10

Hidden Riches

Bae and Regina walked into the cave following the flicker of light she had conjured. The little ball of witchfire bobbed and bounced in the air, like a playful puppy. Bae found himself smiling at it, then wondered why he wasn't frightened of it, the way he used to be of his papa's conjuring. He supposed it was because Regina's magic wasn't the dark kind. That caused him to wonder then how his papa had been able to perform healing magic when cursed to be an evil sorcerer. "Regina? Your people . . .do they have dark shamans as well as light ones?"

The girl paused, and the light flickered and came to hover over them. "Yes. For even among my people, there are those whose hearts are dark, selfish, greedy, and who want only magic's power, but not to pay the price for using it. We call them night warlocks, and to follow that path is to sacrifice your soul to the dark."

"And can a night warlock cast healing spells?" Bae probed.

Regina shook her head. "No. Healing is the white road. What use would a dark warlock have for light spells? They deal in curses and spells that bend the laws of nature, sacrifices of blood and pain. They have given their hearts to darkness. Anyone who does that cannot heal, for healing requires you have a heart to understand the suffering of others."

"But . . .what if a dark warlock was able to cast healing magic?"

"Not possible."

"What if they were cursed?"

"Ah. That's different. A cursed one may be able to still recall what he was before being cursed. And if he was a compassionate person, one who sacrificed for others, he could temporarily overcome the cursed nature and heal. Because the curse is not his true nature. It merely has polluted and overshadowed what was true," the girl lectured.

"I see," Bae said. "Then . . .they're not evil?"

"Evil? Is a man whose family held hostage and made to do the bidding of his captors evil? Or just desperate and hurting?"

"No . . ." Bae recalled another saying of his papa's—evil isn't born, it's made. He had never quite understood what Rumple meant until now.

"Ask yourself—if it was you held hostage and forced to kill and do other things to save those you loved—who would be evil-you or the one who made you do such things?" Regina asked pointedly, using the question to answer a question method Willow Heart had always done with her. That method forced a student to draw her own conclusions and answers and not rely only upon their teacher.

"The one who made you do things," Bae replied, shame lying like lead in his stomach as he realized how unfair and judgmental he'd been to Rumple, who had taken the darkest of curses for him and who had been forced into acts against his gentle and kind nature by the curse that rode him. It never was about power, was it, Papa? Only about protecting me. Guilt swept through him like a bitter winter wind. I misjudged you, Papa.

Regina eyed him curiously. "You seem troubled. Why?"

"It's just . . .when my papa and I lived in our village . . .I knew someone who was cursed . . .and I didn't understand . . .what that meant. How it was like—like being tortured."

"It's a torture of the spirit," she muttered softly. "Was the person's curse removed?"

Bae swallowed. "Yeah . . .eventually . . ." At least he assumed so. There had been no sign of the dagger and here in this realm his father was back to normal, he wasn't the imp. So his gambit had worked, but Bae shuddered to think how close he had come to losing his papa that stormy night. Not wanting to dwell upon these bleak thoughts, he said, "Uh . . . let's see where this cave goes."

Regina sent the witchglobe ahead of them again, lighting their way through the subterranean darkness.

The cave walls were formed of gray and black rock with some striated green pieces and some strange fungi was upon some of the walls. Their footsteps echoed upon the floor, which had small stones embedded in it.

"This cave goes back further than I thought," Regina said.

They continued back along the passageway. After a few more minutes, they noticed the cave had several side passages and then it opened up to a larger cavern.

Regina's witchlight fluttered high into the air, then swooped and looped about, flickering delightedly.

Bae laughed. "Are you making it do that?"

She tossed her braids. "Who else? Light is light, unless I Call it." She smiled too, a gamin grin.

The witchlight darted about the cavern, illuminating even the shadows.

"It's a good thing there are no bears or wolverines here," Regina said. "I would hate to deal with a bear woken up from winter sleep."

Bae paled. "It would kill us."

"Unless I could talk it into going back to sleep and sharing the cave with us," Regina corrected. "Sometimes Brother Bear can be reasoned with. If he's not starving or a mama protecting cubs." Suddenly her eyes went wide as she beheld something sparkling at the far end of the cave.

"What is it?" Bae asked softly, seeing her preoccupation. "It's not . . ." for a moment he feared it was an animal, perhaps even a dead one. Until his eye too was drawn to the wall.

They walked over to where the light hovered, almost like moths mesmerized by a candle flame.

The witchlight illuminated the vein of sparkling gold in the wall, like a vein of sunlight in the darkness.

"Regina! Is that—gold?" Bae stammered.

"It . . . it looks like it. But . . .it could also be iron pyrite—fool's gold." She murmured.

"How can we tell?"

"Umm, we'd need to get it tested. By an assayer," she replied.

"An assayer?"

