Chapter Ten: Belle's Legion

The only trouble about receiving her library so late at night was that Belle was too tired to really explore it. But when she spotted her very own copy of Her Handsome Hero on the center table, she knew that no matter what Rumpelstiltskin said, the library was not merely another room for her to clean.

“Did you do all this for me?” she asked.

“I’d better not see a single speck of dust on any of these books,” he warned.

She smiled. After everything that had just happened in Sherwood Forest, who did he think he was fooling?

“What are you smiling at?” he demanded. “I’m serious.”

She reached out for his hand and squeezed it. “You’re not who I thought you were. And I’m glad.”

The happiness in his eyes was only outshone by the sparkle on his skin. He wasn’t green anymore; he was glinting with little flecks of gold! Belle knew it wasn’t just a trick of the moonlight. 

He swiftly went back to giving her “orders.” He gestured to a door near the last set of bookshelves. “You might as well sleep there tonight. It’ll give you an early start on the dusting.”

On this night full of surprises, Belle could hardly wait to see what was behind the door. She walked over and opened it.

“Oh my!” she gasped. 

It was a bedroom. Smaller and simpler than her suite back home, but it had everything she needed. A proper bed and bath. A wardrobe where Gabrielle’s blue dress was hanging, along with five exact copies of it, one for every work day. A fresh white nightgown and bathrobe laid out on the bed.  

She stepped into the room. Rumpelstiltskin remained at the doorway, careful not to cross over the threshold, not even with the tips of his boots.

“He’s a true gentleman for respecting my privacy,” she thought, bristling at the memory of the Sheriff of Nottingham. That caveman actually had the gall to ask to borrow her, as though she were Rumpelstiltskin’s possession. . . or worse, his plaything.

Suddenly, she had to stifle a giggle. Rumpelstiltskin didn’t need the standard show of swashbuckling to defend her honor, nor did he hurt the Sheriff. He just gave him a real-life demonstration about guarding his tongue.

“Good night, Belle,” came a whisper from the door. Rumpelstiltskin was speaking so softly, it felt like his words were more in her mind than in his voice. He made a horizontal motion with his hand, and the door closed between them.

“Wait!” she cried. She still had more to say. She’d only thanked him for the library, not the bedroom. But when she tried opening the door, it would not budge. Though made of wood, it was as heavy as the iron door in the dungeon. Clearly, he’d cast some spell on it, but now that she could see through his guise, she no longer felt trapped.

“He’s not locking me in. He’s locking himself out,” she realized. “A gentleman through and through.”

Her bathtub filled with water. She undressed and got in.

“So much gets packed into a single day here,” she mused. “I hope tomorrow will be quieter. The faster I get my work done, the more time I’ll have in the library.” She hoped she wouldn’t sleep late by mistake. She was exhausted after all that traipsing around.

But despite not getting to sleep until midnight, Belle was up before sunrise the next day, somehow feeling fully rested. The spell on the door had lifted, and she opened it easily. Padding barefoot into the library, she picked up the candelabra as it kindled itself for her and began browsing the seemingly endless rows of bookshelves.

Her first discovery was that the entire contents of her library at home were there, not just Her Handsome Hero. Then, to her great delight, she noticed that the Villeneuves’ collection was replicated there also. But the vast majority of titles were new and unfamiliar, and that was the most exciting part of all.

One shelf was dedicated to the works of Jefferson Hatter, described as “realm jumper, magical importer, and travel writer.” Whoever he was, he certainly got around! His titles included places she’d always dreamed of visiting, like Oz and Wonderland. There was even a book about a place she never knew existed, the Land Without Color. Her curiosity piqued, she leafed through it. True to the title, its pictures were all grey and white, yet they were still uncommonly lifelike.

Beyond Mr. Hatter’s books was an enormous section devoted to “The Land Without Magic.” Whoever heard of such a place? How did people live without magic? But while the titles were all written in English, the words were put together in such strange combinations, they might as well have been in a foreign language. Democracy in America by Alexis de Tocqueville. Man and His Symbols by Carl Jung. Relativity: The Special and General Theory by Albert Einstein.

