I OWN NOTHING! Secret world of Arrietty belongs to Studio Ghibli

Chapter 3: Disappear

Arrietty stormed into her room, sobbing furiously, and slammed the door shut behind her. The harsh sound of the crash reverberated through the whole house, clanging pots in the kitchen and drifting up to the ceiling to mix with the echoes of her previous shouting match with her father. As the echoes faded, they were replaced with a softer, sadder sound- the quiet tears that Arrietty cried as she sat on the edge of her bed, her face buried in a pillow. In one hand she clutched a tiny pouch, its braided drawstring drawn tightly closed against the opening into the seemingly empty bag.

Arrietty lifted her head from the pillow, sniffling halfheartedly and staring at the pouch. Rubbing the tears from her eyes, she fumbled at the knot in the drawstring, only to have tears begin to flow again as she stared at its meager contents. Inside were a few grains of sugar, chipped off of the corner of a long-ago present. It had been Shawn's gift, and despite her better intentions and the fragile state of her keepsake, Arrietty could not bring herself to part with it without at least a small memento of her first friend. Now, all that was left of the sugar cube were a few grains, barely enough to fill the Borrower-sized pouch.

As the tears traced their slow path down her cheeks, her thoughts returned to that summer garden where she and Shawn had first met. How was it that though every dewdrop on each flower was crystallized in her memory, she could hardly picture Shawn's face, much less remember his voice? It was as if her memories of that long-past week were being eroded away, disappearing into hidden cracks in her mind as the sugar cube vanished, just as mysteriously, grain by grain slipping into the floorboards.

She sniffed sadly. How she missed her old home, with its magnificent, well tended garden, their comfortable home under the floorboards, and the huge Being house that she had just begun to explore. Most of all, though, she missed Shawn, his quiet voice and gentle demeanor. He was a lot like Spiller that way, she supposed. But Shawn seemed frail, even though he was enormous, like if she had so much as tapped him he would shatter into a million pieces. Spiller was the opposite- he emanated strength and had a certain wildness about him that absolutely fascinated her, no matter how childish he seemed at times. She knew it would never disappear completely, no matter how much her mother tried to condition him for home life. She gazed melancholically out the window. Oh, Shawn, she thought, are you thinking of me? Do you even remember me?

She heard her doorknob turn witch a slight click and lobbed a pillow at whoever was coming in. "Go away! I want to be left alone." She heard a muffled grunt and a solid whump as the pillow made contact. When whoever it was didn't leave, she looked up and glowered fiercely. "I said go awa- Oh. Spiller, it's you." Spiller dropped the pillow from where he had caught it, inches in front of his face. "Yeah. It's me." He clicked the door shut behind him and began to move cautiously towards where Arrietty sat on her bed. "You okay?" he asked gruffly, his eyes wide with concern. "Yeah." She said bitterly. "Just angry." "Angry at… Spiller?" he asked tentatively. "No!" Arrietty exclaimed. "No, I'm not angry at you. It isn't your fault that my dad has kept secrets from me my entire life." Her tone turned ugly and bitter. "Or that he isn't even gracious enough to let his own daughter pursue her dream." Spiller winced, watching Arrietty glower moodily at her wall, tears still glistening in her eyes. He felt so helpless! His best friend, the girl that he always went out of his way to please, was angry and frustrated and sad and there was nothing- absolutely nothing- he could do about it. "Can Spiller help?" he asked, still clinging to some small fragment of hope. "No." Spiller grunted, frustrated. Even when he had already known what the answer would be, it still disappointed him to have his suspicion confirmed.

"Actually…" Arrietty tilted her head thoughtfully, her eyes gleaming in the low light. Her musical voice took on an intense, hopeful tone. "Maybe there is. Spiller, could you... could you take me to see the city?" She stared at him with fire dancing in her eyes, her expression half pleading him to take her, half daring him not to. "Please, Spiller. I'm begging you!" Spiller squeezed his eyes shut and took a deep, fortifying breath. He opened his eyes and looked straight at Arrietty, matching her intense stare with an even more piercing one of his own. His reply was short, straightforward and steady- but still, somehow unexpected. Never lowering his gaze, he replied slowly and clearly. "No. Spiller cannot."

