Like Herding Cats
Summer had almost given way to the brisk winds of autumn, and leaves skirled across the courtyard and clogged the mermaid fountain of the Dark Castle. The maples, ash, and oak trees in the forest nearby were tossing off their green finery for the crimson, gold, and orange coats of autumn, like a courtier changing his clothes for a special function. The trunks of the trees grew darker in hue, and Belle could see from the tall windows in the great room the squirrels and chipmunks scurrying to and fro, cheeks stuffed with their autumn bounty of nuts, seeds, and wizened fruit, trying to store away enough food to last through the frozen depths of winter.
She giggled watching one squirrel rushing along, his cheek pouches bulging and a nut in his tiny paws. "Oh! Rumple, look! Isn't he darling?" she cooed.
Her beastly master went and peered out the window. "It's a squirrel," he shrugged. "Pesky rodents. They nest in the top turrets and chew the beams till I chase them away with a Pest-Be-Gone spell."
"You drive them out of their home?" she cried in dismay.
"This is my home, dearie, and I don't like vermin in it!" he told her bluntly.
"You don't seem to like much of anything in your home, Rumple!" Belle pointed out coldly.
"I have you in my home, and that's all I need," he said testily, folding his arms over his chest.
"But surely you must be lonely for some . . .some other companionship," Belle persuaded. "Why not have a dog or a cat?"
"Humph! I'm the Dark One. I don't want pets."
"I think you're just . . .afraid to let anyone love you," she returned spiritedly.
He rolled his eyes. "And I think you need to get out and get some fresh air, before you starting giving me attributes I don't and never will possess."
"I'm not delusional, Rumplestiltskin! You're just stubborn! And getting you to admit it is like-like herding cats!" Belle glared at him, her hands on her hips, her cornflower blue dress swishing about her ankles.
The imp lofted an eyebrow. "Meeow!" he said mockingly, with a devilish smirk.
She was tempted to stamp her foot at him, but refrained from doing so, lest he label her a child. "Why must you be so contrary?"
"I'm the Dark One," he giggled infuriatingly. "Now, if you're going to stand there glowering at me like a schoolmistress, you may as well put on your cloak and come with me to gather some herbs. I'm running low on some essential ones and could use a second pair of eyes."
"What . . .what herbs are you looking for?" she stammered, caught off guard by his sudden change in subject.
"These," he snapped his fingers and a large leatherbound herbal appeared in his hand. He flipped it open and pointed. "I need meadowsweet, tansy, willowbark, milkweed, and rhondantius flowers."
All the herbs he listed were on the pages he showed her, which had detailed drawings of each kind of plant, including flowering and non-flowering versions.
Belle studied the herbal, then said, "May I take this with me when we go gathering?"
"Of course. Don't want you to poison anyone," he grinned. Then he got two gathering baskets from the closet and they pulled on their cloaks and ventured out.
Belle clutched her cloak tighter as the wind swirled about her, tugging at her hood and ruffling the pages of the herbal in her basket. But her companion appeared not to be bothered much by the fickle autumn breeze, so she said nothing.
Rumple set a quick pace down the winding castle thoroughfare and into the woods on the south side, just below the mountains. Soon they were among the thick live oaks and aspens, maples, and beeches. Rumple seemed to know this stretch of land very well, enough so that he strode confidently among the trees and at last they came to a thick meadow copse, where he removed a pair of pruning shears from his basket and set to work cutting the herbs he needed.
Belle studied the herbal before she too began to gather, finding that most of the plants she could identify after looking observantly at them, though she always asked Rumple first before she put shears to it, or pulled it up from the soil. As they gathered, Rumple expounded on the properties of each herb and why he needed its leaves or roots or flowers for the particular draft he was concocting.
Belle listened attentively, finding the imp as knowledgeable as any botanist or herbalist she had known. She filed away the information he told her, wishing she had brought her notepad and a pen.
"I've almost gathered what I need here," Rumple informed her. "Just the rhodantius flower grows near the road," he dusted off his hands on his leather breeches and went walking up from the meadow to the forest verge near the King's Highway, the main road that meandered through the Enchanted Forest.
As he spotted a clump of the bright purple flowers with the broad variegated leaves, he knelt to snip some of the flowers and leaves, making sure to leave enough behind so the plant could re-germinate in the spring.
Belle came up beside him and murmured, "Did you find it, Rumple?"
Her breath tickled his ear in the most annoying—and endearing—manner. He half-turned his head and answered, "Yes, dearie."
Just then the wind blew, a particularly virulent gust, and the last flower he'd gathered was lifted from the basket and tumbled end over end.
"Oh no!" Belle cried, and ran after the cartwheeling purple bloom.
She followed it out to the road, where it landed upon what looked like an abandoned rug lying on the side of the road. "Goodness! What's—"she began and reached for the purple flower lying next to . . .a black nose.
It was then Belle realized that the chewed up old rug was not a rug at all . . .it was a dog.
"Rumple!" she called.
"Yes, no need to shout, I'm not deaf!" he muttered and hurried over to where his chatelaine had found the blossom and . . . a dead animal. "Oh dearie dearie dear!" he sighed. "A dead dog."
"No! Don't say that!" Belle cried, her heart aching for the poor animal. "I don't think it's dead. Look, its chest is moving."
Rumple frowned. "Not yet. But it looks like it could go any moment."
To his astonishment, his maid knelt in the dirt and cradled the dog's head on her lap. It was a uniform dingy gray color, like the last ashes from a fireplace, and the black nose twitched, but the eyes remained closed. "Poor thing!" Belle crooned, her hands stroking the dusty matted coat. "Poor baby!"
"Belle . . .you might get fleas . . ."
"I don't care. Rumple, we have to help this dog. She's still alive. I can feel her heart beating." She looked over at the Dark One, her cerulean eyes pleading. "Can't we take her home and . . .and nurse her back to health?"