Shaking her head in puzzlement, her confusion was offset when she saw that this mysterious section contained a great many books by women: Jane Austen, Charlotte Bronte, Marian Lewes, Joanne Rowling. She had so many choices, she didn’t know where to begin! As though in response, one of the books floated off the shelf and dropped itself right into her hands. It was entitled Jane Eyre, and within a few paragraphs, Belle found herself completely charmed by the child heroine, who was describing her own love of books.

“I must save this for later,” she thought, bringing the book back to her room and laying it by her bedside. “Duty comes first.” She put on one of her blue dresses and went down to the kitchen to begin the day’s work.

“I approve of the new uniform,” said Mama Bea in her half-human, half-teapot state.

“You should see my new library!” effused Belle, as she arranged the cups on the tea tray. She began to describe the books she’d seen, but Mama Bea went right back to sleep.

“Well, she did say she wasn’t much of a reader,” Belle recalled. Besides, it wasn’t time to chat anyway. She had to serve Rumpelstiltskin’s breakfast.

Sitting at the head of the table, he was absorbed in a book of his own. Belle peered over his shoulder as she poured his tea. The page he was looking at was more baffling than the titles on the unmagical shelves. Instead of words and sentences, it was full of letters and numbers.

“Chemistry,” he told her. “The basis of potion-brewing in the unmagical realms.”

Belle was impressed. Rumpelstiltskin was an even greater scholar than Prosper Villeneuve. She stood to learn a tremendous amount from him, and she was starting to believe he intended it that way. Though parts of the library were tailor-made to suit her tastes, perhaps what he really meant was for them to share it.

“I never realized there were realms without magic,” she ventured. “Have you been to them?”

He looked up from his book. “I’ve been to the Land Without Color. But the Land Without Magic is. . .” His voice cracked slightly. “Let’s just say it’s hard to get there from here. But I’m researching it as best I can.”

“And so will I,” thought Belle. Travel and reading – her two favorite things! Now she understood the purpose of that section. Perhaps he would take her there someday.

“If that Land is so hard to reach, how did all those books get here?”

“They’re imports,” he answered. “They pass from that Land to a bookshop in an intermediary realm where my importer maintains an open account for me.”

“That must be some bookshop!” thought Belle. She was about to ask if his importer was none other than Jefferson Hatter, but apparently, he had something else to tell her. He signaled her closer to show her his book. Flipping to the back pages, he held it wide open and displayed a chart made of boxes. Each box contained two bold letters surrounded by smaller numbers.

“The Periodic Table,” he read aloud, running his finger along the heading. “It lays out all the known elements of nature with ingenious logic.”

“Like a code?” asked Belle.

“More like a map,” he replied. “Noble gases in the east, metals in the center and west.” He pointed to the box containing the letters “Ag” and challenged her to decode it.

“A metal?” guessed Belle, reasoning that the box was almost dead center.

“Very good. That’s silver.” He clapped, and box of silverware appeared on the table. “And so is that. Polish it after you’ve finished the laundry, won’t you? I’ll be back later.”

“Oh!” cried Belle, taken aback at the sudden mood shift. “Where are you going?”

He sneered as though it was a presumption for her to ask. “I don’t need to explain myself to you.” He stood up, and with a grand flourish, disappeared in a cloud of smoke.

“It’s terribly rude to just up and vanish like that!” Belle shouted into the air.

Was this how he was always going to behave? They’d start becoming friends and then he’d pull back and disappear?    

She sighed. “Might as well start work.”

She cleared away the tea set and went out to the clothesline. Everything she’d hung with Mama Bea was now dry. She took it down and folded it neatly into a basket. Then she got started on the new washing. Her own gold ballgown was on top of the pile. She picked it up and inspected it, noting a few rips along the hem.

“Well, what did I expect?” she thought, plunging it into the water. She’d done her chores in it, slept in it for two nights in a row, and hiked through the forest in it. It felt like a whole lifetime had passed, both for herself and the gown.

She scrubbed and hung a few more items on the pile, but soon she was longing for Mama Bea. She’d even settle for Brunhilde. It was so dull washing laundry alone!

