Hello! :D Sorry if anyone seems a bit OOC in this chapter; I tried my best. ^.^;
Disclaimer: I don't own Harvest Moon, any of its characters, or "Beauty and the Beast".
P.S. If anyone doesn't know what a candelabrum is, it's the singular form of "candelabra".
The Castle
Pushing harder, Laurent screamed to be let in as the wolves closed in on him. Suddenly, the gates swung open just as one of the wolves was about to bite his foot. Laurent quickly stumbled through the gates, and slammed them shut before the wolves could get in.
Sighing a breath of relief, he turned away from the gates and snarling wolves. His mouth opened in awe as he started up at the grand castle set before him. It was breathtaking and elegant, if not a little eerie.
Laurent took a small, unsure step forward; a strong gust of wind blew his hat off, but he didn't bother to pick it up. He continued on towards the castle, wrapping his cloak tighter around him against the beating rain as he went.
A large stone bridge separated the castle from the gate. It ran over a swift-moving river that led to what looked like a waterfall. Laurent carefully walked across as if each step might make the structure crumble.
The great oaken front doors of the castle were much easier to open then the gate; it was as if someone had left them like that just for him. It was dark and rather chilly inside the entrance hall. No one could be seen, and the only light came from a small candelabrum resting on a spindly-legged table beside an old dusty clock.
"Hello?" Laurent called out, his voice echoing around the hall. "Is anyone here?"
He could have sworn her heard voices; they were quiet, whispering voices, but voices all the same.
"Who's there?" Laurent called, looking around wildly for the source of the voices.
"He must have lost his way," one voice was saying. It sounded rather unsure of itself, like it was used to being bossed around. "What should we do?"
"Just stay quiet and be very still," another voice said. It sounded much older than the first voice, and had a commanding tone to it. "Don't do anything."
They sounded as if they were coming from the table with the candelabrum and clock.
"Show yourself!" Laurent called, still looking around for whoever was talking.
"Well, me must do something!" the first voice said quietly. "What if the master hears him?"
"Stay where you are, Elliot, I'm warning you!" the second voice said.
"Why are you hiding?" Lauren asked, getting a little frightened.
"Oh, I can't take it anymore!" the first voice cried. "Hello, monsieur!"
"What?" Laurent said, spinning around and grabbing the candelabrum. He shined it around the room, as if expecting the speaker to be hiding in the shadows. "Where are you?"
"Over here, monsieur," the candelabrum said suddenly, and Laurent whirled around.
"Where?"
The candelabrum gently tapped Laurent on the head. Laurent looked up at the candelabrum, who smiled at him.
"Bonjour," it greeted.
Laurent screamed and dropped the candelabrum on the floor.
"Oh, now you've done it!" the clock scolded, jumping down from the table. "I told you not to do anything! But did you listen? Of course not! No one ever listens to me anymore..."
"Wh-What?" Laurent stammered, staring at the arguing objects. "How is this possible? Was it you two all along?"
The candelabrum and clock ignored him and kept on fighting. The former was a small, wiry thing with three candle holders; the candle in the middle was much taller than the ones on the left and right holders, and had a small face in it. The left and right holders seemed to act as arms, as the candelabrum was waving them around as he argued with the clock. It also looked like he had a pair of glasses perched on his wax nose.
The clock looked rather old and weather; he was rusty in several places, and the wood was scratched and chipped. There was also a rather large crack in the glass that covered his pendulum. It seemed as if he had a large, bushy moustache, as well.
"Well, this is terrible, just terrible!" the clock concluded, crossing his rusty brass arms. "You know what the master would do if he found this man here! He must leave at once!"
"He can't leave!" the candelabrum cried. "It's pouring rain outside! And there are wolves!"
"He can't stay here, and you very well know that, Elliot!" the clock said crossly.
The candelabrum shook his head and looked up Laurent.
"Bonjour, monsieur," he said again, bowing. "I'm Elliot, and that old clock over there is my grandfather, Taro."
"G-Grandfather?" Laurent stuttered, alarmed. "How can he be your grandfather? How can you even talk?"
"Ah, never mind that," Elliot, shaking his head. "Come into the parlour; you must be freezing."
"Oh, well, yes, I am, thank you," Laurent said, a bit uncertainly, following Elliot into the parlour.
"Oh no, oh no!" Taro said angrily, looking nervously around the castle. "The master is not going to be happy about this!"
Elliot ignored his grandfather, and led Laurent to a large, comfortable chair in front of a blazing fire.
"Elliot!" Taro bellowed, storming in after them. "I demand that you stop at once! This could be disastrous for everyone if the master finds out!"
"But we can't just turn him out!" Elliot argued. "That'd be terrible!"
"Hello, dears,"
Suddenly, a cart had wheeled in beside Laurent. A teapot sat on the cart, with a small teacup, a milk container, and a sugar container. The teapot had a face someone might expect to find on a sweet old grandmother; it was old-looking, but not as old as Taro. The teacup had a young, boyish face and a small chip on his rim. The milk and sugar containers, however, didn't have any faces.
"I'm Mrs. Yolanda," the teapot introduced, giving Laurent a warm smile. "Would you like some tea?"
"Oh yes, I would, thank you very much," Laurent said, grinning at the teapot; he was started to get used to these talking objects.
Mrs. Yolanda poured some of the hot tea inside of her into the little teacup, who giggled.
"I'm Taylour," he said as Laurent picked him up. "What's your name?"
Laurent smiled and chuckled at the teacup. "I'm Laurent," he said, taking a sip.
