The Spinner's Rival: Part One
A/AN: Just a little something which popped in my head. I'm not sure about how long this will be, but prompts are welcome!
Rumpelstiltskin glared at the busy stall across the bustling square. Selling his wares in his home village had never been a problem until she'd moved to town. He was the sole spinner in their quaint village until she'd shown up, pretty and blue eyed. She had the male populace swooning and eating out of her hand, and she never went home with any extra goods. She always managed to sell out before noon. She'd pack up her stall, saddle her old tan mare, and head for home, while he'd still be left, struggling to sell the rest of his threads.
Rumpelstiltskin still managed to make a meager wage, but having the extra competition had set him back. This continued on for weeks, and sometimes he thought of speaking with her, passing by her stall to see if her thread was of better quality than his, but his pride wouldn't allow it. Sometimes she'd catch him stealing a glance at her, and she would wave friendlily at him. He'd always divert his gaze and pretend he hadn't seen her.
It was a dreary day, and there weren't many venders at the market. He'd expected to see her, but she wasn't there. He decided to blame it on the weather, opting to not become too suspicious of her absence, but when she didn't show up the following week, he became concerned.
As he made his way home that afternoon, he decided to stop by her residence. He'd checked with the baker's wife Matilda about where she lived, but she didn't easily volunteer that bit of information without the offer of some green thread, which he reluctantly parted with. He wasn't sure why he was so troubled about his rival, but his mind wouldn't rest until he made sure she was okay.
He released the anxious breath he was holding as he raised his hand up to knock on her door. Running away crossed his mind when he heard soft footfalls swiftly approaching. She opened the door, and he realized it was too late to abandon his mission.
"Hello?" she rasped, glancing at him quizzically.
"Hello, I'm Rumpelstiltskin. I noticed you haven't been at the market in a couple of weeks, and I became concerned for your welfare. Are you alright?" The spinner introduced himself, attempting to conceal the timidity in his voice.
"I'm afraid I've fallen ill. I've barely left the hovel, for fear of making it worse. The physician says I should stay inside and not to venture out in public," she answered. She was sickly and pale, and Rumpelstiltskin couldn't fathom why he was so uptight about her well being, but he couldn't bring himself to leave.
"Is there anything I can do for you?" He offered, wondering what sort of enchantment she'd placed upon him.
"Well, if it isn't too much trouble, I do have some wares which I need to sell at market. This illness has prevented me from meeting my monthly quota, and I have various expenses which will need to be paid by the month's end," she supplied, opening the door wider, granting him entry.
"It isn't any trouble at all. I'll help you any way I can." His tongue betrayed him before his brain had time to object. It seemed this spintress had him eating out of her hand too.
"I'm afraid you haven't told me your name yet," he said, unable to quell his tongue from spouting more nonsense.
"Oh, I'm terribly sorry! How rude of me! My name's Belle," she smiled radiantly at him, sending a wave of heat coursing through his abdomen.
"It's no matter, and it's a pleasure to meet you," he reassured her. He glanced around the hovel, noting the makeshift pallet settled by the hearth. A large black iron pot hung above it, and it simmered with something hearty. Her hovel was constructed just as the others he'd seen throughout the years. What stood out the most was the spinning wheel settled in the center of the one room shack.
"Here are the threads I need you take to market for me. I'd be obliged to pay you for your troubles," she offered, wringing her hands on her skirts demurely.
"That won't be necessary, Belle. I can assure you it's no trouble," he responded, politely declining the offer.
"Well, I thank you kindly for your help. Since I moved here, I can't say I've truly made any friends," she revealed, catching him by surprise.
"But, how? Your stall is always bustling with customers, and you seem to sell out before anyone else!" he exclaimed in disbelief.
"Just because you make a sell doesn't mean you make a connection with that person. It's strictly business after all. Do you have any friends, Rumpelstiltskin?" she interrogated, her gaze was intense and slightly intimidating.
"I can't say I have," he remarked dryly, averting his gaze to the hearth.
"Then perhaps we should change that. You're the only person who cared enough to check on me, so I'd say that constitutes as something," she smiled, clasping his hand in her own. His heart thrummed heavily against his chest from her close proximity.
"How about you stay for dinner?" she inquired, gesturing towards the boiling pot.
"I'd love to, but I'm afraid I must be heading home. I have much to attend to before the next market day," he politely declined.
She nodded in understanding, a look of disappointment flickering across her gaze. "I bid you farewell then, Rumpelstiltskin."
"I'll come by and collect your wares when I return to market in a couple of days," he told her.
"I'll see you then," she returned, seeing him to the door. As the door shut behind her, Rumpelstiltskin secretly wished he'd stayed for dinner. Despite their business rivalry, he longed to know her. He could only hope he was granted another opportunity, one he swore he wouldn't squander the next time.
