Chapter 5: Words

Rumplestiltskin had never been happier. His days were still filled with work and chores, traversing the several miles to purchase wool from Hagan which he then prepared, spun, wound, and sold to Ebert, who continued to berate him for his existence. He would tidy his home, doing his best to keep the shabby place as immaculate as the spinsters who raised him had kept it. He took pride in his home – he always had – but now he awoke with a deeper appreciation and love for all he had. Belle seemed to have that effect on him.

He spent more evenings with Belle now. Sometimes she would visit him, which always left him sputtering nonsense and insisting that they quickly make their way to some public place so that her virtue was not questioned. She would simply laugh, take his arm, and drag him into the town square where they would walk slowly and talk about whatever came to mind. They never noticed the people who stared at them. Their eyes were only for each other and they were deaf to the whispers that fluttered around them as they passed by.

On nights when she did not surprise him in his home, he was at hers, learning to read and write as Belle laughed and cheered him on. He was her most prized student, she declared; and he could only blush and strive to write the next word with a sturdier hand. He had always been a smart man, though he'd never been given much opportunity to develop or learn anything beyond the means to survive. He was learning to read and write for pleasure, and it was indeed a pleasure to make sense of the words upon a page. There was also pleasure in how Belle rewarded him for his success. She would rub his arm or shoulders, and sometimes she could press a quick kiss upon his cheek in her excitement when he accomplished something difficult. He still became flustered if she showed him affection, though he was sure that was partly due to her father being a few feet away from them.

Maurice noticed, too. He trusted his daughter, and he knew the spinner was cowardly enough not to try anything that would risk Belle's reputation; but his fatherly instincts led him to sit on the small chair by the fireplace, pretending to read while he ensured his daughter remained safe. He would watch with pride as Belle instructed Rumplestiltskin with a patience he would never have had with anyone. She hovered over the spinner, reading off words and making Rumplestiltskin write them down. He admired his daughter's love of knowledge and was proud of the initiative she took upon herself to educate others. She had been fortunate, to grow up with a father who had gained much privilege in his service to the kingdom. He had retired to raise his daughter after her mother died, and he'd brought his strict discipline, his books, and his unconditional love with him. He was pleased that he had instilled he latter two into his only child. Knowledge and love were precious things, and he'd hoped one day he would raise up a young woman who would willingly share them with others. Maurcie knew, watching his daughter with the man who had gained her affections, that he had succeeded.

But he knew that his daughter was viewed upon as strange. Women were not valued for more than their ability to bear children, and Belle was not the type of woman to settle for a life of being nothing more than a man's brood mare. He knew his daughter was considered the beauty of the village, but it was the only trait for which she was revered. Most men were intimidated by her cleverness, though that did not deter some brave souls from seeking him out in the effort of claiming Belle's hand. As he had told Rumplestiltskin, Belle was always aware of who intended to seek her hand, and she'd always made it clear to her father that she would not have anyone who did not value her for all she was. Maurice had swelled with pride when his daughter claimed she would only marry for love. Many in the village could not afford that luxury. If love came from a marriage, it was a rare blessing. Maurice had been lucky. He'd married a young girl who was practically thrown at him in an effort to save the family farm, and she'd been just thirteen. They'd quickly grown to love each other and he'd truly mourned her when she passed. He knew from his own experience that love could grow out of even the most unlikely of places, and he knew love did not touch two people the same way. And with that he vowed to allow his daughter the freedom to choose her own husband, no matter what it cost. If she never chose, he would not begrudge her that choice. It seemed though, as he watched Belle sit down next to the spinner and take his free hand in hers, the two of them scooting closer so that their knees practically touched, that she had finally found someone worth choosing.

"I think you've got it," he heard her say as she studied the parchment he had written on. "By the gods, I think you truly do have it!"

"Belle," Maurice's dry voice called out at her exclamation.

She giggled and lowered her voice to whisper to Rumplestiltskin, "I think your efforts deserve a reward."

He felt his cheeks flush. "What sort of reward?" He asked hopefully, keeping his voice as low as possible.

"Say good night to my father and you'll find out."

