Hey, Readers and Gargoyle Fans! Happy New Year!

It's crazy how fast time flies when you're writing stories! I hope that you all had some Happy Holidays and a Happy New Year!

Well, as promised, here's Chapter Three of the FF! Enjoy!

-aggiefrogger

Explanations and First Impressions

Hudson POV:

Hudson's first impressions of Elijah Robbins were confused, to say the least. The lad obviously cared about his uncle enough to try to protect him in a moment of crisis, but seemed to shun the man afterwards, as well as becoming extremely quiet and withdrawn. However, he realized that the boy probably was not expecting to meet a gargoyle, just like he was not expecting Robbins to know his secret, so he could understand if the boy was a little distressed.

Now, as the three of them dried off in the library, he got his first good look at the boy that his friend had told him so much about. In a way, he looked almost identical to Jeffery, despite the age difference; the same squarish chin, the same slight skinny build, and even the same short hair. Elijah was not blind, so he did not wear sunglasses, and his bright blue eyes scanned the room, mainly focused on the gargoyle.

The teen had dried his head and ears off carefully before putting in his hearing aids; Hudson saw that it was almost like the earpieces that Goliath and the others sometimes wore to keep in contact with one another on missions, but it curled around the teen's ear, a small dial allowing him to turn it on and off. He could not imagine what it must be like, having machines in your ears to help you hear, but if the teen found it uncomfortable, he said nothing.

The aged gargoyle, having dried off as best as he could, sat in his regular armchair by the fire, a towel resting on the seat beneath him. The teen sat in his uncle's armchair, still giving Hudson a wary look, a large blanket wrapped around his shoulders and a bandage around the cut on his arm.

"I'm sorry you two had to meet this way," Jeffrey was saying, handing Hudson a cup of hot chocolate [they had hot chocolate whenever it war raining or snowing, but they usually had iced tea most evenings], holding out another mug for his nephew to take, which he did. "Of course, part of the blame is probably on me by not telling you that Hudson was a gargoyle beforehand, but I didn't wish to scare you."

"Yeah, that probably would've been good to mention," the teen said annoyedly, then looked over at the gargoyle, as if scared that he might get mad at his comment.

"Aye, though part of the blame falls on me," Hudson spoke up. "I should've told ye that I was a gargoyle long ago. Though I'm still curious as ta why ye never said that ye knew what I really was."

"Probably the same reason you never told me yourself," the blind author countered. "Fear of what the other would think, not wanting to risk our friendship. But I guess there's no time like the present to be honest."

"I'm sorry again fer not telling ye sooner," Hudson replied. "But, if I may ask, how'd ye find out?"

"I deduced it after that mysterious broadcast last November; reports of people turning to stone at night, along with flying creatures only out at night. Plus, there were other factors as well."

"Like what," Elijah asked, looking at his uncle so he would not have to face the gargoyle.

"He only visited at night, he refused to shake my hand, and he smelled-"

"-Like concrete," the teen finished, cautiously turning back to the older gargoyle. "And old leather. I thought this room just smelled like that on its own."

"Is it a bad smell combination," Hudson asked, wondering if it was somehow unpleasant.

"N-No," the youth said quickly, quailing under the gargoyle's gaze. "I just… wasn't sure how it had gotten here."

"I'm not going' ta hurt ye, lad," the gargoyle said gently, leaning forward a little in his seat. "Yer uncle's been kind ta me and my Clan, and I would never harm him or any relative of his after all he's done fer me. And I apologize fer scaring' ye." The gargoyle smiled a little to show that he was non-threatening. "I wasn't expecting' ye ta be there when I woke up."

"Woke up," the teen asked.

"Our kind turns ta stone during the day," the gargoyle explained as Robbins sat down on the couch with his own cup of cocoa, Gilly laying by his feet. "Gargoyles are nocturnal, meaning' we are awake only at night, which is why I only come ta vist after the sun sets."

"And that's why I didn't notice you earlier," Elijah spoke up, still looking at Hudson as if he were a ghost. "I saw you… the statue you… earlier today."