~X~
The next two days passed by in a blur. Rumpelstiltskin caught his mind drifting to the beautiful brunette each time he took a break from spinning. She'd enraptured him in her spell it seemed, and he was no different than the other inhabitants of the village. He arrived at her hovel early that morning, ready to collect her supplies.
Belle opened the door, smiling warmly at him. "Good morning, Rumpelstiltskin. How are fairing?"
"I'm fairing well, and how are you? Are you feeling better?" He inquired, genuinely worried for her well being.
"I'm feeling much better, thank you kindly for asking, however I'm still not well enough for market day. Won't you come inside?" she stated invitingly, holding open the door for him.
"I'd be obliged," he nodded formally, accepting her invitation. She opened the door. Her spools of vibrant thread sat by the door, waiting to be loaded onto his cart.
"Those are my wares by the door. I prepared some herbal tea for you this morning. Would you like a cup?" she asked, offering him the porcelain mug of piping hot tea.
"Yes, I'd certainly appreciate it," he supplied, taking the proffered cup from her. He brought the cup to his lips, relishing the feeling of the tepid liquid cascading down his throat. He handed her the cup, grateful for her thoughtful gesture.
"Well, I must be heading out. I'll drop by this afternoon and bring you your profits," he said, gathering various bolts of fabric in his arms.
"I'm eternally grateful for your hospitality, Rumpelstiltskin," she praised him, gifting him with a brilliant smile which sent his heart aflutter.
"It's no matter. It's what any decent fellow would do," he returned, his cheeks discoloring from her continued thanksgiving. She perched against the egress as he loaded his wagon.
"Yes, and those are few and far between I've learned," she added, her eyes slightly melancholy, and he wondered if she'd been cruelly betrayed by another as he had. Images of his ex-wife writhing beneath the pirate captain's body in their bed sent a wave of nausea spiraling through him. He gripped the wagon to steady his nerves.
"I'll see you this afternoon," he called to her, clenching his jaw in attempt to stave off the unwanted memory. He mounted his gray mare and set his sights on the road which led to the market square. He heard her mumble a goodbye as his horse trotted away from the hovel. Rumpelstiltskin set up his wares as usual, making sure to separate their goods into opposite piles. The day passed by in a blur, and as five o'clock rolled around, he decided to call it a day. They'd both done fairly well with their profits, and he hoped she was pleased with the amount of earnings he'd collected for her.
He parked his horse and cart by her hovel. He sauntered to her front door, knocking lightly. After several knocks, there was still no answer. Becoming concerned, he pushed open the door to find her laying on the floor in a heap.
"Belle!" he hollered, rushing to her aid. He felt for her pulse point, sighing in relief. She wasn't dead, but she was burning up with fever. He hoisted her into his arms, and lay her on the pallet beside the dying hearth. He couldn't just leave her alone, so he traipsed back outside to quickly unload his wagon. He brought the extra spools of thread inside and led his horse to the lone stable behind her shack where it contentedly grazed with Belle's tan mare. The soft bleating of sheep filled his ears, and he noted the five shorn sheep in the pasture.
He rolled up his sleeves as he traipsed back inside. She was still unconscious as he grabbed an empty pail and proceeded to carry it halfway into the woods to fill it with cold water from the creek. He stalked back to the hovel. He found some scraps of linen in one of her cupboards, and dipped one into the cool water. He bent down beside her on the floor, dabbing her face lightly. She stirred in her sleep, opening her eyes hazily.
"Rumplestiltskin?" she rasped.
"Yes, I'm here, Belle. You collapsed, so I put you to bed. You're burning up with fever," he explained.
"The physician said I was healing properly, but I suppose I've relapsed," she coughed heavily.
"Shh. Don't speak. Let me take care of you," he commanded in his soothing brogue.
"Why would you do that? You barely know me," she muttered, her eyes growing leaden with sleep.
"Because that's what friends do for each other," he answered, starling himself with his confession. She smiled weakly at him before dozing back off.
Rumpelstiltskin was no healer, but he did know a few things about dealing with the afflicted. He'd tended to the aunts who'd raised him as they laid dying on their death beds. Rumpelstiltskin spent the remainder of the night sitting by her bedside. He made her a kettle of herbal tea mixed with honey to ease her sore throat and to stifle her coughing. Her fever broke sometime during the early morning hours, and for that, he was thankful.
He continued to watch over her as the day progressed, and she mostly slept until late in the evening. She awoke to find the spinner busily stirring the pot over the hearth. She inhaled the decadent scent of vegetable stew. A smile tugged at her lips, and she wondered if he'd discovered her vegetable garden out back.
"Rumplestiltskin?" she called out his name hesitantly.
The spinner averted his gaze towards the beauty. "Did you sleep well? Are you feeling better?" he inquired, kneeling down beside her. She shuddered, her breath hitching in her throat as he touched her brow lightly to check for fever.
