28

Meeting of Like Minds

"Hey, buddy, maybe you ought to watch where you're riding?" Jefferson said, annoyed at the way this guy was just ignoring the fact that he'd almost run down two kids who were doing nothing more than walking in a public thoroughfare.

Gaston spun on him. "And maybe you'd better mind your own business!" he snarled. "Do you have any idea who I am?" His whole chest puffed up arrogantly.

Before Jefferson could reply, Dizzy responded, Some loudmouthed cousin to a bloodhound who's about to get his ass kicked by one pissed off sorcerer, that's who.

Gaston's eyes narrowed. "For your information, I am Sir Gaston, Lord of Lyonesse, knight of Avonlea, champion of three tournaments, the finest warrior ever to be seen in King Maurice's court, and if you don't shut that pink monstrosity up, I will—with my sword!" He rattled it convincingly. Then he whirled back to confront Rumplestiltskin and his two children. "As for you, you crippled conjurer—"

"Hey! Don't you be calling my papa a cripple!" Bae shouted, glaring at the other man.

"Be quiet, you little brat! You're nothing but peasant trash who needs a good beating to teach you respect for your betters," Gaston growled.

"Touch my son and you'll be missing a hand," Rumple declared icily.

"Gaston, leave them alone!" Belle ordered. "They've done nothing. It was your fault—"

"Stay out of this, Belle! When a noble is in pursuit of quarry, he always has the right of way," declared Gaston arrogantly. "I am a great hunter and I was in pursuit of that deer—"

"Y'mean, you were gonna kill it?" Val cried, horrified. "Papa, he was gonna kill Bambi! You oughta hex his hands off for being mean to helpless animals."

"You know, the penalty for assaulting a noble is five days in jail," Gaston said menacingly. "Or I could have you flogged . . . sorcerer!"

"Hey, now let's not be hasty—" Jefferson began.

"Gaston!" Belle snapped. "You're abusing your privilege of rank. Is this how you were brought up, to tyrannize people?"

Gaston stiffened. "My mother taught me that my birthright entitled me to respect, and as I am this kingdom's premier knight and your escort, this peasant ought to be on his knees at my feet, begging my pardon and kissing my boot!"

Bae gasped, his eyes wide, and shrank back against Rumple.

"You will not!" Belle snapped, disgusted. "I forbid it!"

"Ma petite, you're not queen yet and you ought to be guided by those older and wiser, like me, as is proper for a well-brought up lady," Gaston began. "I know how to handle these insolent commoners, my mother taught me well—"

"Then she must have been an awful mother," Bae retorted. "Cause you're nasty as hell."

"Yeah and you know what else?" Val chimed in. "Your mama might have loved you, but everyone else thinks you're an asshole."

Burned by a six-year-old! Dizzy yowled, then burst out laughing.

So did Belle and Jefferson.

Gaston turned beet red.

"Valentina! Baelfire! Watch your mouths!" Rumple half-scolded, trying not to laugh himself.

"Nobody makes fun of me!" the irate nobleman bellowed, and started forward, his hands reaching out to grab the children. "Clearly these brats need a lesson in manners that you haven't given them, hedge mage!"

Rumple put out a hand and Gaston slammed right into an invisible wall, staggering backwards to fall on the ground for the second time that afternoon.

Dizzy almost fell off Jefferson's shoulder, he was laughing so hard. Another one bites the dust, yeeaah!

"I warned you to leave my children alone," Rumple snapped. "All I want is an apology for almost running them over—"

"Over my dead body!" Gaston cried, his blood boiling. He started to get to his feet, pulling his sword from his sheath as he did so.

Belle stepped in front of him, her arms held out. "Put it away, Gaston! As your future queen, I command it!" she ordered sharply. "I don't need anyone, especially you, telling me how to act. Now, if you won't do the right thing and apologize for almost killing these poor children, then you're going to leave them and their father be. Am I clear?"

"Belle, this impudent commoner needs—" Gaston sputtered, reluctantly sheathing his sword.

"—to be left in peace," she interrupted him. "Your quarry is getting away, mighty hunter," she reminded him in a flash of inspiration. "If you don't hurry, you'll lose it . . . and your chance to boast about it to the rest of the court tonight at dinner."

"I've never lost a quarry," Gaston bragged. He jumped to his feet, then looked around for his horse. "Damn and blast! Tornado!" he shouted, and whistled shrilly for his mount.

"I think he went that way," Jefferson pointed helpfully into the trees on the other side of the road.

Gaston ran into the trees, still whistling for his missing horse.

By the time you find that horse, idiot, your quarry will be on the other side of the kingdom, teehee! Dizzy chortled. He wore a grin that stretched from one pointed ear to the other.

"I wish I could be that lucky," Belle sighed, then she colored a becoming rose and said, "Please, excuse me, we haven't been properly introduced. I'm Belle, daughter of Maurice . . . princess of Avonlea."

"Jefferson Hatter, adventurer, Your Grace, and procurer of magical objects, pleased to meet you. And this is Dizzy, my Cheshire cat companion." He bowed to her.

"Charmed, Master Hatter. And you too, Dizzy," Belle said, smiling.

