around and choked out the name in a hoarse voice that cracked on the first syllable.
"Rum-Rumplestiltskin. Rumplestiltskin. Rumplestiltskin."
A stiff breeze gusted across the clearing as though in response to William's call. A shiver ran through him, unrelated to the chilly weather. How long was he supposed to wait? None of the rumors or folklore was clear on that point. He pivoted haltingly on the spot, casting a paranoid stare over his shoulder towards the town's distant pinpricks of light on the horizon.
"Well, well, well! Aren't we tedious, William? " spoke a pinched, nasally voice from the treeline, enunciating the name as though it was quaintest thing ever heard.
The man in question whirled around with his heart in his throat, gawking into the wooded darkness as a black shape on a tree branch dropped silently to the ground. It slowly rose from a crouch to its full height, then crept out into the moonlight in a graceful movement to reveal a thin, golden-skinned man clad in a costly suit of silk and black leather. Yellow, reptilian eyes slowly roved over the poorly-dressed man in what was unmistakably a once over. It was a gaze that seemed to penetrate the soul and weasel out the deepest secrets William couldn't admit to even to himself.
"What can I do for you?" Rumplestiltskin asked. The imp's rotting teeth glinted as thin lips pulled back into a saucy grin.
Suddenly the dire problem so debilitating to William's existence seemed too ridiculous to articulate. It took him a moment to find his voice, which appeared to have evaporated into the night. "Ah, well... ah, I'm... I'm a musician by trade and..."
Rumplestiltskin made a vaguely impatient, circular gesture with his hand.
William sucked in a deep breath before dragging a palm down his face and starting again. He couldn't meet the imp's gaze and stared instead at the gold scales on his throat . "I'll be straight with you. I'm... mediocre at best and I just can't cut it anymore. Economy what it is, it's not paying the bills these days and it's not like I can just drop everything and learn a new trade. If I were younger, maybe, but I'm not. I need an edge."
"Have you tried practicing harder?" William couldn't decide if he heard scorn, mockery, or both in Rumplestiltskin's voice.
"Of course I have," William snapped, already regretting his tone as the words left his mouth. He took another deep breath. "Look, it doesn't matter how long or well you practice. I work twice as hard as anybody and for what? Sometimes you just... plateau." They were vile excuses and he knew it.
"Why not work the fields?" The imp's arms crossed over his chest, tapping grey claws against his upper arm. "Hands are always needed this time of year, skilled or not."
Again, another option William had once considered and dismissed almost immediately. "Do you know what manual labor could do to me? What happens if I break a hand? I'd be ruined." After a beat, he finally met Rumplestiltskin's eyes, emboldened by increasing frustration. "Look, can you help me or not?"
"You really are determined, aren't you?" Rumplestiltskin mused, walking towards the musician in slow, measured steps. "Fear not, I can help you through your little plateau ." With a grin, he thrust a gold finger to the sky and continued in an exasperatingly sing-song voice. "I can make you play music to make men weep, soothe the beasts, and even the rocks and trees to dance. But, ah... all magic comes with a price, of course."
Such a prospect inspired an indecent thrill to run William length and breadth and his heart to patter like a lovesick schoolboy's. That was far better than anything he'd dare to bargain for. His reply came in an eager, breathless rush. "Yes, that will do nicely. So at what cost? My soul?"
The night air was suddenly filled with Rumplestiltskin's grotesquely childish giggling. "My, my, we've got a high opinion of ourselves, don't we? What would I want with your soul? You make it sound as if it was worth having."
William's face burned and he held his ground, hands still thrust in his pockets. "Fine. What then?"
"What then, indeed! "
Only a few feet away now, the imp began to stroll a lazy circle around the musician, humming and tutting. William could feel that invasive gaze upon him once more. He willed himself calm and still. It rather rankled him that his soul wasn't considered valid currency. Musicians always sold their souls to a dark power for limitless talent. Penniless, talentless hacks such as himself had little else to barter with. Everybody knew that. That was simply the done thing. His stomach churned as he considered for the very first time that Rumplestiltskin might turn him away. Just his luck.
After a few seconds, the imp stopped to stand directly in front of him and with a childish giggle, brazenly reached out to adjust one of William's frayed lapels.
"Tell you what," he cooed. "You'll owe me a favor."
William didn't realize he'd been holding his breath and let out an embarrassingly audible sigh of relief.
"Do we have a deal~?" Rumplestiltskin asked gleefully.
"Absolutely." The giddy rush that ensued almost made him dizzy.
"Marvelous." Rumplestiltskin clapped his hands together and rubbed them eagerly. "Now let's have a look at this long-suffering instrument, shall we?"
Obediently, William grabbed his case and began to undo the buckles with trembling fingers. It popped it open with a creak and he offered up his pride and joy to Rumplestiltskin, who gently took the exquisite rosewood pipe with both hands and looked it over. The moonlight shone dully on the lacquered surface.
"What a lovely instrument!" Rumplestiltskin exclaimed, holding it aloft and causing the owner a quiver of instinctive anxiety.
William's voice was soft. "It was my father's."
"I'm sure he's very proud."
William dropped his eyes, jaw jutting as he held his tongue, then returned his gaze to the grinning imp. Without any sort of warning or flourish, a wave of nearly imperceptible, colorless energy rippled across his instrument from reed to bell. The disappointingly prosaic process took less than two heartbeats.
"And there you are, dearie. One enchanted pipe!" Rumplestiltskin sounded quite pleased with himself and handed the pipe back with the same reverence with which he took it. William noted with vague disappointment that it felt no different in his hands than before.
"...Thank you," he murmured, suddenly overwhelmed by a wild urge to hear what musical talent capable of enchanting rocks and trees sounded like, and-perhaps most importantly-verify the sorcerer had done as promised.
"We'll keep in touch, Pied Piper," Rumplestiltskin said with a broad, rotten smile, and began to stroll back towards the Eternal Forest with a skip in his step. By the time William fetched a new reed from his case, the imp was gone.