Rumplestiltskin scowled at the bag of bones that had captured his chatelaine's tender heart. "I don't believe this! We live in the Dark Castle, may the gods listen, not the charity home for stray animals! What do I look like-a kennel master?"
"Well, you can't just leave her to die in the road!" Belle snapped. "It's inhumane!"
"I'm not a man!" the imp growled, indicating his scaled skin and amber eyes.
"No, you're a pain in the ass!"
"Look who's talking, dearie!" he grunted.
"What if this were a child?" she challenged hotly.
"That's different! How heartless d'you think I am?" He gestured to the animal lying on its side, its ribcage barely rising and falling. "Look at it, Belle. 'Tis ready for the knacker. It's a mangy fleabag and probably gonna die as soon as we reach home and then what?"
He really didn't want to deal with a dead dog, or the tears and heartbreak that were sure to follow.
"Then we bury her," Belle sniffed.
The Dark One groaned. "We could bury her here and save ourselves the trouble," he said with biting sarcasm.
"Very funny, Rumplestiltskin!" Belle was clearly put out with his flippant answers . . . and also just as stubborn as her cursed master. "No creature should be left to die alone! And I don't think she's dying!"
Rumple huffed. Really the woman could be impossible! First it was his drapes now it was this—this fleabitten mutt lying in the road. "Very well. You can bring her home. But don't come crying to me if she passes away during the night." He doubted the dog would even last the night.
He put out a hand when Belle would have attempted to pick up the mongrel. "Wait. You'll strain yourself trying to carry her." He handed his gathering basket to Belle. "Take this." He lifted the dog in his arms, draping the half-comatose animal over his shoulder. The animal weighed almost nothing, or so it seemed, and Rumple could feel its ribs as he clutched it. He wrinkled his nose fastidiously.
"This animal smells like a dungheap."
"It's not her fault," Belle said, rising to her feet. "She's probably been travelling a long way. I'd give her a bath but . . ."
"Humph! You will be, dearie. If she manages to live that long." He held out a hand. "Come. I'm not walking back to the castle toting this—fleabag."
Belle came and put her hand in his, and then Rumple concentrated and transported them all back to the castle in a puff of purple smoke.
Rumple carried the dog into the castle, marveling that the canine hadn't expired yet.
"We can put her in front of the fire," Belle directed, and got some blankets that were sitting upon the low settle and made a bed for her on the hearth.
Rumple goggled. "Excuse me, but those are my afghans!"
"You have more of them," Belle said briskly. "She needs something soft. I'd take your straw but—"
"You most certainly will not!" he cried, aghast. But he was strangely gentle when he set the dog down upon the blankets he'd crocheted himself. "Damned mongrel is gonna get fleas all over them."
He suppressed an urge to scratch himself, thinking he felt fleas crawling on his neck and shirt.
Belle went and got a bowl with water in it and tried to spoon some into the dog's mouth, but it just dribbled out again.
Rumple watched her try over and over to spoon the water into the animal's slack mouth before he said, with a touch of exasperation, "Dog's too weak to swallow like that."
"Then what do I do?" Belle demanded, frustrated.
"You need to do this," Rumple said, and sat down and took the animal's head in the crook of his arm and tilted it upward. Then he dipped the spoon in the water, trickled it into the dog's mouth and stroked the throat until the animal swallowed. "See?"
"Where did you learn that?" Belle was amazed all over again.
"I grew up in a village where we tended our own livestock. I learned how to dose a sick sheep or a goat before I could write a sentence. Not all learning comes from books."
He repeated the process several more times, saying, "If you want to give her something more substantial, I suggest you ask the pantry for some eggs, beat them and see if you can get her to swallow that." He gently lay the dog's head down again. "Now, I need to get changed . . . and make sure no creepy crawly things have taken up residence on me," his mouth pursed down in distaste.
Belle put out a hand to halt him. "Rumplestiltskin . . .thank you."
"For what? Letting you keep a dying dog?" he rolled his eyes. "You won't thank me when it goes across the rainbow bridge to the afterworld."
"The rainbow bridge?" she repeated.
"Yes, surely you know the story. The rainbow bridge is what souls cross to get to the afterworld—all souls, human and animal. Or so I was taught as a lad by our village priest," he said gruffly.
"I've never heard that story," she said. "My father's cleric believed animals had no souls."
"Of course they do!" Rumple coughed. "The gods made them and blessed them the same as they did to humans, so they too have souls. No reason not to." He shook his head. "There's only one thing here who doesn't . . .and I'm sure you can guess who that is!"
Then, as iafraid he'd said too much, the imp stalked away to get changed, leaving Belle with the dog and she whispered, "He's wrong. About you . . .and about himself. He has a soul . . . it's just damaged and tattered. I wish he would let me help him mend it." Then she knelt and copying Rumple, fed the dog some more water.
Rumple returned downstairs some fifteen minutes later, carrying in his hand a small vial of a strengthening cordial—a bit of a magical potion stirred into a wee dram of pure aged amber whiskey. He walked on cat's feet over to the hearth, where he saw Belle kneeling with the mangy dog's head in her arm, spooning some golden beaten egg into the dog's mouth. He watched for a few moments, observing that she used the correct procedure, stroking the dog's throat to make sure it swallowed, and pausing between spoonfuls.
He felt an unexpected reluctant grin pulling at the corner of his mouth. Then he came and knelt beside his chatelaine, trying to ignore how the tendrils of her hair curled about her neck like dark ivy and the fresh scent of the meadow and honeysuckle that drifted to his nostrils.
"Seems to be tolerating that well," he observed calmly.
Belle looked at him. "Yes." She went to dip the spoon into the raw egg again when he put out a hand.
