Episode references: S3E4—Nasty Habits; S6E13—Ill-boding Patterns.

Chapter 33

Talorc was using smoked fish in his hand pies today, flavored with dill weed, leek, and 'a family secret I'll not divulge'. Rumple took the information in good humor and smiled appreciatively at the vendor after his first bite. "You're not worried about your living arrangements?" Talorc asked.

Rumple blinked. "Not at all."

"All sort of stories making the rounds," the vendor remarked, turning his back on Rumple to roll out a fresh ball of pastry dough. "About that nephew of yours."

"I don't hold with rumors," Rumple said firmly.

The vendor shrugged. "No concern of mine, I suppose. Though if you cross him and he turns you into a frog, I'll miss our conversations."

Rumple snorted. "No fear of that," he replied, taking another bite of the hand pie. After he'd chewed and swallowed, he added, "And I wouldn't pay much mind to those stories about Beowulf's company either. More going on than meets the eye there, I'm quite certain."

Talorc's muscular arms pumped back and forth as he rolled out the dough. "Seems to me like you're spreading a rumor to counter a rumor and just adding to the pile of rumors," he said laconically. "Unless you were there and saw it all, of course."

Rumple opened his mouth to respond when a slight figure came charging toward them. "Morraine?" he asked. The girl looked a sight. No shawl, twigs in her hair, clothes stained and dirty and a fresh rip at the elbow of one of her sleeves. His heart dropped. "What's happened? Where's Bae?"

"G-Gilitrutt!" the girl exclaimed, gasping for breath as she clutched the counter of Talorc's market stall. "He… He took Baelfire. The woods," she added pointing back in the direction she'd come. "A s-soldier."

"What? Why?" Rumple forced down his rising panic; the girl was frightened enough already. "Who took him?"

"I was up a tree," the girl panted. "The soldier came up behind Baelfire. Grabbed him. I was too high up to hear why."

Rumple turned to Talorc. "She needs a drink," he said tersely. "I'll settle the account on my return."

"I'll get a search party together," Talorc said, as he set a clay mug down on the counter. The girl gulped its contents hurriedly.

"No need," Rumple said, already striding away. "I'll deal with this myself."

As soon as he was past the crowded market square and away from any eyes that might behold his use of magic, he vanished.

Bae tested the leather strip that held his wrists together. He was standing against the trunk of a slender tree, his arms bound behind it, a rag in his mouth, while his captor ran the blade of a wicked-looking short sword against a wide leather strop.

"I'll let you speak in a bit," the soldier said, "and for your sake, I hope you'll tell me what I need to hear." He stropped the blade again for emphasis. "I was there, you know," he said. "When Beowulf asked for volunteers to hunt the Grendel. And when the killing started, I rabbited, I did. Hid in the woods. I meant to sneak back later and tell what I seen, but then I saw you, boy. Stole a blade from out Beowulf's belt you did an' I near laughed aloud at your audacity. Though I suppose it took less courage than it seemed, what with it being you what commands the Dark One."

Bae shook his head frantically, trying to voice his protests through his makeshift gag. He hadn't done that! The man was mistaken; he had to be!

"And aren't I telling you, you'll have your chance to talk soon?" his captor demanded cheerily, still stropping the blade. "You'll sing like a proper canary, you will. But not for the Dark One," he added. "If I even think you're about to summon him as I watched you do here in these woods, I'll have your throat slit ear to ear before you get the words out."

The leather thong wasn't coming loose anytime soon, Bae realized. Instead of trying to snap it, he moved his wrists up and down against the trunk as best he could, hoping to saw through it.

His captor plucked a hair from his bristling beard and tested the blade on it. "I think this will do," he said, drawing nearer to Bae. "Now, as I was say—"

Without warning, the burly soldier suddenly exploded in a ball of flame and smoke. The next thing Bae registered were a pair of anxious golden eyes staring into his and hoarse voice choking out his name.

"Bae?"

Papa!

The elder Rumple wished he'd questioned Morraine further before rushing here. The woods that edged the village were vast, and while Rumple knew the outskirts well, the trees were thick and there was a lot of ground to cover. He checked the ground for tracks, but he was no woodsman and he carried no locator spell. Tracks abounded, both human and animal, but many villagers used the forest to hunt and forage and footwear didn't vary much. Shoes or boots were made of calfskin with soles made either of the same material or of wood. A person might go barefoot in the village proper, but not the woods where sharp rocks, thorny undergrowth, and splintered bones from some carnivore's meal were all too common hazards. Bae's boots were leather-soled, but so were those of half the village.

