Alrighty then Everybody! Here's part three.
Part 3 has been revised quite a bit, so this is an important chapter to reread. Enjoy!
Thanks & Bunches ~ Stargaziey
Disclaimer: I don't own Hey Arnold! (Though it would be nice.)
Magic Remembered Part 3 ~ Arnold Dans Paris
by: Stargaziey
It had been a grueling flight, but Arnold finally arrived in Paris and he immediately felt unsure about this whole thing. He came to Paris to find Helga and wasn't sure why. Actually, he knew why, but he wasn't sure how to name it. 'How can I possibly go through with this?' he thought himself, looking around the airport.
It was very crowded and most of the people were speaking a foreign language, if not French, then something else. He had his instructions: all he had to do was find the driver Brenna had sent to fetch him. He had no idea what this person would look like so he decided to look around the seating area for anyone who may look like they know an Irish witch.
Almost no sooner had Arnold started his search that he spotted a young man, perhaps just a little older than himself, standing near the airport gift shop, holding a sign with his name: ARNOLD. Walking over, Arnold put on a smile and said, "I'm Arnold."
The young man wasn't quite convinced. "Oo sent yeh?" Asked the young man.
"Brenna O'Leigh." Replied Arnold. That's when the young man smiled. He threw the sign with Arnold's name in the air, it never reached the floor, but if it disappeared, nobody noticed.
"Wonderful! Me name's Felan McKennitt. I'm an ol' friend o' Brenna's, we go way back she and I. She sent me 'ere ta take ya ta the 'otel yeh'll be stayin' at an' I'll also be takin' ya anywhare else in Paris yeh may want ta go while yeh're here. Lovely place in't it? But like they say, 'Sa nice place ta visit, but I wouldn'a want ta live 'ere.' Brenna should meet ya at the 'otel. I think she got 'ere sometime early this mornin'."
Arnold stood in absolute awe of the Irishman before him. He had an extremely thick accent, almost to the point of where Arnold had to struggle to understand him. But, what amazed Arnold was that he practically never stopped talking and he spoke to Arnold as if he had known him for years. Felan rambled, but that didn't bother Arnold too much since he was a little speechless anyway and too tired to keep up conversation from his long flight.
The talkative Felan led Arnold to a very nice limousine and talked more on the way to the hotel. The only time he stopped was to take a breath and that was only about 2 seconds. Finally, about halfway to the hotel, Arnold finally got a word in. "I was just wondering Felan, are you a witch, too?" He wasn't sure why he asked this; perhaps it was because Felan didn't look very magical. Brenna always wore her crushed velvet, royal purple cloak and had a black cat...a more typical witch ensemble. 'If there is such a thing.' Arnold thought. But Felan was wearing a chauffeur's uniform, and though he was driving a limo, this still struck Arnold as odd.
This is what made Felan stop talking, the longest pause he had made since their meeting. He looked at Arnold and replied with a smile, "Aye, I am, lad. But, I prefer ta be called 'o wizard. No' tha' it's proper. No mater if yeh're a lad or lass, ya're a witch, but's easier ta determine the sexes if we have a differen' word for both. But, like I say, Brenna an' I go way back. Long 'afore the likes of yehself was e'en born."
"How old are you guys?" Arnold asked, tired as he was, his curiosity was definitely piqued.
"Ach, that's quite a long story, laddie, it'll have ta wait for another time." Felan replied.
Felan soon changed the subject and the two chatted (Felan did most of the talking) until they reached Le Joli Hôtel de Paris. It was a magnificent hotel for the elite of the world and Arnold gapped at its splendor as Felan hopped out of the limo, grabbed the luggage and led the way inside.
"Wow." Breathed Arnold when they were standing in the lobby. The interior was exquisite and Arnold felt somewhat out of place in his Adidas, ripped 501's, light blue T-shirt and his trademark red plaid shirt tied around his waist. He ran his hand through his short, tousled blond hair and a couple of elegantly dressed women walked passed him, a look of disgust on their faces. Arnold winced a bit and leaned towards Felan, "Are you sure this is the right place? I don't exactly fit in here."
Felan smiled, "Den'a worry, " he said, "yeh will." Arnold gave him a puzzled look. "Right, now go'n an' get yeh key. I'll see yeh later, Arnold." Felan said and set the bags next to the bellboy who would take them to Arnold's room.
"Wait, if I need you, how can I get a hold of you?" The last thing Arnold wanted was to be left alone in this hotel with out knowing any French or another soul.
"Den'a worry, laddie, if yeh e'er be needin' me, jus' say me name, I'll 'ear it where e'er I am, trust me." Felan replied, then he smiled and started to walk towards the main door, but when he reached a large column that was supporting the vaulted ceiling, he walked behind it, but never past it...like he simply disappeared, yet nobody noticed if something unusual had happened.