"Aye," the aged gargoyle nodded. "Usually, I try ta fly back to my Clan in Manhattan, but our talk ran a little late last night, so I needed a place ta roost before sunrise."

"Clan?"

"There's a group of us in Manhattan, along with several others around the world."

The teen's eyes widened a little. "Woah… that... doesn't sound possible."

"They're real," Jeffrey spoke up. "Though he and his Clan have been in hiding."

"But if you're from New York, why do you sound Scottish," the teen spoke up, turning back to the gargoyle.

"Our Clan's originally from Scotland," Hudson explained. "Nearly all of us were slaughtered in 994 AD, and those that survived, myself included, were cursed to remain stone until our castle rose above the clouds."

"Wati, 'cursed?' Like… with magic?"

"Aye."

He looked at his uncle, then back at the gargoyle. "But magic isn't real!"

"Yet here ye are, talking' to a gargoyle," the old warrior replied, arching an eyebrow at the youth, who quickly looked down at his mug, embarrassed. "David Xanatos brought the castle here to America, piece by piece, rebuilding it on top of his skyscraper. With the castle now above the clouds, we were free, awakening to find ourselves in a new century." It was weird, telling this story again, since he'd already told it to Jeffrey long ago, but the lad seemed interested, looking back up from his cup to give him another nervous, yet curious, look.

"H-How'd you two meet," Elijah finally asked. "Manhattan's quite a distance from here."

"Hudson actually washed up on the beach one night, seeking asylum from the cold," Jeffrey said, staring blankly at the fire in front of him.

"And you just let him into your home," the teen asked. "You probably didn't know he was a gargoyle then, but that doesn't sound smart. He could've killed you or robbed you or..." He noticed the gargoyle's gaze, and went quiet.

Hudson was taken aback by the teen's accusations, knowing that it would probably be a while before the kid trusted him. "I've sworn ta protect the innocent," he stated. "I wouldn't hurt anyone unless they were threatening' me, my Clan, or my friends, and only then out of self-defense. Yer uncle has been nothing' but kind ta me and my clan, and is the least deserving' of any attack."

"Well, forgive me if I don't immediately put my life in your hands," Elijah said sarcastically, ushering in a few moments of silence as he took a sip of his hot chocolate.

"Well," Jeffrey suddenly spoke up, rising from his seat, "I don't know about you two, but I'm feeling a bit peckish. I'll go get us some snacks."

The teen nearly choked mid-sip, coughing as he gave his uncle a panicked look as he realized he'd be alone in the room with Hudson. "Right now? Do you need any hel-"

"I'm fine," the blind man assured him, calling Gilly to his side. "I'll be back in a few minutes." He closed the door on that note, leaving Hudson with the deaf nephew.

Elijah POV:

For a second, Elijah wondered if his uncle had really just left him alone in a room with a possibly dangerous gargoyle, despite the man telling him that Hudson was friendly. Now, staring at the closed library door, he started to wonder if the blind man was actively trying to kill him. That, and the fact that the gargoyle had knocked him to the ground earlier, did little to make him feel safe.

"I hope he brings those cracker things," Hudson spoke up, causing the teen to jump and turn back to him. The gargoyle still sat in his armchair, staring at him with an almost curious expression. "Those are my favorite." The teen did not reply, still giving him a wary look, hoping the creature was not annoyed with his comment from a minute ago.

The aged monster sighed. "Again, I'm not going ta hurt ye; if anything', I'd like to consider ye a friend."

"What if I don't want to be your friend," Elijah countered, now frowning at the winged creature; why could no one leave him alone? He would make friends on his own time... maybe.

"I doubt that."

"And why's that?"

"I've been among humans fer well over a hundred years. Yer kind, like gargoyles, need companionship in your lives; whether it's family, friends, or loved ones, ye can't be alone forever. Seeing as how yer friends are on the other side of the country, as well as yer isolation out here, you're probably already feeling' lonely."

The teen hid his surprise with a scoff, secretly wondering how the gargoyle could know all of this. "But you're not human, so do you really know us that well?"