"That's someone who performs chemical tests on metals to determine what they are and how pure they are," Regina explained.

"Like an alchemist?" Bae queried.

"Not really. Alchemy's not a real science," Regina replied, which was what she had been taught at the white school she had attended for a brief time while she and Belle had lived in Storybrooke. "But an assayer knows how to tell real gold from false."

"And you think this might be real?"

"Possibly. Maybe if it is, that's what Tolle and Spencer are after," Regina muttered.

"How would they know?"

"They might have found the cave, but . . .more likely Lumiere did and brought some gold back to be tested. Since the assayer usually works for the bank, Tolle would know about any claim founded."

"And if there was a claim?"

"Then it belongs to our papa now, since he owns the land," Regina murmured. "But before that . . .it could be why Tolle and Spencer were so desperate to kick us off this land."

"How would we know?"

"Well, Mama or Papa would have to ask at the assayer's office if there was a claim filed, and if not . . .they could file one if this was the real thing."

"Then let's get some to test it!" Bae cried. Then his face fell. "Umm . . . you got a pickaxe?"

"No, but . . .I have magic," Regina said, and she gestured with a flourish. "Mother Earth, may I?"

A golden nugget fell from the wall and rolled to a stop at her feet. "Thank you," she said respectfully, and then dug in her small pouch for a pinch of sacred sage and placed it down on the ground.

"What's that?"

"An offering to the earth. When you get you must give in return. All magic comes with a price."

She bent and picked up the gold, tucking it in her pocket. "We'd better get back home. That sky didn't look good when we came in here."

"Right. We'll give Papa the gold and see what he says," Bae agreed.

They followed the witchlight out of the cavern and through the passageways. When they reached the entrance, Regina started to go around the waterfall and out into the wilderness when an icy blast of frigid arctic air blew her back behind the waterfall.

"Regina, what—?"

"It's a blizzard out there, Bae!" she cried. "We can't travel in this! We'll freeze to death before we go a mile." She shivered violently.

Bae went and peered out into the raging snowstorm. He nearly lost his hat when the wind shrieked like a banshee and half tugged it from his head. He could barely see two feet in front of him. he jerked back behind the waterfall. "What do we do now?"

"Nothing we can do except wait it out here," Regina said philosophically.

"Papa and Mama will be worried."

Regina sighed. "I know, but we can't risk going out there. We'll freeze to death. Even my magic couldn't help sustain us for long. The Great Spirit's Breath is too strong."

"How will we keep warm?" Bae asked. He knew that even further into the cave, the temperature would drop steadily.

Regina thought for a moment. "I need wood so we can build a fire. Even with my magic, I need fuel so a fire will burn."

"I'll see if I can find some near the entrance," Bae said, and before she could tell him to wait, he had slipped out into the wintry gale.

Snow was falling thick and fast, and Bae nearly stumbled over something close beside the entrance. Scraping the snow off, he found a bundle tied with deerhide thongs. In it were some sticks, thick bearskin furs and snowshoes. He scratched his head in puzzlement, not understanding how these things had gotten here. But it was too cold out to ponder who had left this bounty, and after glancing about and seeing no one in the vicinity, he picked up the bundle and slung it over his shoulder. Then he went back into the cave.

"Here! Look what I found just sitting there, a few feet from the entrance," Bae said, dropping the bundle on the floor by Regina's feet and rubbing his hands together and stamping the snow off his boots.

Regina knelt and recognized immediately the snowshoes as being made by one of her people, who tied special double knots in the webbing when they strung them on the willow frames. She also saw the tiny charcoal etched horse on the underside of the tanned furs and knew immediately whom that mark belonged to. Horse followed us here. And he left us provisions just in case.

She nearly wondered why he hadn't joined them in the cave, then recalled that they hadn't exactly parted with good fellowship last time he had come by the cabin. Still, the gesture was kind, and typical of one of her people, who would never let a tribe member in need suffer. Hospitality was the lifeblood of her people. She sat back on her heels and said, "One of my people left this for us. Probably my friend Running Horse."

"How did he know we were here?" asked Bae.

"Our tracks in the snow. He probably gathered what he could of the wood and left it along with his sleeping furs. And the snowshoes. Afterwards, he probably figured he needed to hurry home, so he left these for us to find."

"Is it usual for one of your people to carry two sets of snowshoes?"

"Yes. In case one pair breaks." Regina answered. She picked up the bundle, bringing it further into the cave, into the cavern where the gold vein ran through the rock. As she unwrapped the furs, she found another small pouch with two wooden bowls, a pouch of cornmeal, one of dried berries, horn spoons , and a large pouch. "Everything I need to make cornmeal mush. And we can roast two of the partridges and keep the others in the entryway so they freeze and keep till the morrow." She held out the large pouch. "Fill that with water from the falls. I'll build a fire and we can boil that over the fire."