"Here. Found this lying on a shelf." He handed her the small bottle.
"What is it?"
"Spirits. May help. Or not."
She uncapped the small vial and sniffed. "Heavens! That's strong!"
"It's from the Amber Hills. They're hardy folk there and like strong drink."
She put some on the spoon and trickled it down the dog's throat. Rumple was right. It could help and wouldn't harm.
The Dark One grunted as he watched her administer the dram. "Just don't blame me if the silly fleabag dies. I warned you."
Then he rose to his feet and said, "I'll be in my lab. Call me when supper's ready."
Belle muttered an affirmative, more concerned with getting the whiskey down the dog's throat than her beastly master at the moment. She barely even heard him walk away. It was only when the bottle was empty that she set it down and looked at the forlorn dog on her lap and said, "You know, he didn't have to give me this. I think . . .despite all his grumbling . . .he likes you. Or at least doesn't want you to die."
She patted the dog's head, grimacing at the puff of dust that rose about her hand. "Hmm . . .as soon as you're stronger a bath is very much in order."
Then she gently put the dog's head down on the afghans and rose to her feet. She would need to wash and change before starting supper.
On the blankets beside the fire, the stray slept, the cordial strengthening the dog's stubborn will to cling to life and the gallant heart beat a steady rhythm, as sleep mended and restored what the magical potion could not.
The dog was still sleeping after Belle cleaned up the supper dishes and read for awhile in the great room while Rumple spun.
When the sorcerer saw her nodding off with her nose in her book, he cleared his throat and said, "Best you go off to bed, Mistress Belle. Your book will keep till the morrow."
"Hmm? Oh!" she blinked and woke sleepily, her azure eyes cloudy with dreams. She sat up and put her ribbon marker in the book and set it on the small table. Then she prepared to go up to her room when her eyes fell upon the dog.
"How can I—" she began, reluctant to leave the animal.
Rumple waved a hand. "Go to sleep. I'll watch the walking dustrag."
She smiled gratefully, even though his tone was acerbic. "Good night."
"Night, dearie," he replied, and then turned away, continuing to spin, and soon the only sound in the room was the whirring of the wheel and the crackling of the fire in the grate.
Most of the sorcerer's attention was on his wheel, though from time to time he would glance out of the corner of his eye to see the dog's sides moving up and down.
Not that he cared, he thought. It was just a stray dog and was probably going to infest the castle with fleas and require him to fumigate the place with fleabane and spell wards, assuming it actually survived the night. Really he should have put his foot down. Yet ever since the incident with him catching her when she fell taking down the drapes, he was finding it harder and harder to say no to his azure eyed willful maid. And how ridiculous was that?
Page~*~*~*~*~Break
Belle awoke the next morning just as the first hints of rose and gold tinted the sky. She rose and hurried downstairs to see if the dog had made it through the night. To her shock when she came down the stairs and looked towards the hearth she found the dog awake and eating a bowl of food—beef, bread, and eggs crumbled together—from the smell while her temperamental employer watched and occasionally used magic to pull the bowl away, saying, "Now listen to me, you silly fleabag, you eat too fast and that food will end up on my clean floor and not in you where it belongs."
The dog whined and sat down, offering the Dark One a paw, and cocking its head wistfully.
A long-suffering sigh came from the most feared sorcerer in the realms as he levitated the food bowl out of reach. "Now don't give me that. It won't work. I'm not cleaning up dog vomit, you've already caused the castle to stink bad enough as it is, infested it with fleas, and why I even bothered feeding you and didn't just shove you out the door, I don't know."
The dog's tail wagged briefly and the dark eyes fixed upon Rumplestiltskin like a penitent begging for absolution from her deity.
"Humph! Again with the eyes? Haven't you learned by now I mean what I say? I don't care what you look like! I'm the Dark One, not a mushy soft-hearted maid! I eat dogs like you for breakfast! With salt!"
Belle covered her mouth with her hand.
The dog pawed the air pitifully.
"And ketchup!" he added balefully. "Three more minutes!"
The dog whuffed at him and then sat prettily, or as prettily as a skinny starved dirty animal could.
"Oh keep your fur on!" the Dark One snapped irritably. "What you have left!"
Belle smothered another giggle as she watched her irascible employer set the bowl back down so the dog could finish the food within it.
She wanted to dance for joy. The dog would live and . . .wonder of wonders . . . seemed to have appealed to even her grouchy master's softer side.
She scuffed a shoe as she approached.
Rumple turned. "There you are! You're late. And that mangy thing had the nerve to come crying to me this morning when I came in from my walk . . .and it annoyed me so much I fed it. But now that you're here, you can tend it."
"It's a she," Belle said, indicating the dog, who was now standing up and eating.
"Yes, yes," he waved a hand dismissively. "Make sure you let her out after she eats, or else you're going to be cleaning whatever mess she makes in addition to scrubbing the room to rid it of the stench."
"I know. What would you like for breakfast?"
"Peace and quiet!" he grouched. "But so long as that animal is here, I'll settle for some poached eggs on toast and sausage. Mind, she's only staying till she's well. Then I'm giving her away to a good home."
"But . . I thought . . ."
"What? That we'd keep her? This is the Dark Castle, not a kennel. I don't need a dog underfoot, getting in my way and shedding and making my home smell like a wet mongrel, among other things. No, as soon as she's well, I'll give her to someone who wants a dog but has none. Perhaps the gypsies would take her."
Belle tried to hide her dismay at that pronouncement, thinking that perhaps the sorcerer might change his mind. Then she busied herself cooking breakfast, after letting the dog out the kitchen entrance to do her business.
After he was done eating, the Dark One set down his fork and giving the dog under the table a cold glare, declared, "You will be bathing that bag of bones as soon as possible."