Hudson leaned forward in his chair, looking thoughtful. "I can tell you're scare of me. Ye think I'm gonna attack ye at any second." Elijah shot a quick look at the creature's sword, then looked away, earning him a grim smile from the winged creature. "I can also tell you're hurting'; I've lost loved ones before, including my bonded one, and right now, ye need as much friendship as you can get."

The boy stared at the monster in shock, the words having hit him like a ton of bricks. It was so… so accurate, he wondered if gargoyles were able to read minds. Either that, or the aged gargoyle was pretty smart. He quickly looked down at the mug in his hand, deciding to change the subject away from him.

"So… your wife died," he tentatively asked.

"Aye," the ex-warrior replied softly, a sad look crossing his face. "She was… an amazing gargoyle, and a fierce fighter. She died in battle; the noblest way ta go."

"I… I'm sorry to hear that," he replied awkwardly, not sure of what else he could or should say.

"It's fine; they never really leave ye, but it gets easier. I had my Rookery brothers and sisters to help me, and you have yer uncle to help ye through this troublin' time. If ye ever want to talk about it, I'd be happy ta-"

"I really don't want to talk about dead loved ones right now, if that's alright," Elijah interjected, determined not to think about his parents, looking at the little bit of hot chocolate that was left in his mug.

The winged monster was silent for a few moments, but eventually said, "Fine. Why don't ye lead the conversation, then?"

"You're over a thousand years old; what would I even talk about?"

"What about where you're from? Gal-vas-tan, if I recall it correctly?"

The boy could not help but give a small smile at the incorrect pronunciation, but quickly hid it. "Galveston. It's a large island off the coast of Texas, which is a state Southwest of New York."

"It is part of the state, yes?" The teen nodded, cautiously looking up again, noting that the gargoyle actually seemed interested in what he was saying. He shifted in his seat a little, trying not to slouch.

"Yeah," he replied. "It's not as big as Long Island here, but it's a pretty nice place to live; kinda a tourist trap, though."

"A what?"

"It's a, uh… how do I explain it? It's a place where humans visit during the summer and their vacations; there are shops, museums, and fun stuff to do for people to visit. Like… the Statue of Liberty; thousands of people visit it every year, and buy mini models of the statue and snow globes and whatever. That's a tourist trap."

"So your Galveston," Hudson asked, his brow furrowed in concentration, "is a place a lot of people visit, but… you live there?"

"Well, I did," the teen replied shortly, "but yeah, a lot of people live there because someone has to run the sunglasses kiosks and grocery stores and all the shops and museums that tourists visit. It gets really crowded in the summer, because of the heat and the beach space, but it quiets down in the fall and winter."

"Is it a beautiful place?"

Elijah thought of the muddy-brown water that smelled like sewage some times, the graffiti that covered the outside of most buildings and shops, and then how the island looked after a bad storm, with outside chairs and trees and debris scattered everywhere.

"Yeah… it's a beautiful place," he answered truthfully. "Though New York's pretty nice, I guess. I mean, it's a pretty place, but-"

"It's not home," the gargoyle asked, and the teen was surprised when he nodded in agreement. "It's the same fer me. Scotland's a beautiful country; full of rolling green hills, the air fresh and clean, and the number of stars in the sky are more numerous than those bright lights in Manhattan. I've heard, of course, that it has changed much since I've last been there, so I haven't gone back; I prefer to remember it the way it was."

"Probably what I'll do, too; I doubt I'll be going back home anytime soon."

The gargoyle shifted in his seat, then asked, "If I may ask you, though… how long have you been, ah…" He ran a hand across his pointed ear, and the teen instantly knew what the monster was implying, and hesitated before he answered.

"Deaf?" The winged creature nodded, and Elijah, who usually disliked telling other people about the history of his disability, straightened up in his chair; for some reason he could not explain, he was not annoyed by the monster's question, and figured he would have to talk about it to someone new eventually. Plus, he did not want to find out how far he could go refusing to answer the creature's questions before it attacked him.

