(A LOUD Shout-Out to Warwick-Witch for being my first FAN! AAAAHHHHH!)
Chapter 3
THE DARK CASTLE
Lynae followed Rumplestiltskin out of the dining hall and back into the foyer. He made a right and crossed the room, heading for a set of stone steps that zigzagged every seven steps or so. He took the stairs to the left and climbed them, turned right and walked up this set. He walked with his head held high and his hands clamped behind his back. She trailed after him, trying to keep pace with his long, sure strides while taking in everything she saw. He flicked a hand and a set of doors opened, an extremely long corridor lay beyond, the floor over laid with a rich carpet.
They passed many more suits of armor, candelabras, paintings and tapestries. The ceiling was impossibly high and arched. They walked for a good while, then the hallway ended and an extremely wide stairwell came into view. More candelabras were set at regular intervals up the railing. Rumplestiltskin headed up the steps, his hands still clasped behind him. It took a moment to reach the summit, and when they did, he went left and they climbed a second stairwell. Thankfully, this one was not as long as the first. When they stepped off, he flicked a hand and doors opened onto yet another corridor.
Lynae's brows went up in interest. After strolling past the access, she stopped and turned around. She copied Rumplestiltskin's hand gesture but the doors did not budge.
"Don't dawdle, dearie!" her host shouted, so she hurried and caught up. He had not stopped to wait for her, but she saw where he went. He escorted her down many hallways and around numerous corners, each like the last with statues and busts and candle stands and suits of armor. It was a good thing that she liked to take long walks. Finally, after she'd lost all sense of direction, he stopped at a tall, embossed set of doors.
"You wouldn't happen to have a you-are-here map, would you?" she asked him.
He grinned. "Don't need a map, dearie." he said, then tapped his temple. "It's all up here."
"Well, could you put it up here?" she suggested, pointing to her own head. He glanced at her forehead, then met her eyes again.
"You've got enough going on up there."
Lynae rolled her eyes. "Oh, yeah…I'm asleep, but not asleep, conscious, but not conscious, right?"
Rumplestiltskin leaned slightly towards her. "And you smell." He squealed with laughter. She smirked at him, watched as he did another hand flourish and then the doors to her quarters swished open.
"Why doesn't that work for me?" she asked, almost pouting.
"Why aren't you surprised that I can do it at all?" he returned. She thought about it, came up empty and shrugged, so he explained it to her. "Because it's like when you're asleep and you start to fly, or a giant, licorice Ferris Wheel rolls right past you: you don't ask why, you just accept it because you're dreaming."
She tilted her head, looking at him like he was crazy. "Whatever you say, Mr. Stiltskin." She conceded, then stepped into her room.
It was the size of a small apartment. Straight ahead was a wardrobe. A few feet away from that was a grand four-poster bed. Nice-stands** sat on either side of the bed, each with a gold candlestick holder sitting on top, candles lit. In the far corner of the room was a tall, four-paneled room divider beautifully decorated with peacocks and Chinese fans. A bay window with a cushion seat made up the far wall. The room was so spacious it seemed as though the window was a quarter-mile away. Beyond the window was a sitting area with a couch and two chairs arranged around a lace-covered table. Across from the bed was vanity table with a gilded mirror. On it sat a comb and brush set and various tubes and bottles. Next to it was a six-drawer chest of drawers.
Lynae's mouth was hanging open slightly as she took everything in. "All this for me?"
Rumplestiltskin stared at her, puzzled as to why she was impressed. "This is the servant's quarters."
Her mouth dropped open in shock, but she quickly closed it, not wanting to look silly.
He waved a hand at the wall on the left of the vanity table and a door opened. "The bathroom. You'll have everything you need in there to freshen up." He said and looked meaningfully at her filthy attire. "Oh!" he suddenly exclaimed, and turned his back. He snapped his fingers and a fire popped to life in the fireplace. "It can get a bit chilly in the Dark Castle sometimes." he explained, rubbing his expressive hands together. "Well, I suppose this is good night." He did a masculine version of a curtsy, then started for the door.
