Belated Author's note:
Before anyone decidespunish/kill/maim me, I want to apologize for making this such a late chapter after what I had promised. I had neatly typedhalf of thischapter out at the end of August. Then university life stepped in, rendeing me into a workaholic zombie, with no time for breathing, let alone having a social life or writing. But that passed. Then there came the whole 'finding a beta' drama, which was an issue in itself, but things have gotten sorted out now.The lovelyRanna has graciously stepped in and beta-ed this chapter for me.
I will finish this story, but at my own pace. Ideally I would like to update once a month, as since I know exactly where this story is heading, and have actually plotted most of it already. But all depends on finding the time when I can type it out. I will try to do that, and hopefully, who knows. This story might be finished by the end of the year.
To my lovely reviewers, thank you all so, so much for the reviews. Thank you for still reading this story, even though I have not updated it in ages, and asking me when I'll update, and even checking if I'm still alive to finish this story (which I am.) You all are just so fantastic, because without you, there wouldn't even be this story. Big love to all, and I hope that this chapter will live up to your expectations
Chapter 3: In which Sophie is awoken by a Demon named Malcolm
Something was nudging Sophie in an unpleasantly warm and disturbing way. She waved her arm in a half-asleep motion to ward of the nudging. It wouldn't stop. Instead, the nudging persisted, in a more urgent and insisting way. The nudging was accompanied by a few loud snuffling noises
"Stop it Howl," she mumbled sleepily. "Go away."
The snuffing did not stop. Sophie was aware of a rank, dampish smell that came with the snorts. Something warm and wet was suddenly thrust into her ear.
If anything, that woke her up instantly.
Sophie's eyes shot open, and she found herself face to face with a long, hairy brown face, which was accompanied by a pair of stubby, horns. Black, jelly, marble eyes met hers. The demon opened its mouth, and its long, smelly tongue protruded toward Sophie.
Sophie did the most sensible thing that she could have thought of at that moment. She threw her blanket at the demon and screamed.
Her screaming made the demon rear up threateningly on two hooves and bleat angrily. It then shook itself hard, trying to rid itself of the blanket. Sophie could hear the patter of footsteps mingling with the hoof beats of the demon, and the door flew open. Howl dashed into the room, followed by Megan, and another dark man, who Sophie guessed was Garreth.
Howl took one quick look at the whole thing and flung himself at the demon, which if possible, reared and bleated even louder. Sophie got out of bed as quickly as possible and ran over to Megan, who was having a sort of fit.
"How did that creature get in here?" she almost shrieked. "Garreth, you said you tied it up!"
"I did!" he insisted. "How the devil did it get loose?"
"That's what I'd like to know," Howl grunted as he tugged at the creature in a bid to get it out of the room. Garreth went over to help him with the tugging, but the goat did not budge. "Sophie, are you alright?"
"I'm alright," she answered, her voice slightly hoarse from screaming. "But what is a goat doing in here?"
"Goodness gracious, what's all the fuss about?" came a voice from outside the room. An old woman with the longest and straightest grey hair Sophie had ever seen, poked her head into the room and surveyed the scene in there. "Ah, so that's where Malcolm went, naughty thing that he is."
"Malcolm!" Megan ejaculated disbelievingly. "You called that thing Malcolm?"
"What?" Sophie asked, at the same time, unable to believe her ears.
The old lady gave Sophie a quick, look and suddenly clapped her hands to her mouth. "I almost didn't see you, dear!" she declared loudly. "You must be Howell's newest flame! I'm so sorry! We weren't interrupting anything special were we?"
It was then when Sophie realized that she had gone to bed wearing nothing else besides a pair of shorts and Howl's old rugby jersey. She felt herself blush a bright red.
"Mother," Howl said rather breathlessly, whom Sophie had noticed had turned slightly pink around the ears. The goat was tugging to get away from Howl and Garreth and towards Mrs. Jenkins. With a loud bleat, the goat managed to free itself from their grasp, only to trot docilely to Mrs. Jenkins.
Howl sighed and muttered something that sounded suspiciously like a curse in Welsh. "Sophie, this is my mother. Mother, this is Sophie Hatter," he introduced in a half-grudging way.
