10
Self Defense
The end of the Yule season brought an unexpected gift for Lauren from Kris . . . a gorgeous red velvet cape with snowy ermine fur around the collar and hem, that covered her from head to foot, and when put on enabled her to glide about the yard as if she wore snowshoes and kept her warm in the frozen temperatures. Kris left a note with it.
My dearest Lauren,
I hope you don't consider me forward, but I felt I needed to give you something to celebrate the season, and this cloak-one of my magical experiments—seemed fitting. It is enchanted so it will keep you warm in the depths of the worst blizzard, enable you to walk atop snow and ice, and even use the arctic gale to fly if necessary for two hours.
It is thanks to your nephew and his little friend that I am able to continue my duties as Yule Lord and have met you.
May the hope and joy of the season be upon you and yours, Miss Spinner, and may I call upon you again at a more auspicious time?
Sincerely,
Kris Kringle
Claudette giggled like a schoolgirl and danced around the room, chanting, "Lauren has a beau! Lauren has a beau! And what a beau he is! A Fae Lord!"
"Oh, will you stop?" her elder sister threw a dishcloth at the capering Seer. "He's not my beau! He's just being kind."
Aimee raised an eyebrow. "Really, dearie? Kind would have been leaving you a box of chocolates or a fruitcake . . . not an expensive magical cloak. That is a courting gift, Lauren Valcourt."
Lauren blushed nearly as red as the velvet cloak.
"If you're courting, Aunt Lauren, does that mean you're gonna kiss him?" Rumple asked curiously from where he was spinning on the hearth. "Like on the lips?"
"Rumplestiltskin!" Lauren gasped. "What kind of question is that, boy?"
"One I wanna know the answer to," her nephew replied honestly.
"Curiosity killed the cat!" his aunt retorted, still blushing.
"Satisfaction brought it back!" Rumple singsonged.
"Imp!" Lauren scolded.
"He's a child," Aimee said. Then she replied, "Rumple, if your aunt does decide to accept Mr. Kringle's suit, then yes they may kiss-discreetly upon parting. But it's not good manners to do so more than that unless you're betrothed, like with a promise of marriage."
"You gonna marry him?" was the boy's next frank question.
"Don't be ridiculous!" Lauren snorted. "Me, the bride of a Fae Lord? Only in your dreams!" But she had to admit the prospect made her giddy. Though of course it could never come true. The lords married their own kind . . . not humble merchants' daughters with hearth witch skills.
"You never know," Claudette grinned slyly. "Love makes the world go round."
Lauren rolled her eyes. "Love makes your head go around, sister."
Aimee gave her sister an understanding smile. "Not all men are like Pierre, Lauren. And Mr. Kringle . . .would have no need to play games with you. He doesn't seem to be that sort, not like his forest kin."
"Humph! We'll see," Lauren said briskly. "I'll write him back with a date . . . and we'll see if he'll show." But for all her abrupt expression, her hand caressed the lovely cloak repeatedly. It smelled oddly of pine needles and wintergreen berries. "Not all men are like your Master Starfall, Aimee."
"He's hardly that," Aimee protested. "He's . . .simply good natured and kind to Rumple."
Rumple nodded. "Master Starfall is the best!" he patted his new boot on his crippled foot.
"And he came over for dinner at your request," Lauren teased. "So now who has a beau?"
Aimee looked slightly shy. "If . . .if he wishes it . . . that's fine with me. Although what he sees in plain old me is quite a conundrum." She ran a hand through her curly hair.
"You're beautiful, Mama," Rumple said stoutly. "An' you cook better n' anybody an' are smarter than any lady in Hearthstone."
"Rumple, you're a love, dearie!" Aimee said and hugged her son.
"And he's right. Three things that are guaranteed to win a man's heart," Claudette said. "Provided the man isn't afraid of a woman with brains."
"Most of them are, dearie," sighed Lauren. "That's always the problem."
"I don't think Bey is," murmured Aimee. "He's said many times he likes to debate with me, though there's precious little to debate here."
"Bey says a smart woman who knows her own mind is rarer than gold," Rumple piped up again.
"So's a smart man," Claudette laughed, then she tousled her nephew's head. "You grow up to be a smart man, Rumple, and do us proud."
"I will," the child vowed. "An' a spinner an' a sorcerer too."
"You can be whatever you wish," Aimee told him.
The boy looked at his foot. "'Cept a soldier. But I don't wanna be one anyhow. Soldiers die a lot. But sorcerers can live a long time. Almost forever."
"If you're meant to, then you will be," his mother said serenely.
She went to see how he was coming with his spinning and said, "How wonderful, Rumple! Your thread is nearly even this time."
She was amazed at his proficiency after a mere four days at the wheel. He was truly a marvel.
"Is it really good?" he asked uncertainly.
"For you just beginning, lad?" Claudette came and examined it. "It's better than good. You're a Valcourt, Rumple. You have the spinner's knack."
Lauren also examined it. "Your aunt is right. You have the talent, dearie. Keep practicing and you'll be just as good as any of us soon, maybe better."