"Um…Mr. Stiltskin?" Lynae called to him and he stopped just inside the doorway. "Thank-you."
He looked over his shoulder at her, his expression unreadable. "Don't thank me yet, dearie." He walked away, flicking a hand which caused the doors to close.
She stood there for a moment, not sure what to make of those words, figuring that she'd find out in time. She began taking off her soiled clothes, stripping down to her bra and panties. Holding her muddy things, she thought about hand washing them in the tub. But she was just too tired to fill the tub twice in one night. She threw them onto the bottom of the wardrobe and made her way into the bathroom.
It, too, was spacious and elaborate. Lynae walked over to the claw-foot porcelain bathtub, curled her toes on the soft bath mat and pondered how she would get it filled. To her mild surprise, she saw it filling up with water and bubbles. She didn't hear a faucet or see where the water was coming from and frankly she didn't care. She pulled off her undies, stepped over the side, and lowered her tired, aching body in to the warm scented water. She laid back, closed her eyes, and let the heat soothe her aches and pains. She stayed that way until her fingers were pruny.
When she re-opened her eyes, a tray table was sitting next to the tub on her right. She was positive it hadn't been there before. On it was a soft bristled brush, a hand towel, and a white bar of soap. She only used the towel and the soap. When she was done washing, she stood up and saw that the tray was really a stand that had a large bath towel folded on a bottom shelf. After drying off, she secured the towel around herself and strolled over to a waist-high shelf with a large bowl sitting on top filled with water. Next to that was a toothbrush, so she brushed her teeth thoroughly. When done she went to collect the underwear she'd discarded. She had thought about washing them in the bathwater, but had forgotten all about it once she'd sat down to soak. She couldn't do it now anyway because the tub was unexpectedly empty. She thought nothing of it and strode back out into the bedroom.
Lynae was glad Rumplestiltskin had lit a fire; the room was a bit chilly. She added her underwear to the heap of dirty clothes in the wardrobe, then went to the chest of drawers to look for something to sleep in. She found a knee-length cotton gown with a dip in the front. She slipped it over her head and went to sit at the vanity table. She wrapped her long, black hair around her head like she did every night, then searched the drawers for something to hold it in place. She found a sleep cap, which she donned, a sleep mask and a pair of earplugs, although she didn't need the later.
Lynae dragged her weary body to bed, climbed under the covers and pulled the sleep mask down over her closed eyelids. Soon after her head sunk into the soft pillow, she was sound asleep.
"Rise and shine, dearie!" sang Rumplestiltskin's in his simpering voice. A bell tingled in Lynae's ear, the sound dragging her into consciousness. She pushed the sleep mask off her eyes and saw her host standing at the side of the bed shaking a little gold bell and grinning from ear to ear.
"Do I have to?" she whined, not wanting to leave the comfort of the soft bed.
"Of course, dearie." he said, sitting the bell on the nice stand. "It's nearly one o'clock in the afternoon."
Lynae dragged her hands over her face and sat up. "All right." she yawned, sitting up. "Let me get dressed."
Rumplestiltskin lilted a laugh and left the room. She threw the covers off and slipped out of bed. She went into the bathroom to wash her face and brush her teeth. She did notice that the water in the face bowl was not only clean, but warm. However, it wasn't until she had her hand on the door of the wardrobe that she remembered that she didn't have anything clean to wear. She mentally kicked herself for not taking the time to wash her clothes last night. Might as well do it now, she thought with a sigh, pulling the wardrobe open.
Her face crinkled into a frown of confusion when she saw her jeans and blouse on hangers, freshly laundered and wrinkle free. Her bra and panties were washed as well and ready to wear. Lynae ran her fingers over her things in disbelief, but her sense of touch told her the same truth that her eyes did. Unable to come up with a logical explanation, she got dressed. After combing her hair, she left the room. Rumplestiltskin was sitting in a chair out in the hallway, waiting for her.