“Duty comes first,” she told herself, thinking of Stealthy. Then she remembered something she’d once read about dwarves. They whistled while they worked. She tried it, but singing came more naturally, so she switched to an old childhood favorite:

Come heed the call of Gideon,
the hero of the realm.
And if his rules you'll follow,
then you may take the helm.

You need not be a fighter,
who's skilled with sword and shield.
For it takes something mightier
to scale this battlefield.

The inner world of conscience
is where the battle's fought.
If you can conquer anger,
a triumph you'll have wrought.

So fill your heart with kindness.
Then show it to your friends.
And strive to be your finest.
This whole world you will cleanse.

She sang and worked until the washing was done, and then carried the basket of dry clothes back to the castle. The box of silverware was waiting for her. Polishing turned out to be more enjoyable than washing laundry. There was something satisfying about restoring a tarnished spot of black to its original gleam.

Rumpelstiltskin returned as she was putting final touches on the last piece. Out of the corner of her eye, she could see that he was carrying a basket like hers, but she didn’t pay attention to what was inside until he slid it across the table at her.

“A baby!” she cried. “Where did it come from? Where are its parents?”

“Never mind. The child is mine now.”

“Yours?” she asked, as the horrible truth dawned on her. “You stole him?”

“Ye-es,” he said, with a sinister note in his voice. “Scandalous, isn’t it?”

He kept his back to her as he spoke. He was rooting through his enchantment scrolls. The baby started fussing, so Belle picked him up and rocked him in her arms.

“What kind of beast steals a child from its parents?” she scolded. She’d heard stories of him stealing babies, but she never really believed them. Besides, she’d gotten the monster to shed his skin just yesterday. Had a worse one grown over in its place?

“What happened to you that made you like this?” she asked.

“You’d do best to stop asking so many questions.” He found the scroll he was searching for. “Ahh, there it is! I have work to do. I’m not to be disturbed.”

Still rocking the baby, her blood boiled. The torture of Robin Hood was bad enough, but this! This was a helpless, innocent child!

And then she understood. The baby’s innocence was exactly what he was after. Innocence was used to power all sorts of diabolical spells. She could not let this stand. “What do you plan on doing with this child?”

He did not answer. “I shall be back at sundown,” he told her. “Take care of the baby, but don’t think about trying to hide him.” He brandished the scroll in her face as though it were a weapon. “I’ll find out.”  

He turned and walked out on foot instead of disappearing by magic, but unlike that morning, Belle was glad to see him go. She now had a few hours to figure out how to protect the baby, even if she didn’t know exactly what she was protecting him from.

But first, she had to get him quiet. She read to him from Her Handsome Hero. He was an alert little lad. He stayed awake for quite a few stories. But eventually, he fell asleep, so she carried the basket into the library to put the book away.

The candelabra that lit her way in the morning flickered to life again. Since there was plenty of sunshine coming through the windows, she sensed it must be providing some other need. “Are you trying to tell me something?” she asked it.

Its flames began dancing. When they settled, they were all pointing in the direction of the shelf in the rear corner.

“Ohhh. A secret door. We have one of those in our library, too.”

She knew how these things worked. There was always some hint of how to activate them if you took the time to look. She scanned every volume on the shelves, searching for that one misfit. But Rumpelstiltskin designed this place. He wouldn’t do something as obvious as turning a book upside-down or rubbing out a significant letter.

Then she saw it. The very book that brought her there: Heroes of the Ogre Wars. She gripped the baby basket tightly, took the book off the shelf, and let herself be spun to the other side.

Now she was facing a spiral staircase. It must lead to the tower! She crept upstairs quietly, just in case Rumpelstiltskin was up there.

He was not. But she could tell she’d been brought to his private library. It contained fewer books than were downstairs, but more worktables. A scroll lay open on one of them. It had to be the one he was rummaging around for.

She carried the baby basket over and studied the scroll. It was in complicated fairy language, very difficult to decipher. The easiest word to pick out was “fairy.” She wrote it down. Then she tried picking out the verbs. She found one in infinitive form, “to summon,” and another in command, “awaken.” Then a phrase: “night sky.” She knew she was right because the crystal on her necklace warmed against her skin. But when she worked out that she was reading about “the Black Fairy,” the crystal went ice cold.