The child looked as if he had been given a tremendous gift, which indeed he had, the love of his family and support. He returned to his wheel and spun happily until supper, where he quickly washed his hands and sat down to eat Aimee's luscious shepherd's pie and homemade bread with butter.
Page~*~*~*~Break
The next day Rumple visited Belle at her house, excited to show her his new footwear and tell her about the special cape that Mr. Kringle had brought his Aunt Lauren. Belle was helping Elena bake some Yule shortbreads. She looked up when Rumple came into the cottage, not bothering to knock as he had a standing invitation to come over whenever he wished, smudges of flour all over her snub nose and chin.
"Hi, Rumple! Mama and I are makin' shortbreads! Wanna help?" his friend greeted.
The boy smiled. "I can. But Belle, lookit my new shoes," he displayed the boots Silk had made proudly. "Now I can walk without my cane. I walked all the way here without it."
Belle slid down from the little stool and came to examine the boots. "Oh! That's so . . .incredible! Where did you get them?"
"From Master Bey."
"Master Bey left me something incredible too!" Belle said, and she showed Rumple her Once Upon a Time book where the stories came alive and acted themselves out in front of them.
"Whoa!" Rumple exclaimed, his eyes huge in his little face. "A magic book!"
"Isn't it neat?" Belle said, her eyes shining happily. "We can read it later, after we help Mama." She shut the book and set it on the little table where her new tea set rested.
The two friends went and helped Elena put shortbread dough into the special Yule shortbread pans, which had imprints of holiday mistletoe on the bottom and also thistles, which would imprint themselves upon the shortbread.
"How long will they take to bake?" Rumple asked.
"Oh they ought to be done in about half an hour or so," Elena smiled. "I'll call you when they're ready and you and Belle can have them with tea."
"Now let's read the magic storybook!" Belle said eagerly, and dragged Rumple over to the tea table. "You pick the story we're gonna read . . err . . . see."
Rumple took the book and read the list of stories. "How about this one? Beauty and the Beast."
They opened the page to the appropriate story and watched in breathless awe as the characters of Alina, her sisters Mary and Lisa, their papa and the Beast appeared and the book began talking, narrating the tale and then the characters began to play their parts.
Rumple and Belle happily sat entranced as the story played itself out, delighted by this enchanted retelling of a maiden, a beast who had once been a man, and the family that had brought them together and then threatened to keep them apart. It was a story of hope, of seeing beyond appearances, and learning how the heart always saw true.
Maurice came in from his workshop and sniffed the air. "Is that shortbread I smell?"
He was almost salivating at the glorious smell.
"Yes, my love. Soon they will be done and we can have tea." Elena assured him. "Now go wash up."
"All right. Don't want to get wood shavings and grease on the table," the inventor said and went to wash up by the wash basin.
When he came out, he saw Rumple and said, "Are you having a merry Yule, Rumple?"
"Hi, Mr. Maurice!" Rumple greeted him. "It's been the best Yule ever, cause I have these!" He showed Maurice his boots.
"That's splendid, Rumple!" the inventor said. He was happy for the boy, knowing how the child was mocked for his lameness. "And I see you've discovered Belle's enchanted storybook. Is it not a marvel?"
"Uh huh. I've never see anything like it."
"Master Bey said it comes from Avaria and the Librarian's Guild make them," Belle said, and showed him the card explaining about the book that Bey had written.
"Master Bey knows a bunch of things," Rumple said with hero-worship in his voice. He admired the glyphmaster with all of the love a son did a father, and he wished that Bey and Aimee could get together.
"One of these days I'm gonna have to ask him a few things about air pressure and lift," Maurice mused.
"Papa, are you gonna build your flying machine?" Belle asked eagerly.
"A flying machine?" Rumple repeated.
"Papa is gonna make one that a person can fly in," Belle explained.
"You mean, I'm trying to make one, ma petit," corrected her papa. "Haven't succeeded yet. But perhaps Master Starfall could assist me."
"I think so," Rumple nodded.
Soon the shortbreads were cool enough to eat and Elena had made tea for all and they happily took tea with cookies, Belle and Rumple at the small table and the two adults at the kitchen table.
After the delicious snack, Belle and Rumple ran outside to play in the snow.
They built a snowcastle, the frozen twin to a sandcastle, and then had fun throwing snowballs at each other and ducking behind the trees and Elena's rosebushes to hide from each other.
Red cheeked and breathless, Belle paused and said, "What shall we built next, Rumple?"
Rumple thought. "How about a snow kitty?"
"Yes!" Belle cheered and then began to roll a snowball for the body while Rumple made the head.
They were trying to put the tail on, made from a scrap of ribbon from Elena's sewing basket, when Felix and George happened by and saw them.
"Well, if isn't the teacher's pets—Rumple Retard and Beastly Belle!" George brayed.
"Whatcha doing, losers?" taunted Felix.
Rumple ignored him, fixing the cat's ears.
Belle flashed them a look of supreme annoyance. "What's it look like, Felix the Farthead?"
