Some Soul of Goodness
Chapter 4
Kindness, in Women
Rumple had no way of hearing back from his family and was too fearful to ask the Lady for another viewing in the mirror bowl. He did continue to write them letters, at least once a month, which the Lady would send out to them by dove. He would always reassure them that he was doing well.
He had been at the Dark Castle for more than half a year when at breakfast one morning Milady shared with him that she would be going away for a little while. This time she anticipated being gone for several days, probably more than a week. She had been called out on an urgent request – something to do with ogres. She warned him not to let anyone onto the castle grounds, not to trust anyone who came by and to be very wary of going off the castle grounds because of the wolves and other fell creatures that were simultaneously drawn to and repelled by the dark magic of the castle. Such creatures often wandered near the grounds.
He nodded and bowed to her, curious how the magic would work without the Dark Lady there to channel it for an extended period.
She looked at him and smiled, raising her hand to touch his hair. He did not know, did not even suspect as she disappeared into a swirl of dark vapor that she was wondering if he would be there when she returned.
She was gone for more than a week. It was the longest time she had ever been gone at one time.
Rumple had persisted with his chores, relieved that the magic continued to work with no problems. He struggled, as he always had, to do his best with the roses. The plush, large flowers still bloomed as often and as profusely as they had in the early spring when he had first come to the Castle. They, like the Lady's lingerie, would let him know if he were making errors in their care, caressing him with their velvet petals when they approved of his actions or swatting him with one of their sinuous canes, even pricking him with a thorn, if he was in serious violation of some aspect of their care.
It was the horses that drew most of his attentions. He had been very sore after his ride into the village and very aware of his awkward riding skills. He, of course, had not been allowed as a peasant to own or ride a horse. But he knew how to saddle one and certainly how to take care of them.
The horses seemed comfortable with him and one morning he donned the leather pants and went outside to them. He had decided he would try again to ride one. He picked Daffodil, the name he had given the pretty golden coated female, the same horse he had ridden into the village. Daffodil had a long blonde mane and tail and a very gentle nature. He talked to her quietly, put a saddle on her and, cautiously, hoping she wouldn't throw him off, got on her back. She seemed quite accustomed to being ridden and accepting of him; she accepted his kindly hand with no problems. He knew that Anvil (so named for his stocky build and black coat) and especially Spirit (a mottled silver colored animal with behavior that suggested intelligence and willfulness – who was the Lady's preferred mount) were unlikely to be so accepting, but the next day, confident after his success with Daffodil, he tried Anvil and the following day he tried Spirit. Meeting with unexpected success with all three animals, he continued riding them, usually just around the bailey. Spirit surprised him the second day by jumping over a fence. He managed to hold on and after recovering, began more fence jumping. The horse seemed to enjoy the activity and in time, Rumple developed better skills than just managing to hold on.
At this time he had the thought of taking one of the horses and clearing out, perhaps with some bits and pieces of some of the smaller but valuable items.
But he had not.
In part, he was afraid of what tragedy might befall his village if he left The Lady. Despite all the kindness she had shown him, he imagined that she would be furious and would level the place. But even if she shrugged her shoulders and went back to her lonely existence without taking vengeance, he had promised her he would stay. He really tried to keep his word whenever he could.
Others did not credit him with trustworthiness, with vow-keeping. He rubbed his ankle which the Lady had graciously healed. In many places, he had a well-established history of presumed cowardice. His wife had left him because of it. His son was often ostracized because of it. Aunt Marjorie had been rejected by some of the other villagers because she had chosen to stand by him and his young son and had taken them up on their hospitality.
If by staying here at the Dark Castle, he could buy prosperity and respectability for his son and aunt, then stay here he would.
And he had said he would stay.
Rumple continued doing his chores, practicing his reading and writing in the Library, even doing more exploring around the grounds. It was far larger than the two towers and the stables that he had been focused on during his first months in the place. There was still that basement below the kitchen – more of a dungeon really and he still couldn't bring himself to descend into the dark cold cavernous region. He had not been forbidden the basement but he was still very uncomfortable in the vicinity of the door that led down the stairs. As his meager knowledge of magic had grown he suspected that what he was sensing was the taint of very dark magic and he was not eager to discover what horrors might lie under the Castle. There were numerous other little towers along the curtain walls of the castle and many narrow stairways. He began carefully to explore them all. He did stay away from the North Tower. He'd seen enough of magic to have real respect for what he already knew was there – blood magic for sure, dark magic he believed.