Rumplestiltskin stood and stretched his back slightly before walking over to shake Maurice's hand, as he did every time he left. "Thank you, sir," he said politely. Though he did not stand, Maurice reached out and took Rumplestiltskin's hand in his.

"Good night, Rumplestiltskin," Maurice said with a slight nod before releasing his hand and picking up his book to continue reading.

"I'll see him out, Papa," Belle declared as she grabbed her shawl, not giving her father time to stop her.

They walked outside, the cool air sending shivers over them. Belle moved to stand closer to Rumplestiltskin and he looked down at her in surprise. Hope filled him and he waited anxiously, hoping she would kiss him. "I'm very proud of you," she said sweetly, reaching out to take his hand and squeezing it gently. "We'll start reading a book next time instead of just pointing out different words."

"I look forward to it."

He did, truly, but he looked forward to spending time in Belle's presence far more. He was grateful for all that he'd learned. He found himself sounding out words on a regular basis, amazed that there were so many things he could now understand. He felt like there was nothing he couldn't do now that he had the power of words.

"So do I," she agreed, her voice but a soft whisper. They stood for a moment, and Rumplestiltskin began to wonder if she'd only been joking about a reward. She put his fears to rest when she spoke again, "Would you like your prize now?" She asked coyly.

"Very much," he said, his voice low and growing breathy.

She smiled and leaned up on her tiptoes and pressed her lips to his. He did not move as she backed away, glancing at him curiously. She found, to her amusement, that he appeared frozen. His eyes were still closed and his lips still slightly puckered, as if her touch had turned him to stone. He blinked after a moment, then opened his eyes to stare at her, his eyebrows raising far up on his forehead.

"I-Th-Wh-Thank….you," he cursed himself for stuttering like a fool, but she'd left him utterly dumbfounded. As wonderful as her hesitant kiss to his cheek had been, this was by far the most incredible thing she'd given him.

She laughed, then slapped her hand over her mouth to stifle the sound.

"Thank you," he said again, wishing he could think of something else to say.

"You earned it," she declared, then let go of his hand and stepped toward the door. "Good night, Rumplestiltskin."

"Good night, my dear."

He caught the sight of her blush just as the door shut. Smiling to himself, he turned and walked on air the entire way home.

~0~

The market was more crowded than normal. Rumplestiltskin pushed his way through to the end of the row where Ebert stood chewing on a piece of salted ham and hard bread and Rumple watched in disgust as crumbs fell into his beard. A few villagers were standing at his stall perusing the various materials he had for sale and Rumplestiltskin moved over to the side, out of the way. He placed his basket on the counter and began pulling out the spindles of wool.

"What do you think yer doin'?" Ebert growled.

"G-getting out the wool," Rumplestiltskin said shakily, wondering what had come over the man. He was normally a hateful pig, but his mood seemed worse today, and Rumplestiltksin could only fathom why.

"Well be quick about it," he snarled. "I got payin' customers here an' I don't want you scarin' em off with yer ugly mutt."

Resisting the urge to point out that the two ladies at his booth seemed more disgusted with the vendor than himself, Rumplestiltskin handed the several spools of wool over to Ebert who felt them and eyed them carefully, even going so far as to sniff them. Grunting in annoyance, Ebert grabbed a silver coin and tossed it carelessly at Rumplestiltskin who fumbled to catch it. He shoved the piece into his pocket and nodded.

"Thank you," he said tersely, deciding he was not going to comment about how grateful he was that he'd received so much for his goods. Ebert grunted in response, after taking a bite of bread that was far too big to properly fit in his mouth, then he turned and began telling the women about the material he wished to sell them, oblivious of the crumbs he spewed as he spoke. Shuddering in disgust, Rumplestiltskin turned and made his way through the market, filling his basket with some simple foods that would last for some time. He purchased more bread and cheese, dried fruit, a small jug of sweet wine, and a cake from the bakery. He still had plenty of shillings left over after he finished, and he looked forward to returning home and dropping them into the little clay cup where he was saving for a now promising future.