"Looks like you're gonna need to start over!" George cried, then he went and kicked the snow cat, breaking it into pieces.
Felix laughed cruelly, then shoved Belle, making her stumble backwards and land on her backside in the snow. "Whoops! Can't you even stand up right, clumsy? Or are you like the cripple over here?"
Rumple turned around then, furious. "Leave her alone, you filthy fungus infested pile of dog crap."
The bigger boy smirked evilly. "Whyn't you make me, chicken liver? Bock! Bock!" he flapped his arms like a chicken. "Crippled chicken Stiltskin, can't scare me! Too yellow and scared, a bastard he be! Run away, Rumple, 'fore I beat you for lookin' at me!"
But Rumple, bolstered by his new footwear and also the lessons he'd been learning from Master Bey, did not cringe and back away as he had before. Instead he stood up tall and said, "Careful, dearie. Or else you might be getting a beating."
George burst out laughing. "That'll be the day, hobblefoot gimp!"
Belle stood up, brushed off the snow, and said in an eerie voice, "Someday the one you tease and mock shall be your better . . .so be careful what you say, or else your words shall come back and make you eat them."
"Shut up, Batty Belle!" yelled Felix, his hair standing on end. The small girl really creeped him out when she got like that. Then he figured if he could shut her up, whatever she'd Seen wouldn't come to pass. So he reached down and picked up an ice ball on the frozen ground and threw it at her head.
Belle was trying to fix the snow kitty and never saw it coming.
Felix was an excellent thrower, and the missile hit the girl dead center in the head.
"Uhhh!" she cried before toppling over to lie still on the frozen ground.
The two boys cracked up laughing.
"Belle!" Rumple cried, horrified. He knelt and tried to see if she were all right, but she was still . . .and a trickle of blood marred the snow.
"Maybe that knocked the bats from her belfry, Felix!" George hooted.
"Least she won't babble anymore Seer trash," the other said smugly.
Rumple stood up, a fierce rage burning within him. He longed to use his nascent magic and bury the two snickering wretches under an avalanche, but he didn't know how, and he also recalled Master Bey's injunction to never ever use magic unless he was there to supervise, because all magic came with a price.
"You hurt Belle!" he cried furiously. "She's bleeding!"
"Boo hoo!" George sneered and mimed wiping tears from his eyes. "Whyn't you cry about it, you big baby?"
"Yeah that's 'bout all you can do, isn't it, Rumple Reject?" Felix laughed. "Cause you're a wimpy bastard that not even your own father loved! Coward crybaby!"
"And you're a fat bragging bully!" Rumple cried, incensed. "Who picks on girls!"
"She deserved it!" George cried. "Just like you deserve this!" And he went to push Rumple into the snow.
But Rumple had been watching the other boy closely and he pivoted on his good leg like Bey had shown him, avoiding the other's rush.
George's hands met only empty air and he stumbled. "Hey!"
Rumple saw an opportunity and he lifted his bad foot and stuck it between George's legs, tripping him.
As the boy fell into the snow, Rumple turned and got Felix's snowball in the eye.
"Eat that, chicken liver!"
"No, you eat this!" Rumple shouted, and he flicked his hand up, palm out and smacked the other's nose hard.
Blood spurted and Felix howled.
"Oww! My nose!"
"How'd you like it?" Rumple demanded, his eyes glowing with wrath.
Felix lunged at him, intending to tackle him into the snowbank, but Rumple doubled his fist and slammed him one right in the teeth.
The other boy stumbled backwards, waling loudly as his lip split and a tooth was knocked out on the ground.
George stared in shock at the smaller boy, trying to figure out if this really were the cripple they'd picked on.
Then he looked at his friend, who was screaming like he'd lost a limb and something akin to fear crept into his bullying heart.
Upon hearing the ruckus, Maurice came out of the house. "What by all that's holy is going on out here?"
George immediately pointed at Rumple. "He started it! Look what he did to Felix!"
Maurice stared at the bigger boy dripping blood all over and then at Rumple. "Rumple, why would you—?" he began, then he saw his daughter lying there in the snow. "Belle! Good gods!" He rushed to the stricken girl and picked her up in his arms, noting the bruise and cut on her forehead. "Who did this?" he demanded roughly.
"Felix did. That's why I knocked his teeth in," Rumple said.
Maurice glowered at the still sobbing boy. "You hurt my little girl, you little scoundrel?"
"I-I didn't mean to!" wailed Felix.
"Did so! You threw an iceball at her and then you laughed when she fell down!" Rumple accused.
"I think I'm dying!" blubbered Felix, and burst into noisy tears.
"Put snow on it," Maurice said bluntly. "That'll stop the bleeding. And you're lucky that's all you got, because if Belle weren't hurt, I'd take a switch to your backside, boy!" Then he stormed inside, carrying the comatose Belle.
George backed away from Rumple and helped Felix hold a cold snow pack to his face. "Just you wait, Rumplestiltskin! We're telling what you did!"
"Then you'll be a tattle tale baby!" Rumple snapped, then he too went inside, leaving the other two boys to slowly limp back home.