Morraine had mentioned a 'soldier'. Well, their footwear ran the gamut, especially now, with supply lines stretched thin. Rumple remembered his own brief time at the front. While they'd all been issued armor and helmets, footwear had only been dispensed to those whose own was worn and rotten. And there had been no 'standard issue' for boots. In fact, thinking back, it occurred to Rumple that they might have come from off the feet of those who would never want for anything again, saving a decent burial.

He doubted matters would have improved overmuch in the last fourteen years.

He moved as quietly as he could, not wanting to reveal his presence to anyone within earshot. He moved carefully, keeping his eyes and ears open, trying to find some trace of his son.

And then, he felt the familiar surge of magic in the air several yards to his left, he smelled smoke, and he realized that his younger self had found Bae. How had he—?

You know how to make a scrying crystal… Or, at least, Achren did.

His younger self must have decided to check up on Bae after all. Rumple hurried in the direction from which the surge had emanated, plunging into a thicket and coming out in a small clearing. Bae's back was to him; his son and his younger self locked in a tight embrace.

"It's all right, son," his younger self was saying soothingly. "You're safe, now."

The elder Rumple realized now that the clearing was strewn with bits of charred leather and rapidly cooling globules of metal. He thought he could smell burnt meat, too. No need to wonder what had become of Bae's kidnapper, then, Rumple realized with grim satisfaction.

His younger self looked up then and locked eyes on his. His golden eyes went flat, but there was no hint in his voice that he'd seen the elder. "Come on, son," he said softly. "Let's go home." He slung an arm across Bae's shoulders and proceeded to steer him out of the clearing, choosing a path that didn't involve passing his counterpart.

The elder Rumple debated whether to follow, but decided against it. He knew better than anyone how he reacted after a nasty scare. Better to give his younger self time to recover. Meanwhile, he'd go back to Talorc to pay Morraine's account as he'd promised. Hopefully, by the time he returned to the hut, everyone would be calmer.

His younger self met him when he was halfway back to the hut. "How is he?" the elder Rumple asked him at once. Bae was fine, of course; he knew that much, else his younger self never would have left him, but he still asked.

"I had to give him another dose of memory potion," his younger self rasped. "It seems that the man who took him watched Bae order me to kill Beowulf. Somehow, he didn't realize that the command needed the dagger to give it force; he thought it was all Bae. But of course, when he told Bae what he'd witnessed, it started Bae wondering. Questioning. And if he should learn the truth…"

Rumple nodded. "Yes, I do understand. And you needn't worry; I've no intention of telling him." He took another step down the path, but froze when he saw the point of a serpentine blade leveled at his chest.

"Intent is nothing," his younger self grated. "You won't tell him. I command you not to tell him."

Rumple's eyes widened, but his younger self wasn't done.

"You're going to find some other place to live. You're not going to talk to Bae. You're not going to come within twenty yards of him. If he seeks you out, you just tell him that this is for the best and that it's your idea. You send him home to me. Don't do anything to let him think otherwise, not a word. Not a gesture. No note, no action…" His eyes narrowed, "and if you should find any other loophole in this command," he smiled nastily, "you don't exploit it. Do you understand me, dearie?"

Rumple nodded miserably.

"Good. And let's just keep one other thing in mind. One day," he smiled, "I'm gonna be you. At least," he giggled, "assuming I live long enough. So, I think it's fair to say that you've got a vested interest in keeping me alive to reach that point. Because if anything happens to me now, I don't believe you'll be around to see it. But," the point of the dagger was suddenly against the elder Rumple's tunic, "that vested interest?" His smile took on a feral cast and he nearly hissed the words, "not mutual! You have anything further to do with my boy?" He giggled. "Well when I was at the front, they used to tell us that somewhere out there, was an arrow with our name on it. In your case," he giggled again, "it's a blade. I wonder if killing two Dark Ones might just give me twice the power."

Rumple's throat went dry, but he somehow managed to keep his voice level when he answered, "It won't."

"Perhaps not," his younger self rejoined, "but at least I'll be rid of you."

"What… What's brought this on?" Rumple asked, keeping his voice soft and raising his hands in a placating gesture. "Why are you doing this?"

"Why? Because if I hadn't listened to you, Bae would've been safe at home! You told me he'd be safe and like a fool I listened to you! Against my better judgment! You said you were here to save him, but you nearly got him killed! Or was that your plan all along?" He asked slowly.