Arrietty reeled back, her high hopes crushed like glass underfoot. No…. He had said no. As in, no, he would not take her! Despite her angry attempts to swallow the lump in her throat, she felt heartbroken tears welling in her eyes. "No… " she whispered, her voice breaking. "No! Don't you betray me too!" Now it was Spiller's turn to reel back, shocked. Betray her? He would never betray her! He leaned forward and grasped her hands. "Arrietty, listen! It is not safe! You could be hurt!" She pushed away from him, shaking her head mutely, but he kept a strong grip on her hands. He kept talking, his voice low and intense. "I want you to be safe. Not safe outside. Arrietty, no, don't cry. Arrietty!"

Arrietty pushed away from him, pressing her body into her cold glass bed frame. She fought her despairing tears with all of her heart. She would not cry. She would not. A single line of wetness dropped down from her eyes, sliding down the contours of her face and gathering on the tip of her chin. More tears followed, overflowing from her eyes despite her panicked attempts to resist them. She closed her eyes tightly, cutting off the tears. Her dreams were still possible, she told herself fiercely. Just because no one understood her, just because everyone had betrayed her, didn't mean that she was stopped. She could and would follow wherever her dreams led. But how? whispered the tiny, doubtful voice in the back of her mind. More tears squeezed their way out from behind her closed lids.

"Arri…etty…" Spiller mumbled, dumbstruck. He had only seen her cry once before- when she had been saying goodbye to that Being boy, a year ago. Now, though, she had started sobbing twice in one day! Helplessly, he loosened his grip on her hands. He hated seeing her so upset. He wanted to comfort her. He needed to comfort her. But how? He released her hands. Arrietty let them fall limply to her lap, her shoulders convulsing slightly with every quiet sob. Tentatively, he put a hand up to her cheek, gently brushing away her tears with the back of his finger. Arrietty's eyes flew open at the light touch of his rough, calloused hand. Spiller locked his gaze onto hers, his gaze deep and unfathomable. "Spiller will not take you," he said slowly, hoping she did not start to cry again, "Because he could never, ever see you hurt." Arrietty gulped and nodded, drying the remnants of her tears with a quick brush of her hand. "I… I understand." she said falteringly.

Spiller sighed, relieved, and slumped back against the bed frame. "Good." He was glad she was being understanding, or at the very least, not completely freaking out again. "I just wish-" Arrietty began tiredly, then stifled a yawn. Spiller noticed and stood up from the edge of the bed. "You're tired. I'll let you sleep." He turned and padded up to her door. He opened it and paused, looking back at Arrietty fondly. "See you in the morning, right?" Arrietty nodded mutely. He cast one last worried glance back at her, then turned and moved silently out of the room, clicking the door shut behind him.

Homily came up the stairs into the hall and nearly ran into Spiller, who was still gazing melancholically at Arrietty's door. "Spiller…" she said quietly, "If you plan on staying the night, why not sleep in our guest bedroom? It's much warmer than sleeping outdoors in a teapot." Spiller nodded. As long as he could keep an eye on Arrietty, it was fine with him. He allowed himself to be led down the stairs and into the small bedroom that was tucked neatly behind the kitchen. "Well, you just go ahead and make yourself comfortable," Homily said kindly. "I'll let you alone now, Spiller." She turned and left, closing the door gently behind her. Spiller gazed around, taking in the glass bottle that served as a window and the dull green woven rug on the floor, before settling himself on the small, homemade bed in the corner. He lay on top of the comforter, his arms crossed behind his head casually. Immediately, images of Arrietty filled his head- memories of her crying, smiling, laughing, or even just relaxing. He sighed wistfully and rolled over, grunting as he flopped against the too-soft bed. It was going to be a long night…

000

Dew dripped silently down the leaves of the rosebush, tracing teardrop trails in the silence and gathering heavily of a circular glass window. Crickets chirped a harmony to the wind's mournful song as it wound its way through the floorboards of the half-empty house. Dawn peeked over the horizon, illuminating a red-eyed Arrietty carefully unlatching her window in the twilight dusk. Carefully, she swung out off the windowsill and landed neatly on the grass below, her favorite boots leaving deep, clear impressions in the dew-soaked ground. She stood for a moment, listening for anyone who may have detected her departure. Her hand rested on the yellow orb that formed the hilt of her first Borrowing- a long, dangerously sharp pin that formed a sword for the tiny Borrower. Satisfied that she was not being followed, Arrietty hoisted her green bag up on her shoulder and ran lightly over to the rosebush exit. With an accustomed hand, she swung it aside and slipped out into the dawn, not once looking back.

