Chapter Ten
"How about this one? I spy with my little eye…something green," Charming enthusiastically rambled.
As they trekked through endless forest, swiping leaves out of their faces for what felt like hours, Charming had tried to engage them in a silly guessing game. Problem was, in the vast unchanging forest, there was little to see.
"Tree," Sleepy guessed in the middle of a yawn. Grumpy wondered if the yawn was purely habitual or if Sleepy was actually bored of listening to Charming. He'd vote on the latter. In any case, Sleepy had guessed right.
"Okay. I spy with my little eye…something short…"
"Us," Grumpy groaned. Why couldn't the Blue Fairy have done them a favor and zapped a muzzle on Charming? Surely there'd be no price for that. He made a mental note to ask that next time the blue jellyfish was floating by.
The group broke through the trees and came face to face with a solid gray slab of rock. Mountains stretched high into the sky, the peaks illuminated by the blinding sun. The dwarfs stared at it in distress.
"Well, looks like there is only one way up from here," Doc observed, fixing his half-moon spectacles on his nose. A few of them glanced back at the forest, as if debating whether to turn around.
"We're in the wrong part of the forest," Grumpy declared, scanning the countless trees behind them. This wasn't even the right mountain—it was just a mountain.
He rubbed his jaw, thinking hard about what to do. Climbing this mountain could be an easy waste of energy. And what if their destination was really on the other side of this forest? It was futile.
"I'm…hungry," Bashful announced timidly, digging his foot into the brown earth. A couple of the dwarfs nodded in agreement—their stomachs were rumbling like thunder. Man, I could really go for some of Snow's cooking right about now, Grumpy thought. I bet that imp's enjoying his dinner.
"We're all hungry," Doc pointed out flatly. "If we could just figure out which direction to head…" He trailed off, clearly as clueless as the rest of them. At this rate, they'd be walking in circles until they dropped of exhaustion or starvation.
It was then that Charming tore his eyes from the depressingly tall mountainside.
"Why don't we climb a little ways? If we climb high enough, perhaps we could get a better view of the forest," he suggested. Grumpy narrowed his eyes as he prepared to chew Charming out for offering a silly thought from his mind.
"That idea is…is…not bad," Grumpy admitted, scratching his head. It was better than anything else they could come up with. Maybe—and Grumpy couldn't believe he was thinking it—Charming was right. If they managed to reach higher ground, they could get some idea as to which direction to follow.
Climbing a mountain couldn't be that much of a challenge, could it? The dwarfs mined for a living, using plenty of body strength each day. Climbing would be a piece of cake.
Still, the darkening skies above posed a new problem.
"Alright," Grumpy sighed, pacing before his fellow dwarfs. Six pairs of eyes anticipated his words. He didn't know exactly when he became accepted as a leader for them, but he supposed it came from the fact that out of the seven dwarfs, he seemed to care for Snow the most.
"Here's the plan. It's getting dark and we're all hungry. Tonight we build a fire and gather food. Tomorrow we climb the mountain. Understand?" The dwarfs smiled and nodded at Grumpy's bravado—all except Sleepy who was…well…falling asleep.
Grumpy's eyes swiveled to Charming, just in case the prince had any objections.
"Agreed," Charming said, dipping his head respectfully. Grumpy turned away from the mountain and grumbled. He just hoped no wolves or beasts were hunting tonight. I wonder how Charming feels about being demoted to night watchman.
Snow hated the blind maid. To be fair, it started out as simple dislike.
She disliked the fact that the maid—or, Cecilia as her nasally voice often reminded her—had been caught more than once in Snow's bedchambers, rubbing her grubby hands all over a dress that Rumpelstiltskin doubtlessly and magically fashioned for her. She disliked how the maid's room was located just down the hall from her own—though, she supposed it was fortunate the maid could hear. If anything, it allowed for some petty revenge.
Not only that, she disliked the crawling sensation of the maid's milky eyes on her back when she roamed about the castle. Struck with blindness, she was probably desperate to see. Snow noticed that Cecilia's nose would scrunch up and twitch. It was then Snow realized the crazy witch preferred to sniff her out.
The touching, the sniffing, the over-eager eccentricities…it was creepy.
At first it was simple dislike. Her resentment transpired to hate during the first dinner after the maid's arrival.
"I was almost afraid we'd be having this dinner underwater," Rumpelstiltskin not-too-subtly referred to her recent swimming lesson. He was probably shocked that she didn't invite any mermaids around, not that she'd ever seen one. Evasive conceited creatures, mermaids.
