Chapter Three: Answering the Call
Belle closed the book, her mind awhirl. No wonder her crystal stayed warm the whole time she was reading! Morraine had a visit from the Blue Fairy herself! She certainly merited it for being so wise and brave! Belle believed every word of her account. No single author could provide the total picture of any event - indeed, no human could - but Morraine showed all the signs of being a trustworthy source. She stayed away from conjecture. Whenever she relied on hearsay, she pointed it out. But most of all, what she wrote about the ogres rang true to what Belle had seen. If humans would leave ogres alone, they would leave humans alone.
Of course, the core of the story was Rumpelstiltskin. “The Light One” was a hidden hero, a real-life Gideon. That meant her instinct was right! Rumpelstiltskin could not be as dark as everyone believed. You could never know what was in someone’s heart until you stood in his shoes, and Morraine, who had grown up near him, seemed to have gotten closer than anybody.
“Rumpelstiltskin,” she said aloud. He could end this frightful war before it got any worse. Then Father would be safe, the villagers would be protected, and perhaps she could break her engagement to Gaston after all.
She was ashamed of herself for even thinking it. How could she be so selfish? People’s lives were in danger, and she had already caused so much pain. Her mother lost her life saving her. Anna had been captured by a witch, and it was all her fault. If other women could sacrifice so much at such an expense to themselves, then surely she should be able to give up that silly dream of “happily ever after” and settle quietly into her obligatory union for the sake of Avonlea.
Now full of guilt and worry, Belle doubted she would ever get to sleep. She had to force herself somehow. But as she tossed and turned with so many thoughts flitting through her mind, it never once dawned on her that the aid she was seeking was already underway. Rumpelstiltskin, sitting in his distant castle, heard her Call the instant she spoke his Name.
“Rumpelstiltskin.”
She pronounced it correctly on the very first try. And her tone was so sweet and guileless. It stirred him in some long-buried part of himself. Clearly, this was no ordinary Summons. But for all the pressure the young woman seemed to be under, her call was building slowly, deliberately. She was not rushing into anything.
“What a breath of fresh air!” he murmured, causing a warm breeze to blow through the Great Hall. He threaded his wheel with new straw and began spinning. “And what is your Name?” he asked. The answer came to him quickly. Belle.
There had to be many Belles in the world, but he suspected he knew exactly which Belle this might be. It made perfect sense: the now-grown daughter of King Maurice and Queen Colette. His deal with them, made so long ago, was bearing fruit from an unexpected branch. He giggled.
He’d struck the original deal with Maurice, but it was always Colette he meant to elevate. She was shrewd and fair-minded, a worthy leader. And enticing the greedy tinkerer with the promise of wealth and power was child’s play. Who would turn that down? Fortunately, Colette had proven as clever as he anticipated. He never once had to go back to Avonlea to collect. So what was wrong that their daughter was calling him now?
He knew a little about her. She was reputed to have a face that matched her Name, but that meant almost nothing. Names revealed Destiny, but since all princesses were praised for their beauty, it was a mere truism that didn’t necessarily reflect her character. She was also known for preferring books to ballrooms. Now that boded well. It was a sign she took after her mother.
“What do you want?” he asked.
He slowed the wheel to a steady pace that approximated the tenor of her Call. The basket began filling up. Not with gold, though. With white lace.
He snipped some off to look at it more closely. He pulled it taut. A deceptively strong weave for so delicate a design. Flowers and bells.
“Wedding bells,” he thought. “Of course.”
Maurice must either be keeping Belle apart from her True Love or pressuring her into a strategic marriage of convenience. Perhaps both. Belle, quite likely, was sneaking behind her father’s back by resorting to his help. But the dutiful daughter must have mixed feelings about disregarding her father’s wishes. Hence all the careful deliberation.
A sudden noise from the corner of the room made Rumpelstiltskin look up. Brunhilde, still in broomstick form, had broken through enough of his Curse to get herself moving. She was sweeping back and forth, tossing up a cloud of dust.
“Be still, you old battleaxe! I’m trying to concentrate!”
He held up his hand and made her stop. With a slight prod forward, he pushed her back against the wall once more.
“Now, where was I?” He gave a tug on the line and set the wheel in motion again. He emptied his mind, cooling his feelings, and allowed the next connection to come without shaping it. Very soon, he got an inkling of another Name. Morraine.
Morraine! How extraordinary! So the scholarly princess had come across Morraine’s tale, had she? It had taken so long for the enchantments in the Apprentice’s Ink to pay off, he’d often wondered if he’d given Morraine a counterfeit bottle by accident. It was bought on the black market, after all. But the Ink was not at fault. Humanity was. Most mortals ignored history. Their attention span was as fleeting as their brief lives. But though he was immortal, he’d been just as short-sighted. He should have known that a Call as special as Belle’s would need a century to develop. And clearly, there was more to it than an affair of the heart. It was starting to look like an affair of state. With ogres somehow involved.
