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The Hammer Returned

Summary:

Rumplestiltskin has collected many magical items over the long years. After spending years in a dusty pawnshop it's time for one item to be returned to it's rightful owner.

Notes:

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Rumplestiltskin watched from the corner of his eye as Belle stomped into the room and slammed the tea tray onto the table. He winced as the cups rattled, she was still angry about the frogs then. It’s not as if he’d released live frogs into the castle, he’d only spilled the big jar of livers, and she was the maid cleaning was what she was here for.

Now he considered it, maybe he shouldn’t have said that to her. He silently sighed, the help used to be terrified of him.

“Rumple, are you humming?”

He blinked and stilled the wheel; “What?”

“The humming noise, I thought it was you, can you hear it?”

He could hear it. He bounded from his wheel and stalked across to one of the cupboards, he’d had to lock so many of his treasures away because of his nosy little maid was very clumsy and had no sense of self-preservation. He’d once found her playing with a gelatinous dodecahedron, ‘because the colours were pretty’, totally unconcerned that the damn thing could have rearranged her physical attributes.

The humming grew louder as he pulled open the cupboard doors. On the bottom shelf a large hammer was vibrating. Rumple dropped into a crouch and watched it intently.

“What is it doing?”

Rumple flapped a hand at Belle as he concentrated. The hammer flared and then went dark. The sudden silence was deafening. Rumple heaved a sigh and straighten up.

“Oh well, it was a long shot I suppose.”

He jumped as a soft hand patted his shoulder. He frowned at Belle, what the hell was she doing?

“I’m sorry whatever it was didn’t work out. Come and drink your tea while it’s still warm.”

He let himself follow her over to the table, still confused as to why she was being nice to him. She really was a strange girl.

“So, what’s the story behind the hammer?”

He took his teacup from her hands and leaned back in his chair.

“It’s one of a pair, forged in the heart of a dying star…”

 

-x-x-x-

Thor caught himself flexing his hand. He wondered if the habit to call Mjölnir to his side would ever fade.

“Ah there you are Mr Odinson.”

Turning to his left Thor found a man with long hair holding a large box. He ran his hand over his own cropped locks, he did miss his hair.

“Who are you, and how did you get past the guards?”

“I’m Rumplestiltskin and guards aren’t a problem when you have magic.”

Without taking his eye off the stranger Thor picked up an empty goblet and threw it at him. It bounced off his chest and clattered to the floor.

“Tut tut, such poor manners for a god and king.”

Thor shrugged; “I’ve discovered it’s better to be sure with magicians.”

Rumplestiltskin chuckled as he put the box on the table; “Ah that brother of yours, he’s a quirky one. I like him.”

“Did you really break in here to discuss family?”

“Oh no, but we could have quite the conversation on that subject, trust me. No, I’ve come to return something to its rightful home.”

He flipped the lid open and stepped back. Thor hesitated for an instant. Rumplestiltskin waved his hand impatiently; “Come on, dearie, it won’t bite.”

He leaned over and looked into the box.

“Mjölnir? No that’s impossible. It was destroyed.”

“Why is everyone surprised when things come in pairs?”

Thor jabbed an angry finger at him; “It was the weapon of a god, not a boot!”

The infuriating man smiled and fiddled with his cuff links; “True enough, but the dwarven brothers forged two. The one you called Mjölnir, and this one, which was,” – he wiggled his fingers, - “erm lost from Asgard, and now is being returned to you.”

Thor crossed his arms over his chest; “It was stolen wasn’t it?”

“Yes,” – he pressed a hand to his chest, - “Not by me, long before my time, but by, shall we say one of my forebears?”

“This can’t be Mjölnir, because that can only be lifted by a worthy man, and no offense but I’m not sure you qualify.”

“Oh, if Belle was here you’d get such a telling off for that. Alright, put it this way, you father bound your hammer to you, this hammer is the spare waiting for you to claim it to reach its full potential. So, the question is Thor Odinson, king of Asgard, do you want your hammer back?”

He was tempted, sorely tempted to wrap his hand around the handle and raise the hammer to the sky as he had countless times before, but he didn’t. He ran a finger over the engraved surface, a familiar tingle ran through his hand, as impossible as it appeared the stranger was telling the truth. He withdrew his hand and sighed, so Mjölnir was one of a pair, yet another thing his father hadn’t thought to tell him.

He turned his attention back to the stranger.

“I thank you for returning this to me. It’s good to have something of the old world. What payment do you require?”

Rumplestiltskin gave him a tight smile; “For this no charge,” – he dipped his hand into the pocket of his coat, - “But if I could ask a small favour?”

He held out a thick leather-bound book; “Would you mind signing this for my son, he’s a huge fan of yours.”

Thor took the offered book and flipped it open; “Snorri’s Edda, your son can read this?”

A proud smile lit up Rumplestiltskin’s face; “Oh yes, he has his mother’s gift for languages, as well as her love of books.”

“I would be honoured to inscribe this for your son, what is his name?”

“Gideon.”

Thor found a pen on the table and wrote for a moment. He blew on the ink and handed the book back to Rumplestiltskin, who read the words with a faint smile. He closed the book and carefully returned it to his pocket.

“Farewell Thor Odinson.”

“Farewell Rumplestiltskin.”

-x-x-x-

Belle greeted Rumple with a hug and a question.

“Will he use it?”

“When he’s ready, sweetheart.”

“Papa! Did he sign it? Did he?”

Rumple smiled fondly at his son’s excitement.

“He did indeed, here you are, son.”

Gideon took the book in awe and opened the cover.

“Read well the sagas of old Gideon, for they give us the bravery to face the future. Thor Odinson. Wow! Awesome! Thank you Papa! Look Mama, Thor signed my book! I’ve gotta call Uncle Henry!”

Belle gave Rumple an apprising look; “It’s strange to see you in a Mr Gold suit.”

Rumple tucked a silver lock of her hair behind her ear; “Do you approve Mrs Gold?”

She crooked her finger; “Come here and I’ll show you.”