"I... I was born slightly deaf; I mean, I could hear most sounds, but it got a lot worse the first few years after I was born, and I got my first hearing aids when I was five. I need to replace them every year or so as I keep growing, but they're mostly the same." He then remembered something else. "Sorry I couldn't hear what you were saying outside earlier; they're not exactly water-proof, so I had to take them out before going out in the rain."

"Why were ye outside?"

"Because of you" The gargoyle raised his eyebrows in surprise, so the teen quickly explained. "My uncle said you were coming tonight, and since I didn't know you were a gargoyle, I assumed you were driving here in a car, so I went to go open the gate to the back driveway, and… you know the rest."

"Ye can remove those hearing aids," Hudson asked, staring at the teen's ears with a curious expression. "I mean, obviously ye can, but they aren't connected to yer brain?"

"Nope. The inside of our ears have these tiny hairs that react to sound, but mine don't work as well as a regular person's. The hearing aids basically turn the sound it receives into larger signals that the hairs can pick up, allowing me to hear. So naturally, when I turn it off or take them out, I can't hear; sound waves still enter my ears, but the ear hair doesn't pick them up."

"'Sound waves?'"

"Sound travels through the air in waves; think of it like ripples on a pond." That was the first example the Audiologist back in Texas had told him when he was five. "You disturb the water, it ripples out in tiny waves. That's what sound looks like, but it's invisible."

"Interesting'," the winged monster nodded. "Very interesting'. And ye speak that hand language… ASI?"

"ASL. American Sign Language. Basically there's a hand motion for every word, and I sign them instead of speaking out loud, since deaf people can't hear each other anyway."

"That must be pretty hard ta memorize them all."

"It is; there's still a few I don't know, but I don't sign that often around strangers, since I can still hear with my aids."

"I was gonna learn somethin' ta sign fer ye," Hudson told him, holding up one of his clawed hands. "But I couldn't, fer obvious reasons."

The boy counted the number of fingers, stopping at four. "Well, you could sign some words, but not all of them, and you probably can't fingerspell."

"Finger-what?"

"It's basically the alphabet," he explained, holding up his right hand and signing the first few letters. "Most deaf people don't speak, because it's not really necessary when talking to other deaf people, but even with hearing people we don't talk because we can't hear how loud or pitchy our voices are. Of course, though, some are also born mute, so they can't speak even if they wanted to. So while regular people learned to sing the alphabet and stuff, I learned to sign it."

"You humans sure have thought of everything," Hudson commented. "I don't recall any gargoyle ever bein' deaf, but I don't know if we would've come up with somethin' as sophisticated as what ye have."

"It took years for them to come up with this system," the teen told him, finishing the last of his hot chocolate. "Also, they have sign language for different languages as well. British, German, French… almost every country's got their own version of it." He looked over at the library door. "I wonder where Uncle Jeffrey is…"

"Probably taking his time," the old gargoyle told him, getting up from his chair and unfurling his wings and stretching his limbs. "He most likely wanted ta give us time ta get ta know one another."

Elijah stared at the creature as he stretched his large bat-like wings, unable to not marvel at the sight of them. They were huge, probably with a wingspan of over twelve feet, and the fire light shone opaquely through the skin membrane between the bones. However, he quickly looked away when Hudson noticed him staring, realizing he was probably being rude; he knew that he hated it when people stared at his hearing aids, so he figured that it was probably the same with a gargoyle's wings.

"It's fine," Hudson spoke up, settling his wings against his back. "I'm used ta it by now."

"Sorry… I didn't mean to be rude-"

"Sometimes ye just can't help but notice," the winged monster told him. "I mean, my wings are a part of me, and given their size, humans are goin' ta notice and stare at them. I chose not to let it bother me."

"Wish I could do that," the boy muttered.

"Ye can," the gargoyle told him kindly. "It just takes practice and self-control." His wings folded around him, almost like he was wearing a cloak, and he sat back down in his chair. "But I can tell ye have questions of yer own, so don't be shy; ask away."

