Fluffy Rumbelle One-Shots

The Pianist

Soft piano music filtered through her apartment. The window was open, letting warm sunshine and cool spring air fill the room.

A small piano stood in the corner of the room, right next to a bookshelf overflowing with books. A woman sat at the piano, fingers dancing over the keys gracefully.

She hit a note that sounded rather odd and it caused her to huff in frustration. She took a breath and began again, going over the part to make sure she didn't hit the wrong note again.

The woman's name was Belle French.

Belle French was a librarian and loved books more than anything. However, her mother (while sharing her love of books) also brought a love of music. Belle had been playing piano since a rather young age.

She finished the piece and smiled happily at the completion.

She brushed her chestnut curls away from her face before carefully closing the instrument. Belle stood up and froze as she heard a step thump, step thump outside of her door. It stopped and then something slipped under the door before the sound faded away again.

Belle walked over, feet bare against the wooden floor.

It was a slip of paper. She frowned. Hopefully this wasn't one of the tenants complaining about her music. The last apartment she'd lived in had hated her playing.

Belle unfolded the note carefully as one might defuse a bomb. To her surprise it read,

"A humble request to the pianist: Liebestraüme no. 3 in A flat."

Belle's lips quirked upwards as she saw it. It was nice to be appreciated for once. She knew this piece though, a particularly beautiful one by Franz Liszt.

She reopened the piano and dug out the music sheet. Belle placed it carefully and then rested her fingers on the black and white keys. She took a deep breath and began to play.

Several minutes later, the last note faded out into silence.

It was then that she heard the clapping. Belle tiptoed over to the open window and poked her head out. The noise was coming from the apartment above her.

Belle returned back inside and slipped on her heels.

The door to her apartment closed behind her as she left.

A few minutes later, Mr. Gold the fearsome shop owner of Storybrooke looked in surprise as he opened the door to a certain musically talented bookish beauty.

He hadn't expected the beautiful pianist to come visit the old reclusive dragon. In fact, he'd been rather surprised by the answering of his request.

She smiled and, to him, the whole room was suddenly brighter.

"Hello, I was wondering if I could come in?"

The rest as they say, was history.