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“Uh, Rumplestiltskin?”
Rumplestiltskin sighed in irritation, turning to face the Hatter who had crept into his turret. The taller man wore a sheepish expression as he avoided eye contact, holding his hat and turning the brim in his hands. Rumple looked at him expectantly, not saying a word though his patience was wearing thin. The moron didn’t even have what he was supposed to fetch him, and apparently he didn’t have his tongue either. Finally, Jefferson swallowed a lump in his throat, and looked directly at the imp.
“I… I can’t…”
“Can’t what, dearie? Can’t form complete and coherent sentences?”
“I can’t lift it...”
“What?” Rumple gave him a flat look, setting his handful of straw in his hands down and standing, approaching the dark haired man. “You can’t lift it? Is this a quip, Jefferson?”
“No, I’m serious. I can’t lift it at all. I grabbed the handle and I couldn’t even make it budge, not even in the slightest.” Jefferson took a nervous step back as Rumple continued to stalk towards him.
“It’s a hammer. It should not be difficult for a man of your height and build to lift.”
“I can’t, no matter what I do. And Thor won’t help me, he said I’m not worthy.”
“You’re really not worthy of anything. I suppose if I want anything to be done correctly, I’ll have to do it myself. Open the portal.” Jefferson nodded, tossing his hat and it spun as the portal opened. Rumple swallowed nervously at the sight, pushing the feeling aside and jumping in with the Hatter. They landed in the hall of doors, and Jefferson pointed to one with elegant and ancient looking symbols on it.
“That’s it. That’s the door to Asgard.” Rumple nodded, and both men approached it, entering. Asgard was a strange land, but he retained his magic, so with a wave of his hands, they appeared before the hammer as it rested on a pedestal. “Watch,” said Jefferson as he approached it. He took the handle in his hands, and pulled with what looked to be all his strength. It didn’t budge. Rumple sighed, shoving the Hatter aside roughly, making him stumble off the platform. Rumple wrapped his hands around it, his blackened nails pressing around into his skin. He gave Jefferson a pointed look and pulled it up.
It didn’t budge. He gaped at it in bewilderment, trying once more to lift it. He pulled with all his enhanced strength, even calling on his magic to increase it. No matter what he did, Mjölnir didn’t move a single inch. He snarled, mashing his stained teeth together, murmuring a few curses beneath his breath.
“I told you! It won’t move!”
“It will not move because neither of you are worthy in the eyes of Odin. Only the worthy may lift Mjölnir.” The towering blond stepped out from the shadows, his cloak swishing behind him as he approached.
“We made a deal. Your hammer for-”
“Speak not of our deal in the presence of this mortal!” Thor bellowed, his voice a thunderous boom that made Jefferson flinch back, his hand coming up to scratch the back of his neck, his lips set in a tight line. He turned his back on the powerful beings, stepping away to examine the area.
“I don’t understand. I have more power than any-
“Questionable!”
“-one else! How am I, the Dark One, not worthy of the power?”
“You uttered the answer to your own question, Dark One. I will transport Mjölnir, but that is the extent of my debt to you. I suggest you choose the location you shall keep it carefully, as it will never move. Not for you.” With that, the god wrapped his hand around the short handle and lifted it as if it was a scrap of parchment, and Rumple could feel the power crackle as it whirled to life. He would try every spell, he would curse it, he would do anything to lift the hammer. He had plenty of time. He had to have that power.
Several years later…
Belle hummed a soft tune as she dusted Rumplestiltskin’s collection, a small smile on her face. Each and every artifact had a story behind it, and while he had gotten better about sharing them, sometimes she liked to make her own up in her head. She glanced over her shoulder to look at his wheel, and she couldn’t help but notice he quickly looked elsewhere. He must have been watching her again. It happened often. He would go into a trance while he spun, and she would be able to feel his eyes on her. She didn’t mind, of course. It made her feel rather happy.
She approached the hammer, smiling excitedly. It was one of her favorite objects of his. It was beautiful, and she could tell it was not from this land. She dusted around it before glancing back once again. Rumple was not looking at her, so she set her duster down, wrapping her tiny hands around the leather bound handle. It was curious that such a short handle could support the stone, and she hoped that it wouldn’t break upon lifting it. It looked rather old.
She lifted the hammer, shocked to find it was fairly light, and even more shocked to feel a tremor of magic run through her body. It was similar to the feeling that would course through her whenever she accidentally brushed Rumple’s hands. She held it up and inspected it, giving it a curious swing. She turned around and jumped in surprise as she saw Rumple standing right behind her, gaping at her. It was a rather humorous sight, and she tilted her head at him, smiling.
“Rumple? Is something wrong?” She shifted the hammer with ease, placing her free hand on his shoulder. His eyes fell on the hammer, and then on her hand.