Bae took it and did what she said, shivering at the icy deluge.

In the meantime, Regina set several sticks down and used her magic to ignite a spark and soon a fire was crackling merrily. She used three of the longer sturdier sticks and notched two and stuck them into the ground on either side of the fire, using her magic to anchor them. Then she placed one long stick across the fire and used the rawhide twine to make a kind of hook to hang the pouch on.

Bae returned with the pouch filled with water and handed it to her. "You're good at this sort of thing," he said, praising her ingenuity and survival skills.

Regina arched an eyebrow. "All Mesquakie learn how to survive out here by the time they are counted old enough to go on their spirit quests." She took the pouch and hung it over the fire. It would melt the snow and boil the water.

While that was being done, she portioned out the cornmeal, dried berries, and found some sugar lumps as well in the cornmeal pouch. She chuckled recalling Horse's fondness for sweets, like his Manitou. She added them to the bowls, while Bae took the partridges, plucked them, and spitted them using another long stick.

He placed the partridges over the fire, saying, "Too bad we don't have salt and pepper to flavor them."

Regina clapped her hands and a tiny salt mill and a pepper grinder appeared. "Here."

Bae took them and sprinkled them over the birds rubbing them into the skin.

Then Regina sent them back to their owners, whoever they were.

After thirty minutes, the bag of snow had melted and boiled, and Regina poured it into the bowls and stirred the cornmeal mush and let it sit for another ten minutes to cook and by then the birds were crispy and she tested one with her knife to make sure they were cooked before cutting the stick in half and handing a bird and a bowl of mush to Bae. She used the rest of the boiled water to make tea from the packets she carried in her pocket.

They drank the tea after they had eaten and washed out the bowls with snow. Bae sipped his while he leaned back against the wall and listened to the howl of the wind. "I hope Papa isn't too worried about us."

Regina nodded. "Mama also. But they'll see we're safe when we come home tomorrow. And tell them about what we found here." She drank her tea and dragged a fur over herself. "Now, it's time for stories."

Bae leaned forward, his fur draped over his shoulders, his elbows on his knees. "What kind of story?"

She grinned. "A story that will chill your blood and yet keep you warm. The ghost story of the windigo, the deadliest creature in the North. Are you afraid of spooky stories, Baelfire?"

He shook his head. "Not on your life. The scarier the better."

"Then be prepared to be terrified," she mock-growled, then she began. "One day, on a day much like this, a storm blew in and caused a family to nearly starve. On the third day the storm blew out and the father, a brave warrior, knew he could venture out to hunt. There was another storm coming, but he knew if he did not go, his family would surely starve.

"Keeping his weapons close, the warrior chose one of the most popular game trails, keeping an eye out for any sign of game, any tracks or animal droppings in the snow. The forest was eerily silent under the coating of ice and snow, and nothing moved. It was bitterly cold, but the warrior knew he had to find game, or else his desperate family would die.

"As he moved through the eerie stillness, broken only by the soft caress of the wind, he heard a strange hissing noise. It came from everywhere and nowhere at once. The warrior stopped, his heart pounding. That was when he saw the blood-soaked footprints appearing on the path in front of him. He gripped his knife tightly, knowing that somewhere, watching him, was a Windigo.

"He had learned about the Windigo at his father's knee. It was a large creature, as tall as a tree, with a lipless mouth and jagged teeth. It was man shaped, but with thick shaggy white fur, the color of the snow itself. Its breath was a strange hiss, its footprints full of blood, and it ate any man, woman or child who ventured into its territory. And those were the lucky ones. Sometimes, the Windigo chose to possess a person instead, and then the luckless individual became a Windigo himself, hunting down those he had once loved and feasting upon their flesh.

"The warrior knew he had only one chance to defeat this creature of darkness, this creature who hated humankind and would happily make a meal of him, ripping him to shreds, or worse, infecting him with its bite and making him into a cursed creature that would eat his own family.

"He became still, and listened for the strange hissing sound. Was it stronger from the wast? Or the west?" As she spoke, Regina made a soft hissing noise, almost like a snake, but louder and more malevolent.

Despite himself, Bae shivered.

"The warrior backed away slowly from the bloody prints, watching and waiting. Where was it? He tried to orient on the sound, but couldn't. The wind blew it away. Then the snowbank to his right erupted as the windigo sprang out at him, its long arms with its foot long claws reaching to disembowel him.

"The warrior leaped back, just barely avoiding the strike. He rolled on the ground, cocooning himself in snow, trying to hide.

"The windigo hissed and it began sniffing the air. Legend said it could find a person by scent alone . . .or by listening for the sound of a living heart beating.

"The warrior tried to remain still and breathe very slowly, almost as if he were half-dead.

"Ka-thump! Ka-thump! The windigo could hear his heart . . .though very slowly.