Quickly, she continued through the garden, following a well-beaten trail that led straight down to the riverside. Here she left the trail and plunged into the cold bracken, winding her way through the undergrowth until she reached a secluded cove hidden by the overbearing arms of an enormous fern. Here, hidden among the moss and leaves, she saw what she had come looking for- an old yellow teapot, bobbing gently against the ropes that held it in place. Arrietty stopped, panting to catch her breath. Her back ached from carrying her heavy pack along with her traditional Borrowing bag, and her fishhook had caught in the thick, red folds of her dress. She stooped to untangle it, keeping busy to stop the flow of guilty thoughts that had plagued her ever since the beginnings of her plan had begun formulating in her mind.

Fishhook successfully removed, Arrietty set about readying the teapot to sail. She clambered up its slick sides and, dumping her pack in unceremoniously, began working Spiller's efficient, complicated knots. After five minutes with no significant progress, she drew her pin and angrily began hacking at the ropes, severing first one, than two, than all three of the ties that attached the boat to the stillness of solid earth. As she began to float downriver, she slipped carefully down inside of the teapot, watching her footing on the twig ladder that led the way into the vessels hollow inside. She glanced around to take stock of what she had. A pile of feathers sat in one corner, the gift yet to be removed from its confines in the teapot. A few threadbare blankets sat in a corner, and Arrietty realized that Spiller must have only had a few meager rags to keep out the chill at night. She found herself pitying the wild boy and his simple lifestyle. Sure, she liked the outdoors, but facing it only with a few rags and a teapot to call her home? She grimaced. Spiller must have been through a lot to make him prefer this to a cozy fire. Maybe he did prefer a cozy fire, she thought, and that is why he keeps visiting us. It was a horrible bitter thing to think, and she regretted it as soon as the dark thought had crossed her mind. Of course, her head seemed to be full of horrible thoughts lately. She sat down absentmindedly, shivering slightly, and began to sort through the contents of her bulging back. If only sorting out her thoughts was that easy…

One fish shaped water bottle, complete with red cap, check. One guilty conscience for stealing Spiller's teapot, check. A few blankets to keep out the night air, check. One lonely, burdened heart from the betrayal of first her father, and then her best friend, also check. Disgusted with her self-pitying thoughts, Arrietty put her head on her knees and tried to block out everything but the sound of rushing water, calming herself. She needed to collect her thoughts. She decided to start by mentally retracing her steps. Maybe if she could just figure out some kind of order in that chaotic night, she would feel better… Maybe.

Her plan had begun a few minutes after Spiller had left her room. His betrayal had come as a shock- Spiller was usually up for almost anything. Deep down, she knew that both Spiller and her father had wanted to protect her, but somehow the knowledge didn't make her feel any better. She had lain in bed staring at the ceiling for a while, her thoughts a confused tangle, ignoring the gradual passage of time. Eventually, she had decided she was sick all the moping. She knew she couldn't face her father after what he had done, and Spiller had already refused to take her to the city, albeit with slightly more logical reasoning. But even though no one understood, she had to go. It was her dream pulling her- that secret dream we all have and won't admit even to ourselves. She felt it tugging at her heart now, excited to be on its way to fulfillment.

As soon as she had reached this decision, she had sat up out of bed and began to pack for her journey. Who knew how long she would be away? She had filled first her Borrowing pack, and then the old green bag with necessities, like her favorite fish-shaped water bottle, leggings, an extra dress, sturdy twine, and three blankets to use as a bedroll. Dressed I her favorite red dress and boots, she had only stopped to grab her bag with Shawn's few grains of sugar. Now threaded safely on a ling piece of ribbon, it took its place as a necklace. Arrietty reached up to touch it's comforting weight and sighed. She missed Shawn so much. Maybe after she had gone to the cities, she would visit him... Comforted by this small daydream in a foreign place, Arrietty stoop and moved over to the pile of feathers, taking her blanket with you. After a moment's consideration, she plucked a white feather as long as her hand from the pile. She folded it carefully into the pouch around her neck, and then relaxed onto the soft warmth of the feathers. Tiredly she closed her eyes, her head whirling with betrayals and dreams, gifts and memories. It wasn't long before she had fallen fast asleep, the soft lullaby of the gurgling stream rocking her into a peaceful dream of oblivion.