He was going to meet Belle again tonight, and his thoughts wandered back to the night before. It had only been a few hours since she'd bestowed upon him that wonderful kiss and he could hardly wait to please her again with his reading. Maybe she would reward him again! Perhaps her father would retire to his room if he stayed late enough and they would be free to share a kiss in the light of the fire, where Rumplestiltksin would be able to properly see her lovely flushed cheeks as she moved away from him. Rumplestiltskin rushed home, excited to get the day's work over with so that he might move on to more enjoyable ventures.

~000~

That evening Belle greeted him at her door, but instead of inviting him inside, she grabbed her cloak off the hook and slipped outside, calling out to her father that they would be back soon. She slipped her arm in his and he gave her a questioning look. "What are we doing?" He asked hesitantly, glancing back in fear that her father might rush outside and demand to know what was going on.

"I thought we could take a walk," she explained as she pulled him along. "It's a lovely evening. We can read when we get back."

He did not argue with her; there would be no point. Instead he rested his other hand on hers and allowed her to guide him toward the square. They spoke softly to one another, Belle laughing at his quips and Rumplestiltskin listening intently as she spoke of a number of things. Soon they were oblivious to everything around them but each other. Rumple listened, transfixed, as Belle began to talk about the book she was currently reading. It was her favorite, she declared, a fictional tale about a princess and monsters and a prince in disguise.

"Sounds interesting," he said. And it did sound interesting. Everything Belle said was interesting and he looked forward to being able to discuss her books with her.

"It's wonderful," Belle said firmly. "I think you'll enjoy it."

"I'm sure if you enjoy it then it's worth reading," he proclaimed, proud of the compliment he'd paid and even prouder of the smile his words produced.

"I'm not sure if it's because I'm teaching you," she laughed, "But you certainly have a way with words!"

"How can she bare to be in his presence?"

"Never mind him; what about her? She's so strange. Thinks she's better than most because she can read."

Rumplestiltskin stopped, his words dead on his tongue, and Belle glanced at him before looking over to two women who were sitting outside the pub, talking far too loudly. Rumplestiltskin felt anger well up inside him at hearing someone speak ill of his Belle, but he knew it would do nothing to speak up, so he tugged on Belle's arm and said, "Come along, Belle. Let's head back."

"Hey, spinner!" They paused, and Rumple turned his head slightly to see a young man approach him. Belle tensed beside him, and he glanced down at her in concern. "Yeah, I'm talkin' to you!" The lad said again, and Rumple turned completely to face the boy.

"What makes you think you're good enough for the likes of her?" The boy asked, his long, nasty hair falling into his eyes. He was taller than Rumplestiltskin, and terribly thin, but his arms held the hint of muscle from working long days of hard labor.

"Look at you," the boy said, reaching out to push at Rumplestiltskin. "You think you actually deserve to have a woman at your side? You're nothing but the son of a coward. Your own Pa didn't even want you, what makes you think she would-"

"Wilmar," Belle hissed suddenly. "Hold your tongue, you barbarian!"

"Ah, so you can talk," Wilmar said with a sneer. "I thought you didn't know how, considerin' you would never talk to me." He chuckled then glanced back at Rumplestiltskin, "And you. You're so pathetic you need your little whore to stand up for you, eh?"

Belle gasped, and Rumplestiltskin felt his hand ball into a fist. He felt hot, the fury within him from years of insults boiling inside. He could feel his restraint stretching, and it was going to break at any moment. He needed to get out of there before he did something he would end up regretting. He needed to get Belle away. She was what mattered here. He took a step back, ready to turn and walk away, but Wilmar carried on.

"Well, that's the only reason you're with him, ain't it?" Wilmar asked, fixing his gaze upon Belle. His voice was raised to draw as much attention as possible, and a small crowd began to form around them. Wilmar thrived on being the center of attention, and it was clear he enjoyed the strife he was causing. Spurred on by the rush he felt he continued, "You screwed him, and now you're stuck with him. Aren't ya? No one else'd have you anyway, and now you-"

"Shut up."

Wilmar paused and looked cheekily at Rumplestiltskin. "What did you say to me?"