Maurice had placed Belle on the small sofa and Elena was gently sponging the blood from her face with a damp cloth.
"Is Belle gonna be all right?" Rumple asked worriedly.
"I hope so," Elena fretted. "Maurice bring me some snow in a towel."
As Maurice went to do as he'd been told, Rumple said, "Maybe I should get my Mama or aunts?"
"Please would you, Rumple?" Elena said gratefully. She was good with small everyday hurts, but something like this she needed someone more experienced with healing.
"I'll be back," Rumple said, and he half-ran out of the cottage, and down the street to his own house, concern for his best friend outweighing the scolding he was sure to get once this crisis was over.
Felix and George were already gone, probably home to tell their parents lies about how they had been "unjustly" attacked by Rumple . . .or maybe not because why would they want to risk having it known they'd been bested by the town coward's crippled son? It would totally ruin their reputation as the biggest bullies in Hearthstone.
When he arrived, panting, back at his house, he found Aimee and Bey sitting and having some lunch. "Mama! Mama, you gotta come over Belle's house!" he cried, almost gasping for breath.
"Why? Rumple, what's happened?"
"That bully Felix came over when we were making a snow kitty in the yard and he smashed it and called us names and pushed Belle and when she got up she had a Vision and then he threw an iceball and hit her in the head and knocked her out! She was bleeding all over the snow!"
"Good flaming gods!" Bey swore, then coughed and stood up.
Aimee went pale as the snow, then her mouth firmed. She summoned her bag of simples, which no good herb witch went without, and said, "Come on then, lad. Let's see what we can do. Hopefully it's not too bad. But head injuries are tricky."
Bey held out a hand. "Wait. I can get you there quicker. With magic."
Aimee looked at him. "How?"
"Hold on to me," the glyphmaster replied.
As Aimee took his wrist, he lifted Rumple in the other arm. Then he traced a glowing purple glyph in the air and muttered, "Silver path, Avignon cottage."
The glyph flared brilliant lavender and then the three were whisked upon the wings of magic to Maurice's front door.
"Neat!" Rumple grinned at his mentor as Bey set him down.
Aimee was already making her way into the cottage, and Bey looked at his small apprentice and said, "So what happened to George and Felix after they knocked Belle out?"
He had a feeling there was more to the story than Rumple had told him, and he was right.
"Umm . . .I gave Felix a bloody nose and a fat lip and I knocked out his tooth using the Dragon's Bite you taught me," the boy admitted. "I got mad because they didn't care they hurt Belle, Master Bey. They were laughing and saying she deserved it 'cause she had a Vision and they didn't like it."
The master assassin sighed. Then he knelt and said, "Rumple, you did a good thing trying to protect your friend. But what have I said about fighting when you're angry?"
"Never strike in anger. Anger clouds your judgment and makes you vulnerable," the boy recited.
"Yes. And though I've taught you how to defend yourself, what else did I tell you never to do?"
"Umm . . .never use the attack forms unless I'm in danger of my life," the child repeated.
"Right. And while Felix is a nasty little snipe, I doubt if he was going to threaten your life," Bey remonstrated. "And you could have used another form to knock him on his backside and not risk killing him. Because those attack forms are designed to do what?"
"Kill people," Rumple said, ashamed.
"Exactly. And I don't want you to become a murderer at six years old," Bey scolded. "So what should you have done when those boys showed up?"
"Umm . . .walked away or got Mr. Avignon."
"Right. Why?"
"Because the best fight is one you can walk away from."
Bey nodded in approval. "Remember that next time, Rumple. Discipline and control before all else."
"I will. I'm sorry, Master Bey." The boy hung his head, near tears for he hated disappointing the man he admired.
"I forgive you. Just try not to do that again." Bey's hand mussed the boy's floofy hair. "And at least you didn't use magic. So that's a good thing. Come on, let's see how your mama and Belle are doing." He knew some might have thought it strange that a master assassin was giving his apprentice lectures on harming people, but the fact was the Dagger caste were not mere bullying thugs, they were trained secret weapons and they had their own codes they followed. And no Dagger, even an apprentice, killed needlessly. They killed upon order of the king, or when a deal was struck with a client, but never until then. Others assumed differently, but those of the caste knew the truth.
They entered the cottage and found Aimee holding another snow pack to the unconscious Belle's head and saying, "The snow will help the swelling go down, and this tincture here is for pain, it has willowbark to help with swelling and this one is to help mend her head. My Talent says there's no true damage to her brain and she should wake in a few hours. I want you to monitor her carefully though. She may have headaches for a few days, blurry vision, and be dizzy or queasy, so give her tea, toast, and chicken broth until her stomach settles, then soup with lots of vegetables and meat. Call me if she doesn't wake or if you need anything else."
Rumple ran up and looked at his friend anxiously. Belle looked so pale and drawn lying there on the blue sofa, her hair spread over the arm, a dark splash against the white pillow. Her eyes were closed and the purple and green bruise on her forehead seemed grotesque. There was a small cut in the center of the lump where the iceball had cut her.