So Belle dragged out the washtub from the laundry room and filled it with warm water and shavings of a special soap Rumple gave her to rid the dog of fleas. It smelled strangely pleasant. Then she tempted the dog into the water with a small beef bone she had saved from last night's supper of beef short ribs in gravy.
The dog quivered as she stood in the middle of the tub and Belle poured pitchers of soapy water over her, mouthing the bone and whimpering. Wet, she looked even more like a drowned rat or something the cat had chewed and spit out.
"It's okay," she crooned. "We're going to get you all nice and clean so you smell good and all those nasty fleas are gone."
She began to lather the dog up with her hands, starting with the dog's head.
Meanwhile, Rumple cast a spell upon the great room to kill any unwanted creeping vermin and sprinkled fleabane power on the afghans and cleaned them with a spell. He was not having them stinking up the room where he spun.
That done, he went to see how the bath was progressing.
The dog was standing unhappily in the tub with soap all over her, and Belle was up to her elbows in soap and water, and her apron was spattered with it also.
When the dog saw Rumple, her tail wagged and she made odd "talking" noises in her throat.
"No! Don't move!" Belle cried, as the dog went to put her front paws over the side.
She went to grab the dog by the scruff, but her soapy hands couldn't find purchase on the wet fur.
"Rumple!" she cried.
Rumple moved and said to the dog, "No, you need a bath, silly mongrel, now just wait a blasted minute—"
The dog whined and shook herself hard.
Soap and water flew everywhere.
"Ahh!" yelped the Dark One, holding a hand to his face. "You got soap in my . . . nose!" Then he sneezed violently.
Belle stared for not only was Rumple's face covered in soap, soap bubbles were in his hair! And water all over his silk shirt and leather vest.
But her startled appraisal didn't last long, as the dog decided now was good time to end her torment and escape.
She heaved her front end over the wooden tub and landed upon the floor, her paws scrabbling upon the wet flagstones as she attempted to bolt for safety.
"NO!" Belle screeched. "C'mere!" She made a grab for the dog's tail but it eluded her.
"Careful, dearie!" Rumple said, and then he went to snatch the soaking wet menace and put her back in the tub.
But as he lunged for the skinny canine, his dragonhide boots slipped upon the wet floor.
He felt himself scramble for purchase, and finding none, toppled backwards to land right in the tub!
"Oh! Rumple!" Belle gasped, clutching the side of the tub just in time to prevent herself from falling in on top of him.
The Dark One swore softly, his expression thunderous, as mad as a cat caught out in a storm and drenched. Indeed, a storm was brewing in his amber eyes as he stood up, dripping wet and covered with soap suds. Soap dripped off him like melting snow off volcanic rock as he glared at the dog now running from the room leaving a trail of water and soap behind her.
He was so incensed at the fact that the fleabitten animal had made him slip and fall—like some clumsy idiot, or the lame spinner he used to be—that he barely registered the fact that Belle was right behind him, with an unobstructed very revealing view of a certain part of his leather-clad anatomy.
Her cerulean eyes widened as she took in the fact that while Rumpletiltskin's chosen outfit of leather pants and a silk shirt normally hugged his slender frame like a second skin, when wet the leather became . . .unbelievably molded to his backside . . .almost as if he were naked . . .
She stared and stared, unable to look away, transfixed by the sight of his sexy backside . . . her imagination running away with her down paths she never should have been dreaming of . . . she wanted to run her hand down him, to pinch him and give him a saucy smirk like she'd read about the heroines in her tales doing to the men they liked, bold and unafraid . . .to put her arms about him and hold him against her and never ever let go . . .
Involuntarily her hands reached out . . .
. . .brushing her fingertips along his wet leather encased bottom in an irresistible caress.
An instant later she drew back, feeling her face flush hotter than a midsummer night's bonfire.
What are you doing, Belle Beauchamp! Behaving like . . .like a wanton! You touched his . . .ass . . .!
Part of her was shocked by her wantonness, but another part, the naughty bold part, longed to touch him again, for he was undeniably sexy when standing like that . . . and she felt desire such as she'd never known surge through her for a brief instant.
Feeling something brush up against his backside and realizing in that instant that he was dripping wet and humiliatingly so in front of his maid, who was trying hopelessly not to laugh, Rumplestiltskin spun around and fixed Belle with a sharp glare.
"And just what, may I ask, are you looking at?"
She gave a soft squeak, almost like a mouse when under a cat's gaze, and half drew back, her face crimson, and stammered, " . . .err . . .your backside . . .umm . . ."
He gaped at her. "You were looking at my backside?"
"No!" she yelped, crimson. "I mean—yes, because you're all wet and I . . .couldn't help it . . . "
Couldn't help but notice how very sexy you are in wet leather . . .
"Next time cover your eyes!" he growled feeling oddly embarrassed and altogether discombobulated. She had been staring at his ass!
Probably wondering if he had scales there like a lizard or something, he thought bitterly. Or even a tail like a dragon or a devil. It wasn't like he was attractive to women, not that he had ever been much to look at. According to his faithless wife, his face inspired her to lie back and think of duty, honor, and country when he exercised his conjugal rights. And now . . .now he was a monster mothers used to frighten children with—the stuff of nightmares, not women's fantasies.
Feeling his own face heat beneath his golden complexion, he splashed out of the tub and waved a hand.
The miscreant mutt was summoned back to him and plopped unceremoniously into the tub.
"You! Stay!" he barked, and pointed his finger at the dripping wet dog.
"Don't!" Belle cried in alarm, fearing he was about to curse the helpless canine.
He gave her a withering look. "If I was going to kill the nuisance it would have been stuffed and hung on a wall by now!"
To his shock the dog sat down in the tub, still looking miserable, but obviously determined to endure it now that the proper command had been given.