"You're not warm. Are you hungry? I made some stew from the few potatoes and leaks I found in your garden out back. I hope that was okay," he stammered.
"It's more than okay. I'm eternally grateful for all of your help. There must be some way I can repay you," she insisted, forcing herself to sit up.
"There is one way I can think of, but it isn't with coin. I want to know who you truly are, Belle. You're well past the marrying age, and I can't fathom why you haven't taken a husband since moving here. It doesn't make any sense," he retorted, his gaze calculating.
She felt her gut clench with bile from his request. She'd never dispelled her true origins to anyone, and moving here had spared from from the scrutiny she'd faced back home. Rumpelstiltskin had been generous to her though, and he had nothing to gain from her fall from high society.
"Why does it matter? Perhaps my choice not to marry are my own reasons," she countered, hoping he dropped the painful subject.
"Yesterday when you told me I was a decent fellow, your eyes betrayed you. I can tell when someone has been subjected to a life full of loss and pain. You're no exception," he admonished, sympathy flickering in his sable depths, so warm and inviting.
"And, what will you do with the information, spinner? Will you tell the whole village, forcing me to move elsewhere?" she contested.
"No. You have my word," he vowed, bowing solemnly.
"Fine..." She consented, grounding her teeth together in frustration.
"If you must know, I was engaged to be married once to a wealthy nobleman. My father was a merchant by trade and had provided me with the best education. My mother descended from a life of peasantry, and she spun for a living. When she married my father, she continued doing it as a hobby, and taught me only because I begged her," she smiled, fondly remembering her mother. He found her breathtakingly beautiful as she expressed her love for her trade.
Belle sucked in a deep breath, hesitantly continuing. "One night my fiance became very drunk, and he barged into my room. He crawled into bed with me. I tried to scream, but no one heard my cries. I pleaded with him to stop as he had his way with me, but it was too late. When he'd done the deed, he rolled off of me, and pulled up his trousers. He turned back around, called me a whore and spat in my face. He stalked out of my room, and I wept until I'd fallen back asleep. He left town the next day, but not before bragging to everyone about how he'd nailed the merchant's daughter. He broke off our engagement, but no man wants a soiled bride, so I was left without a suitor. I tried to tell my parent's the truth, but they didn't believe me. I was tired of being miserable, so I left home two months ago in the middle of the night with the clothes on my back, and with what little coin I could find. I stole one of my father's horses, and my mother's spinning wheel which I hauled in the back of my wagon. I rode seven days until I came to this place. The rent was affordable, and I managed to use what money I had to purchase a few sheep and the furnishings I needed for my home," she revealed, causing Rumpelstiltskin's stomach to knot with fury.
"I'm so sorry, Belle...I cannot imagine how unfair it must have been for you to have to uproot your entire life and start anew," he spoke, clasping her hand gently in his own.
"I don't understand...You're supposed to call me a harlot and storm out right about now," she said, her eyes filled with skepticism.
"What happened wasn't your fault. You know that, right?" he inquired, gazing into her azure depths.
"That's not what I've been told. They claimed I provoked him, and I was the reason he left." Her voice was so fragile, he thought she might break.
"They're all a bunch of damned fools then!" he hissed through his teeth in vexation.
"I'm afraid I wasn't completely honest with you about my illness, Rumpelstiltskin. I'm also with child," she clenched her eyes shut, unable to face the shame etched across his weathered features. Her breath hitched in her throat when she felt his nimble digits delicately caressing her face.
Belle daringly opened her eyes. His gaze was tender, and his eyes reflected understanding, instead of the condemnation which she'd expected. "I have a proposition for you, Belle," the spinner said, placing a kiss to the underside of her wrist, causing her insides to somersault.
"I'm listening..." She paused, waiting for him to speak.
"Marry me," he proposed. Her mouth gaped open from his astonishing offer. She gazed into his sable depths, searching for the deceit, but she only found sincerity.
"I don't understand, what would you have to gain from this? I'm impure and-"
He placed his index finger to her lips, halting her berating. "Because you've been dealt an unfair hand in life, and as I grow older, I find myself desiring a family more than anything. I don't expect our relationship to be anything but platonic, but two are better than one. It's hard to make it in this world alone, and I'd like to find a semblance of happiness before I pass. I know it won't be a typical marriage full of love as I'm sure you've been expecting, but I can take care of you, and your child," he vowed, averting his gaze to her flat abdomen which would ripen with child in the months to come.
Her heart involuntarily fluttered in her chest as she listened to his devout confession. He wasn't the sort of future she'd pictured for herself, but perhaps he was what she needed. He would provide her with security, and they could have a comfortable life if they worked together.
"I'll marry you, Rumpelstiltskin," she obliged, knowing deep down she'd made the right decision for herself and her child.
A/AN: Prompts are welcome...