"I-I said," Rumplestiltskin stuttered as he stepped forward to face the lad, "Shut up. You sh-shouldn't speak to a lady like that."

"Pfft, she ain't no lady!" Wilmar laughed.

Rumplestiltskin swallowed. "A-and you're no man."

Wilmar's laughter stopped instantly and he placed a piercing gaze on the spinner. "What did you say?"

Rumplestiltskin trembled but pressed on, determined to defend Belle.. "Wh-what sort of man speaks that way about a woman? You are a r-rude and hateful boy wh-who doesn't deserve someone like Belle."

Rumplestiltskin was going to continue, scared though he was, but before he could speak again, he heard a roar and then felt a fist connect with his face, leaving him reeling. Rumplestiltskin swayed and collapsed to the ground; his head spinning and throbbing. He could hear laughter, and Belle calling out his name, but he could not focus enough to properly sort out what was being said. He grasped at his head, which he could already feel bruising, and groaned as everything became a haze around him of swirling, blurry colors and the sounds fading to distant buzzes in his ears.

He could tell that something else had happened, for the crowd that was roaring had suddenly gone silent. He couldn't open his eyes but he could hear Belle, though her voice was distorted. After a moment he felt himself being lifted from the ground. He did not know what was happening or where he was going; he only knew that everything was growing darker, and if it would make the pain go away, he would gladly embrace its quiet warmth.

~000~

When he came to, he was lying on a bed in a room he did not recognize. He groaned and tried to turn his head, but the pounding and swirling instantly returned and he forced himself to remain still. He shut his eyes for a moment, but a sound from the other end of the room, far louder and painful than it should have been, caused him to blink his eyes open. He was surprised to see Belle approaching him with a small basin and a rag.

"What-" He tried to speak, but the sound of his own voice was far too loud, so he stopped, groaning in pain.

She sat the basin on the small table next to the bed and dipped the rag into the water. Ringing it out, she touched the cloth to this head, which caused him to flinch.

"Shh," she gently whispered as she dabbed at the spot where his head pounded the most.

"That was an incredibly stupid thing you did," she scolded softly, but Rumplestiltskin was so grateful that she wasn't shouting that he would gladly allow her to curse him for his actions, which he barely even remembered.

"What happened?"

"You smarted off to Wilmar so he punched you," she informed him, and the memories came flooding back, causing him to groan again.

"I can't believe I did that," he whispered, slightly in awe of himself. He wasn't one to stand up to others; he was content to let them say what they willed and move on. Showing that their words had no effect on him was far easier than confronting people and proving that they did.

"Well, it was incredibly stupid," she remarked again. He felt her touch his cheek and tilt his head in her direction. He opened his eyes again to look at her and was met with a sweet smile. "But I'm glad you did it."

She leaned down, brushed her lips against his, then pulled back and gently ghosted her lips over his temple. "It was very sweet of you," she said as she pushed a strand of hair behind her ear. "No one has ever done that for me before."

"What, gotten clobbered?" He asked with a groan as he reached up to clasp her hand. She winced, but before Rumple could question her she removed her hand and brushed it against his cheek.

"Stood up for me."

"Belle," he whispered.

"Shh," she shushed him. "Rest. Papa said you can stay here tonight. He was quite proud that you defended my honor. It meant a lot to him."

She finished cleaning the area and brushed her lips against his temple one last time before gathering up the basin and slipping out of the room. He fell asleep almost instantly, as the thudding in his head lulling him into a dreamless slumber.

When he awoke the next morning, the headache had mostly passed, but he could feel the slight dull ache from where his eye was undoubtedly blackened. He reached up to touch his eye, wincing when a surge of pain shot through him. "Shite," he grumbled, then looked up in surprise when he heard Maurice cough.

"Hope you don't use that language in front of Belle," he smirked.

Holding his hand to his eye he replied, "No, sir."

"Good."

Maurice approached him and sat down on the chair Belle occupied the night before. "I sent Belle down to get some water," he explained. "Poor girl didn't sleep a wink all night. Probably came in here to check on you at least a dozen times."