“Oh, Maurice, you damned fool, what have you done to your kingdom?”
Well, there was no sense in sitting around wondering. He transported himself to Avonlea to see the damage for himself.
He landed on an uninhabited hilltop that gave him a good view of the entire province. Though he had not been there since the coronation, the place had barely changed. He had never allowed Maurice to expand far. A wise decision, seeing how the ogres had limited their attack strictly to Avonlea. Tragic for its residents, but at least nobody beyond its borders had suffered. Yet.
The ogres were camped out at one end of the forest, and the opposing human army was on the other. But the human army was too numerous to be Avonlea’s alone. Maurice must have forged an alliance with someone. Rumpelstiltskin went invisible and snapped himself to the encampment. Within seconds, he ascertained that it was the army of Lord Le Gume, another upstart.
“Colette could never have approved of this,” he thought. The ogres would demolish them all.
Rumpelstiltskin looked up at the palace on the tallest hilltop. Guards were posted all around it. He would get there soon. He must check on the villagers first. They were in the deepest part of the valley, the most vulnerable position. He snapped himself down there.
He kept himself invisible, but there was no need. None of the townsfolk would dare go outside. They were hiding in their homes, trying their best to protect themselves and their families from the ogres. How well Rumpelstiltskin remembered that terror - sitting in his cottage, trying to calm poor little Bae, who’d tremble with fear at the most ordinary of noises, even passing horses.
But scared as the townsfolk were, they remained untouched. Gratified, Rumpelstiltskin snapped himself over to the battlefield, which was in a clearing between the two encampments. It was quiet now, but the stench of death still lingered. Some ogre deaths, more human. He’d been near many grim scenes in his lifetime, both before and after becoming the Dark One, but nothing made him quite as angry as the wanton destruction of a war.
He transported himself up to a treetop near the ogre encampment. He had always known that his first negotiation with Chief Shrek would not be the only one. Humanity was lucky the peace lasted as long as it did. He caught some moonlight in his dagger and sent Shrek the signal. Shrek spotted it and walked over.
“Some humans broke our deal!” he accused.
“And I assure you, those humans will pay the price.”
“That’s not good enough.”
Rumpelstiltskin sighed. “Shrek, please. I have come to you even before the humans have formally enlisted my help. Until I have my deal settled with them, can we agree to a cease-fire?”
Shrek folded his gigantic arms. He was not going to give in easily. “We want more this time,” he said. “Your barrier needs fortification. Especially on your side.”
“You’re right,” Rumpelstiltskin conceded, “but if I am to fix it, I need information. Tell me everything you know.”
Irritated as Shrek was, he was keen to tell his side of the story. He wanted a quick resolution as badly as Rumpelstiltskin, not another protracted war with humanity. “It all started when the humans caught one of our young, a boy named Ibber. He’s not a child, exactly. He is what you humans would call a teenager.”
“And since you say, ‘is,’ I assume that means he is still alive?”
“Yes. He escaped and found his way home. That’s how we know this story.”
Rumpelstiltskin nodded. “First things first. Do you have any idea how he crossed the barrier?”
“Oh, yes,” said Shrek, his eyes flashing with hatred. “A Valkyrie lured him out.”
Rumpelstiltskin could have smacked himself on the forehead. Brunhilde! Of course! Only another immortal would have the power to breach his barrier. And only a warrior goddess would regard it as a proper thing to do.
That explained the frantic sweeping back and forth in the castle. Brunhilde hadn’t begun breaking herself out of jail at all. Her Destiny was coming [K1] for her. She created this mess, and now it would fall to her to repair it.
“Those luscious fighter women are a terrible temptation to a young ogre,” said Shrek. “We don’t blame Ibber for falling for her. He followed her right into your realm, and then two humans captured him. King Maurice and General Gaston. They wanted to show off Gaston’s fighting prowess, and what better way than to have some sport with an ogre?”
“Ah. The brave heroes! What did they do to Ibber?”
“Hid him in a pit. Tortured him to get him in a rage. Then, just when he was working himself up to kill, the princess came along and showed him a magic mirror. He didn’t know what she was doing, but from the sound of it, she was gathering intel. Ibber’s reflection was enough to convince her that he meant no harm, and the story convinced me that the mirror was yours.”