"It reached for him through the snow . . .and the warrior threw the spear at it.

"But the windigo laughed and shrugged off the blow like it were a toy that had struck it.

"Its eyes glowed yellow, and its long prehensile tongue stroked the ground as it stalked forward, licking up the scent of human flesh.

"The warrior knew he had one chance to kill the evil being. He lunged and stabbed it through the eye, burying his knife deep in the windigo's brain. The creature's talons tried to yank the warrior away, but the warrior continued to stab the creature, grinding the knife into its brain cavity.

"Finally the windigo collapsed, bleeding profusely from the head and eyes and only blood gushing onto the snow enabled the warrior to see it. Finally it shuddered and vanished, leaving only a bloody pool behind. The warrior heaved a sigh of relief.

"But unbeknownst to him, he had sustained a slight nip from one of the windigo's teeth. His hands being all bloody, he didn't notice the scratch and even after he had wiped his hands on the snow and tucked them back in his gloves, he did not see it."

Regina paused, and then continued after a sip of her tea.

"He returned home with a fat beaver he had killed and the family feasted, but oddly enough, the warrior was not very hungry and ate only a small portion of the meat. That night, as he slept . . he dreamed . . .of feasting upon the flesh of his wife as she slept beside him.

"And when he woke . . . he found himself drooling all over.

"He struggled against the curse, but as food became scarce, he started envisioning himself eating all his family. One day his little son came to him crying, since he had fallen down and cut his finger open on a rock.

"The blood smell was too much and the warrior transformed and became a windigo. Before the boy could run, he tore out the child's throat and ate him."

Bae cringed. "Ugh! Gross!"

Regina continued grimly. "That was only the beginning. He hunted down the rest of his family, and killed them, and ate them. Then, utterly mad, he went to attack the rest of his tribe, massacring half before the other warriors and shaman drove the beast away.

"But they say that you can hear the windigo hissing and howling on still nights when a new snow falls. And if you aren't careful, it will come and hunt you. So beware of bloody footprints in the snow, and hissing, and never go out alone or else the windigo will get you!"

As she said that, she playfully grabbed Bae's arm, making him jump and cry out.

"Gotcha!" she giggled diabolically.

"You sneaky brat!" he said, and then he retaliated by tickling her.

She gasped and then attempted to run away across the cavern, but Bae was quick and caught her and began to tickle her relentlessly.

Giggling helplessly, she fell into his embrace, and it was only when their faces were close enough that they could have kissed did Bae recall himself and step back, muttering, "Sorry. I didn't mean for that to get out of hand."

Regina felt herself flush, and nodded. "It's all right." But she had to make herself stop holding him, and even when they had parted, she still felt his hands upon her, and she quivered in forbidden longing. Then she scolded herself for being an idiot and went to sit down again.

"My turn. Time to tell a story about the half-man, whose very appearance can make you die of fright," Bae said, and proceeded to regale her with another grisly scary tale of a monster who appeared as half a person and killed people by staring at them, and then ate them.

After those tales, neither could sleep, and remained huddled around the fire in their sleeping furs until they fell asleep from sheer exhaustion.

Page~*~*~*~*~Break

Meanwhile, Rum and Belle were at home, praying fervently, until Rum muttered, "Do you want some tea, Belle? I think I could use some."

"Yes, I need something to drink. I feel like I'm cold from the inside out," she said, reluctantly letting go of his hand.

He stood up, leaning over to grab his staff, and then he saw it glowing. "Hells bells!" he gasped, an expression he'd picked up from Jeff, who was full of colorful phrases like that. "Belle! My staff—it's glowing!" His hand brushed it and then he saw pictures in his mind.

Pictures of a place he'd never been and people he was unfamiliar with.

A bunch of wigwams beside a river. An Indian girl picking flowers in a field, women planting corn, beans, and squash. Warriors returning from a successful hunt.

Then he heard a voice in his head. The same voice he recalled from half-dreaming on his ride back home.

Boy, you need to start paying attention! The magic doesn't work itself, you know! You have to guide it.

"W-What?" Mr. Gold sputtered, certain he was going insane.

No, you're not going crazy, but you're starting to make me get there with your stubborn refusal to hear me, the voice continued, sounding very like a crotchety old grandmother. Now, heed me!

Rumple almost dropped the staff.

"Rum, what's the—oh!" Belle cried as she saw the staff glowing.

"I'm not doing this!" he cried in alarm. "And some old woman is speaking to me in my head."

"Old woman?" Belle repeated.

Well, how else am I supposed to talk to you, boy? I don't exactly have a body anymore with a mouth to form words! This form has limitations!

"What's she saying?"

"That . . .she doesn't have a body any longer," Rumple muttered. "I think I'm talking to a . . .ghost!"