"Mama, will she be okay?"
"I believe so, Rumple. She was lucky the iceball hit her where it did. Otherwise she could have lost an eye or worse," Aimee said.
"She has to get better," Rumple muttered, heartsick.
"She will," Maurice said. "And I'll be having words with that boy's parents. Little scalawag throwing ice at my girl in her own yard!" The inventor looked angry enough to punch someone.
Bey couldn't blame him. He would have been raging if someone had dared to hurt his baby girl. Which was why maybe it was a good idea the gods had never seen fit to bless him with children like ordinary men.
"I punched him a good one though, so maybe he'll stop hurting us," Rumple put in before he could think better of it.
"I know. I saw the fat lip and the bloody nose you gave the brat," Maurice said approvingly.
"Rumplestiltskin!" Aimee groaned. "What have I told you about fighting?"
"Not to. And to get an adult," he recited softly, looking at his boots. "I forgot. I was so mad."
"Next time they come around, walk away and get an adult," Aimee told him.
"Yes, Mama."
"Come on. We need to get home and get supper started. Elena, call me if you need to," Aimee said.
"We will, thank you again, Aimee," Elena took the snow pack from her and continued holding it to Belle's head.
Bey teleported them back home, where Aimee promptly invited him for supper.
Neither Lauren or Claudette were surprised when they came home from the shop and saw Bey at the kitchen table, eating beef stew, bread, and a green salad.
The two sisters hid knowing grins and sat down beside him, listening as Rumple and Aimee told them what had happened that day.
A few hours later, Belle opened her eyes and sat up. Her head ached and she was slightly woozy. "Mama? Papa?" she asked, lifting a hand to her now bandaged head.
"Belle, you're awake!" exclaimed Maurice, his voice nearly cracking with relief. "How's your head?"
"Uh . . .I feel a little achy. But I'm thirsty."
"Here's some water, little one," Elena brought her a small cup. "Do you know where you are?"
"Huh? M'home," Belle said, puzzled.
"Do you remember what happened?" queried her father.
"Uh huh. Felix threw a iceball at me and hit me in the head. Where's Rumple?"
"He's at home, ma petite," Elena said. "Now how would you like some broth and bread?"
When Belle nodded eagerly, she went into the kitchen to spoon some up, and her tears watered the dishcloth in relief that Belle would be all right, thanks to Aimee's knowledge of herbal remedies. She was also grateful to Rumple, because though she didn't really approve of boys scrapping, anyone who defended Belle was a hero in her eyes.
Page~*~*~*~Break
By market day Belle was bored stiff of staying home and delighted to go with her mama to sell their homemade rose petal jam, quilts, and hair ribbons. She knew that the Spinners would be there and that meant Rumple would also.
Her head no longer ached and she was happy she didn't have to stay in bed or drink any more willowbark tea, though her head was still bandaged and Elena put salve on it and with that and the snow packs the bump and swelling had gone down considerably in three days. Elena had her dress warmly in her good blue woolen frock with the sheepskin cuffs and hem, and wear her deep blue cape with its hood, mittens and colorful rainbow scarf Elena had made for her. She also had her soft sheepskin boots that came up to her knees and thick winter stockings.
She helped Elena set up her stand and then squealed happily when she saw Rumple, Aimee, and Claudette coming to set up their stand as well with their wares—thread, cloth, scarves, mittens, shawls, and Aimee's cold remedy tea.
"Rumple! How you doin'?"
Her friend smiled joyfully at her. He too was bundled up in a caramel colored sheepskin coat with a fur hood, woolen trews and his boots. He had red mittens on and a gold and red striped scarf. His little nose was slightly red from the cold but his brown eyes sparkled and stray wisps of his hair poked out from beneath his hood.
"I'm good. How's your head? Is it better?"
"Uh huh. Mama says it's thanks to your mama's potions, but I don't like that willowbark one." She made a face. "Yuck!"
"Yeah, I don't like that either," Rumple agreed, grimacing also. "But I'm glad you're better. You wanna get some hot cider and beignets?" Beignets were fried dough sprinkled with sugar and treats made only on market day from Baker Louise Frollo.
"Yes. Lemme ask Mama for some money." Belle shouted, and soon returned with some pennies for both of them.
They bought three beignets and two cups of hot mulled cider. One for each of them and the third they would share. They had two more pennies left to get two extra cups of cider.
They sat on sled inbetween the two stands, sipping the cider and eating their beignets quietly while around them the market came to life, and people hustled and bustled and bargained. Rumple told Belle how he had beaten up Felix and his subsequent scoldings for his improper use of the fighting techniques Master Bey had taught him from both their teacher and Aimee.
"Papa went and told Felix's papa, Peter, about what he did," Belle related. "But Felix lied and said he never touched me. And his papa told mine to go away and quit telling lies. Papa was so mad, but there wasn't anything he could do . . .unless he wanted to punch Master Peter out and Mama woulda had his head for getting into a fight with an idiot, so he came home."
