AN: Sorry for the delay - real life got in the way. Hoping to update again in the next couple of days where we'll finally get to meet Belle, and also see what kind of land Rumpelstiltskin and Bae will be gifted. As mentioned before, this is my first prompt verse, so feel free to leave your requests and prompts either in a comment, or by visiting my tumblr at thegrrlgeek8.
~ R&B ~
It is early the next morning when Rumpelstiltskin wakes, rays of morning sunlight just peaking over the horizon. He blinks, allowing his eyes to adjust to the inky light of twilight as he allows both his mind and body to wake slowly. It is a luxury he is not often awarded and one he knows probably will not come for a long time. He becomes more aware of their surroundings as he wakes more; the hard wood of the wagon floor beneath their bodies, the dewy chill seeping through their threadbare blanket, high-pitched coos and squawks of the wildlife coming awake, the trickling of a water from some nearby river or stream.
And voices.
They don't bother him.
Much.
He's worried, of course. It'd be a lie if he said anything different. They're in a new place where they know not a soul, dependent on the generosity of strangers in another Kingdom. Granted, most in this new village are refugees as well and the Kingdom has stationed a reasonable sized military presence within the village, but it is all new. If anything were to happen to him, what would happen to Bae? Shifting on the wood, Rumpelstiltskin pulls the small boy curled into his side closer, tucking more of the blanket around him to ward off some of the chill.
His boy is the only joy in his life.
Bae's warm breath plays across his cool skin as his little head settles in Rumpelstiltskin's neck. Their sleeping arrangements are not the most comfortable; they haven't been for weeks; and yet the boy had not complained. Most nights he just wedged himself between his Papa and the wagon wall, his little head tucked into the crevice between his father's neck and shoulder. Finger's running through Bae's hair gently, Rumpelstiltskin's thoughts begin to drift to all that must be done.
First thing first is the meeting with the newly appointed mayor to the village – Monsieur le Maire – a transplant from the border town of Oppidum. They had met briefly the night before when Rumpelstiltskin and Bae had arrived in the village; just long enough for Rumple to hand over the papers given to them for safe passage and a plot of land, and the mayor to peruse them. The man had seemed friendly enough as he directed them to the field behind the makeshift Barracks for the night with the promise of meeting the next morning to go over the expectations of the village.
It's this that has him awake this morning.
From the information he has been given, Rumpelstiltskin knows that there is a plot of land waiting for them somewhere in the village; 15 acres according to the paperwork. That was more land than he'd ever thought to have in his life. It means substance for Bae and him. Hard work, yes, but it will give them the ability to not only tend to their sheep but also have a garden in the years to come. A larger flock in the years to come too, equating to more wool to spin and the chance for a greater income. Perhaps even a goat or a cow for milk one day. Some chickens for eggs.
It means he can provide for his son in a way he's never been able to before.
The thought alone is enough to fill him with hope.
The downside though, is that there is no shelter on the land. No hut for Bae and he, no barn for the animals. They would all need adequate shelter sooner rather than later and he's not sure how that is going to happen. He is but one man; and a lame one at that. Just the thought of gathering the materials is enough to push down the hope. With his leg, he'll never be able to chop down the trees needed or lift them up to build the support of the frames. Hopefully there'll be some on the ground, but then, what kind of quality would they be? Then there's the sticks they'll need for the wattle of the houses. Bae's old enough at five to collect them but Rumpelstiltskin will still need to be with him as he does it.
Sighing, Rumpelstiltskin hugs Bae tightly, leaning down to press his lips gently against the boy's hair. "I'll figure it out," he mutters, turning his cheek to rest against his sons head. "One way or another, I'll figure it out."