"Did you wash my clothes?"
"Do I look like a laundress to you?" he replied, his tone nasally.
"Is there someone else living here?"
His brows went up. "If there is, they're dead." he declared, expression quite serious.
"Well, someone cleaned my things." Lynae insisted.
"I can see that." He said, standing and smoothing his clothes. "I told you you'll find everything you need in there, remember?"
And she had; even down to the lip gloss she used in the middle of the night when her lips felt dry.
"Clean clothes or not, though, you still smell funny." he reminded her and started off. She shot him a sour look and followed in silence.
With bright sunshine pouring in through every window, Lynae tried to memorize everything she saw. After a long walk, they were back in the main hall. The curtains were open in here as well. Over by the spinning wheel she noted an extra basket with a cloth over the top of it. Rumplestiltskin snapping his fingers drew her attention away from it. The table filled with sandwiches, fruit, and a tea server. She started with the tea, then moved to the sandwiches. She then nibbled on a banana and lastly an orange. Her host ate as well, keeping his funny colored eyes on her the whole while. She wasn't uncomfortable, though. She supposed he was trying to figure out what to do with her…either that or he had never seen a black woman before. She simply stared out the huge windows, or at the odd objects in the room, like the creepy puppets or the broken tea cup sitting by itself on a pedestal. When they had finished eating, he cleared the table with a snap and rose from his seat.
"I've got a job for you." He announced, gesturing with a finger that she should come with him. She got up and followed him to the extra basket in front of his spinning wheel. When he threw back the cover she saw that it was filled to the brim with a tangled mess of gold string.
"Where'd you get all this?" she asked.
"I spun it!" he trilled proudly, and she gave him a funny look.
"You don't spin gold, Mr. Stiltskin. You mine it out of caves or the dirt."
"Bleed through!" he shrieked and lilted a laugh. Lynae rolled her eyes. He moved to the huge cabinet in the wall and pulled out a box. "In here you'll find several types of spools." he informed when he returned. "I want you to fill them up…or better yet, wrap them up."
Lynae took the decorated box from him and opened it. Inside was teeming with bobbins and spools of all shapes and sizes. She stared at him wide-eyed.
"It'll take forever to fill these!"
Rumplestiltskin shrugged nonchalantly. "Don't worry. I've got plenty of baskets of string." he said, and lilted.
Lynae gazed from him, to the basket of gold string, to the pretty box filled with bobbins, then back to him, her face a mask of confusion. "Is this the favor I'm supposed to do for you?"
He glanced at her as if she'd just asked the dumbest question possible. "No. This is how you'll earn your keep until I ask for the favor."
She frowned at him, perplexed. "How long do you think I'm gonna' be here?"
"As long as it takes!" he screeched happily then created a comfy chair and foot stool for her. It sat a few paces away from his work space, except it wasn't on a raised bit of floor. Without another word, he sat down behind his big wheel and began spinning.
Lynae stared at him for a few moments, not sure what to think about the gravity of the task he'd just laid before her. It wasn't a hard job, by no means. Still, she thought he would ask his favor, she'd grant it, then go home. What he was telling her now was completely unexpected.
"Am I a prisoner here?" she asked him out of the blue.
Rumplestiltskin looked up from his wheel. "Heavens, no!" he answered too dramatically. "You clearly slept in a bed last night and not the dungeon."
Her eyes rolled in exasperation. "You know what I mean! Are you forcing me to stay here until you ask your favor?"
His face was unreadable and when he spoke, his voice deep and almost normal. "Not forced." he corrected. "Requesting."
"And if I say no, or try to leave?" she pressed. His eyes fell to the wheel, which he eased around and around. His voice was dangerously low when he answered.
"Please don't do that."
A shiver of cold fear streaked down Lynae's spine. She kept her eyes on him, but he did not return her gaze. After a short while she realized he was done talking. She carried her materials to the chair and got to work.
**I know they're called night stands, but I dance to my own drum when I write.