Belle knew very little about the Black Fairy. The other fairies made a deliberate choice to obscure her within the lore. Everything written about her was in such esoteric language, only the most advanced scholars could translate it. But the iciness of her crystal did not bode well. The Black Fairy must have done some shamefully immoral things.   

“What would Rumpelstiltskin want with her?” she wondered aloud.

“That’s for me to know, and you never to find out,” he said, suddenly appearing beside her.

He grabbed the scroll and the paper she was using for translation. She’d been tricked! They never discussed her abilities as a translator, but he must have known from the very beginning. Surely, Rumpelstiltskin could recognize a fairy-blessed crystal when he saw one. And he must have guessed how she earned it.

“You knew I was going to do this!” she cried.

“Not only did I know, I was planning on it. Did you really think I left the tower door open by accident? I do not speak fairy, but why should I have to? I have you.”

Belle could have screamed, but there was nothing to be done about it now. He had the translation, and she had no way of magically erasing it. But she could still protect the baby. She’d stood up to Rumpelstiltskin in Sherwood Forest, and she would do it again, using all her persuasive power.

“I will not let you hurt this baby!” she declared, standing in front of the basket.

Rumpelstiltskin laughed, cast a transport spell, and in an instant, had both baby and basket in his hand.

“The child is no longer your concern,” he told her. “I think you should stay here for a while. I don’t want you to get any ideas about trying to stop me.”

He snapped himself out of there, locking the iron door behind him.

Belle pounded on it, but it was no use. Still, she could not give up, not with the baby’s life at stake. Then the sunny afternoon sky suddenly darkened into night. He sped up the time so he could awaken the Black Fairy!

“Help!” she cried. She didn’t know who would hear her, but she would take help from any source.

Her crystal warmed up. Then it began glowing. Reul Ghorm, the Blue Fairy herself, was coming! Belle had never met her before. Only Mother received that honor. But it was well known that in times of trouble, Reul Ghorm would come to the aid of anyone whose heart was pure and whose aims were true.

Shimmering azure light shone from under the iron door. Belle opened the sliding window, and the Blue Fairy flew through it, manifesting before her in full body. She introduced herself simply as “Blue.”

Belle wasted no time. “Rumpelstiltskin is taking a baby to the Black Fairy!” she cried.

“I know!” said Blue. “I felt the incantation. And it has fallen to you to stop him.”

“Me? But I don’t have magic.”

“That’s precisely why it has to be you. My magic can’t save him. But first, we must get you out of here.”

She waved her wand over the iron door and set Belle free. But instead of giving further instructions, she flew away.

“Wait! Come back!” called Belle. “What do I do next?”

Reul Ghorm did not return. Belle stomped her foot in frustration. Then, a strange sensation overtook her. Her body surged with energy, yet her mind grew calm and clear. Her crystal turned bright blue and conveyed an answer.

“Follow your instincts,” it said in Blue’s voice.

“I’m so proud of you, darling,” it said in Mother’s.

“Come heed the call of Gideon,” it sang, just as she had that very morning.

Blue hadn’t left her empty-handed. She magnified the blessing in the crystal, and Belle had only to follow its lead. Now she was galvanized! She didn’t know what she was doing from one moment to the next, but she trusted that help would present itself as she needed it.

She ran down the spiral staircase and through the secret door back to her library. The candelabra lit up as soon as she walked in. It was sitting on the table alongside Her Handsome Hero. Belle looked inside the book. Tucked within the pages, bookmarking the last story she’d read to the baby, was a slip of paper with two names on it: Jack and Jill.

The baby’s parents. She was sure of it.

A loud, operatic soprano reverberated through the castle. “Heia-taha ha! Heia-taha ha!”

“Brunhilde’s battle cry!” exclaimed Belle. She followed the singing to the Great Hall where Mama Bea, in fully human form, was holding onto Brunhilde, whose head was restored, but whose body was still a broomstick.

“I’ve woken up in a right state!” gasped Mama Bea. “What happened?”

“Rumpelstiltskin kidnapped the baby of Jack and Jill!”

“Blimey! They’re my neighbors!”

Brunhilde’s horned helmet floated onto her head. “Our legion shall fly tonight!” she announced.