That's right, sonny! I am Willow Heart That Was! The ghost cackled.

"A ghost? You mean . . .that's Willow Heart's staff . . ." Belle said weakly, gaping.

"That's who she says she is," Rumple replied.

Belle's eyes grew misty. "She was my teacher in medicine and healing. I miss her still."

Tell her I miss her too but it was time for me to ascend to the Sky Realms. But even so, I couldn't rest with so much undone. And so I planted a piece of my spirit in my staff.

Rumple relayed what the ghost had said. Then he asked, "Why did you choose me to speak to?"

Isn't it obvious? The one who holds my staff is my heir, boy. Gitchee Manitou give me patience!

Rumple shook his head. "No! There must be some mistake."

Oh no, there's not. Trust me to know a potential shaman when I feel one. Now quit your griping, silly boy and listen! You want help to locate your missing children?

Rumple nodded rapidly, feeling bewildered and totally confused.

You need to cast a Fire Seeing spell. To do that you'll need the four sacred ingredients—cedar, sage, sweet grass, and kinnikinnick. Toss them into the fire and then gaze into it and ask the Creator to let you See your missing children. If your heart is true and your Power strong enough, you'll see what's to be seen. Understand?

"Kinnikinnick?"

"That's sacred tobacco," Belle informed him. "A mixture of tobacco and bear berry and red dogwood."

"Do you have any? And uh . . . white cedar, sage, and sweet grass?"

Belle nodded. "All of those are sacred plants used in ceremonies by shamans and medicine women. I have smudge sticks of them." She rose and went to her apothecary chest in her still room and picked up some of each plant.

She handed them to Rumple.

He stared down at them. "Why are you giving them to me?"

"Because if Willow told you about them, then you must be the one to use them."

"But . . . you're the one familiar with these . . .traditions," he protested.

"True. But Willow's staff chose you . . . and Willow speaks with you, Rum. That means you're the one to do this," Belle soothed. "Don't be afraid. This isn't anything evil. Just normal white magic."

"I'm not . . ." he protested. Except afraid to use magic because I might walk down the dark path again. But he knew he had to find the children and at least make sure they were all right. So he took the sacred herbs and went to the fire and cast them in, one by one. As each went in, they perfumed the air with their purifying scent.

Then he crouched on one knee, and stared into the flames, which seemed to glisten oddly and whispered, "Please . . . help me see my children. I need to know if they're safe. Please God, grant me this."

As he said the words, he wished with all of his heart.

Minutes passed and then something happened.

The fire began whirling and then he Saw, within the flames, a cave and sleeping next to a small fire was Regina and Bae, curled up in some furs.

"Rum! Can you see anything?" Belle asked, her hand on his shoulder.

"I . . . can. I See them, Belle! They're sleeping . . .in a cave I think . . .near a little fire . . . ." Rumple gazed raptly into the flames, his eyes fixed upon a Sight only he could see. "I'm not crazy. I can See them."

"I know you can," Belle said. "I've seen Willow use Shaman's Trance before."

A moment later he blinked and the vision was gone.

And he rubbed his eyes and winced, for now he had a raging headache.

"Rum, are you all right?" Belle asked, concerned.

"I . . .just have a headache."

"Let me get you something for it," Belle said, suspecting it was because he was new to using his Power.

She brought him a tea of feverfew and willowbark, apologizing for the taste, and then giving him a spoonful of honey to wash the taste away.

"A spoonful of sugar helps the medicine go down, eh?" he asked after swallowing it.

"Always," she replied. "Now that we know they're safe . . .what do you say we . . .er . . . retire, Mr. Gold?"

"I couldn't agree more, Mrs. Gold."

They went into their bedroom together, and while Belle used the screen to undress, Rumple quickly divested himself of his clothes and pulled on his nightshirt, socks, and placed a hot water bottle underneath the covers to warm the sheets.

When Belle emerged from behind the screen, Rumple gazed at her appreciatively before saying, "Come to bed. I've warmed the sheets."

Belle coughed, and found herself blushing, still somewhat shy around her husband, even though slowly, day by day, she was becoming more and more attracted to him, not just his body but also his spirit. She crawled beneath the sheets and snuggled against the bottle. "Mmm! That feels so good!"

"It does," her husband muttered before his eyes shut.

Belle found herself drifting off a moment later, and thanked God for keeping her children safe and for her husband's unexpected Gift.

Sometime during the night, she sidled up against Rumple and cuddled against him, and in her sleep she smiled.

Rumple woke at dawn, and saw Belle sleeping peacefully next to him, her arm about him. He smiled at the lovely picture she made and suspected that her tea had caused him to fall asleep so quickly. He also figured his headache was a cause of him using the Seeing charm last night. Thinking about how he had performed that simple bit of magic concerned him greatly.