"What?"

"Yes," his younger self snarled. "I see it now. He giggled as his voice slid into a sing-song. "You wanted to be the hero. You wanted to play rescuer. Why else would you have headed into town just after he left?" All playfulness disappeared, as his younger self growled, "You set that whole business up so you could come flying in to save him! You think I didn't see you skulking about in that thicket? You knew where he was going to be!"

Rumple shook his head desperately. "Morraine found me in the square. She pointed me in the right direction—"

"I don't care! You stay away from me and my boy or…" He withdrew the dagger point from his elder self's chest, but brandished it threateningly. "Go!"

Rumple nodded miserably. Shoulders slumping, he took several steps backwards, before he turned and started walking toward the village.

He'd been trying to make Bae's life easier. If Bae didn't feel as though he was a virtual prisoner, he wouldn't go looking for a way out. If his younger self could just… relax a bit more, trust that Bae would be safe, loosen the strictures…

Well, there was a fine chance of that happening now! However, as Rumple made his way toward the tavern, where he supposed he'd pass tonight, he realized that he'd also learned something significant today. When his younger self had commanded him with the dagger on him just now, he'd felt the compulsion, but it had been somehow hollow. It had taken hold, yes, but with nothing like the usual force that frog-marched him along with no hope of resistance. He hadn't wanted to test it in the moment; the dagger might not be able to command him, but it was still a magical artifact and all-but-certainly capable of killing him. Besides, it was better to let his younger self believe that he had the upper hand, at least, for now.

But tomorrow, he was going to test his theory. Oh, he wasn't going to talk to Bae, not now. He couldn't risk Bae innocently mentioning such a conversation to his younger self. No, better to keep an eye on him from a distance. Particularly since all he needed to do to confirm his suspicions was approach within twenty yards of his boy.

Unconsciously, he quickened his pace when the cries of the market vendors reached his ears.

The next weeks were miserable ones for Rumple. He brushed off curious inquiries from those villagers he'd come to know far better having met them again this second time around, stating only that his nephew needed his space.

Talorc had shrugged and added a fifth hand pie to the four Rumple had requested.

Aulina had shaken her head a bit sadly. "I suppose it's understandable," she'd murmured. "You're staying at the tavern, then?"

"For now," Rumple had nodded.

"Well, if the carousing keeps you awake, I've room in my home to curtain off a section. I'd be glad of a few coppers a day and my children are old enough to mind their manners and keep quiet when told to."

He didn't think she had anything more in mind than a business arrangement, but he didn't take the deal either. Friendships such as these were well enough when kept casual, but the more time he spent in the proximity of others, the sooner they'd realize the kind of man he truly was. Being on his best behavior was wearying, especially now that he was away from, perhaps, the only person who made him appear good in comparison. Besides, he knew he wasn't going to spend the rest of his life in this place and it struck him that it might be unfair to give anyone reason to believe otherwise. So, he'd merely smiled, told her that it was an unexpected offer and he'd certainly think it over, though if another prospect were to offer to take her up on it, he'd scarcely fault her.

To which she'd sniffed, "Because, of course, strangers simply stream into Pen Marmor every day seeking long-term lodgings." A sigh. "I'm that grateful your nephew's got us some respite from taxation for now, but in three years' time, I'll need something set aside to pay them again and the soil's not been let fallow for this half-tenyear. I'll let one half rest next spring and hope the littles and me can survive on what we reap from the half I plant, but a bit of coin would go a long way toward making that hope real."

Again, Rumple had smiled and said he quite understood and would think the matter through. He doubted very much he'd still be here come spring. But if he could learn in advance which half of her field she meant to till, well, perhaps he could arrange for her to plow up a small pouch of silver when she did.

Meanwhile, he stayed at the tavern. There, he had a room that looked out on the common. Aulina's hut was further back, along the road that skirted the vineyards and orchards, or at least, what remained of them after years of war and the tithes and taxes to pay for it.

He might have been barred from talking to his boy, but meant to watch over him as much as he could.

But as days stretched into weeks, although he did see Morraine out his window, and he noted she often had his younger self's sheep together with her own family's, he never once saw Bae with her.

Still, he didn't give up hope.

And then, one night, he mounted the stairs to the tavern's second story where his room was located. The hour was late; he'd lost track of time, staring into the dancing flames that warmed the common room. And yes, very well, he'd had a bit more strong ale than he normally would have, but with the turn his fortunes had recently taken, he doubted any would blame him.