Rumple sighed and bit into his beignet. "That's cause Felix is a coward and can't fess up to his responsibilities."
"And he don't want people to know you beat him up either," Belle said, her azure eyes shining. She squeezed Rumple's hand with her own, getting sticky sugar on it, but no one minded.
"Yeah. I know. And I shouldn't really be glad I did but . . .I am," he whispered into her ear.
"Me too," she whispered back. "I hope my Vision comes true."
"Your last ones did," he reminded her. Awful Bo and Cora had gotten lice and Felix and George had gotten sick from eating too many stolen apples from Farmer Gray's orchard. "Maybe this one will too."
"Mistress Claude says sometimes Visions come true and sometimes they don't. Only the gods can decide what way fate shall blow," Belle said, repeating something her teacher in the Sight, who was Rumple's aunt, had said. She had begun lessons with her at the start of Yule, and practiced with her every week on Mondays and Tuesdays.
Rumple licked sugar off his fingers and said, "Aunt Lauren's not here today cause she went out walking with Mr. Kringle. He came and picked her up in his sleigh with his reindeer and they flew off somewhere."
"Oh! Did you get to pet the magic reindeer?" Belle asked, her face alight with longing.
"Yeah I touched Comet's nose," Rumple said. The eight reindeer that pulled Mr. Kringle's sleigh were called Comet, Cupid, Donner, Blitzen, Vixen, Prancer, Dasher, and Dancer. "He licked the carrot from my hand."
"I wish I could pet one! You're lucky, Rumple!" Belle said, feeling a trifle envious.
"Maybe you can when they come back, if you're over my house," Rumple said.
"Maybe I could stay over," Belle said. "I'll go and ask my mama later."
It was a long morning, and by the middle of it, Rumple and Belle were tired of sitting and got up to run around the small snow covered green.
Luckily they didn't see Felix or George there, only a few other classmates from school who didn't bother them and a few exclaimed over Rumple's walking without his stick.
Meanwhile, the blacksmith Gervase was ambling through the market, having stopped at the ale booth a few stalls down and had a few, and was now smoking a cigar while he perused the rest of the market, his beefy shoulders nearly bursting the seams of his soot-stained tunic, as he hadn't bothered to change it when he left his forge. Gervase had long black hair that he pulled back in a careless knot and his face was roughened from wind and sun and exposure to the forge's heat. Yet despite that he was reckoned a handsome catch by the unwed villager girls, his wife having passed away years ago when his son was small, and people hardly remembered her now, a wispy thing that barely said two words and lived in her husband's long shadow.
Gervase was a decent smith, but his temper left something to be desired. He was fond of drinking and wenching though, and had taught his son, Gaston, the same values. At thirteen, Gaston was well on his way to becoming a large man like his father, and also had started turning lasses heads.
Several woman sighed as Gervase went by, remarking in titters and whispers over how brawny and manly he was, with his shoulders like a prize ram's. Gervase preened.
Then he caught sight of Aimee Spinner, standing by her stall, and an odd hungry light came into his eyes, almost like that of a hunter when stalking his prey. Everyone knew the Spinner sisters, spinsters and some said witches, Gervase disliked Lauren, but the witchy sister was absent today and only slightly plump Aimee was there. Time, he thought wickedly, to have some fun.
He sauntered over to the Spinner's booth. "Good day, Mistress. How goes the thread business?" he asked with a practiced leer.
Aimee's eyes began to water because of the cigar smoke, and she struggled valiantly to not cough. "Well enough, Gervase. Would you mind putting that out?"
Gervase simply tapped the ash on the stall end and held it a bit lower, as Aimee began coughing, he got a rather unintended view of her cleavage. "My apologies. You must be thirsty, would you care for an ale?"
Aimee wiped her eyes on her handkerchief and sought to keep the disgust from her face. As if she would ever consent to have a drink with this unmannered boor . . .and she didn't even drink spirits! "No, I'm sorry," she said politely. "I'm running the booth till my sister comes back so I must decline."
"You could always just close up shop for a bit," he suggested, his eyes roaming down her figure. Why had he never noticed her before?
He waited for her capitulation and awe that he was actually paying her some attention, the dried up old maid.
"No, I'm afraid not," she declined again.
"But you have no customers, so surely you can take a break," he argued, not quite believing she was actually refusing to walk with him.
I have no customers cause you've driven them away with that awful smoke! She thought angrily. "Would you like to buy some thread, Gervase?" she asked with sweet biting sarcasm. "Seems to me you could use some, your tunic's fraying."
He flushed slightly at the implication then recovered and said, "That's because they don't make the thread strong enough to support my manly frame." He swelled his chest and flexed his muscles. There, now let her appreciate him! A seam popped.
Aimee feared she would be ill. Gervase reminded her of a prize bull, snorting and parading for the cows. She shoved a sturdy brown thread at him. "How about this one? It should suit you."
Gervase leaned over the booth, knocking several spools over, and leered, "You'd suit me better, little pullet! Now how's about we go somewhere more private?"