"Rumplestiltskin, I . . .I didn't mean—" she trailed off as he strode from the room, calling over his shoulder, "Finish washing off the mongrel while I change."
An instant later he was gone, whisked away on the wings of magic, leaving her to finish her task as quickly as she could, thinking involuntarily about how sexy her master had looked and then chiding herself fiercely for even thinking of him in those terms. Their deal had been for her to be the caretaker of his estate, not his mistress. And yet . . .and yet . . .he had been utterly mouth watering with the way that leather had clung . . .
Belle groaned and went to get clean water from the cistern to rinse off the dog, thinking she was a hopeless romantic and he probably thought her insane.
In the tub the dog whined forlornly and shivered slightly despite the heat from the fire.
Belle soon discovered that when she had rinsed away all the soap and was drying the dog off that beneath all the grime was actually quite a pretty collie. The dog was petite and her coat was snow white and a golden sable, like honey poured from a pitcher. She had a bushy tail and tulip shaped ears and sweet foxy face with large lustrous brown eyes.
Were she not so thin, she would be lovely, and even malnourished as she was, Belle could see she was quality. This was no mongrel, as Rumple had thought. This was a dog of breeding.
As she dried the thick coat, rubbing hard to squeeze the excess moisture from it, resulting in a crackling puff of fur, the Dark One returned, going to his wheel to spin, though in reality he wanted to see how the dog cleaned up. He was wearing a second set of pants, these the reddish brown of chestnut hulls and a red shirt, his boots squeaking slightly upon the damp floor.
He blinked, startled at the transformation a simple bath had wrought.
"That's no mongrel," he muttered, taking in the dog's slender frame and little head and finely boned forepaws. "That's a blooded sheepdog."
"I thought so myself," Belle babbled excitedly. "Look at her lines, Rumple, isn't she beautiful? And her coat is like silk, or it will be once I brush the tangles out." She avoided looking at the sorcerer when she spoke, keeping her eyes on the task before her.
"Aye, I can see that," Rumple mused, and came closer to examine the dog.
It was then he saw the underside of the dog's paws, as Belle had picked one up to dry it.
"Hold on a moment, dearie!" he ordered, then knelt and took the paw in his hand, turning it gently to see several cuts crisscrossing the pads. He shook his head. "This dog has travelled way. Look at these feet! Worn to shreds!"
"What can we do?" Belle asked, feeling tears come to her eyes at the thought of the dog so weary and hurting.
"Only one thing we can do," he said practically. He summoned a salve for wounds from his lab, and then smeared some on all four paws and then slipped some odd looking small brown sacks with drawstrings over them. "There! Salve and boots. It's the best I can do."
"How very clever, Rumple!" Belle praised, and she petted the dog's head when the collie whimpered and tried to bite the boots off. "No, sweetie. No chewing. You have to wear those till your paws heal."
Rumple chuckled. "And they will if you put this on them for a week." He handed her the salve. "Once a day will do it." He eyed the dog critically. "Nothing seems wrong with her that several weeks of food and sleep won't cure." He extended a hand for the curious dog to sniff.
The collie did so, then licked his hand.
"Oh, don't try and butter me up," he chided, waving a finger in front of her nose. "As soon as you're well, you're going to be given to a good home. But for now . . . you need a name."
"She's quite pretty. How about Beauty?" suggested Belle.
"Hmm . . .no . . .and while she's a lady, I wouldn't want to call her that either. Or Princess." Rumple's forehead wrinkled as he thought hard.
He kept looking at the dog's coat, that striking mix of pure white and light honey-gold, and then recalling that where he had found the dog by the road there had been a patch of not only rhodantius flowers but safflowers as well, which were plants with brilliant round flowers colored bright yellow, orange, or red and used primarily for the seeds which could be extracted for oil.
"What about Honey?"
"No . . .how about Safflower?" he announced. "There were safflowers growing near where we found her and they can be gold and orange . . ."
"I like that," Belle approved. "It's pretty and unique and we can call her Saffy for short." She stroked the collie's head. "How about that, Saffy?"
The newly christened collie barked softly and licked Belle's face.
"It's unanimous!" she cheered, then resumed drying the dog and when Rumple handed her a wire bristled brush, grooming her thick coat also.
"Now, don't get attached, dearie," he reminded his chatelaine. "She's only here temporarily."
As if to refute his words, Saffy went and licked his hand and thrust her nose into his hand to be petted.
"Silly fleabag," he muttered, with an affectionate croon in his voice. "You know that, don't you? Huh?"
Saffy whined, then began to "talk" at him and made Belle giggle so hard she nearly dropped the brush on Rumple's toes.
Page~*~*~*~*~Break
Belle and Rumple soon realized that before the appearance of the small collie, though petite for her breed was nevertheless a full grown dog, and not a puppy or a young female, their lives were and endless round of chores, deals, and obligations. But Saffy made their daily lives amusing and interesting, for the collie was lively and intelligent.
Someone had trained the dog well, Belle discovered after a week of giving the dog wholesome food, the same mixture Rumple had given her the second day she was at the castle, a mixture of ground beef, scrambled eggs, and torn apart bread in a bit of water she began to lose her scrawniness and fill out. Belle kept her coat free of mats and burrs with daily brushings until her fur was silky and stood out about her head like a gold and white halo.
One morning Belle forgot to get the pail of goat's milk from the back porch, since Rumple kept a long-haired nanny goat named Scamp from which he collected mohair and milk, and when she turned about, she heard Saffy scratching on the door.
When she went to open it, she found the collie holding a pail of milk in her jaws.
"Oh, Saffy!" she praised. "Thank you!"
Belle took the pail of milk and began to make some breakfast, this morning it was oatmeal and coffee.
Saffy barked and wagged her tail, and accepted the link of sausage Belle fed her.
When Rumple came down for breakfast, he noted that the dog was slowly losing the gaunt look, and absently rubbed her ears while he drank his coffee.