Another part of his additional time had been spent using his elemental reading skills and the cookbook his mistress had provided him his first day in the Castle. He had been delighted to find a recipe for roast chicken – his own initial attempts had resulted in various culinary disasters, ranging from burnt to raw and combinations of the two. Using the cookbook he had mastered the new dish.
He was now using the book to try to make a light bread that he remembered the village baker would make – something called biscuits. The village baker's biscuits were light and fluffy and would melt in your mouth. He knew how to measure out butter that was the size of an egg but the other measures were difficult for him. He wasn't sure what a salt spoon measurement was nor how much a saucer of flour would be. The Ever Providing Drawer was a godsend. As he struggled to work out many of the measurements, such as a gill or a dessert spoon, he would ask the Drawer for the measurement tool. He still wasn't quite sure what the difference between a dash and pinch was but had learned the new measurements to add to his previous understanding of a peck and a teacup.
Still learning to cook new recipes had been a tedious process. Steps seemed to have been missed in many of the recipes and he had thrown away many of his earlier inedible efforts. Over time, his tenacious experiments yielded improvement. He had finished up with a successful batch of biscuits this particular morning which he planned on having with sweet butter and some blackberry jam for an evening treat. He had returned his attentions to his routine chores.
He was scrubbing the black and white checked marble floor in the front hall, a noxious job he set to about once a week, when he heard the knock on the door. He froze. No one should be able to get through the Lady's wards he had told himself. He rose and looked at the door, debating what to do.
It could be a traveler, someone down on their luck, someone in the same desperate straits that he had been in when he had arrived at the castle. To dismiss them, ignore them - that invited bad luck.
But what if it was someone seeking to make mischief against the Dark Lady? She certainly had her share of enemies. He had suspected that and Grumpy the Miner had confirmed the notion. The more Rumple had learned about her affairs the more he realized that her deals were eminently honest, but people seemed to ignore the fine print. They would make the deals when desperate and she would be able to set whatever terms she desired.
He had also learned that magic always demanded a price that many were not willing to pay. He knew that someone had to pay the price of magic, whether the beneficiary of the spell or the caster of the spell. Most of the disgruntled weren't willing to pay the price.
The knock on the door sounded again and he opted to open the door. Surely her wards would prevent something truly dangerous from getting through.
It was a frail old woman, in a homespun cloak, leaning on a cane.
"Grandmother," he greeted the old woman familiarly. "May I help you?" He reminded himself to remain wary. Things were not always as they appeared to be, especially here in the Dark Castle but it was always wise to offer succor to the ill, to the elderly and to young children.
"May I trouble you for a glass of water?" the old woman asked weakly.
"Please, come in and sit down. I'll fetch you water." He led her into the kitchen and had her sit at the worktable. He quickly brought her a glass of their fresh water. She eagerly took it. "May I offer you something to eat?" he asked then.
"You are so kind," she told him. "That would be lovely. I have traveled far and long."
As he prepared her a plate of food, including one of his biscuits (with butter and jam), some ham and some cheese, he asked, "Where are you coming from?"
"A small village. I had received word that my granddaughter was about to give birth and I decided to make the trip to her town." The old woman had dropped her hood. She had white hair and dark blue eyes that looked at him clearly, despite the withered and weathered lines of her face. "Foolish of me, but when I was younger the walk was easy. . . and," she smiled at him, "shorter."
"I understand," he told her kindly and set the plate in front of her.
"You work here?" she asked him.
"I do," he answered.
"Interesting. Before the Lady was always by herself."
"You are acquainted with the Lady?" he had to ask.
"We are old acquaintances," the old woman told him. "I've known her a very long time."
"She's just stepped out," he told her feeling it wasn't a good idea to let the old woman know that he didn't know where the Lady was – after all he couldn't be absolutely sure that this really was an old woman before him.