He had thought himself free of the curse that had bound him. The dagger was gone, the weight of it lifted from his soul. Had he been wrong? Was he still the Dark One? He looked at his hand, almost expecting to see the gold scales and black nails again.

But his hand remained ordinary human flesh.

Yet he had used magic. How was that possible? His curse had turned him into an evil sorcerer. One capable of using dark spells.

But he wasn't cursed now. If he was, the dagger would be present. It was irrevocably bound to the current Dark One.

Yet it was gone, and he didn't know how but he knew he was no longer its servant.

Then, logically thinking, what he had done must have been an act of desperation. The ghost claimed she had chosen him. Or the staff had. But there must have been some mistake. He had never had magic before. Ever. How could he have it now?

I'm not an evil sorcerer! I'm not! I'm just plain Rumford Gold!

A part of his mind laughed at his panicked denial. Of course magic was not evil. He knew that magic simply was, a force to be used and channeled by certain people. He was not narrowminded and ignorant like the people of Storybrooke. Yet he also acknowledged that he wanted no part of this new magic.

Magic for him had only ever brought him grief and darkness. Even though it had saved his son.

I will not go down the dark road again. Not this time.

This time he would be content with what he had. He would be a good husband to Belle and a loving father to Bae and Regina. And a simple tailor with innovative ideas and the skill of his two hands.

I have the life I've always wanted. I don't need any more.

He turned and gazed at the staff lying against the wall.

He was almost afraid to pick it up. But he needed it to walk. He gently disengaged himself from Belle, waiting until she had settled before he sat up and grasped the staff cautiously.

Nothing happened.

The runes did not glow and no cantankerous old woman spoke in his head. He supposed the ghost shaman only spoke when she had something important to say.

He stood up, wincing as his bad leg protested and looked out the window at the seemingly endless snowy landscape. He prayed that wherever the children were, they could manage to come home today. Had he been well, he would have looked for them himself, but his crippled leg made it impossible to go more than a few feet through deep snow.

He scowled down at the appendage. That was one good thing about being cursed. No lame leg. No illnesses. No fear that he would not be able to protect his family. He gritted his teeth.

Then he shut his eyes.

He recalled how using the magic had made him feel last night. The feeling of wonder and joy. The amazement that he, Rumplestiltskin, could do this thing. Unlike the other times he'd used his magic, except when he had healed, he hadn't felt any anger or bitterness or hate. Instead he had felt peaceful.

He opened his eyes and gazed out at the winter wonderland.

Was this how real magic felt? Or was he deluding himself?

Then he shook his head and reminded himself he had more to worry about than magic. Like trying to make breakfast before Belle woke.

Clutching his staff, he went out the door and into the kitchen to stoke the stove.

As he did so, he considered doing something he hadn't tried yet. Seeing the young doctor Frankenstein. Perhaps he could suggest something for this leg that might work as well as his weekly soaks in the hot springs. He detested being so dependent on others.

He picked up the basket of eggs, noting how low they were getting and wished he could go out and gather more. But he couldn't walk with the snow so deep and couldn't shovel either. "Damnation!" he swore.

Then he resolutely began cracking eggs into a bowl to beat them. He would simply have to make do.

"Sufficient to the day are the problems thereof," he grumbled, and began to melt butter in the skillet.

Page~*~*~*~Break

Belle woke to the delicious aroma of fresh coffee, eggs, and bacon. When she opened her eyes, there was her husband holding a plate on a tray. "Good morning," she said, feeling like a duchess being served this way. "You spoil me, Rum. I'm not a rich lady, you know."

"No, you're my wife. And sometimes you deserve to be treated like a rich lady, especially considering how much it's snowed and I can't even shovel a path to the barn," he said, frowning. Then he set the tray down across her knees. "Breakfast is served, madam."

"You're sweet, Rum," she said and sniffed the heavenly aroma. "And this smells divine, darling." Then she went to sip her coffee, blushing as she realized she had just called him an endearment. Well, he was her husband, she reminded herself. She gazed up at him through her long lashes and said, "Why don't you join me? You made enough to feed two people."

He sat down on the bed. "I'm not very hungry," he admitted glumly. Failure always robbed him of his appetite.

"Rum," Belle said, laying a hand on his shoulder. "D'you think I married you so you could shovel snow and do all the heavy work around this place?"

"No. You married me to save your farm."

"Initially, yes," she agreed. "But now . . . that's not the reason why I'm content to stay married to you. You're not just the means to an end, Mr. Gold. Or a pair of hands to be at my beck and call. You're more than that to me now."

He gazed at her in astonishment. "Are you saying that you . . .care for me?"

Her heart nearly cracked for the pain in that simple sentence. "Hasn't anyone ever . . .?" she bit her lip. "Your first wife, surely she must have . . ."