"Charmed to meet you," Mrs. Jenkins said. "And I really do hope that you last longer than all those girls of Howell's last—"
"Lucinda!" a voice interrupted from the stairs. "What's happening? The goat's missing and all that's left is a chewed rope–"
"Malcolm's in here, Gwyn!" Mrs. Jenkins yelled back.
"That's a relief," Mr. Jenkins said, as emerged into the room, holding a half-frayed rope. "I was afraid that he had wandered off." He looked almost like a much older version of Howl, and his snowy white hair was even longer than his wife's, was twisted into a braid.
"And that's my father," Howl added. "What the devil is a goat doing in here?" he demanded angrily.
"You never told us that you'll be bringing back your girlfriend back to meet us," Mrs. Jenkins said, while Mr. Jenkins asked interestedly "Are the both of you involved in a de facto relationship?" at the same time.
"Mother! How could you bring a goat back?" Megan wailed. "They have fleas! And you know that Neil has asthma!"
"Not to mention that it stinks the whole house out" Garreth added, as he ruefully sniffed.
"Grandpa! Grandma!" Mari had wound her way into the room and was busy hugging both her grandparents at the same time.
"Mari!" Mr. Jenkins bellowed happily and hugged his granddaughter back, and getting in the way of his wife as he did so. "How have you grown!"
"Neil has grown up so much too," Mrs. Jenkins had pounced on Neil who had sleepily made his way into the room, and ruffled his hair.
"Argh! Grandma! Geroff!" Neil roared, as he tried to wriggle out of his grandmother's grasp.
"Baa!" bleated Malcolm and he pranced about. He was obviously glad at the cacophonic state of the room.
Sophie found herself backing slowly towards the window. She secretly wondered if she could sneak out of the room without being noticed. She felt a sudden draft across her legs. To her surprise, the window was open and there was a breeze blowing in. She could see the top of Howl's blonde head sticking up from just underneath the sill. And he was beckoning towards her
"Howl," she hissed. She leaned over the sill. "What are you doing?"
Howl was perched on a thick vine of ivy creeping across the wall. "Let's get out of here before they realize we're missing," he whispered. "You won't want to be around with them now."
"But I can't get down," she whispered back. "It's dangerous!"
Howl extended his hand to her. "I'll help you down. The vine's strong enough to take two. Hurry!"
"It's quite high up," Sophie began uncertainly, as it was a long way down to the garden. But there was a large crash when Malcolm knocked over a table.
Megan was bawling that how Mr. and Mrs. Jenkins never made an effort to respect the rules she laid in the house. Mr. Jenkins retorted by saying that Garreth should be the one making the rules, since he was the man of the house. Garreth was torn between calming his wife down and agreeing with his father-in-law. Mari was crying because of the shouting and Mrs. Jenkins was noisily trying to comfort her, while still keeping a grasp on the wriggling, protesting Neil. Malcolm had gotten tired of prancing around and had proceeded to eat the bed sheet.
Sophie immediately decided that she would rather risk breaking her neck crawling down the wall rather than stay in a room of yelling people. She immediately took Howl's proffered hand and cautiously climbed out of the window. He was right, as the ivy held firm under their feet.
"I was afraid something like that would happen," Howl had said as a way of explanation. "My parents make a scene each time they come."
Sophie felt her knees shake as she climbed down the vine. "Slithering out again aren't you?" she asked to take her mind off the climb down. She tried not to think about falling down.
"You'll slither out in a situation like that as well," Howl retorted. "Steady now!" for Sophie had missed her footing and nearly slipped. He put an arm firmly around her. "Don't worry, you won't fall. I've got you. Look at me, don't think about the way down."
Sophie obeyed. "Do you do this often?" she asked. "Climbing out of the room, I meant." Climbing down had disheveled Howl's hair, and he had made no effort to tidy it. She tried not to notice that some of his hair had been bleached almost white by the sun.
"If there aren't any other ways to get out," he replied. "Usually I can get out of something like that easily, but with my parents around, it wouldn't work."
He's being honest, Sophie realized. It was hard to believe that he had just gotten his heart back for only two days.