"Then it is likely I shall miss her." The old woman straightened up. "But Rumplestiltskin, you are the one that I really came by to see."
He froze. She knew his name! He did not make any response.
"I know that you are her prisoner here, that she forces you to drudge for her."
"We made an agreement. She has kept her end and I have kept mine," he told her stepping back from the woman.
"But she took advantage of you."
"She saved my life," Rumple told her. "Who are you?"
"Someone who can save you," the old woman stood up and slowly her clothes changed from grey rags to sparkling blue lace and netting
Rumple recognized her from descriptions he had heard in the old tales. A beautiful creature that would grant favors to the deserving. "You're the Blue Fairy!"
"I am. I can lead you out and away from here. I can promise your son and aunt will not suffer from any repercussions. Come with me. The Dark Lady can only bring you misery."
Rumple actually considered the offer . . . for about half a second. "I made an agreement," he said softly.
"She is evil and will corrupt you," the Blue Fairy insisted.
"I made a promise. I do my best to never break a promise," he told her.
"All you have to do is give me your hand," the Blue Fairy told him and held out her glittering arm. She extended her hand and fingers to him.
He stood absolutely still.
"Come Rumplestiltskin, come," the Blue Fairy urged, her voice soft and seductive.
"After he's offered you food and drink, warmth and shelter, in my house, this is how you act?"
Rumple spun around and found that he was looking into the eyes of the Lady, no longer blue with their usual vertical slits but fully black. She was the one who had spoken and she did not look happy.
"Belle," the Blue Fairy said, stepping back. "I thought you were gone."
"I'm sure you did or you would have never entered my house. You took advantage of my servant, tricking him into inviting you in and then . . . and then, you try to get him to break his vow to me. I thought you were supposed to be good and right and honorable." Rumple could tell that his Lady was furious.
"He is an innocent," the Blue Fairy told her.
"So was I . . . once," the Lady told her. "Get out."
"Belle," the Blue Fairy began.
"Get out. Now," the Lady ordered.
And there was a puff of white smoke and the fairy was gone.
"Blue bitch!" Belle began. "She came here to steal you away from me! She came here to hurt me by taking you!"
Rumple thought he could see stringing waves of dark angry energies expanding from the woman. The light seemed to dim and an acrid sickening tinge of blood and smoke filled the room
"I would not have left you Milady," he reassured her. "I promised to stay."
She looked at him and slowly he could see the anger drain from the woman and the blue begin to return to her eyes. "You were not going to go with her?" she asked him.
"I promised to stay with you," he repeated.
She stared at him a long moment and her eyes became more and more their usual blue. Finally, she slowly smiled at him. "So you did. So you did." She then took his hand. "Come." And she led him along the winding path up to the North Tower, again using her nail to cut into her hand which she then pressed against the door at the top of the tower.
He timidly entered the large room which took up the entire top floor of the tower. He did not feel comfortable here, the smell of dark magics evident even to one such as himself. She had him stand aside while she gathered some materials together. She then picked up an athame, a sharp black-handled knife. He couldn't stop himself from stepping back as she approached him.
It suddenly occurred to her that he was likely feeling menaced by the knife. She stopped and gave him a quick smile. "I need to take your blood. I shall re-do my wards so that anyone who means you harm will not be able to pass through."
"Milady?" he wasn't sure what she meant by needing to take his blood.
"I need to cut your finger for a few drops," and she held out her hand to him.
Trembling he held out his hand and closed his eyes. He felt one of her hands on his hand and then the cold blade of the knife nicked his thumb. He held still a moment and then heard her say, "That should do it." She released him. He opened his eyes. She was back at one of the worktables and had proceeded to cut her own thumb. She mixed the blood into other liquids in a large flask and then she heated the flask. He dare not move but stood and watched her work.
The Sorceress used her hands to caress the air around the flask and things began to glow yellow and red. She was murmuring something and the glow began to grow, a fiery red as it reached out around her. He braced himself expecting it to feel like heat and fire. As it filled the space between her hands, it washed over him like an ocean wave, not hot but strong and powerful. She separated her hands, stretching her arms apart. The glow soon enough expanded to fill the room and then poured out of the windows of the tower room. As it left the room he could see that it surrounded the castle grounds. Something that sounded like thunder filled the room and then the glow as gone.
