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Chapter 17 – Days 9 and 10: Learn to let go

Belle and Gretel stayed at home and spent a pleasant relaxing afternoon, having typical girl's chats while they worked together repairing an embroidered bed cover. The beauty grew found of the girl of few words but with a sturdy personality. Gretel was the lady of the house and had taken the task of her deceased mother. She was a leader, determined, responsible and wise for her age. Belle learned Hansel and Gretel were twins and their mother passed away when they were five. Their father had been devastated. Rumpelstiltskin and Baelfire had come live with them for not less than two years, helping Bram with the grieving, the children and the work; just like Bram had helped Rumpelstiltskin after his wife was gone and his leg damaged. The princess understood now the close bond between Bram and Rumpelstiltskin. They were like brothers, loyal and trustworthy.

The more Belle got to know this group of peasants, the more she realized there was more richness to be found in a modest life than in one of royalty. They were rich in the sense that everything was real and transparent. They could be spontaneous and carefree, open about their opinions and feelings. There were no boundaries, no façades hidden behind formalities to masker feelings or intentions. The princess smiled as she realized, she could get used to this life of simplicity. But quickly a shadow hung over her. The war. Her responsibility as heiress to the throne. She had to focus on that, for it was her duty and mission. She needed to get to Lord Leopold, find out if Maleficent was truly behind the attacks and organize retaliation. As soon as Rumpelstiltskin would feel better, she would ask to leave. In the worse scenario, she would have to go alone. But then, she knew he would never let her travel alone. A thought that made her feel warm and safe.

Meanwhile, Bram, his son and Baelfire went into the dark forest to gather more wood. When the men returned, first thing Baelfire did was to check on his father. He returned short after looking rather upset. Rumpelstiltskin was awake but feeling exhausted and signs of fever were reappearing. He had slept the whole afternoon but didn't seem to show any improvement.

"He should never have drunk that thing." Baelfire spoke muffled in anger, his eyes sending daggers to Bram. The middle-aged man, who was already preparing diner, looked a bit surprised at Baelfire's fuming expression.

"Your father is sick from the journey. The firewater has nothing to do with it." He stated as an obvious fact.

"How can you be so sure? He was looking much better after lunch!" Baelfire retorted angrily.

"Trust me, its normal he's not feeling well yet. He needs another day or two to fully recover." Bram sounded indifferent, but the teenager could sense the irritation and the no further discussion tone in it.

Baelfire didn't retort anymore. He simply got out of the house upset, wanting to be alone and blow off his frustrations. He knew there was no sense in arguing with Bram. The man was good-hearted, but treated him like a silly child. Baelfire had already become annoyed with the man earlier today, when they were in the woods. The teenager had warned Bram about the war and that he and his children were not safe in Armithil anymore. Bram, instead of considering it even for a moment, barked a laugh and said he lived in a practically invisible spot. Baelfire retorted by pointing out that it didn't mean they were immune to danger and Bram pated his back saying he was sounding like his crazy father. Baelfire could have slapped the man at that moment. He refused to see the fingers of war stretching throughout the kingdom. Instead, Bram made him feel like a stupid child with no brains of his own. Seriously, adults could truly be foolish.

"Are you okay?" Baelfire startled and quickly turned around to see, for his relieve, it was Belle. She didn't miss the tension coming from the boy and had followed him outside.

"Yeah…I'm just upset with Bram for giving him that drink. I mean…He's the adult one but acts like he has no kind of sense or responsibility!" Baelfire expressed his frustrations. Belle gave him an understanding smile, feeling sorry for the boy. "The worst part is that he won't even listen to me! I told him about the war and that they should leave too, but he won't even take me seriously." Belle listened to the boy's words with concern and understanding. He had reached that age when childish easygoingness was slowly being replaced by deep thoughts, questioning and forming of own opinions. But still too young to reach adults' ears. She pondered before answering.

"I think it's not easy to make such a decision. To leave everything behind and start a new life elsewhere." The princes told, as she rested a hand on his shoulder. "Perhaps your father can convince him." Baelfire nodded, but doubted Rumpelstiltskin could persuade the woodman. After all, Bram did think the cripple's actions were origin of irrational and blinded fear. Which was true, Baelfire had to admit. But he was starting to believe that sometimes, fear was not such a bad thing. "Come on, let's go back inside. It's getting chilly out here." Belle said as she gently guided Baelfire back inside.

A merry dinner with a lot of laughter ended the day. Baelfire didn't touch the firewater or war subjects anymore, which helped to lighten up the sphere. He had, although, been quieter than usual. Actually, Baelfire had been practically absent during dinnertime, as he insisted to bring his father's share to his room. The teenager had confined his father about his frustrations and new emerging fears. Rumpelstiltskin listened to him with his usual attention and patience and Baelfire was glad to see in his father's expression that he agreed with his son's thoughts.

"Bram can be really thick when he wants." Rumpelstiltskin concluded, once his son finished. "I think I might know why he refuses to even listen about the war… I'll talk to him tomorrow, okay?" Baelfire nodded, a bit relieved, feeling a weak hope returning. He couldn't help finding his father way wiser than Bram and thought he had some chance in getting through that woodcutter's stubbornness.

"Papa?"

"Yes?"

"Please, promise me you won't drink that stuff again." Rumpelstilstskin couldn't help and let out a loud laughter. He caressed his son's cheek in a mix of amusement and fatherly love.

"Don't worry. I won't touch that blasted drink anymore. Not sure how far it made me feel worse." He paused, looking thoughtful. "I'm sorry. I can be really stupid sometimes."