I am always thrilled to make the acquaintance of a lovely lady, the Cheshire cat grinned.

"And you are, master sorcerer?" Belle turned to look at Rumple.

"Rumplestitskin, Your Grace, master spinner and weaver and only recently a sorcerer, at your service," Rumple said, and bowed politely to her. He gestured to the children beside him. "And these are my children, Baelfire and Valentina. What do you say, children?"

"Pleased to meet you, Your Grace," Bae replied, imitating his father and giving her a small bow.

"Pleased to meet you, Your Highness," Val said a second later. Then she looked at Baelfire and asked, "Bae, why'd you call her Grace? I thought her name was Belle."

"My name is Belle, little one," Belle chuckled. "Your Grace is just a title, and not one that I use all that often. Valentina, what an unusual name you have."

"My mama gave it to me. After my grandma, but you can just call me Val. Everyone does," the little girl said, smiling. "Are you really a princess? 'Cause you have the same name as Belle in Beauty and the Beast."

"I do? And what's this . . . Beauty and the Beast?" Belle asked, smiling back at her.

"It's a folk tale, Your Grace," Rumple explained. "From the realm of New York, where we came from."

"Papa has the story in his backpack," Val said excitedly. "Have you ever read it? It's the most wonderful story, about a prince that was cursed into a beast 'cause he was mean and nasty and in order to break the curse, he had to get a girl to fall in love with him before the last petal of a rose fell, or else he was doomed to remain a beast forever."

"So he makes a deal with Belle's papa, and he drags her off to his castle," Bae continued the familiar tale. "And he makes her his servant there and at first she hates it, since he's all growly and stuff, but then she starts to look with her heart and not with her eyes, and she sees something there that wasn't there before. Oh, and the furniture talks."

Belle's eyes sparkled. "That sounds like a fascinating tale."

"It is . . . if you haven't heard it for the fiftieth time," Rumple said.

"Do you like to read then?" Belle asked.

"We love to!" Val declared brightly. "Only I can't read all the long words yet, but Papa can. He's the smartest man in the world!"

"I just learned how," Bae said diffidently. "But I practice every night. Papa taught me when we were up in New York."

"You're a man of many talents, Rumplestiltskin," Belle said appreciatively, wondering if she'd finally met a man who could do more than swing a sword and make small talk about a lady's eyes.

Rumple found himself blushing under her regard. "Umm . . . not really, Your Grace. I'm just a spinner. I was taught to read by my aunt, she was a schoolteacher. She insisted that I be able to read, write, and figure though I was just a spinner's son."

"Here in Avonlea, an education is compulsory for everyone until they're fourteen. Eighteen for nobles," Belle said. "We believe the greatest gift you can give someone is knowledge. It's why we have the King's Library."

"You have a library here?" Val gasped, enraptured. "Do they have books for kids?"

"They have many books," Belle told her. "Thousands and thousands of them. And it's open to anyone who wants to read them. You just have to get a library card."

"Cool!" Val was almost jumping up and down. "Papa, we have to go there! Like right away!"

"Val, first we need to find a place to stay and then we can visit the library," Rumple said, chuckling at his bookworm's enthusiasm.

"I can help you with that," Belle said quickly. "Go to an inn called The King's Rest when you reach the city and give the owner, a Master Pritchard, this token," she fished a round ivory disk with a stamp of King Maurice on it and on the obverse side the number 3 written in gold ink. "It shows you're my guest and are entitled to a three week stay free of charge and supper thrown into the bargain. That should be sufficient until you find a more permanent residence, master spinner."

Rumple stared at the token for a moment before he put it in his pocket. "You are most kind, Your Grace. Most kind, thank you."

"It's the least I can do, after my buffoon of an escort nearly trampled your children," Belle said. "I'm so sorry . . . Gaston gives all of us highborns a bad name. Not all of us believe that commoners shoulder be treated like chattel. Especially not me."

"Liberty and justice for all, right?" Val quoted, her green eyes bright with hero-worship.

Belle turned to her. "Yes, that's what I wish for everyone in my kingdom. But . . . I'm afraid there are many people like Gaston who don't think so."

"Then they're idiots," Bae declared firmly.

"I quite agree, Baelfire," Belle chuckled.

"Just call me Bae," the little boy said. "And you can call my papa Rumple. All our friends do."

"Bae, she hardly knows us to be so informal, much less to claim us as friends . . ." Rumple began awkwardly, fearing his son had overstepped.

"Please. I would love for us to be friends," Belle cut in swiftly. "There are so few people at court who . . . enjoy books and intellectual pursuits the way I do. . . if you wouldn't mind, that is?"

"Me? Mind?" Rumple stammered. "Of course not, Your Grace. I . . . would be honored."

"Then . . . if we're to be friends . . . don't call me Your Grace," Belle stated. "Friends don't have titles between them."

"But you're a princess!"

"Only when I've got a tiara on my head and am in the throne room," Belle said softly. "Out here, I'm just like you. Or at least . . . that's how I would like to be treated. So . . . please call me Belle . . . Rumple."