Shaking his blond head, Arnold went to the main desk and a young, snooty looking woman asked, to Arnold's great relief, in American English, "How may I help you?" Arnold tried to smile and seem friendly, but the young woman simply glared at Arnold like he was a disgusting slug.
"Um...yes, reservation for Arnold." He said nervously.
"Just...Arnold?" asked the young woman, raising one eyebrow.
"Yes." Arnold replied. The woman began typing away and was visibly disappointed when she discovered that there was a reservation for an 'Arnold.'
"You've paid for two weeks stay. If you wish, you must tell us, at least, 24 hours in advance that you would like to stay at Le Joli Hôtel de Paris for a longer period of time." Arnold didn't know exactly what to say, so he simply nodded and the young woman continued, "Your room is Suite 26...Maurice will take you to your room."
Maurice the Bellboy, a preppy looking teenager, picked up Arnold's bags and room key and led the way to the elevator that led strait to Arnold's suite on the 34th floor. "Here you are, sir." Said Maurice once they reached Arnold's room. "Suite 26."
"Wow!" Arnold said stunned as Maurice opened the door to a huge room that was one of the nicest Arnold had ever seen. It was a living room with a large fireplace and a set of French doors that led out onto a balcony with possibly the best view of Paris.
"If you need anything, sir, there is a bar and for room service, just dial 2." Maurice stood there a moment, awaiting his tip and when Arnold realized that he was still standing there, he took a quarter out of his pocket and placed it in Maurice's white-gloved hand.
"Thanks." Said Arnold and he smiled like he had just given the man a fortune, then turned and went out onto the balcony. Maurice sighed, scowled a bit at Arnold's back, then left the suite without a word.
Arnold gazed at the magnificent view of Paris. He could see everything: the Eiffel Tower, the Arc de Triomphe, and even the Louvre. He smiled and said out loud to himself, "This must be the best view in all of Paris."
"Actually," said an Irish feminine voice, "It's the second best view of Paris." Arnold was so surprised he yelped, jumped and almost fell over the ledge. Brenna giggled slightly at Arnold as she sat in one of the seats on the balcony. Her black cat was in her lap, as usual; purring contentedly as Brenna caressed its fur. They looked as though they had been sitting there for quite some time.
"Miss O'Leigh?" Arnold questioned after his heart calmed down.
"The view," repeated Brenna airily, "it's actually the second best in Paris. The view from the Eiffel Tower is truly the best." She got up from the seat, her cat in her arms and her royal purple cloak enveloping her, walked over to Arnold and placed her black cat on the thick railing. "Right, so what do you think?" She asked Arnold after a moment.
"I think it's amazing and my room is great." He replied with a smile. Brenna nodded and smiled, too.
"I thought that since this might be your only chance to come to Paris, you'd want a nice place to stay while you're here. Did Felan get you here alright, I hope he didn't bother you too much...he does enjoy talking." She asked and Arnold nodded the affirmative.
"Yeah, we had a nice chat and he said he'd take me anywhere in Paris as long as I'm here." Brenna nodded this time and smiled. Arnold knew that smile; it was the same goofy smile he used to get on his face when he was younger and used to have a crush on Ruth and Lila.
"So...um...how long have you know Felan?" Arnold asked, trying to gage the relationship between the two 'magical' people. Brenna looked up at Arnold, a bit startled, then shrugged.
"Ach, we've known each other long enough." She said, "But now it's on to more important things, like the reason you're here."
"Helga." Said Arnold.
"Exactly." Brenna looked at Arnold a moment then picked up her cat and walked into the living room, Arnold followed her inside. She sat in an elegant chair and studied Arnold before she asked her question. "To basically pick up where we left off: do you have any idea what you are going to say to her when you see her?"
Arnold shook his football head and said, "No, it was really the only thing I thought about on the flight over here, but...I still have no idea what to say to her."
"Pretend that you have seen her everyday for the past five years, what do you think you'd say to her if it was an everyday occurrence?" Brenna asked. Arnold thought about this a moment, but he really didn't have a clue. He shrugged his shoulders and sat on the couch, putting his head in his hands. "Well," said Brenna, "I suppose you need to see her first to know what you might say to her."
"How do I find her?" Arnold asked.
Brenna smiled and replied, "I've already done that, Arnold. I told you that everything would be taken care of. In fact, Helga isn't living in Paris anymore." This news made Arnold fall off the couch.
"WHAT?!" he cried, pulling himself up, "I came here for nothing? I came all the way to Paris to find Helga and now she's not even here?!" Arnold clamored back on to the couch.