Horses tended to shy away from him on occasion and dogs bark or cats hiss, but Saffy had taken to him right off, which often made him wonder about her intelligence, to trust a beast. But the collie did not seem to lack brains, indeed she was smart enough to lay beneath his chair of a morning, where he could slyly slip her choice morsels from his plate with Belle none the wiser.
Until the morning when she looked up from setting a plate of pancakes down and caught Saffy licking her lips and Rumple wiping his hand on his trousers and said, "Rumplestiltskin, are you feeding Saffy under the table?"
"Me? Dearie, don't be ridiculous! Why would I feed that silly fleabag anything?" he pretended innocence.
"Oh maybe because you—care for her," Belle replied sweetly.
"Humph! I care about getting her well enough to give away," her employer groused. "And that's all."
He picked up his fork and began to eat, and beneath the table Saffy put her nose upon his knee and sighed as his fingers scratched her behind the ears.
Belle hid a smile.
Everyday, Belle would wake up to do her chores and Saffy would prance about and follow her cheerfully. It was one morning when she was especially sleepy that she found out the collie could do a remarkable thing. She was putting the teacups into the wash basin to clean when she began yawning and by accident knocked one off the table.
Horrified she waited for it to smash on the floor and thought, oh hells! Rumple won't be pleased if I chipped or broke another cup!
But when she went to look she found Saffy standing there—balancing the cup on her nose!
The collie wagged her tail gently as she did so, and Belle cried, "Saffy, you saved my life! You clever clever girl!"
Then she plucked the cup from the dog's nose and put it in the tub, thinking that whoever Saffy had belonged to must have loved her very much, and she felt guilty that the dog was missing from whoever had owned her.
Little did Belle know, she was half-right.
That day when Rumple came in from making a deal, Belle showed him Saffy's trick, with a red ball this time, and the master of the castle applauded and said, "Maybe she was a trick dog in a circus or something."
"I don't know but . . .she's certainly a clever thing," Belle praised and fed the collie a small piece of dried meat.
"I wonder if she can fetch other things?" Rumple mused. He decided to test his theory. "Saffy, fetch my slippers."
The collie barked, then trotted out of the room.
Four minutes later, she was back, holding Rumple's leather slippers in her mouth. She deposited them gently at his feet.
"There's a good lass!" he praised, and rubbed her ears.
When Belle would have given him a piece of dried beef to give to the dog, he shook his head. "No. This is her reward," he explained and petted the collie for about two minutes. "You keep giving her treats and she'll think treats are what she gets always, and what if you don't have any. Plus, she get fat too."
"Fat! Rumple, she was almost near starvation three weeks ago," Belle objected.
"Nevertheless, dearie, I wouldn't give a child of mine sweets for doing good things all the time, and I won't do it for this dog either," he said firmly.
Belle subsided, thinking perhaps he had a point.
A month passed and Saffy filled out and was no longer the scarecrow of a dog she had been when she first arrived at the castle. Belle still clung to the hope that Rumplestiltskin would rescind his earlier order to send the dog away and admit that he actually liked having the "silly fleabag" as he affectionately referred to Saffy around.
At night, the collie could be found curled up on the hearth, or lying upon Belle's foot asleep. Sometimes she could also be found beside Rumple's wheel, watching him spin drowsily. Belle had often gone upstairs and left the dog with the Dark One, and the next morning had to let Saffy out of her master's room to go out, proof that Rumple enjoyed the dog's company.
Besides being able to balance teacups on her nose, and fetch slippers, Saffy proved soft-mouthed enough to pick up a robin's egg and bring it to Belle one afternoon, having nosed it out of a bush and allow the maiden to put it back in the nest where it belonged, and also brought her an injured baby rabbit as well. Belle nursed it back to health and kept it in a cage in the barn until it was ready to be released, while Rumple muttered about his castle turning into the home for rescued pets.
Belle was just grateful he didn't transform the rabbit into a stuffed animal or a wooden pull toy or something and order her to get back to cleaning the castle.
One afternoon Belle was in the garden, getting some parsley and sage to spice a roasted chicken with for supper when she heard Saffy barking. She glanced up to see the small collie industriously herding a flock of geese across the lawn to the pond.
They honked, hissed, and tried to snap at the bright dog, but Saffy avoided their pesky beaks and nipped their legs and backsides, until they scuttled into the pond like the collie wished.
Belle giggled in delight and wondered where on earth the dog had learned to herd geese?
Saffy trotted back across the lawn and fell in beside the young woman as she walked back to the castle, her gold and white tail waving jauntily like a flag.
But Saffy's herding instinct didn't always bring a smile to people's faces.
A few days after the duck herding incident, Belle had made a stew for lunch along with some warm yeast rolls. After setting the stew in a bowl out on the table with a roll beside it, Belle went to the top of the stairs and called, "Rumple! Lunch is ready!"
Then she went to pour the cups of cold apple cider and sat down to await the sorcerer's arrival.
Minutes passed and no Rumple appeared.
Belle frowned and worried the stew and rolls would get cold and need to be reheated.
She sighed exasperatedly and looked at Saffy, who was sitting beside her chair. "Honestly, that man makes me crazy," she said to the collie. "He insists I be prompt and yet when I call him, he's late!"
The collie nudged her and licked her hand, as if to say don't worry, I'm here.
She thought about calling him again, but didn't want to strain her voice shouting, and she didn't want to traipse up all the stairs unless she absolutely had to. Her hand stroked Saffy's head. Then she got an idea. "Hey, Saffy!" she said softly.
The collie looked at her alertly. "I need you to go and get Rumple!"
Saffy whined, wagging her tail.
"Go on! Get your master!" Belle urged, going to the stairs. "He's up there! I need you to go and get him, Saffy! Get Rumple!" she repeated emphatically.