"I . . . err . . . okay, Your—Belle," Rumple said, hastily correcting himself. "If that's the way you want it."

"I do," she assured him. Then she giggled, her blue eyes sparkling. "You know, you're the first friend I've ever had that wasn't . . . handpicked by my father from all his noble acquaintances. It's so . . . refreshing!"

Rumple blushed and studied his feet, not knowing how to respond. No woman had ever found his company . . . refreshing before. Not even Milah, when they were first dating. She had told him point blank she was only going out with him because her father had made an arrangement with his aunt, and at least he knew a decent trade and wasn't old or ugly. "Th-thank you, Belle. I'll . . . strive to be worthy of your acquaintance, dearie." Then he flushed and whispered, "Forgive me, that's just how the people in my village address each other . . . local custom, you know . . ." What are you thinking of, you fool? He scolded himself mentally. Talking to a princess of the realm like she was Rachel Tyrell down the road!

"It's charming," Belle hastened to assure him. "Please, call me whatever you're comfortable with. I get so tired of all the bowing and scraping and miladying sometimes. I'm your friend, Rumple . . . so treat me like it."

"Okay . . . Belle," he said shyly, and looked up into her face, which was as beautiful as a spring morning.

"Good. Now, unfortunately, I have to be getting back to the palace. It's almost time for me to get changed for dinner, so . . ." Belle sighed. "But . . . why don't we arrange to meet in the library say . . . next Monday at . . . three o'clock in the afternoon? Would that be okay?"

"Yes. Yes, of course. Three o'clock it is."

"We can meet by the statue of Griselda the Wise, in the courtyard," Belle said happily. She would have to plan her schedule carefully that day and ensure she was free in the afternoon. Then she turned to mount her horse, and saw the picnic basket still tied to her saddle. "Here. Take this, it's some food from the picnic lunch my cook packed. I don't need it and you can all share it. And then I'll have an excuse to meet you again." She untied the picnic basket and handed it to Rumple.

"Belle, you don't have to . . . err . . ." Rumple began.

"But I want to. After all, what are friends for?" she insisted, pressing the basket, which was half filled with food, into his hands. Then she mounted her horse in one graceful leap and gathered the reins in her hands. "Goodbye! I'll see you on Monday!" She clucked to her mare, then waved before she rode away.

Jefferson whistled. "Boy, you sure have the luck! Play your cards right, Rumple and you could end up with her on your arm."

"That'll never happen, Jeff," Rumple disagreed. "Do you forget what we are? She's a royal and I'm just a peasant. We can be friends, but never more than that."

"But she likes you, Rumple . . ."

"She likes the fact that I'm educated and she's lonely," Rumple snorted. "I'm a curiosity to her, not a prospective husband."

"Rumple, give yourself a chance. You never know," Jefferson said.

"I know enough about the world to know it's impossible for us to ever be together. That's not how it works," he said dismissively. "This isn't a storybook, and I'm not a hero to win the heart of a fair lady. I'm just a spinner who likes books and can do a bit of magic. That's all."

Before Jeff could say anything else, Arrow appeared from the thicket on the opposite side of the road. Rumple, who was here? I smell someone new.

"Where were you while my kids were almost trampled by that fool Gaston, Arrow?" Rumple demanded testily.

The grimm wolf flattened his ears guiltily. Uh . . . I was hunting . . . there was this deer . . . and I lost track of time . . . sorry, Rumple. What happened?

"Nothing I couldn't handle," the sorcerer sighed.

You missed the best fight ever, wolf! Dizzy crowed. And the best put down in history too!

Arrow walked over to stand before his sorcerer. Are the pups okay? Why didn't you call me back, Rumple?

"They're fine and I just . . . everything happened so fast . . ." Rumple hitched the picnic basket higher on his shoulder and began to tell Arrow about Belle and Gaston as they continued down the road.

Bae tugged on his sleeve. "Papa, my feet hurt. I'm tired."

"Me too," Val whined.

Put them on my back, Rumple, the grimm wolf ordered. Let me carry them awhile. It's no trouble.

"All right, if you're sure . . . children, come here. Arrow says he can carry you for a bit . . . until we find a spot to stop for lunch and we can see what Belle gave us in the picnic basket." He picked up Val first, and then Bae, and set them upon Arrow's broad back.

The grimm wolf trotted easily down the road, listening to Rumple describing the encounter he'd had with Belle and Gaston, while Jefferson walked alongside with Dizzy, whistling an old marching tune.

Meanwhile, Belle arrived back at the palace and as she unsaddled her horse, she thought about the meeting with Rumplestiltskin and her heart soared with joy. My first real friend . . . one that I made myself, that didn't owe some favor to my father, and isn't some noble out to make a name for herself by being noticed by the princess. As she curried her mare down, she thought again about the constellation she had seen in the night sky. The Magician. Portent of change and surprises. Now I'm friends with one. And what things shall change because of it?

A/N: Hope you enjoyed this first meeting between them. Who thinks Gaston is going to be trouble with a capital T?

Also, if you're reading my new short story, Gold's Gift, I have a new chapter posted!

Thanks to all my readers for sticking with me, as always!