"I'm sorry I made her worry so," Rumplestiltskin apologized as he blinked several times in an effort to clear his vision.

"Oh don't apologize," Maurice said with a wave of his hand. "You did what any man ought to do. You screwed your courage and stood up for my daughter. I find that commendable."

"Thank you," Rumplestiltskin whispered gratefully.

Maurice stood, groaning as he did so. "You stay here as long as you need," he said, "The least I can do is let you heal up."

Maurice stood but Rumple called out to him softly. He turned to look at Rumplestiltskin. "Has he bothered her before?"

Maurice returned to the seat and sat down heavily. "He was the first boy to ask for Belle's hand," Maurice said. "He's a hard worker, but he's vain and rude and disrespectful. Belle never liked him much. He's had eyes for her since they were children. Never understood her love of books, but that never seemed to be a real problem until she asked me to refuse him. Now any chance he gets he tries to upset her. He's just sore that she sees him for who he really is." Maurice shrugged and offered Rumplestiltskin a cryptic smile. "I have a feeling he'll keep his mouth shut for a while now."

Before Rumple had a chance to ask what he meant, Maurice stood again and left the room, leaving Rumplestiltskin alone with his thoughts. He didn't know Wilmar well, but he knew of him. The boy was cocky and enjoyed bringing others down to lift himself up. His band of friends found his antics greatly entertaining. He wished he'd known Belle was having issues with the boy sooner. He could have been more aware and kept her away from him when they were out, but now he knew. He'd confronted the lad over his remarks to Belle and gotten quite the beating for his efforts. He'd done his best to help Belle and would gladly take Wilmar's fist to his other eye if it meant making Belle smile.

Belle returned not long after and fixed him a small plate of bread and cheese. He ate slowly, each movement of his jaw causing his head to throb. Belle stayed by his side and Rumple was grateful for her kindness. She used a wet rag to wipe at the bruise again, taking great care not to cause him pain. When she was done she pulled out the book they'd been speaking of and began to read to him. Her voice was soft and gentle, a caress over his soul that made all the pain from his head dissipate until all he could focus on was her.

He remained there until late afternoon before decided it would be best for him to return home. It was only a blackened eye – he had yet to see how bad it looked – and though Belle was obviously upset by his decision to leave, she said nothing and allowed him to go. She pressed a kiss to his lips when her father wasn't looking and insisted that she walk him home. He took her shoulders in his hands and told her that he didn't want her going out alone, not after what happened the day before but she glared at him and told him she would come by later to check on him, whether he liked it or not. He knew better than to argue with her and so he made her promise to be careful, then with one last kiss he was on his way.

He walked slowly with his head down, partly to hide his face and partly because even the fading sun was too bright. He wondered about what had happened after he blacked out because he could not remember anything but pain. He hadn't asked her and she'd never offered any information while she cared for him. He reflected on Maurice's sly comment and a part of him had the suspicion that something else had happened.

Curiosity got the best of him, as he made his way through the market and toward the pub where he knew the lad frequented. He noticed Wilmar sitting outside, nursing a mug of ale. He hid, not wanting to be seen. He watched as Wilmar sat with slumped shoulders, not saying a word and ignoring his friend's attempts to cheer him up. Finally the lad looked up, brushing hair out of his face as he did so to acknowledge one of the other boys and Rumplestiltskin noticed the large welt that covered his left eye. Rumplestiltskin stared at the spot, swollen and greenish-purple and quite considerable in size. The boy looked quite frazzled, as if he could hardly bear the pain or the fact that someone had clearly been brave enough to return the gesture he'd offered Rumplestiltskin.

Who would have done this? Rumplestiltskin thought to himself as he observed the boy. Everyone that had been crowded around them the night before had been cheering for Wilmar. He'd heard them laugh as he crashed to the ground. But he also remembered silence, before he'd blacked out. That must have been when it happened though try as he might he could not think of anyone there who would have stood up for him, except-

He turned on his heel and rushed toward Belle's house as fast as he could carry himself.

"Belle! Belle!" He shouted even as his head pounded. Almost instantly he saw her rush outside, her face drawn up in concern. She laid eyes on him and hurried to meet him.