The collie woofed, then trotted up the stairs, her nails clicking on the stone steps.
Using her superlative nose, Saffy located Rumple inside his lab, the room where all kinds of nasty stinks and smells emerged. Saffy sneezed and wrinkled her nose. Then she pawed at the door, which was slightly ajar.
The door swung wide and Saffy walked into the room, which contained various tables, shelves and books in a bookcase. A cauldron was upright in the corner, next to a cabinet. Rumple was at the table, chopping up some roots and putting them into a container. His back was to the door, so he didn't see Saffy enter.
The collie barked softly.
"Now not, Safflower!" Rumple ordered irritably.
He ignored the dog when she came up to sniff his boots.
He continued cutting up his roots. Then he ground some other herbs up into a mortar with a pestle.
Saffy nudged Rumple's leg and whined.
Rumple frowned. "Go away! Go bother Belle! I haven't time to pet you." He waved the dog off.
But Saffy had been told to get Rumple, and get him she would—one way or another.
The collie tilted her head, eyeing her master consideringly, her tulip-shaped ears pricked. When a sheep ignored her commands to come in, she resorted to a sharp nip to remind the dumb wooly animal who was in charge. It appeared the master would need something to remind him as well. Saffy didn't appreciate being ignored.
Rumple was just mixing the herbs in his mortar with some water into a paste and adding it to some rendered grease when he felt sharp teeth nip his ankle.
"Hey!" he shouted, and went to glare at the dog. "I'm not a steak!"
Saffy barked, then nipped his other ankle when he didn't move.
"You insane animal!" Rumple growled, setting down the jar of salve he'd been making. "Go and find a herd of sheep, you silly fleabag!"
Saffy danced about him on flying feet, then she dashed in and nipped him again—this time on the backside.
"Oww! You damned furry pair of jaws!" he cried angrily. "I ought to hex your teeth out!"
Saffy barked imperiously, and as Rumple spun about the work table, followed like a fuzzy dervish, driving the irritable sorcerer towards the door with judicious nips.
"Bloody hell!" Rumple growled ferociously to no avail.
Unless he wanted to truly hurt the dog, and he found out that his heart really wasn't up to permanently maiming or killing the annoying creature, he had no choice but to go where she was herding him, which was out of the lab and down the stairs.
Belle looked up when she heard Saffy barking and saw Rumple being . . .herded . . . into the kitchen by the gold and white collie. She bit back a laugh when she saw the dog nip the Dark One's leather-clad backside and nudge him towards the chair at the end of the table.
Rumple spun about, one hand going to rub his offended rump and snapped, "Safflower! Enough! Before I open the door and throw you into the street!"
Saffy halted and whimpered. Then she looked at Rumple quizzically, as if asking why he was angry when she was just doing her job.
"Sit!" the Dark One ordered and snapped his fingers.
The dog sat immediately.
Belle couldn't hold back a snicker from escaping her lips.
The sorcerer turned and fixed her with one of his Looks that sent hardened knights and kings scurrying to hide under their beds. "Did you unleash that—that herding menace upon me?"
Belle immediately tried to compose herself—and failed miserably.
"Umm . . yes . . .I . . .asked her to get you . . . for lunch . . ." she sniggered.
He put his hands on his hips. "You asked her to get me for lunch?" he repeated in a rather singsong tone. "And you didn't think to maybe tie a note to her collar or something like that?"
"Umm . . .I didn't think about that," she admitted, feeling suddenly like a lackwit. Why hadn't she thought of that? "I just figured . . ."
"You just figured you'd be clever and instead I'm the one with teeth marks on my ass!"
"Rumple, I'm sorry," Belle began guiltily. "It's just—I called you and you didn't come and the food was getting cold so . . ."
Rumple threw up his hands. "Fine! Mission accomplished, dearie!" He rubbed a hand over his backside then sat down carefully. He picked up his spoon and began to eat his soup, saying after a few spoonfuls, "It would seem that the dog is well enough to find a new family to stay with. I'll start looking around tomorrow."
Belle's jaw dropped. "No! You can't! Rumple, please!"
"I told you in the beginning, dearie, she wasn't staying for good," he informed her crisply.
"But . . .if this is because she bit you . . .it's my fault . . .Rumplestiltskin, please give her another chance! This is her home, she's part of the family now. How can you just—send her away?"
Rumple sniffed, almost swayed by her arguments. Then he recalled that he was the master of the castle and he had a reputation to uphold. "Very easily. I'm going to find a family with some kids who need a good sheepdog and bring her there. That's all." He went back to eating.
Belle stared at her stew congealing in her plate, no longer hungry. She glared at the Dark One, angry tears in her cerulean eyes. "Maybe you really are as dark as they say!"
Rumple coughed. "Thought you'd have figured that out by now, dearie."
A cold nose nudged his hand. He steeled himself and shoved the collie away. He would not get attached . . .he had known from the beginning the dog would have to go. Pets did not belong in the Dark Castle, and he had indulged his maid enough with her little pet project.
Saffy went and laid her head in Belle's lap.
The knight's daughter caressed the shapely head and swallowed hard against hr lump in her throat. She was furious at Rumplestiltskin for being so . . petty and stubborn! But she was at a loss how to change his mind.
And if she didn't . . .Saffy would be gone by sundown tomorrow.
Rumple finished his stew and roll and said, "Lunch was very good. Now I'm going up to my lab to finish what I was doing. Leave me alone unless the castle's on fire or you've fallen and are dying." Then he teleported back to his sanctum sanctorum, leaving a heartbroken seething Belle sitting at the table, running her fingers through Saffy's ruff.
"Sometimes that—that imp is impossible! And I want to bite him—hard."