“On you?” asked Mama Bea. “Like witches?”

“No! Like Valkyries!”

“Let’s go!” cried Belle. “First, we find Rumpelstiltskin!”

They went outside for take-off. Though they had to fly upside-down, with Brunhilde’s head on top and her passengers below, they managed it. Brunhilde sang all the way. Mama Bea did a fair bit of screaming.

They spotted Rumpelstiltskin, still on castle grounds. He was standing in a moonlit clearing with the baby basket. Brunhilde landed them in some nearby bushes.

“We’re going to have to get closer than this,” said Belle.

“Each of our legion must know her role,” said Brunhilde.

“She’s right, love,” said Mama Bea. “Only you can get close to the master.”

“But if I see you are in danger, I will fly to your defense,” promised Brunhilde. “I pledged to be your guard. Even if it’s against him, the one who contracted me to it.”

That bit of information sent Belle’s mind reeling, but it was not the time to think about it. “All right, then,” she said. “Wish me luck.”

She tiptoed closer and hid behind another bush. Rumpelstiltskin was summoning the Black Fairy:

“Let the night sky tremble,
as the Dark Star shall fall.
Awake, Black Fairy,
and heed my call!”

“A good translation,” thought Belle, remembering the lettering she’d read on the scroll. “He even made it rhyme. He didn’t need me at all.”

The Black Fairy flew out of the sky and manifested before Rumpelstiltskin. As soon as she was near, Belle’s crystal grew so cold, it hurt to keep it on. She hid it in her dress pocket.

“Who dares summon me?” asked the Black Fairy imperiously.

Rumpelstiltskin threw something on her. She was paralyzed instantly. “Squid ink,” he said. “Nasty stuff.”

“Rumpelstiltskin,” she said with a grin. It seemed she was relishing a fight.

“So you know who I am,” he said.

“Who hasn’t heard of the Dark One? But if you’ve heard of me, then you know squid ink won’t hold me for long.”

“Oh, I know. That’s why I have this.” He showed her his dagger.

“Is he planning to kill her?” Belle wondered. “What am I supposed to do about that?” Then she remembered what Blue said. Her role didn’t require magic. Whatever battle was about to take place, it was not hers to fight. She just had to save the baby.

As Belle listened to the two of them grandstanding, she realized that Rumpelstiltskin wasn’t looking for a fight at all. He was trying to strike a deal.

“You steal babies,” he accused the Black Fairy. “Steal them from their mothers’ arms. So why, of all the babies in all the realms, did you abandon the one child that was actually yours?”

“He means himself,” realized Belle. “He’s the child she abandoned.”

The one and only fact Belle had ever read about the Black Fairy clicked into place. It came from Morraine’s account. The Black Fairy made a choice that destined the savior of the generation for Darkness. That was why the Ogres War ended via the Dark Power. Belle previously took that to mean that the Black Fairy asserted some unique power of hers, but it was starting to look like a more personal choice.

Fairies were the godmothers of the whole realm. They couldn’t be tied down with children of their own. So most of them took their vows while they were young and unmarried. But here was a mother who deserted her child, learned fairy magic, and then turned around and perverted the mission by stealing other people’s babies! Why would anyone wreck so many lives?

The Black Fairy seemed as stunned at this revelation as Belle. She never knew what became of her son. “No! No! It can’t be!” she protested.

“Oh, I’m afraid it can be. . .Mother.”

Never had Belle heard the word pronounced with such bitterness.

“That’s right,” he went on. “Rumpelstiltskin is your son. Of course, you would know that, had you bothered to even give me a name.”

He was so engrossed in uncovering his origins, Belle knew this was the moment to make her move. She sneaked up toward the baby basket.   

The Black Fairy laughed. “Funny that the Dark One should ask such a thing. Sometimes you have to choose power over love.”

She said the last word with such sickening sweetness that it made for the cruelest taunt Belle had ever heard. She felt terribly sorry for Rumpelstiltskin, but she still could not let him or the Black Fairy take the baby. She grabbed hold of the handles of the basket, but the sudden jostling made the baby cry out. Rumpelstiltskin turned and saw what she was doing, but before he could react, the squid ink wore off, and the Black Fairy grabbed him.