It suddenly struck her how ridiculous the whole situation was. She was climbing out of a strange house, dressed in nothing but an oversized shirt and shorts, in the arms of the man who was rumored to eat the hearts of young girls. What would Fanny say? Sophie imagined Fanny waving her parasol wildly as she lectured about decency and responsibility. Sophie giggled at the idea.
"What so funny?" Howl asked.
"I was thinking what Fanny would say if she saw us now." A clock flew out of the window and whizzed past, barely missing Sophie. She stared as it fell on the rosebushes. They weren't a long way from the ground. "Are your family always like that when you meet?"
Howl looked at the clock in the rosebush. "I think that might have been Mari who did that," he said. "She could never understand what clocks are for."
Howl was obviously uncomfortable about talking about his family. Sophie didn't blame him. If her family were like that as well, she wouldn't just slither out from them like he did. She would make sure that they remained hidden at all costs.
Howl let go of the vine when they were about three feet from the ground. Sophie gave a little squeak as they slid down, but Howl still had his arm firmly around her. They reached the ground with a thump and she felt her bare feet touch damp grass. They had reached the bottom. "So where will we be going now?" she asked Howl.
"I don't know," he said. "Possibly as far away from them at the moment. They'll need time to scream at each other, throw a few things around, and get that damn goat out of the way before they realize we're gone. Hopefully they'll be stuck at getting the goat out, and forget all about us. And when they realize that we're gone, we'll be far away."
"Oh," she said. "How long could that be?"
He shrugged. "It depends. It could be an hour or three. It could even be half a day before they stop screaming at each other. I'm not sure. Why?"
"Be practical, Howl. I can't go far barefooted. Or is it some queer Welsh custom to walk around without shoes?"
Howl grinned. "Not that I know of, but you're always free to start the custom."
Sophie glowered at Howl. He put on a stricken face. "Ye Gads. If that hadn't turned Medusa to stone, I don't know what could have," he proclaimed dramatically.
If anything, that made Sophie glower even harder. Howl raised his hands in mock surrender. "But I will tease my lady no more," he said hastily. This was accompanied by some quick hand movements and to Sophie's profound relief; she was clad in the yellow dress she had worn yesterday, accompanied with a pair of stout walking shoes.
"And now," Howl said. "Let's make a run for it."
And make a run for it they did.
The had not stopped running until Howl had made sure that Megan's house was nothing more than a speck in the distance. Then they had walked along lanes which led to the back of houses, and past an odd field or so, and finally, along the main road. Until now, Sophie had not realized how lovely Howl's village was. When she had first come, she had the impression that it was a little town at the edge of a big city. What had escaped her old eyes at that time was the way the country managed to fit in between the cracks that living in a town would have left behind.
Sophie had seen one or two tall glass buildings, and a quaint inn (Howl called it the local pub) side by side. Houses had roofs of red tile, instead of thatch, and immaculately neat gardens. The roads in Wales were black and smooth, which made walking more of a blessing to walk on, compared to the bumpy cobblestone found in Market Chipping. There were small wild flowers blooming in between the cracks of the black roads.
It was at times hard to believe that Howl would actually disappear from here to end up in Ingary.
"What are those metal bars sticking out of the ground?" Sophie asked, as she pointed at them. Her sudden newfound curiosity was not unlike the one she had when she was still Howl's old cleaner lady.
"Electric wires," Howl told her. "They transport electricity to the houses," he paused to think a bit. "We use a lot of electricity over here. It's sort of like...energy to make some things in the house work."
"Like the talking box," Sophie added, thinking about the box Mari devoutly watched.
"It's a television Sophie," Howl corrected. He then took her hand in his. "But, yes, you're right."
Something went up Sophie's spine, and she wasn't sure if it was the electricity Howl was talking about, or the fact that strange things seemed to happen to her each time Howl was around. "How come you don't have carriages here?" she asked in an attempt to distract her thoughts from Howl's hand in hers. "Other than your smelling horseless carriages here."
