My entry for the second round of the Rumbelle Showdown 2015.

Prompts:Belle collects something, flower crown, against the glass

Even though Belle loved the smell of old paper and the fanciful notion of being able to hear the old tomes whispering their tales if she only listened a little harder, it weren't the books itself she loved so much. No, what she really craved was the knowledge trapped between their sites, the worlds they painted with no more than a few strokes of ink on parchment.

As a lady people had had very clear notions about what she should or shouldn't be exposed to and her curious nature had clashed only too often with the tight bounds of what her governess called 'propriety' and Belle named 'absolutely unnecessary'.

There truly weren't many ways of occupation fit for a maiden of noble birth, but luckily reading was, while not exactly the preferred option if one asked her governess, at least acceptable and so Belle learned early on to quench her thirst for the knowledge denied to her because of her sex by collecting all the curious facts she could find in the depth of the castle's library.

Belle collected knowledge like other people collected trinkets and as such she was quite disappointed when her books failed her in this quest.

Disgruntled, Belle closed yet another book that had only held the barest mention of midsummer, slowly ready to admit defeat. In her whole library there was not a single text that described the customs of the midsummer celebration more than just in passing. With a deep sigh Belle sat her latest book back into its place on the nearest bookshelf. Back home the clerics had forbidden all festivities on this 'heathen feast' a good while before her birth. Of course such vehement demonization had only sparked the young girl's curiosity, but all books there might have been on that topic had already been banished and the only reason Belle hadn't gone mad from curiosity had been that her nurse had finally taken pity on her and had traded her the description of a midsummer's custom for the girl's promise of not asking about it again, lest she got herself into trouble with the clerics.

Old Yvette's explanation had not truly explained much about the holiday, but Belle had still snuck out into the gardens that midsummer's eve to pick a bouquet of flowers. When she put it under her pillow she had felt quite foolish and when she woke up the next morning recalling no more of her dream than a pair of big brown eyes, she had had to laugh about herself. A pair of eyes, no matter how soulful, were really not enough to identify a husband, and if in the old days maidens had truly believed in this customs, she supposed that it hadn't been too hard to find someone fitting the criteria.

Still, the fact that one custom was nothing but superstition didn't change the fact that midsummer had been a day of great importance back in the day and she had had great hope for finding a better explanation in Rumplestiltskin's library, who surely had no qualms about any 'profane rites'. Alas, the best clue she had come up with was an illustration in a book about flowers depicting a few girls wearing flower wreaths and a vague caption explaining that in celebration of midsummer young girls wove flower crowns for their hair in the hope that they should grant them 'special favours' for as long as the summer lasted, whatever that meant.

That wasn't exactly much better than the flowers which had been supposed to show her her future husband, but it was the only thing she had found in her search and Belle was practical enough to be content with what she had. Earlier that day she had picked some flowers in order to brighten up the room and if that was the only way she knew to celebrate midsummer's eve, she would try if she couldn't make a wreath out of her bouquet.

Half an hour later had her struggling with the now notably dishevelled flowers, their vase securely held underneath between her knees – a precaution she had decided upon after she had had to pick up the flowers one time too many from the floor. At least this way they fell right into the vase if her tries failed once gain. For a moment she thought she saw a shadow reflected in the glass, brown eyes, and she whirled around in her seat, as she lost her grip on the vase….

ooo

It certainly was not as if Rumplestiltskin missed his little maid when she was not around. He could do well enough without her presence, all constant prattling, and soft smiles- No, he did not miss her, but what hedidmiss was his daily cup of tea, so when she had failed to show up at the usual time, he just had to look for her. Couldn't make a habit of letting her run loose after all…

He wasn't exactly surprised when he found her in the library, seated in one of the tall chairs in front of the fireplace and crouched over what he could only assume was the book responsible for his cancelled teatime. With a crooked grin Rumplestiltskin stalked over to his unsuspecting maid. Now, that he was already late for tea, he could take the time to teach her a lesson concerning why exactly it was a bad idea to make him wait for her – well, for her to bring him his tea.

He bent down behind her, his lips only centimetres from her ear, when he halted a little confused, seeing that she wasn't bend in concentration over a book, but a handful of flowers, which seemed to originate from the desk in the centre of the room, seeing that the vase, which usually stood there, was clamped between her knees and he really shouldn't concentrate further on that point.

Rumpelstiltskin opened his mouth to speak, suddenly not sure anymore what he had wanted to say, when Belle finally took notice of his presence and jerked around so abruptly that she lost her grip on the glass. His hand shot forward saving the vase from crashing to the floor a moment before her own fingers did.

"What exactly are you on about, dearie?" He finally asked, carefully ignoring the feeling of her soft hands pressing his own against the cool glass. He didn't quite manage. "You were supposed to bring me my tea a good hour ago."

"Oh, I'm sorry", she said, unabashed as always, "but this", she inclined to the mess of flowers that had landed in her lap during her little mishap. "just didn't want to work."

"And what exactly is that supposed to be?"

"A flower wreath", Belle replied as if it was the most obvious thing in the world and Rumplestiltskin couldn't help but laugh out loud. "To me this looks more like something from the bottom of my cauldron. Give it to me", he demanded imperiously, while sitting down on the chair opposite of her. "And if I may ask, whatever for does my little maid need a flower crown?" he asked in his best sing song voice, as he started to braid the small steams together with his clever spinner hands.

"It was the only way I could find to celebrate midsummer. Back home it was forbidden and I hoped to find more about it in the library, but…" She shrugged. "There was nothing."

"Ah, it really already is midsummer again, isn't it?" He sneered. "A day for peasants and charlatans only, I fear. Nothing of interest for one such as you". But his hands on the flowers slowed as memories of long ago forced their way to the forefront of his mind, of another dark haired beauty for whom he had woven flower crowns, of laughing and dancing around the bonfire by her side, before they made their very own plea for fertile ground in the shadows, away from the other revellers…

He shook his head as if that was ever enough to chase away the memories, but Belle looked at him with wide blue eyes, pleading for him to elaborate and he couldn't find it in him to disappoint her.

"Simply speaking it is the longest day of the year and people being people take it as an occasion to perform cheap parlour tricks, and ask for blessings of fertility for their land. Nothing of importance I fear. Here" He took the wreath and set it on top of her luminous curls. "May all the blessings there might be in this sham come over you, dear." He spoke quietly, his fingers still lingering on her hair.

He was so close that he would only have to lean in the littlest bit more in order to cover her sweet lips with his own and- Rumplestiltskin stood up abruptly. "I'll just…" He didn't even finish the sentence before he leapt up, fleeing the room like the coward he was.