“You… You lifted it…”
“Oh, yes! I’m sorry, I just had to dust around it, the pedestal was filthy. I can put it ba-”
“Do not put it down!” He barked it at her, and she stiffened, looking at him in confusion rather than fear. Never in fear. “Hand it to me.” He held out his clawed hand, and she nodded slowly, holding it out to him. His hand wrapped around it, just below her own, their skin touching. She let go, letting out a shriek as Rumple was dragged down, the hammer going right through the floorboards and taking him right down with it She had to grasp the heavy pedestal to avoid falling, and once she got her balance, she turned and peered down at him. He was laying flat on his front, the hammer still in his hand, and he groaned as he slowly sat up. She glared at him for his trick, her anger only simmering as he acted as if he couldn’t lift the hammer off the ground.
“Rumplestiltskin! That was not funny in the slightest! One or both of us could have been seriously injured from some pointless quip!”
“It wasn’t a quip, dearie, I cannot lift it.” He sounded embarrassed, and he tried once more before letting go and standing up.
“That’s ridiculous. You are far stronger than I am, and it’s not even that heavy.”
“Perhaps not for you.”
“Get back up here and bring the hammer!”
“I told you, I cannot lift it! You get down here and take it.” She sighed in exasperation, turning on her heel to stomp down to the dungeon. She shuddered from the cold. She hadn’t been in the dungeon since her first week at the castle, and she had no desire to visit again. Eventually she found him, trying uselessly to lift the hammer.
“You really can’t lift it…?”
“I cannot. This is Mjölnir. I received it in a deal from a powerful God named Thor, from the far off land Asgard.”
“Oh! I know of Asgard, I’ve read about it!”
“Of course you have.” He snorted slightly, gesturing between her and the hammer.
She bounced over to him excitedly, once again lifting the hammer. He watched in what looked like a mixture of awe and envy. “Why can’t you lift it?”
“According to Thor, I am unworthy of it. To lift Mjölnir, you have to be deemed as worthy to wield it.”
“What decides worth?” She looked up at him in fascination, feeling pride well within her. This hammer was special, and she was able to lift it. Perhaps she was not as weak as she had previously thought herself to me. Perhaps she could be a hero.
“I do not know the exact requirements. Thor was dubious in his explanation. From what I understand, his father, Odin, decides who can. I am able to transform it into different objects, but I cannot lift whatever shape it takes. I have had dozens of people who came here on deals try and lift it as it was disguised as a simple cup. No one could lift it.”
“So I am one of the few people who can? Along with this Thor?”
“Correct. Congratulations Belle, you’ve accomplished what I’ve spent years attempting purely by accident.” There was no bite in his tone, and she could almost detect appreciation. He was not glaring or sneering, instead he looked awed and proud. “Is it easy to move? To swing? Try to throw it.” She gave him a sceptical look but did as he asked, swinging it with ease before throwing it. She screamed as it made a gaping hole in the stone wall, the sound it made thunderous and harsh. She threw her hand up to block any debris that might have scattered, and to her amazement, she felt the hammer return itself to her hands.
“This… I really am worthy of it? Of something like this?” She looked up at him in awe, and he nodded, approaching her. She excitedly grabbed his hand and squeezed it, and though his eyes nearly popped from his head, he didn’t let go.
“And what will you do with the newfound power, Belle?” The shrill lift was gone from his voice, replaced with a low, masculine tone, his voice more of a caress. She liked it,and it sent a shiver down her spine. He was close to her, so close she could feel his magic crackle and smell him, straw and sandalwood. She shook her head to collect her thoughts.
“Nothing! I don’t even know why I am worthy of it. I would only use it if it was for good, if it was to save someone from peril, or to stop a great force of evil.”
“And that answer, darling, seems to be the precise reason you can wield it.” His tone was affectionate, and the new endearment was not lost on her. She beamed up at him as he seemed to realized what he had said, his mouth just hanging open. She just smiled, giving him a tight hug. She had no use for Mjölnir at present, and she wasn’t sure she ever would, but being deemed worthy made her feel like a true hero for the first time. She pulled away to look up at him, the hammer still in her hand. “Ah… It also means that you now have the right to rule Asgard, if that appeals more than being my maid.” His playful tone had returned, and she rolled her eyes.
“I didn’t even want to rule my own kingdom, why would I ever want to rule Asgard?”
“Well, I’m sure you wouldn’t have to dust or clean there.” He tittered and bounced, and she rolled her eyes, giving the hammer a slight swing.
“What about skinning for pelts?” Her tone was dry and she arched an eyebrow, and he giggled to hide the sheepish expression that appeared.
“I imagine not.”
“But I can’t spend forever with you if I’m ruling Asgard, can I?” Her eyes glimmered as she smiled mischievously, giggling at the dazed look that came across his face, and she turned, beginning to walk back to the main floor. Her smile only grew as she heard his footsteps following right away, and he caught up with her. No more words were exchanged as they made their way up the stone staircase, but she couldn’t help but feel as though they had grown slightly closer. She couldn’t tell which was more exciting; being deemed worthy enough to wield the hammer of a God, or watching the walls Rumplestiltskin built around himself slowly crumble like the stone had under Mjölnir. The former was exhilarating for the time being. However, the latter would last and grow for as long as she was by his side. In both his and her words, forever.