"Rumplestiltskin, what-"

She was cut off when he swept the girl into his arms and pressed his lips hard against hers, taking her completely by surprise. He was not one to offer affection so freely and until this point she'd been the one to initiate kisses between them. He pulled away and grabbed her arms, both to keep him steady and to keep her close.

"You wonderful, brilliant woman!" He declared, "Why did you not tell me what you did?"

Belle shrugged, flexing her bruised hand. "I was taking care of you. It wasn't important."

"Not important?" He blanched. "Belle, you punched him. For punching me. Have you seen him? He looks absolutely horrid! What on earth possessed you?" He reached down and grasped her hands and noticed that she winced. She'd done that the last time he'd taken her hand, and he looked down to see her knuckles were a light purple. She hadn't said a word about it; she never would have if he hadn't gone looking for Wilmar.

"I don't tolerate bullies. And he's been a problem for far too long," she said simply. "Besides, I did it as much for me as I did for you."

"It doesn't matter which of us it was for, that was brilliant!" He exclaimed. "You marvelous girl; I love you!"

He froze, staring down at her with wide eyes and a gaping mouth. He loved her, true, but he hadn't planned on admitting it for some time. Yet now that he'd spoken them, he felt nothing but relief. He was tired of hiding how he felt. He had always been fond of her but now it was definitely love and nothing felt as right as saying the words aloud. It didn't matter that they'd only known each other a short time or that they'd been courting less than a fortnight; he loved her. He'd never been a confident or sure man, but he'd never been so sure of anything in his life. He desperately loved her.

Her eyes were bright, sparkling with joy as her lips spread in a smile. "I love you, too."

There were so many things he could say; so many things he wanted to say but he could not find the words. Even after all her diligent teaching he couldn't piece together the proper words to express his joy, so instead he laughed loud and long. In his excitement, he wrapped her in his arms and spun her around, feeling delirious for reasons other than his pounding head. His heart and arms were full of Belle, and all was right in the world.

At last he put her down but they did not move away. He lifted her hand and gently kissed the bruised knuckles, careful not to cause her any further discomfort. She hadn't wanted Rumplestiltskin to know what she'd done. Many men would be upset to think that a woman had to stand up for them. Rumple was not like other men, but she hadn't wanted him to look upon her with anything other than favor. She had admired that he'd not resorted to violence, instead using his words to stop Wilmar in his tracks, and Belle valued words. Words were her weapon of choice and she could outwit, out speak, and overwhelm most people in the village with her rhetoric. Rumple seemed to share the same belief, that words – now that he had them – were better than violence. But even then, words could not leave a lasting impact on someone like Wilmar who threw around names and insults carelessly. He put no thought into what he said and it would take more to put someone like him in his place. Wilmar was brash. He He settled things by strength and brawn. She was not physically strong but her mind was sharp and she knew, both from her books and from watching the boys brawling with one another, how to hit. She hadn't realized just how hard she could throw a punch until today and as proud as she was of her accomplishment, the dull ache in her hand reminded her of why she shied away from physical fights and preferred to fight with words.

Rumplestiltskin had stepped up and shown his courage but he had suffered for it. The least Belle could do was help him along when words no longer proved useful. She could not deny the fact that she also gained a small bit of pleasure in knowing that word would spread all over the village of how one of the toughest lads in the area had been bested by a woman. Perhaps words would prove to be the more powerful weapon yet. She pushed those thoughts aside as she and Rumplestiltskin continued to embrace. He whispered again that he loved her, sounding timid now that the excitement of his discovery had worn off. She responded in kind, giggling when he leaned down to kiss her again.

Inside, Maurice shook his head as he turned away from the shameless display outside. He would have to talk to her about behaving that way where any could see. He would also need to make sure Belle's dowry was ready. Based on what he'd just overheard confessed between the two of them, he suspected it would only be a matter of time.

Author's Notes:

Thank you everyone for your kind words, favorites, and follows!

Chapter 6 will be up November 22!

Please see chapters 1 & 2 for the disclaimer.