"You only do that kind of things when Bram's around." Baelfire wisely noted, in a schooling tone, much to his father's pride.

"I'm afraid you're right about that one. You really don't want to know the troubles we used to get into when we were younger." He smiled at his past memories.

"What happened for you to change?"

"You happened." Baelfire frowned curiously. "You were born and… I don't know. I guess I finally gained sense." Rumpelstiltskin sounded amused at his own realization.

"Yeah, well, I think Bram is still to find his share of sense." Baelfire complained for his father's amusement, who laughed heartily. The teenager soon found himself laughing with his father, their merry sound reaching the living room.

"Feeling better, old friend?" Bram happily asked as Rumpelstiltskin entered the living room the next day, looking healthier than he had in ages. "You seem to have a nose to know when food is on the table." The cripple rolled his eyes at the joke and sat on his usual seat.

"Where's everybody?"

"Outside." Bram said while he stirred the food he was cooking. "That Linda of yours is a darling, but clumsy as hell." Rumpelstiltskin had to chuckle, already imagining the fake housekeeper struggling with unknown chores. "But she learns fast. Guess that's a good thing…She'll be a good wife someday."

"Not touching that subject!" Rumpelstiltskin quickly spat. Bram chuckled but knew it was a clear don't-mess-with-me-right-now message. "You know, Baelfire is worried about your safety here." Rumpelstiltskin said, quickly changing the topic.

"Truly your son. Already making a storm is a glass of water." Bram joked, but he knew he hit a nerve there. The woodcutter had been waiting for the moment his friend would try to convince him to flee to Snowland. This was his way of standing his ground, as mean as it could sound.

"Bae had seen things the last past days no child should ever see." Bram almost flinched at his friend's dark and low tone. It were the moments Rumpelstiltskin spoke in a controlled and calm tone that mostly intimidated the woodcutter. He knew the man was actually boiling inside and his low voice, almost a whisper, was more threatening than any shouting and scolding. "How do you think it feels for a fourteen year old to see smoke rising from dozens of villages, being mercilessly confronted with the fact life is a feeble thing and easily taken away? This is something you should very well know!" Rumpelstiltskin continued, his voice slowly rising. "This is not a mere runaway, Bram! We are actually escaping for our lives. You do realize we are at war?" Bram turned around. He looked at his friend's eyes, seeing rare determination in them.

"Nobody knows I live here but you and Jefferson. What are the chances the war will reach us?" He continued acting carefree, but Rumpelstiltskin knew he had Bram right where he wanted.

"War, my dear friend, has no rules. Sure you'll live here unnoticed for a long time, but eventually, you'll be found. You cannot hide forever. I mean, you'll need supplies; you'll be forced to move out eventually. Going to the road will be enough to be caught when ogres and raiders have taken over the kingdom!" Bram could see the fire in his friend's gaze. Sense the willpower in his voice. Those were characteristics that seldom appeared in the frail man, but when did appear, trey struck with mightiness. "You have children, for the gods sake! And don't think that compass of yours will always tell you the way out!" Bram looked at the spoken object. He had won it in a game years ago, from an old man, somebody touched by magic. The compass would always lead him to the way out, would always find his loved ones. It had lead him to his wife, once, long ago.

"I cannot leave, Rumple." Bram finally admitted.

"You cannot stay because of a memory." His friend countered, confronting Bram with the essence of his persistence. "Evelien is dead for years now. You have to let her go. For the sake of your children." Bram was silent. He knew he was being confronted with a reality he had too long denied. But everything in this house reminded of her. Every object, every corner of the humble home had a tale related to his wife. Leaving it would be the final farewell. And he wasn't prepared for it.

"I'm sorry…I just can't." Rumpelstiltskin sighed in frustration.

"You're being selfish!" He coldly spoke. "You'll pay a high price for it. And so will your kids!"

At this Rumpelstiltskin got up and exited the house. He knew it was a lost battle. He knew Bram preferred to die in his house than leave it. And he truly regretted it, for Hansel and Gretel would be victims of his own tragedy. Baelfire saw his father come outside and run to meet him right away. The moment he saw him closer, he knew there was something wrong.

"Papa?" Rumpelstiltskin gave his son an apologetic look and shook his head dejectedly. Baelfire knew right away his father had tried, without success, to convince his friend in leaving. "If he doesn't want to leave, we should at least bring Hansel and Gretel along with us!"

"You think they want to be departed from their father?" Rumpelstiltskin sorrowfully asked. Baelfire knew of course the answer. They would never leave Bram, just like he would never abandon his father. Death together was preferable than definitive separation.

"What do we do now?" The teenager asked. Rumpelstiltskin sighed tiredly.

"As soon as I feel alright again, I'm trading the rest of the wool and we are leaving. I know I put enough material in Bram's thick head for him to at least reflect on the matter. We can only hope he'll gain some sense. Further, there's nothing we can do. It is his decision. Alas, we cannot force him to change it."

Bram was left alone with Rumpelstiltskin's words burning in his ears. He hated when his friend managed to reach his heart with the painful truth. The cripple seemed to have a talent in choosing the right words that managed to slip easily in his difficulty reachable soul. Bram found himself struggling with an internal dilemma. He could not leave the memories of his wife behind him, but he also could not let his children be victims of his own grief. It pained him greatly to admit his friend was right. The question was, could he do it? He stared at his compass, the arrow spinning madly searching for his answers. True north always points to your loved ones.

I growing fond of Bram's character.

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