000

Spiller awoke with a start, his hand flying to his sword as he struggled to remember where he was because this was most definitely not his teapot. Suddenly, memories came flooding back and he relaxed, then winced. The bruise on his chest had stiffened overnight, leaving him sore and very uncomfortable. He stood slowly, wincing at every motion, and grabbed his cloak from where he had thrown it on the bedside chair. Fastening it quickly around his neck, he moved quietly into the kitchen, hoping that no one was up. Maybe, just maybe, he could make it out into the forest before anyone noticed and be back by breakfast, to support Arrietty. He knew she would need it, especially after last night's explosive argument.

He padded barefoot into an empty dining room. The table was bare and the adjoining kitchen spotless, showcasing Homily's pride in her clean home. Happy to have the chance to sneak away, Spiller crept out the door, not bothering to stop to tell anyone where he was going. He would be back soon enough.

Outside, he padded silently to the back garden, where his quarry awaited. He plunged through the tall grass, battling his way through its chest-high depths. Soon enough, though, he came to what he was looking for. A small stand of white daisies, just blooming and about fist-sized to Spiller. He knelt down and grabbed as many as he could carry, carefully gathering them into a decent-sized bundle. He took a deep breath and started back towards the rosebush. Hopefully, this would cheer Arrietty up a bit. Girls liked flowers- or at least, he hoped they did. When he had been in the city, he had seen a man give a pretty girl a rose, like the ones on the bush outside Arrietty's home. The girl had obviously been thrilled. Despite them being a much smaller offering, Spiller hoped his handful of daisies would cheer Arrietty up at least a bit.

He glanced up at the sun filtering through the rosebush leaves. It was a bit early for anyone to be up still, but he couldn't wait to present this new gift to Arrietty. Quickly, he climbed up the makeshift steps by her windowsill and knocked twice. When there was no reply, he pushed the window open and clambered into the room, keeping the flowers tight in one hand. He stood quietly and fiddled with his cloak for a minute tweaking at the edges and smoothing down the fur. Hopefully, Arrietty would not take the flowers as a romantic offering. While he did like her, and much more than she knew, the last thing Arrietty needed was anything more to cope with. "Arrietty…?" He stepped lightly over to her bed, squinting past the early morning shadows. She was gone!

He gasped and looked swiftly around the room, ensuring that she was really missing. Cautious silence abandoned, he fled from the room in a flurry of footsteps, leaving a battered pile of daisies in his wake. He thudded down the hall and burst into Pod and Homily's room. Moving over to the bedside in three quick strides, he began to shake Pod roughly. "Wake up!" he said fiercely. Pod rolled over, his eyes blurry with sleep. "Spiller, it's still early. Can't it wait?" "No!" he hissed frantically. "Arrietty is gone!"

"What?" Pod sat bolt upright. "Come down to the kitchen. We need to talk." He swung out of bed, careful not to jostle Homily, and strode out the door. Spiller followed behind, fuming and nervous. How long ago had Arrietty left? Probably hours! She was out there, all alone in the wild. She may even be hurt! He flew down the stairs and grabbed his bow from where it was propped up by the fireplace. He sat down on the bench by the door, hurriedly yanking his shoes onto his feet and lacing them with more force than was probably necessary. Pod slumped into a kitchen chair and rested his head in his hands. Spiller stood, bow in hand. "I go after Arrietty." he announced. "Wait, please, Spiller." Pod stood up lethargically. "Before you leave, please tell me what happened last night, after you followed Arrietty upstairs. " "Mmph." Spiller grunted. The sooner he left the better, but Pod deserved to know. "Spiller followed Arrietty into her room and found her crying. Tried to comfort her, but she asked if Spiller would take her to the city. Said no, and she got mad, started crying again. Comforted her again, then left 'cause she was tired. Can Spiller go now?" Pod nodded. "Go," he said, voice cracking pitifully. "Go, and bring my daughter home."