2
Pennies and Portals
"How . . . how are you going to do that?" Belle asked, wiping her eyes on her sleeve. "They've probably taken her somewhere . . . not in this world."
He nodded gravely. "Of that, I have no doubt. Whoever stole her would have spirited her away to Tir Na Nog."
"Then how do we get there?"
"Well . . . we'll need a portal, dearie." He frowned at the penny in his hand. "I can try and spin one with my wheel."
"All right," Belle agreed. "Then let's try."
They went downstairs again, to the basement, where Bobby kept his magical wheel, and he sat down at it, grasping a handful of straw from the basket beside it and spinning it into gold. The gold thread was necessary to form the base of the portal. Then Belle came behind him and set her hands on his shoulders.
They had discovered after spinning the portal to Neverland that it required true lovers to touch while Rumple spun the portal.
Bobby concentrated and began to spin.
The wheel whirled faster and faster, with the gold thread spinning around and around, but no portal formed. Rumple concentrated harder, until his forehead squinched and sweat beaded his brow and still no portal formed.
"Robert!" Belle cried in alarm. "It's not working. Stop before you hurt yourself."
Robert gritted his teeth so hard he nearly chipped one. But it was futile. He halted after a few more moments, his magic dying to a trickle, the tips of his fingers red and throbbing as he had pressed down too hard upon the thread as he spun in his frustration.
"Belle . . . I can't . . . it's blocked . . . the damn Sidhe have blocked the way to Tir Na Nog," he hissed, blowing on his stinging fingers.
She massaged his shoulders, biting her lip to keep from screaming in frustration. "Then . . . if we can't get to it one way, there has to be another. I'm not giving up! I'm going to get back our daughter and go 50 shades of crazy on whoever took her, Rumple!"
His hand reached up and clasped hers. She only called him by his fairy tale persona when she was greatly stressed, otherwise she used his Storybrooke name, for she knew that he tended to prefer it. "Okay, dearie. I'll just have to figure out another way."
Belle pursed her lips while gently running her fingers over her husband's sore hand. She hated to see him hurt, especially his hands, those slender poet's hands, flexible enough to cast a spell with a gesture, gentle enough to hold a moth between his fingers and not crush it, yet strong enough to hold a sobbing terrified toddler when she woke from a nightmare. Not to mention able to make love to her with the merest touch.
"Maybe . . . a tracking spell?" she suggested.
"Yes, there's an idea. I'll get something of hers and enchant it to show us where to find her," he agreed. "But . . . that still doesn't solve the problem of how to get there, dearie."
Then he reached into his pocket and pulled out the Irish penny, its surface bright and shiny with its harp on the obverse and the ornamental bird on the reverse side. He examined it with his sorcerer's sight, that allowed him to see magical emanations upon people, places, and objects. The penny glowed green to his seeking gaze.
He blinked and his sight returned to normal vision once more. "Belle, the penny, it bears some enchantment, perhaps from the one who held it. I think . . . I think I can use it somehow to get to Tir Na Nog." He gripped it hard. "But I'll need to think about it first."
"Maybe it's a lucky penny, Robert," she murmured, and kissed his palm gently. "You do that and I'll . . . I'll go and make some tea."
She went upstairs, not only to make tea, but to also pack a few things in a knapsack, just in case.
The sorcerer of Storybrooke studied the penny again, then rose and went to what appeared to be a blank cinderblock wall. He made a circling gesture with one hand and the wall melted away to reveal a large bookshelf with many volumes in it, all of nightblue leather with silver and gold runes upon them.
These were his collection of magical tomes, books he had spent a lifetime and more gathering from all the realms. He perused them and then picked up two from one shelf and a third from another.
Then he carried them over to his recliner and sat down to thumb through them. He had read every volume on that bookshelf several times and so had a vague idea of what he was searching for.
He read for several minutes, highlighting several passages with a glowing fingertip, until Belle returned with some tea in his chipped cup. Then he paused to drink, and afterwards returned to his reading.
Belle smiled at him, loving the small crease in his forehead that he got when he was intent upon something, and she placed a kiss upon the top of his head before returning upstairs to pack a few things.
She was inwardly terrified for her baby girl, but was determined to act bravely, no matter how much she was screaming on the inside. Do the brave thing and bravery will follow. She also had faith in her husband. Rumple would find a way to get Ava back. He had found a way to search for Bae, and even though he hadn't located him yet, knew that he was somewhere in this world. He would have gone to find him before now, but with Belle injured and now Ava missing, he had to put off his search a while longer.
She entered the nursery, and picked up the blanket Ava had been using when she put her down for her nap. It was a soft crocheted one, with a cream colored background and purple, blue, and pink roses on it. Rumple had made it, and Belle picked it up and hugged it to her.