“Time’s up!” she sing-songed. “No more answers for you today.” Laughing, she got in one last, pitiless barb. “Son!” 

Then she flew away, leaving Rumpelstiltskin staring blankly into the empty sky.

“I understand now,” said Belle, cradling the baby in her arms. “You didn’t deserve what she did, but sacrificing the life of an innocent child is not the answer, no matter how much pain you’re in.”

Still staring achingly in the direction of his absent mother, he lapsed into his native burr. “No one knows anithin’ about ma pain.”

Without another word, he vanished in a cloud of smoke.

“Back to the castle to lick his wounds,” thought Belle.

She carried the baby over to Mama Bea and Brunhilde. “We must get him back to his parents,” she told them. “But fly slower and more gently this time.”

Brunhilde sighed. “That’s the trouble with you maternal types. You fight as fiercely as bears when a child is in danger, but once you’ve got him near you, you go back to your boring, old ways.”

“Call us boring if you will,” said Mama Bea, “but I’m as proud of being a mother as you are of being a Valkyrie.”

“As you should be,” said Belle, holding up her hair while Mama Bea reclasped her necklace. The tender gesture made her think of her own mother. And poor Rumpelstiltskin’s lack of one.

As they flew over the village, Mama Bea pointed out her own cottage.

“Shall I drop you off?” asked Brunhilde.

“It’s not worth the risk,” Mama Bea answered. “I’m supposed to go home by morning. If it’s night here now, morning might not be so far away.”

“I’m probably a lot closer to freedom myself,” said Brunhilde. “I didn’t think that was possible.”

“There,” said Mama Bea. “That’s where Jack and Jill live.”

Jack was just coming home. He’d probably been out searching for the baby all day.

Brunhilde landed them near the cottage, and Belle returned the baby. His parents were overjoyed.

“Was it the Dark One?” asked Jill.

Belle nodded.

“How did you ever manage to get past him?” marveled Jack.

“I’m his maid.”

It was hardly a complete explanation, but it would have to suffice.

“So run away!” cried Jill. “We’ll hide you! It’s the least we can do.”

“I can’t,” said Belle, repeating what she’d told Robin Hood. “I made a deal to serve him. I have to stay for my family’s sake.”

The couple looked at her pityingly. They couldn’t possibly understand the full truth of her situation. She didn’t recognize it herself until that very minute. She wasn’t staying just for Father’s safety or even Avonlea’s. She needed to be nearby so she could help the next Jack, Jill, or Robin Hood, whoever they might be.

“How can we ever repay you?” said Jack, fondling his son’s cheek.

“Please, there’s no need. I’m just happy he’s home safe with you.”

Jill passed the baby to her husband and embraced and kissed Belle.

“Mama? Papa?” came a child’s voice inside the cottage.

“Hush, sweetheart! Everything is fine! Baby Michael is home!”

Jill squeezed Belle’s hand once more, and she and Jack brought the baby inside.

Belle turned around, ready to fly back with her “legion.” Their mission accomplished, perhaps they might celebrate amongst themselves. But a sudden movement in the bushes caught her eye, and she saw it was neither Mama Bea nor Brunhilde. It was Rumpelstiltskin. He’d been hiding there, watching her all along.  

Belle walked up to him and looked him squarely in the eye. “Promise me that you will never steal another child again!”

He looked at her mournfully. “I promise,” he mumbled, extending his hand.

Belle jumped. She had not expected him to give in so easily. She was geared up for a much bigger fight. And really, she had no leverage against him. But confronting his mother left him weak, and it was an advantage she could not pass up. It would ensure the safety of all the children of the realm.

When Belle took Rumpelstiltskin’s hand to seal the deal, the crystal on her necklace warmed up again, but there was much more. Gideon’s song was resounding through it, and the whole forest was joining in – the chirping crickets, the wind rustling in the trees. It was one immense harmonizing chorus. Even the stars in the sky seemed to twinkle more brightly. Was her mind playing tricks on her or was the whole realm celebrating?

“Of course, we’re celebrating!” whispered Blue. “Look what you’ve achieved! Rumpelstiltskin’s baby-stealing days are over!”