"Well, then, hello, Laurent," Mrs. Yolanda said, nodding at him.
"Ugh, this is absolutely terrible!" Taro cried, jumping up and down like a child. "How did you even know he was here, Mrs. Yolanda? You know what the master will do if he finds this man here!"
"Oh, relax, Taro, the master isn't—" Mrs. Yolanda began, but she was cut off by the fire suddenly going out.
A deep, angry breathing that almost sounded like a growl had started behind Laurent. Taylour quickly jumped out of Laurent's hands and cowered behind Mrs. Yolanda, who then shied away from Laurent. Elliot scurried beneath the carpet like a rat, his eyes just peeking over the top.
Taro glared at Mrs. Yolanda and motioned to something behind the chair Laurent was in, as if proving a point.
Laurent, frightened, looked around the room for the source of the breathing and fear within the talking objects. All of a sudden, he was face-to-face with a hideous beast. He had a huge horned head covered in what looked like a lion's mane, a large mouth full of razor-sharp teeth and a pair of tusks, what seemed to be the arms and paws of a bear with the legs and tail of a wolf. His eyes, however, were human, and were an icy violet colour.
Laurent screamed and fell out of the chair, scrambling on the floor to get up.
"Why are you here?" the Beast snarled, glaring at the old man with his violent purple eyes. "You are not welcome!"
"I-I'm sorry," Laurent stammered, getting to his feet and backing away from the Beast, out of the parlour. "I... I... I..."
"You what?" the Beast said, slowly following Laurent. "Come to stare at the Beast?"
"N-No, not at all!" Laurent cried, stumbling into the entrance hall. "I-I didn't mean to offend anyone; a-at all! I just needed a place to stay!"
"Well I'll give you a place to stay!" the Beast cried and, grabbing Laurent, he rushed away.
...o...
The next morning, back at the village, Mark was standing outside of Chelsea's house, dressed in his best clothes with a band behind him.
"Ok," Mark said, turning towards the small, wiry conductor of the band. "You tell the band to start playing when Chelsea and I come out."
The conductor nodded, and turned towards his band, ready.
Mark spun around on the heel of his polished tall black boots, and strode towards the front of the small house. Grinning arrogantly, he knocked twice and waited for Chelsea to answer.
Inside, Chelsea was sitting comfortably at her father's writing desk reading. At the sound of a knock, she got up, still carrying the book, and peeked out the window to see who it was.
At the sight of Mark standing at her door grinning like he was a king, Chelsea groaned and rolled her eyes, but still opened the door.
"Hello, Chelsea," Mark said, strutting into the house as if he owned the place. "How are you today?"
"I was fine," Chelsea said, putting her book down and putting her hands on her hips. "Until you should up."
"Now, now, Chelsea," Mark said distractedly, looking around her house. "Do you really need to talk like that?"
"Yes," Chelsea said bluntly.
Mark just chuckled and shook his head.
"Well, are you going to tell me what you're here for or what?" Chelsea said after a few moments, impatient to throw him out.
"Ah, yes, of course," Mark said, turning to face her and nodding his head. "Chelsea, I was wondering if you'd do me the honour of becoming my wife."
Chelsea stared at Mark for a second, a disgusted look on her face. "Really?" she asked, obvious distaste in her voice.
"Really," Mark repeated, smiling happily.
Chelsea thought for a moment. Her, married to Mark? That egotistic creep? "No thanks," she said, backing towards the door.
"Come on, Chelsea!" Mark said, following her. "You and I both know we're the best-looking people in town! We'd make the perfect couple!"
"Except... I don't like you," Chelsea said, her hand reaching for the doorknob as Mark leaned over her. "At all."
Before he could say anything else, Chelsea was turning the doorknob and ducking out of the way as Mark went flying out the door. She quickly closed the door before he could get up, locked it and closed all the curtains.
As Mark fell onto the front step, the conductor, believing that he was with Chelsea, started up the band. It took him a few seconds to realize that Mark was alone, and lying face-first on Chelsea's step.
Back in her house, Chelsea waited a while before checking out the window to see if Mark had gone. When she saw he had, she sighed with relief, and grabbed a pail of chicken food before heading outside.
"Can you believe him?" she asked herself angrily, throwing food into the pen where she and her father kept their chickens. "He asked me to marry him! Me, of all people!"
She lazily dumped the entire contents of the pail into the pen, and watched the chickens flock towards the food for a few seconds before turning and walking towards the field that rested behind the house. It was a large, lush field full of blowing dandelions and beautiful flowers.
"Well, no sir, not me!" Chelsea cried, walking through the field, brushing her fingertips along the flowers and grass. "I want adventure in the great wide somewhere! I want it more than I can tell..."
She fell into the grass, sighing deeply, and lay there for a while, watching the wind caress a dandelion until it let its seeds fly away.
Suddenly, there was a loud crash and Chelsea turned to see Gustave racing out of the forest and into the field.
"Gustave!" she exclaimed, getting up and going over to the horse. "Calm down! What is it; where's Papa?"
She looked expectantly to the forest, as if to see her father walking out of it, grinning. But when nothing happened, Chelsea turned back to the horse.
"We have to go find him!" she announced running back towards the house. "He could be hurt!"
She grabbed what she thought she might need: food, a map, extra clothes; and stuffed it all into a satchel. She then grabbed her cloak off the hook by the door, and wrapping it around herself, rushed back outside, clutching the satchel to her side.
"Come on, Gustave!" she cried, jumping onto the horse. "We need to go find Papa!"