Snow had taken her seat opposite him and pursed her lips to show she wasn't the least bit amused.
"It took you all of two minutes to return the hall to the way it was. Hardly a disaster," she reminded him testily. As Rumpelstiltskin tented his fingers under his chin to observe her, she waved her hand and her napkin laid itself on her lap. There we are. Not exactly a waterfall, but at least it's something, she thought with a smile.
Snow had been practicing her magic every couple of hours in an attempt to control the power that had surged inside her. By now, she could easily do small tasks—setting out a napkin, extinguishing a flame, blowing the hair back from her face. Secretly, she envied the extent of Rumpelstiltskin's power, but wore a smile as she gazed at him from across the table.
"Lucky for us it will never happen again. Right, Cecilia?"
On cue, the sickly attractive maid bustled into the hall to set their food on the table. Curls of steam rose into the air and Snow could smell it—the food was tantalizing. How does she even know how to cook blind? She should do us all a favor and burn her bosom off.
The maid had caught the chicken, believe it or not. It had only taken her an hour.
Snow had wandered in, bored once her husband returned to spinning, and pretended to help by directing the blind maid in the direction of the squawking chicken. Sort of.
She'd had to stifle her giggles with the maid running mad in the opposite direction more often than not. Oh, no, it went that way. No, wait, it just ducked that way! Oh, look—it hopped into the fire! Chase it, chase it!
All in good fun.
"Your dinner," the maid announced, setting Snow's plate in front of her. Snow had to bite her tongue against the quake of laughter from her daydream as she met the questioning eyes of Rumpelstiltskin. She supposed if she explained it to him, the two could bask in amusement.
Snow glanced down at the plate—a wealthy amount of chicken, a helping of potatoes, and a bowl of stew. She doubted it would be as satisfying as Rumpelstiltskin's recipe. Cecilia's stew from breakfast in bed had come back to haunt her after an hour. I wonder if Jiminy would like some stew.
"Gravy or butter?" The maid chirped, weaving her hands together almost eagerly. Snow glanced up at those milky blue eyes and grimaced.
"Butter," she answered with a little more sharpness than she intended. Oh, well. The maid's hands dropped listlessly to her sides and a frown pinched her pink lips. That look was almost…disapproving.
"I'd have preferred gravy," she muttered coolly, making Snow want to grab up the bowl of gravy and pour it all over the atrocious witch. How dare that pathetic maid argue with her! I've been meaning to use a test subject for my magic. Maybe I'll turn her into a toad.
"As do I," Rumpelstiltskin declared loudly, eyeing his food as if it were a feast fit for King Midas. Snow's head whipped around to shoot him an astounded look. He was seriously taking the maid's side?
But her defiant expression deflated when she realized Rumpelstiltskin never even caught it. Suddenly, his attention was not lingering on her; every ounce of it was focused on Cecilia as she flounced her way up the hall, on her way back to the kitchen. And he was smiling.
As the maid passed Rumpelstiltskin, her hip brushed the table and sent a napkin fluttering to the floor. Snow sat frozen in her seat as the maid spun with her mouth formed in a tight 'O' and her hands pressed to her chest.
"Oh! My mistake," she breathed throatily, bending forward to retrieve it. Snow stiffened as Cecilia leisurely bent at the waist before Rumpelstiltskin, her bosom practically exposed. She might as well have been a tavern girl, the way she acted.
And Rumpelstiltskin was actually looking. His eyes devoured the maid like an object for sale that he was considering purchasing. It was…it was appalling! What is going on here?
"Thank you, dearie," Rumpelstiltskin all too readily obliged as Cecilia placed the napkin on the table again. Cecilia floated past him and Snow noticed the dealmaker's eyes watching the maid's retreating back until she finally disappeared from view.
Snow's hands curled around her own napkin until she heard the tell-tale tear of cloth.
"Oh, yes. I much prefer our blind maid over that mute," Rumpelstiltskin said, finally shifting in his seat to gaze over at her. Snow thrust the tattered napkin over her untouched food, her teeth clenching behind her lips.
"May I be excused?" Snow didn't wait for his answer. Shoving back her chair, she got to her feet and headed for the stairs, cursing that despicable witch the entire way to her bedchambers.
That miserable wench. Why couldn't Rumpelstiltskin have let her burn?
As she slammed her bedroom door—so much more satisfying without magic—there was no doubt in her mind. She needed to get rid of the maid.