It was near midnight when he'd finally gone upstairs. Dark Ones usually didn't sleep, but enough alcohol could make an exception to that rule. He didn't recall getting undressed or getting into bed, but he did recall opening his eyes some time later, to the sunlight stabbing his eyes, a wiry hand clamped around his throat, and a harsh voice grating in his ear, "What have you done with him?"

Rumpelstiltskin had known, of course, that Bae hated being confined at home; known it before his elder self had prevailed on him to let the boy go off with Morraine. That had proved to be a mistake in more ways than one. Not only had Bae nearly been killed less than three hours later, but that small taste of freedom had only served to let his boy resent being confined to the house all the more. And under the circumstances, Rumple didn't see how he could let Bae go outside where any number of enemies might be ready to pounce on him. To Rumple's mind, there were already too many people about who knew that he could be controlled with his dagger, but there were far more who—like that misguided fool of a soldier—might try to control him with his son. He meant to safeguard both. The dagger didn't chafe at its confinement, but Bae did.

He understood, of course. And he'd tried to make the hut an abode so pleasant that Bae would have no desire to leave it, but to no avail. The boy wanted freedom. Rumple had tried showering him with gifts, ranging from the practical to the extravagant. He'd offered Bae a castle and been rebuffed. Still, he'd hoped that in time, his son would accept the situation and realize that, as always, his papa only had his best interests at heart.

But now he'd come back after a night of bargaining and haggling, ready to present Bae with a crown, only to find his son gone! There were no signs of a struggle or of forced entry; wherever Bae was, he'd gone of his own free will. With someone he trusted. Someone who also claimed to have his best interests at heart.

Rumple knew that if their positions had been reversed, he would have waited for a time when the boy was alone to spirit him away. True, he'd taken steps to prevent that, but it seemed as though despite his best efforts, his elder self had found a loophole after all.

Bae wasn't at the tavern. Perhaps, Rumple allowed, he'd been mistaken and his elder self had nothing to do with the boy's disappearance. Or perhaps, that was exactly what his elder self wanted him to think. He was going in circles; he knew what he'd do in such circumstances and how he'd behave to throw off any suspicions, but then again, he'd be acting the same way if he were innocent. Perhaps, a direct approach was best.

He seized his elder self by the throat, shook him awake, and snarled in a voice not meant to carry beyond the bedchamber's thin walls, "What have you done with him?"

The elder Rumple really didn't recall ever having been this paranoid. Then again, after he'd lost Bae, he'd slowly relearned patience and self-control. If he hadn't, he'd never have had the necessary focus to find a means of getting him back.

More to the immediate point, if he hadn't, he might have forgotten himself far enough now to cause his younger self some permanent damage—which would only hurt himself in the end. And the beginning. And if he continued to think along those lines, he'd only give himself a headache on top of everything else. Carefully, firmly, he locked both hands about the wrist of his assailant and pulled the hand it was attached to away from his neck. Well, at least his younger self wasn't using magic to enhance his grip. "Now, then," he said, keeping his tone pleasant, even as he bared his teeth in a smile that was at once both friendly and dangerous, "what's going on… Dearie?"

He should have been taking better note of the days, he realized, once he'd heard his younger self's explanation. Or perhaps, 'accusation' had been the appropriate term. He would have remembered sooner that this was bound to happen. "Our father," he groaned.

"What?" His younger self's eyes widened. "What does he want with Bae?"

"He's assembling a crew of… playmates," the elder Rumple explained. "It seems Neverland can be a lonely place when its sole permanent residents are himself and his shadow."

His younger self bit back an oath. "All right. I don't suppose you've a magic bean hidden about you, so how else am I supposed to get there?"

"No need," the elder Rumple replied. "They aren't there, yet. You'll want to seek out the village of Hamelin, four leagues to the northwest. He's a bit closer than that, if memory serves. In the woods that surround it." He took a breath. "There's more."

"Of course there is," his younger self snapped. "Well, what is it?"

"Trust Bae."

His younger self's eyes narrowed. "As I told him yesterday, I do trust him. It's everyone else I can't trust. Including you!" His coat flared about him as a puff of dark smoke sprouted from his hand.

"No, wai—!" the elder Rumple started to say, but his double had already vanished in a cloud of sulfur. His eyes wide with horror, he whispered to the empty room, "Trust he'll go back with you if you ask him!" It was happening again. It was all going wrong. He had to get there first and try to fix things!

A moment later, he was gone and a second cloud of sulfur smoke hung in the bedchamber, beginning to dissipate.