“Not mine, precisely, but one of my creations,” said Rumpelstiltskin, recognizing just how imperative it was that he get to know the exceptional Princess Belle. Not only had she read Morraine’s words, the Mirror of Souls found its way to her. He’d designed that with meticulous specificity. Only a woman clear of vision, sharp of mind, and pure of heart could use it.
“She released Ibber from his trap, and he ran home. Once he told us what happened, we saw that the gate to your realm was open. And you know the terms. Bother one of us, and you’ve bothered all of us.”
“But not all humans bothered you. Princess Belle didn’t.”
“True, she didn’t, but her father and Gaston did. Besides, we haven’t attacked all humans. We’ve isolated ourselves to this one battlefield. I even gave a command to spare the princess. I admit, we had a little trouble with Pellamella, one of our worst hotheads. When we broke into the palace, he went after her anyway. Being in the heat of battle will do that to an ogre. The queen gave her life to save her daughter’s.”
“Queen Colette is dead?!” cried Rumpelstiltskin. He threw a few sparks of a fireball in fury. Maurice’s downfall was inevitable now. Belle was Avonlea’s only hope.
“We must go to Maurice’s palace,” he told Shrek. “I will begin to extract the retributions from him and Gaston. Meanwhile, you and your soldiers may surround the hill. Make as much noise as you like. Frighten everyone inside. But do not attack again. Not the palace, and above all, not the villagers. There will be a protection spell around all of you, but it will break if you hurt any humans. I will send up the signal for when to start and when to stop. Deal?”
“As long as justice gets done, we have a deal,” said Shrek. The two shook hands.
Rumpelstiltskin faded to invisible and snapped himself into the palace. He found Maurice in his throne room, pacing up and down, upbraiding the strapping young General Gaston.
“We need more searching parties!” Maurice demanded.
“Sir, we cannot spare a single soldier. What if the ogres invade the palace again?”
“Belle is missing! Do you understand that? She could be dead! I’ve lost my wife! I’m losing my kingdom! At the very least, find me my little girl!”
“We will, sir.”
“She’s not even here,” thought Rumpelstiltskin, realizing he’d assumed too much. Perhaps Belle fled when Pellamella attacked. Perhaps that was Colette’s last act: setting her daughter free. But now that Belle had said his Name, he could sense that wherever she was, she was not in imminent danger.
This changed things. It was for Belle’s sake alone that he’d told Shrek to hold his fire. Perhaps he should reverse course and let the ogres loose. Maurice and Gaston deserved it.
The only thing stopping him was the spirit behind Belle’s Call. Even if it wasn’t a full Summons yet, it was clear that more than anything, Belle wanted her father safe. And so, he stuck to his original plan. He would terrorize them now and rearrange the power structure afterward.
“You should have listened to your queen, Maurice,” he whispered. “You cannot maintain the kingdom without her.”
Thick-skulled Maurice showed no sign of intuiting the Message. He just continued berating Gaston. “‘Just one ogre,’ you told me. ‘I can handle it.’ Well, now look what you’ve done! Somehow, we’ve got to handle them all!”
“Oh, no,” said Rumpelstiltskin softly. “You gentlemen have had it easy. You don’t have to handle them all.”
Gaston perked up and put his hand on his sword. “Sire, did you hear something?”
Rumpelstiltskin giggled. The two men jumped. “Ready, dearies?” he said. He gave a soft blow, and the candelabra blew out. Then, with a circular wave of his hand, he relit it.
“How the hell--?” said Gaston.
“My gods,” said Maurice, “someone else is in here.”
“Impossible!” said the young general.
Rumpelstiltskin cackled. Then he altered his voice so that it would sound like the whistling wind. “King Maurice is right! You are not alone, nor will you ever be! The deaths you have caused will haunt you both till the end of your days.”
Maurice looked terrified; Gaston merely confused. But Rumpelstiltskin was just getting started. He began collecting his wrath, concentrating exclusively on the two men before him. Vain, stupid, glory-seeking bullies. Contempt filled his being. “Here we go!” he sing-songed, making the grounds around the palace quake.
“Thor’s hammer!” cried Maurice. “They’ve surrounded us again!”.
“To your battle stations!” shouted Gaston, running out of the throne room and repeating the command to every guard and soldier he passed. They sprung right into action and began rushing around the palace.
“Work’s done here!” said Rumpelstiltskin amid the chaos.
He flashed the signal out of the window. Shrek and his army could take over the scare tactics, as planned.
“I would love to stay and watch the fun,” he chuckled, “but alas, I have other business to attend to!”
And with a snap of his fingers, he whisked himself back to his own castle. Maurice and Gaston were nothing but pawns, ultimately. Brunhilde was the real instigator behind this bloodbath. It was time to confront her.