Howl shrugged. He on the other hand, had no idea of the effect he was having on Sophie. "We don't need them. We've cars and buses, and trains..." his words faded as he saw the puzzlement on Sophie's face. "But we'll leave that for later."
But if there was one thing that Sophie noticed was that throughout the whole time, Howl did not talk about his family. Neither did her let go of her hand. Sophie wondered how he managed to do both things so casually, considering the situation they were both in.
Sophie was sure that it was long past dinner time when Howl finally declared (although rather reluctantly) that they should get back to Rivendell. Upon reaching, Howl had immediately conjured up a pair of suitcases.
"You just can't show up here again without any luggage. You know how Megan's like," Howl said. "She's bound to ask lots and lots of questions, and I won't be able to get a word in edgewise. At least I know both Mari and Neil would be asleep by now," he added, as he stumped up the path with the suitcases bouncing along beside him. "Two down, four more to go." This was accompanied with something that sounded like a string of curses in Welsh.
"Maybe you ought to try talking to your parents rather that slithering out of meeting them," Sophie suggested.
Howl stopped in his path and gave her an agonized look. "Sophie," he said slowly. "Didn't this morning's chaotic exhibit mean anything to you at all?"
"Other than giving me the impression that your parents are eccentric, and your sister is prone to nag, well, not much really," she answered honestly.
"Great gods of railways," Howl commented sardonically. "That would be an understatement if I had ever heard of one." He fumbled in his pocket for the keys. "May you consider yourself lucky if you manage to survive their encounter."
"You're exaggerating Howl," Sophie said crossly. Howl's melodrama sometimes annoyed her. "You've must have lived with them for some time and I can see that you survived just fine. Other than being hysterically vain and having a reputation as an eater of hearts." That was said in lower tones.
"It's different in this case," Howl answered, just as crossly. The door opened with a click and they went in. "My parents are just –argh!"
"Just what are we then, Howell?" Mrs. Jenkins asked. Both Howl's parents were sitting on the sofa with a glossy picture book between them. Megan, who was hovering behind the sofa looked both cross and desperate burst out "Where have you been? We've waited all day for you!"
"Are you sure that you want that goat in the house?" Howl asked, pointedly ignoring Megan's question.
The goat Malcolm was sitting contentedly at Mrs. Jenkins feet. As if knowing that it was being spoken off, it looked up and leered at Sophie. She didn't know which was more ominous, getting in the middle of another mess with Howl's family or being leered at by a goat.
"Malcolm's staying here," Mr. Jenkins said firmly. "No question about that."
"I won't have any animals in my house!" Megan exclaimed. "I've told you that from the very beginning!"
"Well, you'll have to make an exception for Malcolm," Mrs. Jenkins responded. "Malcolm's delicate. He can't spend the night in the cold outside. And that's final." Megan, whose mouth had opened in a way that promised a good lecture snapped shut and she glared at her mother.
"Well, now that's settled, I think we ought to call it a night now," Howl told Sophie. "We must have pounded the streets of the town today, and tomorrow's going to be a long day. So goodnight all, Sophie and I are just going to–"
"Howl, I'll have you know that I won't have any impropriety in my house," Megan began threateningly. "Last night,"
"I'd have you know that I spent last night on the floor," Howl told his sister primly. "In a florescent green sleeping bag on the uncarpeted floor."
"Very chivalrous of you Howell," Mr. Jenkins said.
"Sophie dear, we've been waiting for you to come back." Mrs. Jenkins looked up at Sophie. She found herself staring into an older version of Howl's dark bottle-green eyes. All of a sudden, she found it easy to see the relation. "Do you want to see some of Howl's old photos?"
"Photos?" Sophie asked cautiously. She had no idea what they were. Mrs. Jenkins gestured to the glossy book on her lap. On closer inspection, there were little shiny pictures stuck in the book. They didn't look like the kind of portraits that they had in Ingary. She took a closer look, and realized that all the pictures contained a very familiar looking boy...
"I carry them all over with me," Mrs. Jenkins told her cheerfully. "Howell gets embarrassed over them, but I tell him nonsense, what's there to be embarrassed about? I'm just showing the world how proud I am of my son."
"Oh God," Howl groaned, and stumped upstairs.