She could smell the faint scent of milk and honey and the lavender baby oil she had put on Ava after she had bathed her that morning. Belle shut her eyes tightly, but a few tears managed to creep out and fall upon the blanket.
"I'll find you, Ava. I'll never stop searching for you, my precious baby girl. Never! Not till you're safe and sound and back where you belong," she vowed, as her tears mingled with the roses upon the blanket, making them sparkle slightly in the sunlight streaming from the window. "Because when you find something worth fighting for . . . you never give up."
Page~*~*~*~*~Break
Several hours later, Bobby rose and stretched. He had gathered enough information from his spellbooks to come up with a theory that should work. Or so he thought. He placed the books back on the shelf and restored the wall before going upstairs to tell Belle what he had discovered.
Together, they got in his Cadillac and drove over to the park, where there was a large grassy knoll. Gold got out and limped over to the knoll and said to Belle, "If my theory is correct, this should open a portal to Tir Na Nog. And if not . . . then I'll keep trying."
He leaned slightly upon his cane and withdrew a small dagger from his jacket pocket. This was an old thing, a small athame that he had used back when he was a simple country spinner to eat with, a gift from his guardians when he had turned sixteen. Gripping it in one hand, he brought it down and pricked his finger on his opposite hand.
Then he turned his hand and let the blood drip upon the ground.
"Bobby, what are you doing?" Belle cried.
"All magic comes with a price, dearie," he reminded her. "And this is what is required . . ." Then he set the penny down upon the bright red drops of blood and spun it hard.
The penny spun faster and faster and purple and gold sparks shot out of it, swirling into a vortex that arced up and curved like a doorway, running with rivulets of rainbowed light.
Then it shimmered and showed a long tunnel lit with green light.
"Yes! You did it!" cheered Belle, then she hugged her husband tightly.
Robert stroked her hair, murmuring, "Yes, this is the way to Tir Na Nog."
He tucked his athame back in his pocket. "Where's that blanket of Ava's?"
"Here," Belle handed to him.
Gold reached into his other pocket and withdrew a potion, which he sprinkled upon the blanket. "There! Now this will show me where Ava is."
He ran a hand down his clothing and his thousand dollar suit became his comfortable leather pants and crimson shirt with his crocodile leather vest and knee high boots that he wore in Fairy Tale Land. Then he turned to his wife. "Wish me luck, dearie."
She clasped his hands in hers firmly. "I don't need to, Bobby. Because I'm going with you."
"What? Belle, no, you can't . . ."
"Yes, I can! This is my baby too, and I'm not some helpless damsel in distress, Robert Gold! I'm coming."
"Belle . . ." he was about to protest some more, for he hated putting her in danger, but then he abruptly clamped his mouth shut.
When she wished, she could be as stubborn as ten mules and then some. Besides, she was right.
"Okay." He gestured and her pretty blue dress became leather pants and a red shirt and leather vest as well, clothes that hugged her petite frame and would give her the freedom to move if she needed to.
After that he leaned again on his cane. He knew this quest would prove taxing for him, but he had to bear with his old injury, since that was the price regaining his magic had required. He snapped his fingers and a crystal vial with a golden liquid appeared in his hand.
"What's that?" Belle asked curiously.
"It's a potion called the Tears of Tir Na Nog, and it will help us see past any fae glamour. The Sidhe are known for it, and for their love of trickery." He unstoppered the bottle and said, "Tilt your head back, and let me put the drops in your eyes, Belle."
After he had done so, she took the vial and did the same for him.
"That should last for several hours," he told her.
She went and got the pack from the car, and tucked the revolver and some shells in her belt. She knew that the Sidhe disliked and feared cold iron, and the gun was something that might stop one of them if necessary.
When she returned, she found her husband kneeling before the portal and nailing one end of a spool of gold thread into the ground.
He looked up as she approached. "Insurance," he explained. "With this we can find our way back home again. The Sidhe never do quite what they promise, so it's best to be prepared."
Belle nodded tightly.
Gold tucked the spool into his pocket, then said, "Okay, dearie. Let's go." He took Belle's hand and his cane, then walked into the portal.
When they emerged on the other side they were in a long low tunnel that was faceted a lovely emerald green. Gold tucked the baby blanket under his arm and continued walking forward, the spool of thread trailing behind him.
Belle followed, keeping one hand on the gun, alert and wary.
Tales abounded about the realm of the fae, and one and all said that Tir Na Nog did not welcome strangers. And that was how the fae preferred it. Belle didn't care, however. She was here to find her child, and woe betide any who got in her way.