Aimee was incensed. "Are you . . .propositioning me, you ill mannered boor?" she sputtered. How dare he!
Gervase thought a boar was a fine comparison, and as for manners, who cared? "C'mon, chickadee, let your hair down and have some fun! I'll bet you haven't had an offer like this in years."
That was certainly true! "Get out and go bother your tarts down at the tavern! I'm not interested!"
"Only cause you don't know what you're missing, Cherie," Gervase growled, and then he reached out and kissed her.
Horrified, Aimee struggled free and slapped him across the face with all her might.
Gervase blinked and muttered, "Hey! You wench! You asked for it!"
He went to reach for her again, this time intent upon teaching the little snip respect for her betters.
Aimee reached under the counter for a certain pouch of very strong hot pepper grounds, which would deter even a charging boar once she threw it in his face, but before she could open the pouch, a familiar voice said, "Where I come from, if a lady says no, it's no."
Bey grabbed the bull-like man's arm and spun him about, pulling him away from Aimee.
Gervase dropped his cigar and snarled, "Mind your business, you crippled ol dog!"
Bey's eyebrow rose. "How original. Did you spend all night thinking that one up? Must have. Leave her alone, your attentions are as unwanted as a dog sniffing up a lady's skirt."
Gervase glared at the smaller man. "This doesn't concern you. Move along!"
Bey rocked slightly back on his heels, unconsciously positioning himself for a fight. "Oh, it does. A man bullying a woman always concerns me."
"Then take your concern elsewhere!" Gervase told him bluntly. "This's a private conversation!"
"You call accosting a lady in the middle of the market private? Were you raised in a byre?" sneered Bey.
"But out, Starfall! Before I make you!" Gervase flexed his muscles warningly.
Bey's lip curled. "Leave Mistress Spinner be and walk away and there won't be a need for me to call a healer."
Gervase laughed mockingly. "You're gonna be the one in need of a healer, pipsqueak! You broken-winged chicken!"
Rumple looked over to see what was going on, and gasped when he saw Gervase, a man universally hated and feared by the village children, confronting Bey. "Belle, look!"
Belle's eyes grew round. "Rumple, Master Bey can't fight Gervase! He'll make mincemeat outta him like he did to Jim Tanner."
"Master Bey can fight," Rumple disagreed.
"Not against Gervase with one arm."
Rumple did have to admit the two were unequally matched, but he trusted his hero would be able to take the lumbering smith, if it came down to it.
Bey tapped a foot on the ground, looking unconcerned. "Trust me, smith. You don't want to do this. Now just walk away and soak your head. The ale is clouding it."
But Gervase's blood was up and no way in hell was he going to be told what to do by this crippled soldier. "I go where I want and do what I please!"
"That's your choice," the former Dark One replied calmly. "But all choices have consequences. And you might not like them."
Gervase shook his head, rather like a mad bull. "I'll give you a consequence, you interfering dickless cripple!" Then he lunged at Bey, swinging his huge fist in a roundhouse.
Aimee longed to curse the lumbering ox, sure Bey was going to get splattered all over the ground. Oh how she detested bullies like the smith!
But to several watchers astonishment, the smith's punch met only empty air.
Bey simply glided away, like a leaf on the breeze.
"Huh?" Gervase was puzzled and spun around to see the smaller man standing there, seemingly unaffected by what should have been a devastating blow, had it connected.
"One last time. Walk away," Bey warned, and in his speech now was an icy cold menace.
"From you? Like hell!" Gervase swung again two rapid blows that made the air whistle.
They would have knocked Bey out if they had landed.
But once again the master assassin dodged the clumsy blows and grabbed Gervase by an arm and literally flung him through the air. The smith landed on the ground with a thud that shook the nearby stalls.
People gasped.
Bey spun on the balls of his feet, his violet eyes hard. "Your funeral, idiot. Get up."
Aimee watched with her hand over her heart, still afraid Bey was going to end up beaten to a pulp.
Rumple cheered and so did Belle.
Gervase rose clumsily to his feet, the wind somewhat knocked out of him, and went on the attack again, this time trying to catch his slim opponent and crush him in a bear hug.
Bey read his intent as easily as a cook read a recipe book, and with one lithe motion swept a foot into the bigger man and kicked his feet right out from under him. As Gervase crashed to the ground, Bey sighed. "Pride goes before a fall, so my people always say. Had enough?"
Now some of the villagers were laughing.
The smith went red with rage, then he jumped up and attacked wildly, hoping some of his punches would connect. All he needed was one and the cripple was finished and he would grind him under his boot.
Bey clucked at him in disapproval. "Didn't your father ever teach you, never fight in anger? Anger makes you lose focus," He slipped under the other's guard and slammed a knee into the brawny man's crotch. "See what happens when you lose focus?" he chided.
Gervase made a sound like a cow dying and doubled over.
Eyes narrowing, Bey launched a two fingered attack of his own, striking the other man on the cluster of nerves between his neck and shoulder, causing Gervase to crumple because that single jab had caused his whole body to freeze and become paralyzed for a time. It was called the Finger of Doom, and had the assassin wished, he could have killed the smith right then and there.