She seemed to have forgotten that he was present and, when she turned, she was surprised to see him.
"Oh yes, of course. I did bring you up here." She again held out her hand to him. "Let's go back and get an early supper. Those biscuits with the ham and cheese looked excellent." She spoke to him pleasantly.
"Yes, Milady," he told her, still trembling. Back in the kitchen, he added some freshly brewed hot tea to the meal and the two enjoyed a simple meal together sitting in the kitchen. He had only seen her work small magics beside the viewing bowl and her raising the cone of power had been disconcerting.
"What have you been doing while I've been gone?" she asked him.
"I've been doing my chores, my usual chores. I've explored more in the castle and on the grounds. And . . ." he paused, still piecing together this slight woman with the show of power he had just seen. She waited. He confessed, "I saddled and rode the horses . . . even Spirit."
"You're good with animals, aren't you?" she asked him.
"I don't know. I had sheep and goats, and of course a dog that I took care of in the village and I know my herd did well. I don't know."
"You didn't think of taking one of the horses and riding away?" she asked him neutrally.
He hesitated, "I did, but I promised you I would stay." They both sat quietly for a while. "Milady?"
"Yes?"
"The Blue Fairy. How was she able to enter your grounds? I thought you had protections that would have stopped her."
The Dark Lady looked at him, her eyes narrowed slits. "My protections were designed to keep out things that meant harm to me. She was able to slip in between with the intent of saving you, of stealing you away from me. She had no intention to confront me and therefore meant no harm to me. I have . . . corrected this oversight. She will not be able to enter my grounds again without my permission."
"Why . . . why does she hate you?" he asked her knowing he was risking her anger.
She looked at him and blinked. "Oh Rumple. Don't you know? I am the Darkness That Walks. I am evil incarnate. I am every wrong impulse, every sick desire, every pain, every bit of suffering that people can endure."
"I don't see that," he told her earnestly. "I've never seen you hurt someone or mislead anyone. I've seen you take care of children and honor your agreements."
"You haven't seen me as I truly am," she told him slowly and sorrowfully. "Be grateful."
There were the rare welcomed guests. Rumple particularly like a tall, slender man that the Lady referred to as Hatter. He would often sit with Rumple in the kitchen and the two men would share a beer, often talking about their children. Rumple gathered that the Hatter would run errands for the Lady from time to time. His talent, as far as Rumple could tell, was something called realm jumping; the Hatter could easily go to far, far places in an instant. The Lady would pay him in gold and jewels.
"You've been good for her," the Hatter told him one afternoon coming by unannounced. The Lady was up in the North Tower and Rumple refused to disturb her. The Hatter had been content to wait in Rumple's kitchen, eating his bread and cheese and drinking beer.
Rumple looked up. He was attempting to make a spiced cake and was mixing the batter.
"What was she like before . . . before I came?" he asked.
"Well, there have been others, you know," the Hatter began.
"No, I didn't know," Rumple told him.
"She doesn't like to expend magic if she doesn't have to, although she probably has more magic at her disposal than anyone anywhere. She prefers to have mundane chores done by hand. She's had several girls in here to work but they've never lasted more than a few weeks. Usually they end up stealing some of her jewels and running out. I think, yes, I'm pretty sure that you are the first man she's had. She's not been at all like Queen Regina who keeps young men around for amusement. I think that The Lady has always been uncomfortable around men. Of course after being Zoso's slave, I can only imagine why."
"Zoso?" That was a name Rumple had not heard before.
"The previous Dark One," the Hatter explained. "I don't know much about him except that he was a loathsome toad . . . and a mean one."
"She was his slave?" Rumple was horrified to learn this. His delicate Lady had been a slave to some brute?!
"So go the rumors. But no one really know. After all, it was at least three hundred years ago. She's the only Dark One I've ever known and she's been nothing like the nightmare stories I've read about." The Hatter finished his beer and fetched a second one. "You have that great library upstairs. I'm sure there are some bogey-man tales about the Dark One coming in to steal babies, violate virgins and burn villages."