How does he keep doing that, Elijah thought, shifting in his seat, a little uncomfortable, but less so compared to earlier. "I was just wondering, uh… why you have a sword. Does the rest of your Clan have weapons?"

"Nay, just me. I'm older than the rest of them, and I'm not as quick as I once was, so I use this ta even the odds against a foe. But again, we only fight if absolutely necessary, as a last resort." He raised an eyebrow at the boy. "I assume it makes ye nervous."

"A little bit, but not so much anymore."

"And why is that?"

"I dunno… I probably should be more nervous, but you don't seem very, uh…"

"Dangerous," Hudson asked, a small smile on his face. "Because I'm so old?"

"No," the teen said quickly. "I was just-" He cut off as the gargoyle started to laugh a little. Elijah sighed. "You're messing with me, are you?"

"Aye, lad. Humor existed well before this century, I assure ye."

"Well, you are old, if you've been alive since before 994 AD. But I don't doubt your skill with a sword."

"Afraid I'd prove you wrong?"

"Something like that." At that, Elijah gave a real smile for the first time since meeting Hudson; since arriving in New York, even. Maybe a new friend would not be so bad; it was not like he was going to make any friends in the nearby town, anyways. "But I only have one more question."

"Aye?"

"What happened to your eye?"

The gargoyle leaned back in his seat a little. "Now that," he stated, "is a story fer another time."

At that moment, the library door opened, and Jeffrey Robbins decided to make his reappearance, holding a tray with a plate of cracker snacks on it.

"Sorry for the delay," he apologized, putting the tray on a nearby table. "Took me a while to find the right snack; it had been moved from its regular spot." The teen froze, remembering moving around the snacks in search for some chips earlier that day.

"That's okay," Hudson replied, getting up from his seat to help the blind man back to his seat. "Elijah and I were just getting' ta know one another."

"Really," Uncle Jeffrey answered with mild interest, sitting back on the couch as the winged creature brought the tray of snacks to the more central table so they could all enjoy it. "I've only been gone for a few minutes."

"Y-Yeah," Elijah spoke up, looking over at the gargoyle. "Hudson's pretty cool, I guess. I mean, he's over a thousand years old and turns to stone during the day. And he's your best friend… am I really not imagining this?"

"Technically, I'm only 119, given the spell," the aged gargoyle spoke up.

"And you're not imagining things," his uncle told him, petting Gilly on the head. "Now, Hudson and I were going to continue reading in here if you'd care to join us; we're currently reading James Herriot's All Creatures Great and Small."

"Maybe not tonight," the teen replied quickly, getting up from his chair. "Besides, I'm more into mysteries and that kinda stuff."

"Well we're finishing the book tonight, so you could chose the next book if you'd like to join us Thursday night."

"I dunno," Elijah said, frantically thinking of an excuse to not have to join them; while Hudson was pretty cool, he still was not keen on spending time with his uncle. "I mean, most of the books I read aren't exactly at a high reading level-"

"I don't mind," Hudson spoke up. "Yer uncle's the one that taught me to read, though I still struggle sometimes. And I wouldn't mind a change of genre and skill." He glanced over at the blind author. "No offence, Robbins."

"None taken," the blind man replied. "I also wouldn't mind a change, either."

"Then what would ye choose to read, if ye had the choice," the winged monster asked the teen, giving him an expectant look.

Elijah stared at the two adults, knowing he was caught; even the old gargoyle had arched an eyebrow, as if wondering what kind of lame excuse he would come up with to not join them. There was no excuse that he could think of, however, so he sighed and said, "I dunno… I like The Westing Game; it's been one of my favorites since I was a kid."

"By Ellen Raskin," Jeffrey replied, earning him a surprised look from the boy. "It won the Newbery Medal in 1979, if I recall correctly. Have you read any of her other works?"

"N-Not really," the teen replied, stunned by his uncle's knowledge of this random author.

"I suggest you read her other mystery novel, The Tattooed Potatoe and Other Clues, after we finish The Westing Game."