"Milah? I thought she loved me once." He laughed bitterly. "But she didn't. I found out the day she ran off that she only agreed to marry me because her father threatened to disinherit her unless she married as soon as possible, and I was the only candidate in my village who wasn't as old as . . .as Methuselah, had all my teeth, wasn't falling down drunk, a rake, and actually had an honest trade. All the while I thought . . ." He shook his head. "As she was leaving she told me she never loved me, and it wasn't enough of a life for her to stay for her child and . . .endure me."

Actually, Milah's exact words had been endure the village coward, but he didn't want Belle to know that.

"I'm so sorry, Rum. Sorry she treated you like that . . .and I hope she's sorry too with whatever cad she took up with! I'm sure whoever he was isn't half as decent as you."

"You're not just saying that to make me feel better, are you, dearie?"

"No. I'm saying it because I believe it. Your first wife was a total idiot. And I think you and Bae are better off without her." Belle said firmly. "Do you think you're the first to offer marriage to me, Mr. Gold? You're not. I had dozens of proposals within two months of my return to civilization in Storybrooke. And I refused to ever consider one of them."

"Why?"

"Because none of them were concerned with me or Regina. They all wanted something from me that I was not. They wanted a white woman who was content to let a man do her thinking for her. And I was never and would never be that way. They also wanted Regina to become a white girl and forget her Mesquakie heritage. And that she could never do. So I refused them all. And then, after I was cast out, I saw how right I was to do so. For not one of those suitors stood up for me or Regina. You were the first man to do so ever. And you didn't even know me."

"I knew enough. You saved mine and Bae's life. You welcomed me into your home. You didn't have to do that."

"And you didn't have to marry me. But you did. And look what has become of it. You've made me happy, Rum. Like I haven't been since Storm died. You've made me recall what it is to laugh and to smile, and to not regard all men as hungry panthers trying to steal my land and my virtue. Why, you haven't even claimed your . . .husbandly rights since . . .we're married."

"I . . .I didn't want to pressure you."

"I know. But a man has needs . . ." she was now red as a rose.

"A man learns control," he replied softly. "I would never take a woman against her will. Ever. I'm not a beast." Even if once I was cursed to be one.

"I know. But don't you see, Rum? By being what you are—a good man, kind and generous, a gentleman—that's the reason why I'm glad I married you."

"I'm a crippled tailor, dearie. And not much to look at."

"So? I didn't marry you for your looks or if you could shovel snow like an ox. If I wanted that all I had to do was marry that oaf Gaston the trapper who used to be Lumiere's partner," she snorted. "I want more than that. I want a man who's intelligent and I can have a conversation with about more than what animal he killed or how much money he made or whatever men consider acceptable conversation among women. I want someone who can use their brain and appreciates mine. You do both. And you sew better than anyone I know, without a machine, and you're innovative and clever. So what if you limp? I don't care. I can shovel snow as good as a man. I'd rather do that than waste my time embroidering pillowcases. And let you cook, since you're better than I am."

"Then you don't mind that I'm . . .that I can't . . .sometimes I feel like half a man."

She pulled his head around to look at her, as he had been staring at his stocking feet. "You are entirely a man, Rumford Gold. Because I wouldn't do this with half a man."

Then she kissed him, deeply and passionately.

He was startled at first. Then he put his arms around her and kissed her back, nearly upsetting the breakfast tray.

"I'm sor—"

"Don't you dare apologize!" she put a finger to his lips. "A wife likes to get a good morning kiss from her husband. Especially when her husband kisses like that!" she said saucily. Then she thought about kissing him again. She found she truly wanted to. Over and over, just to feel the same sensations rising in her, sensations she was only just beginning to discover with Storm before he had been taken from her.

You're such a wanton, Belle! She thought. Who cares? He's your husband.

Then she thought about going further than kissing. But then she spotted the plate of barely eaten breakfast and thought it was a shame to let all his hard work go to waste. And the children were still missing. Somehow she felt wrong to be enjoying herself when her children could be freezing somewhere out there trying to come home.

Later. Once the children were back, then she could think about ways to seduce her shy husband.

She bit back a giggle at the thought. She hadn't even needed to bat an eyelash at Storm. She knew next to nothing about seducing any man, having never been courted at all, being her father's youngest daughter, and shy and bookish. A gawky awkward girl who always had her nose in a book and was more interested in debating the merits of Milton and Chaucer over making a gown for a ball. The occupation of spinster librarian had suited her perfectly.

Until her coach was waylaid and an Indian war chief had chosen her as his war prize. And her life had changed into something she had never expected.

Someday, she thought, she would have to share that story with Rum.

The wheel turns and turns anew, in the neverending circle, the eternal dance, she thought, recalling something Willow had taught her.

Willow, her former teacher, now a ghost . . .and one that only her husband seemed able to hear. What did that mean for him?