As Gervase thudded to the ground again, Bey stepped back and hissed, "Next time, you brainless buffoon, walk away like I told you. Or else the next sight you see will be the afterworld." He leaned down and whispered into the other man's ear. "And if you ever lay your filthy hands upon Aimee again, there won't be enough of you left for a matchbox once I get through with you!" His eyes glittered like deadly gems. "Remember this lesson, fool, it's the only one you're going to get. Next time you cross me, you can say hello to your ancestors!"
Gervase said nothing, his vocal cords parlayzed. But his eyes rolled frantically in his head.
Bey straightened and cast the smith a look of contempt before saying, "Anyone want to haul this heap of trash away? He's blocking traffic."
Two large dock workers came up. "We'll bring him home, Master Bey," said one and he touched his forehead in a gesture of respect.
"Good. Maybe by morning he'll sober up," Bey replied, then he turned away and walked up to Aimee. "Are you all right? He didn't hurt you?"
She shook her head. "He kissed me but I smacked him a good one. I was just about to get out my pepper pouch before you came," she admitted.
He chuckled. "I should have known you'd come prepared to deal with bullying idiots." He flashed her one of his rare smiles, and it lit his whole face. "Would you care to accompany me for some lunch, Mistress Spinner?"
"I thought you'd never ask, Master Starfall," Aimee grinned, and set the sign on her booth to closed. She put her hand in his, and called, "Rumple, where are you?"
"Here, Mama," her son replied and ran over to them. "Master Bey, you were amazing!" He was practically jumping up and down. "The way you knocked that fat bully on the ground four times! How'd you do that?"
"I watched my opponent carefully and saw what he was going to do before he did it," Bey replied honestly.
Behind them people were muttering, "He took out Gervase without even breaking a sweat!"
"With a crippled arm! How could he do that?"
"Magic?"
"Nah. He did it with a finger!"
"Gervase passed out from the ale."
"No, I saw it! Starfall hit him and then he was frozen. Like a board!" the other disagreed.
Speculation swirled about them as they walked over to one of the cook stalls, and Aimee cocked her head at her suitor and said, "Where did you learn to . . .knock a man out like that? That's no soldier's trick."
Bey looked at her. "I was more than your average soldier. I was a combat master. As such I learned anatomy, and how best to disable and to kill an enemy if necessary." He said, telling her the truth, but only partially. "That group of nerves I touched . . .when struck a certain way results in a temporary paralysis. I figured it was the best way to take him out without risking me damaging him permanently." He didn't mention that he could have also killed the arrogant smith in a dozen ways in five minutes.
"You were smart," the wise woman agreed, thinking there was more he wasn't telling her but she wouldn't pry. A man was entitled to his own privacy and some things were often too private to be shared.
Rumple tugged on Bey's hand. "What was that called? What you did to Gervase?"
"It's called the Finger of Doom. And not something you need to learn." Bey said quietly. The path of silence and shadow is not for you, son. And the darkness shall never claim your soul, not if I have anything to say about it. The little boy's face fell. "Listen. Some things I'll teach you because you need to know them, and others I won't because I hope you'd never need to know how to hurt someone that way. There's another maneuver I'll show you, similar to that one, which will also do what I did, but it's easier to master." It was also easier to ensure you didn't accidentally kill your opponent, he thought. "And like I said to you before, the best kind of fight is the one where you walk away."
"But you didn't," Rumple pointed out.
"No, because I couldn't. That ox wouldn't allow me to, and I offered him three chances to do so. But he was determined to fight me, so I gave him what he wanted. Then he realized you ought to be careful what you wish for—you just might get it."
"You beat the spit outta him! He was rude n'nasty to Mama," Rumple said indignantly.
"I know. And that sort of behavior should never be tolerated. A woman is always deserving of courtesy and respect . . .unless of course she's trying to kill you."
"Then what do you do?"
"Run," the former Dark One giggled. But he didn't tell the youngster that he had killed more than one female assassin in his day, and those were the deaths that often weighed heaviest on his soul. He set a hand on Rumple's shoulder. "I could have hurt that oaf badly, but I chose to simply teach him a lesson. Discipline and restraint above all else, Rumple. D'you understand?"
"Yessir," the boy assured him.
"Good lad. Avoid fights if possible, but if you do have to fight, search out your opponents weaknesses and exploit them, and always use your head."
"Brains over brawn," Rumple recited.
"Exactly, dearie!" Aimee praised, her heart swelling with love for both her son and the man beside him. "Let's get some meat pies. I'm starving!"
"Me too," agreed Bey, thinking dealing with idiots always worked up an appetite.
As they waited on line to order, several men were whispering about how the fight had gone, and all of them were wondering just who Bey Starfall had been before he retired and came to Hearthstone. Because he surely wasn't any ordinary bodyguard or even a guard captain. He was a mystery begging to be solved, though none of the villagers ever suspected the truth, nor did Gervase ever realize how close he had come to death that day.