So, this story is really developing into character studies of a sort. In this chapter, Rumpelstiltskin contemplates his Prize. I would also like to say how disappointed I am in the show as of late. Only a cameo in the latest episode and nary a mention in the last? I have been high and dry from my Mr. Gold fix for three weeks now and that is why this was not written farther in advance. When I get to see him? Three+ chapters pop out. No? None. Let us hope he shows up next week!
Rumpelstiltskin walked up the steps from his dungeon at a slow and deliberate pace. Now that the manic energy of the Deal had worn off with the confinement of his Prize, he could think through his present situation. Deals with such a powerful Price would often blind him, the compulsion so strong that he was made unable to see the downfalls. If nothing else, this was his least favorite aspect of his power. Rumpelstiltskin hated being made a slave to Deals. However, that was the Price he paid for the power he had obtained when he stabbed the Dark One. The Deals compelled him to complete them. He was not a man of his word by choice. He was unable to break it as it was a small Deal in and of itself. His victims were not so bound as he by the power of the Deal.
Rumpelstiltskin was so bound by his power he dared not let a falsehood pass his lips lest the lie become the truth and an unpleasantness befall him. The most powerful magic worker in all the realms he may be but, he was also the most restricted. Once he reached the top of the stairs, he turned to go to his sitting room and his spinning wheel. There was nothing that soothed him more than spinning straw to gold, doing such a menial task reminded him of days gone by when his wife and son were still alive. When Deals did not hold power over him.
He sat down at his wheel and hooked on a leader of cotton. Rumpelstiltskin turned the wheel and began to pull and let the wheel twist it before feeding straw to the leader. The repetitive motion of spinning, pulling, and feeding allowed his mind to drift to his new Prize. The Prize, his Harry, was a strange Deal to be sure. Though he made the Deal with the tub of lard that was posing as a human, the request came from the boy. It was Harry whose wish was so strong it allowed him to go to that wretched place. The Deal was strange for Rumpelstiltskin exacted a price from not only the man, but Harry as well.
Rumpelstiltskin rarely had a Deal wherein the Price was a Dealer and the Dealer was a Price. He was unsure of what to make of the strange boy that would feel so strongly about ones who despised him. The realm in which Rumpelstiltskin lived was not idyllic as it might seem, but there were few children treated so poorly as the boy he had just picked up. For a person not to know their Name was unthinkable. Disguise it, use an alias, not use it, all of those were common. Not to even know it except for its indelible mark upon one's soul was too vile a punishment for even the most wicked of persons.
Looking at his Prize was painful though, Harry reminded him of his beloved son. Thinking about the past only pained him so he pushed away the thought. His fingers ached from the straw's texture as it abraded his fingers. If he spun for too long, the coarse straw would begin to run red out of his aching fingers. Some days, that is what he needed, that punishment for his trespasses.
Rumpelstiltskin was ultimately unsure of what to do with Harry. Normally, when he took firstborn children, it was to give to another whose womb was barren for some reason. He never kept those Prices for more than a day or so. This child though, he could never go to a family for he would suit none. Furthermore, the condition of the Deal he had made was that Rumpelstiltskin would be his guardian so long as he was needed, providing food and shelter in exchange for work.
Rumpelstiltskin looked around his sitting room with a weary eye, it could use some cleaning, his spinning had left a layer of detritus that needed sweeping at the very least. The child had to work or Rumpelstiltskin would not be able to feed him such were the constraints of the Deal. It was however, up to Rumpelstiltskin's discretion what work merited food. He thought on this, not sure if sweeping alone would be enough. Rumpelstiltskin's thoughts were interrupted by his hand finding only empty air where there once was straw.
He looked down to find his supply of straw very low and his bobbin full. Rumpelstiltskin smiled, he never had liked what came after the spinning, let the child do it. So, sweeping, skeining, and winding. That was truly a good chore list for the boy. None of these chores would be too strenuous and they were all things he deplored. Rumpelstiltskin smiled, no longer was the thrall there to make it manic, and stood up. He had a child to instruct in doing some of the more menial chores he loathed.