"Wait," Elijah spoke up, suddenly realizing he had an excuse. "Do you have copies of the book, because if not, then you'll probably have to order a Braille copy, which probably takes a long ti-"

"No need fer that," Hudson spoke up. "I usually read out loud ta work on my pronunciation and so on, and so we can read books outside of Jeffrey's non-Braille collection. We can read from yer copy Thursday; ye probably have one if it's yer favorite, and as fer the other one, we can always find it at a library. Elisa probably could help with that."

"Who?"

"A friend of ours. She works for the New York Police Department as a detective."

"Fine, then," the boy said exasperatedly, giving up on trying to come up with an excuse. "But I'll go now; I gotta return that movie tomorrow, so I'm gonna watch it one last time before going to bed." He made his way towards the door, then stopped, turning to the gargoyle. "Uh… thanks for the talk. Sorry for thinking you were bad and all that earlier, so…" He awkwardly held out his hand, unsure if he was being too chummy, but the winged creature shook it cordially; his hand was rough and calloused, and the teen was grateful that the claws did not shred his hand into pieces.

"Nice meeting ye, lad," Hudson replied, giving him a small smile. "Look forward ta reading yer story. Sorry fer the scare."

"No problem. Goodnight." Elijah then turned towards the blind man. "Goodnight, Uncle Jeffrey," he said a little stiffly, keeping his voice even and professional.

"Goodnight, Elijah. Don't stay up too late."

"I won't." He then pet Gilly on the head, turned towards the door, and left the room, closing the large wooden door behind him.

What have I gotten myself into, he wondered, dazedly making his way down the hall towards the living room. Things finally get interesting around here, but now I'm stuck spending time with my uncle.

"But at least there's still the chance that it was all a bad dream," he told himself, finally finding the tape in the living room and turning it on. "I mean; gargoyles being real. I must be seeing things!"

Jeffrey POV:

Jeffrey heard the library door close a few feet behind the couch, and he gave a heavy sigh, clutching the cane in his hand.

"Was it too awkward, dealing with him," the blind man asked. "Sorry for leaving you two in here alone for so long; I knew I couldn't make him like you, but I figured that you'd probably get a start."

"It wasn't bad," he heard Hudson say, hearing the gargoyle's footsteps move towards the nearby armchair, followed by the chair legs scraping slightly against the for, indicating that his friend had sat down. "Took him a while ta trust me, but I think we'll be good friends one day." The old gargoyle hesitated before speaking again. "He's hurtin' pretty bad, though."

"I know."

"Do ye think it's a good idea, forcin' him ta spend time with us?"

"I'm not sure what else I can do; I want to have a relationship with my nephew. He's the only person that's left of Joseph, and after not doing anything for over fifteen years, I-" Jeffrey stopped talking, clutching his cane as if it were a life-line, his eyes stinging a little with brimming tears as he remembered his younger brother. He turned in the general direction of his winged friend a few moments later, trying to get his emotions under control. "What… what does he look like?"

"A lot like ye, if I'm bein' honest," Hudson told him. "Same hair, same chin, same stature, though he's a little skinnier and shorter than ye."

"What about his eyes? What color are they?"

"Blue."

"Like the sky," Jeffrey muttered to himself; his and his sister's eyes were green, but their only brother had blue eyes. Blue ones that lit up whenever he laughed, that looked like the sky on a brilliant summer's day…

He cleared his throat, standing up from his seat and slowly making his way over to where the bookshelf was, feeling the spines until he found the right book. "Where were we?"

"I believe Chapter Sixty-Three, the last chapter."

"Good… good," he replied quietly, opening the book to the ribbon bookmark, ready to focus on the plights of others, instead of himself.

And that's it for this chapter!

I hope you enjoyed the chapter and the story so far! Please follow and/or favorite if you want to stay updated on new chapters and stories, and feel free to leave a review with your comments and thoughts on the story and chapter!

Have a great day, and a Happy New Year to you all!

Note: I do NOT own All Creatures Great and Small or James Herriot in ANY way, shape or form!