She pushed that thought aside for now. Time to ponder on that later. Right now she decided breakfast was more important.

"Here, Rum. Open up," she waved the fork with his concoction of fluffy eggs, light cream, chives, and cheese in front of his mouth. "Breakfast is served, Mr. Gold."

He opened his mouth and she popped the fork in.

To his shock, he was now hungry. For food and for other things besides food.

His eyes darkening to a warm chocolate, he murmured, "What's this, Mrs. Gold? Something you learned among the Mesquakie?"

"Yes. It's called the care and feeding of husbands," she replied with a mysterious sassy grin. Then she fed him another bite, and then he fed her, and so breakfast was eaten and soon the plate was empty.

But both were now pleasantly full, and more than his stomach had been filled that morning, Rum thought. Slowly, the hole punched in his self-confidence and his heart was beginning to be filled.

Now if only his missing children returned, everything would be fine.

Page~*~*~*~Break

Rumple washed the dishes, started the fire, put on some soup for lunch, and did some brief mending on Bae's second pair of trousers and one of Regina's dresses while Belle shoveled paths to and from the house to the barn and gathered the eggs and tended to the animals that day. As he sewed he tried to figure out where the two children were by recalling the cave they had been in. He hadn't seen any caves when he had walked over the land last week. Maybe it wasn't on their land at all? He wished he had been able to sustain the Vision longer, enough so he could have seen where the cave was.

He shook his head. He should be grateful he had Seen that much. He took in another stitch, musing that he was lucky he had a wife who didn't think he was a weak coward for doing women's work like Milah had. Belle was more practical than most, and had told him before she had tugged on her boots that work was work and what mattered was that it got done, not which one of them did it.

And, if he were honest, he was a much better tailor than Belle was a seamstress, a fact which she had cheerfully admitted. "I sew flesh better than cloth."

Rumple would far rather sew cloth than people.

He had just set aside Bae's trousers when he heard the back door open and Belle shout excitedly, "Rum! They're home!"

He grabbed his staff and levered himself to his feet, relief sweeping through him like a hot desert khamsin. He limped to the back door just in time to see Regina and Bae cross the field wearing snowshoes and carrying what looked like rabbits and partridges.

"Mama! Papa!" Regina cried, and she dumped the game she had on the porch and ran to hug Belle and Rumple.

"Gina! Bae!" Rumple was almost knocked over by his offspring's greeting. "Are you all right?"

"Yes, get inside before you freeze like a block of ice!" Belle said, tears of joy in her eyes. "You both look half frozen."

"Well, it is really cold out there," Bae said, and he hugged Belle hard before going and hugging Rumple again. "Papa . . ." he whispered in Rumple's ear. "I'm sorry . . ."

"For what? For getting caught in this blizzard?"

"No . . .for-for everything before . . ." Bae hissed, not able to talk freely. But he was sure his papa would understand. He always had before.

Rum patted his son on the back. "You're worth every bit of trouble, Bae. You ought to know that. You've no need to be sorry for anything."

He felt the boy relax against him. "You're sure? I was such a snot to you sometimes . . ."

"So's every boy to his papa at one point or another," Rum reminded him. "Now, let's get you out of these wet things and get you a bath and some hot tea."

"Mama, you'll never guess what we found!" began Regina, her dark eyes shining.

"You can tell me after you've gotten warmed up. Otherwise you'll catch your death," Belle said, and then she shut the door.

Once the two had had hot baths, Regina heated the water magically so it didn't take forever, and had changed into warm clothing, they all met in the front room and took their various seats in their usual places.

Then Regina said, "You'll never guess what we found! We found a cave behind the waterfall, and inside was a cavern with a great vein of gold in it."

Belle gasped. "Gold? Are you sure?"

"Well, we hope so," Bae said.

"I think we need to visit the assayer, Mama," Regina said, and showed them the gold nugget.

"If this is real . . ." Belle murmured, awestruck.

"Then we've found the reason why Spencer and Tolle wanted this land so badly," Rumple said.

"Papa, does this mean we're rich?" asked Bae.

"Possibly. If it's real," Gold replied. "If it is . . ." he didn't want to say it but he knew the gold could prove more trouble than it was worth. Especially if it drew greedy souls like the banker and the mayor.

"We'll have to wait till we go into town and see," Belle decided. "If it is, we'll file a claim right away."

"Then we'll consider what to do next," Rumple said, hoping to keep this a secret as long as possible.

"Right now, we'd like to hear about how you got caught in the storm . . .and how you managed to come home," Belle said.

Then the two parents listened intently to their childrens' story, and in the corner, so did a certain ghostly shaman, who also feared what the newly discovered gold would bring to the little family, who would perhaps need the spinner's fledgling powers more than ever, if he could bring himself to accept the gift within himself and to trust his heart.