Page~*~*~*~*~Break
The next morning Belle went about her tasks mechanically, sweeping the front room, tidying up Rumple's basket of straw, stoking the fire. Today Rumple was making breakfast, some sort of cheese and egg concoction, but Belle still had no appetite from the day before, especially when she saw Saffy sitting alertly in the kitchen beside the Dark One, looking hopefully at him and waiting patiently for some food to drop on the floor.
She clenched her fists on her apron. Damn you, Rumplestiltskin!
Rumple pretended to not be aware of Belle's attitude towards him. He acted as if it were a normal morning, but he was thinking frantically about how he was going to find a good enough home for Saffy. Despite his cold declaration, he didn't want to place the dog with just anyone. In the month that had followed Saffy's arrival, he had to admit he had grown rather . . .fond of the furry nuisance. But that didn't mean he was going to keep her.
He resolved to go upstairs to his study and look in his Seeing globe for likely candidates after breakfast.
They had just finished up the breakfast dishes and placed the leftovers in Saffy's bowl when there came a knock on the door of the castle.
Belle glanced at Rumple. "Are you—expecting someone?"
"No. Let me see who it is," Rumple said.
Saffy perked up her ears and then continued eating.
Rumple went to the door and opened it.
On the other side was a knight with curly blond hair and a blue tunic and black trousers. He had sword at his hip.
"Can I help you?" Rumple queried softly. "Are you here to make a deal with me?"
"No, Dark One. I'm just passing through but I was wondering—have you encountered a dog hereabouts? I've been tracking a dog for over a month now . . ."
"What sort of dog?" Rumple asked, feeling his heart seize.
"A purebred collie, one of my best breeders. I intended to sell her pups for several gold sovereigns, but she escaped my kennel master before I could breed her with my stud." The knight scowled. "Damned dog is more trouble than she's worth. Used to be my father's dog—until he passed away some months ago, and he always swore this was his top dog."
"I'm sorry for your loss," Rumple said automatically.
The knight shrugged. "It was past time for the old man to go and leave the running of our estate to me."
Rumple stiffened, not liking the vibes this man gave off. "And the dog? What was her name?"
"Papa called her Sunny, but the bitch has a temper like Medusa," snorted the knight. "She bit my kennel master and me when we tried to drag her away from my papa's grave. Got a good beating for her rotten defiance and thrown into a cage. Still don't know how the hell she got out of there. Must have had jaws of steel."
"She chewed her way out?" Rumple clarified.
"Yes, we found a hole in the side and she was missing. I set my hounds on her trail but they lost it and it's only now I've been able to pick it up again. When I find that mangy bitch I'm going to beat her within an inch of her misbegotten life and then keep her locked up and breeding till she dies. My papa always said she was his best dog-ha! Won him all kinds of prizes herding, but he spoiled her. But I won't." He fixed Rumple with a hopeful stare. "So—have you seen a gold and white collie around here?"
The Dark One paused before he answered. He thought of the day they had found Saffy on the road, near death, exhausted, obviously running from something. A desperate soul if he ever knew one. And who better than him to know? Now he knew why the dog had run away. His jaw tightened as he made a split second decision.
"Sorry, dearie. I actually did see a dog like that a month ago. Unfortunately it was dead on the side of the road. Must have starved to death or something," he lied glibly.
"You're sure?"
"Dead is dead," Rumple said, deadpan. "I've seen enough death to know what it looks like."
The knight swore. "A month wasted!" he scowled. "Damned dog never was any good. Should've put an arrow in its fool brain when Papa died, then they could have been together in the afterworld."
"That's too bad, but . . .maybe it's for the best," Rumple said. "You have other dogs?"
"Yes. Can deal with them," said the knight. "Well, I'd best be on my way." He nodded to the wizard.
"So long," Rumple said, and then he wriggled his fingers, casting a silent charm upon the knight which would release all his dogs when he arrived back home, and send them all to good homes. Because no animal deserved an oaf and a nasty master like that one.
He supposed he could have changed him into a snail and stepped on him, but it would be more amusing if the knight came home and found all his dogs gone and his kennel empty. He giggled and turned around.
And he almost banged right into Belle.
His chatelaine had an odd expression on her heart-shaped face.
"Something wrong?" he queried. "Have I suddenly grown horns?"
"I . . . I heard what you told that knight at the door. He was—was Saffy's old master, wasn't he?"
"That he was, but no longer. Can't be master of what you no longer have."
"You didn't give her up to him. And you could have."
"True. But someone like that deserves to be in charge of slugs, not dogs. Especially that dog."
"I agree. I could hear what he said," Belle's eyes flashed. "I wanted to beat him with my rug beater!"
Rumple chuckled. "And I'd have let you, but I think what I did will have a more—lasting impression." He told her what spell he had cast.
Belle looked down at Saffy, who had come over to see what was going on. "I . . . suppose you'll be looking for a new family for her soon? One that's the complete opposite of that boor, I hope."
"Yes, I will." He knelt and began petting the collie. "One that lives in a large home, with plenty of room to run and remote enough to not have complaints about barking. One that has two people in it in need of a silly fleabag dog who herds cats."
"I . . .I hope you find what you're looking for," Belle said sadly.
"But I have, dearie," he said with a sly smirk.
"You have?" she repeated dully.
"Yes. And that family is . . .right here." He indicated himself and Belle.
"You mean—we're going to keep her?" she cried, ecstatic.
"Actually I thought I'd stuff her," he joked.
"You wretched imp!" she mock-scolded. Then she threw her arms about him and hugged him hard. "Rumplestiltskin, you're incredible!"
Then she tilted her mouth up and kissed him, one long kiss of fevered passion.
A startled Rumple kissed her right back, unmindful of Saffy who danced in circles around them, barking in victory. Because every once in awhile, the road takes you places you never would have traveled and brings you companions you never expected.