"She does nothing but help people!" Rumple rose quickly to her defense. Oh yes, he knew there were those who were not happy with their deals, idiots who did not read the fine print on their contracts, those who would want to renege when they discovered they were actually expected to pay the cost of their bargain. But he could not wrap his head around the idea that she was evil – despite what she had said about herself, despite what the Hatter was saying.
The Hatter smiled at him. "She likes you, I think, so you've not seen her in full Dark One mode. She can be terrifying when she's pissed. I've seen her level armies, turn people into snails or bugs." He stopped and took a long swig of his beer. "I witnessed some fuckwit calling her a blue-skinned freak. Apparently that offended her. She ripped his heart out of his chest and . . . crushed it." At Rumple's horrified expression, the Hatter emphasized, "I saw her do this." He sat back and continued gently, "I'll admit it's unusual for her, but she is very capable of brutality. It's just not her usual style. Usually she's like a royal princess, gracious and kind but . . . distant."
Rumple did begin to search in the Library for some information, any information on The Dark One. There were so many books and he couldn't readily discern any organization or order of placement. Some were not in his native tongue and those he put back reluctantly. Going shelf by shelf he did stumble into some history books. He began to look through these. Most were uninformative but in a few he would catch references to a dark force that would sometimes impact on the events of history – a creature possessing unimaginative power that could flatten castles and kill multitudes, a wild unruly force of nature. Some rulers had risen that controlled this entity and their kingdoms conquered those around them using the powers of this entity. From his best calculations it was over a thousand years ago when someone first used the term "The Dark One." But it had certainly not always been his Lady or even this Zoso character that the Hatter had referred to. It was usually a male, but not always – there had been other females that had served this role.
But where did they come from? Why were some free agents and others under the control of mere mortals? How did the mantle pass from one Dark One to another?
He sensed that these were not questions the Lady would be eager to answer.
He continued his research and came upon a history of the Kingdom of Avonleigh. He recognized the name as the birthplace of his Lady. She had been a princess, he recalled her telling him. The kingdom had been a vibrant, thriving place with just laws, an emphasis on education for all, advancement for those willing to work for it, an idyllic country with mild temperatures and plenty of food. It was a rich kingdom with prosperous trade – and this was what had likely attracted the ogres. They had come over the mountains to wreak havoc, shattering towns and killing many. The king had appealed for help from his clerics. Their prayers did nothing to stop, even slow down the ogres. He had appealed for help from the fairies. Their spells slowed the ogres but did not stop their advancement. Desperate, the king had called upon The Dark One.
Rumple read with growing trepidation. The Dark One had answered the call. His price was not stated but it had been terrible, beyond comprehension, and the king had initially refused to pay it. But with continuing predations from the ogres, something had happened. Evidently the price was paid and the ogres disappeared. However, the king was devastated and withdrew from all political life. The kingdom began to fall into disarray and crime and mayhem became increasingly common occurrences. With no leadership, neighboring kingdoms who had long eyed rich Avonleigh began to make forays into the outlying areas. Over time, conquering armies moved in and within a generation, the kingdom of Avonleigh was no more.
Had his Lady been the price the Dark One had demanded, the king's only daughter? Had she stepped forward and offered herself to save her people?
If so, Rumple thought, the Dark One had done a poor job of saving the kingdom. Perhaps they had simply asked that he rid them of the ogres. In his short time at the Dark Castle, Rumple had learned that magic and deal making often turned on the fine point of a single word and likely the desperate Avonleights had not thought through their request.
What a waste it had all been. The princess had saved her people from the ogres but not from the neighboring kingdoms. It had all been for nothing.
He had other thoughts, darker, gloomier thoughts. What had the monster done to her, to his delicate, fragile Lady?
So thankful to all you managed to read and review (I've been inundated with stories and am still woefully behind on my reading/reviewing). Thank to: Wondermorena, TheGoldenHawk, Erik'sTrueAngel, MyraValhallah, Grace5231973, CharlotteAshmore, Jewel415, and Aletta-Feather (Chapter 2)
and also to Guest (White Christmas): hope something nice worked out for you with the snow – It was 74 F here and we were under a flood watch.