"I never said she wasn't here, Arnold. I knew Helga didn't live in Paris before you left. But I discovered that she's visiting here right now, actually, she arrived yesterday and she's staying here in this hotel." Said Brenna calmly, Arnold's reaction apparently not surprising her. "Helga lives in New York City. But she travels quite a bit and is rarely ever there." Brenna said calmly.
Brenna said, any trace of a smile was now gone from her face. She then stood, placed her cat around her shoulders and said, "I must go for now, Arnold. I have some things to take care of, but before I go I'll tell you this: In your closet is a tuxedo. The hotel is hosting a party tonight for a man named Kohlven Relmont. He's very wealthy and has been a benefactor to the hotel for a few years now. All the hotel guests are invited."
Arnold stared at the floor for a moment then looked up at Brenna and asked, "Miss O'Leigh, why are you so determined for Helga and I to see each other again?"
Brenna smiled brightly at his question and without a word she faded from sight. Arnold sighed and went into his bedroom. He opened the closet and found the tuxedo Brenna left for him. He took the tux off the rack and placed it on the bed to have a better look at it. That's when he noticed it...attached to the lapel of the jacket was a red rose, in full bloom.
Part 3 has been revised quite a bit, so this is an important chapter to reread. Enjoy!
Thanks & Bunches ~ Stargaziey
Disclaimer: I don't own Hey Arnold! (Though it would be nice.)
Magic Remembered Part 3 ~ Arnold Dans Paris
by: Stargaziey
It had been a grueling flight, but Arnold finally arrived in Paris and he immediately felt unsure about this whole thing. He came to Paris to find Helga and wasn't sure why. Actually, he knew why, but he wasn't sure how to name it. 'How can I possibly go through with this?' he thought himself, looking around the airport.
It was very crowded and most of the people were speaking a foreign language, if not French, then something else. He had his instructions: all he had to do was find the driver Brenna had sent to fetch him. He had no idea what this person would look like so he decided to look around the seating area for anyone who may look like they know an Irish witch.
Almost no sooner had Arnold started his search that he spotted a young man, perhaps just a little older than himself, standing near the airport gift shop, holding a sign with his name: ARNOLD. Walking over, Arnold put on a smile and said, "I'm Arnold."
The young man wasn't quite convinced. "Oo sent yeh?" Asked the young man.
"Brenna O'Leigh." Replied Arnold. That's when the young man smiled. He threw the sign with Arnold's name in the air, it never reached the floor, but if it disappeared, nobody noticed.
"Wonderful! Me name's Felan McKennitt. I'm an ol' friend o' Brenna's, we go way back she and I. She sent me 'ere ta take ya ta the 'otel yeh'll be stayin' at an' I'll also be takin' ya anywhare else in Paris yeh may want ta go while yeh're here. Lovely place in't it? But like they say, 'Sa nice place ta visit, but I wouldn'a want ta live 'ere.' Brenna should meet ya at the 'otel. I think she got 'ere sometime early this mornin'."
Arnold stood in absolute awe of the Irishman before him. He had an extremely thick accent, almost to the point of where Arnold had to struggle to understand him. But, what amazed Arnold was that he practically never stopped talking and he spoke to Arnold as if he had known him for years. Felan rambled, but that didn't bother Arnold too much since he was a little speechless anyway and too tired to keep up conversation from his long flight.
The talkative Felan led Arnold to a very nice limousine and talked more on the way to the hotel. The only time he stopped was to take a breath and that was only about 2 seconds. Finally, about halfway to the hotel, Arnold finally got a word in. "I was just wondering Felan, are you a witch, too?" He wasn't sure why he asked this; perhaps it was because Felan didn't look very magical. Brenna always wore her crushed velvet, royal purple cloak and had a black cat...a more typical witch ensemble. 'If there is such a thing.' Arnold thought. But Felan was wearing a chauffeur's uniform, and though he was driving a limo, this still struck Arnold as odd.
This is what made Felan stop talking, the longest pause he had made since their meeting. He looked at Arnold and replied with a smile, "Aye, I am, lad. But, I prefer ta be called 'o wizard. No' tha' it's proper. No mater if yeh're a lad or lass, ya're a witch, but's easier ta determine the sexes if we have a differen' word for both. But, like I say, Brenna an' I go way back. Long 'afore the likes of yehself was e'en born."
"How old are you guys?" Arnold asked, tired as he was, his curiosity was definitely piqued.
"Ach, that's quite a long story, laddie, it'll have ta wait for another time." Felan replied.
Felan soon changed the subject and the two chatted (Felan did most of the talking) until they reached Le Joli Hôtel de Paris. It was a magnificent hotel for the elite of the world and Arnold gapped at its splendor as Felan hopped out of the limo, grabbed the luggage and led the way inside.
"Wow." Breathed Arnold when they were standing in the lobby. The interior was exquisite and Arnold felt somewhat out of place in his Adidas, ripped 501's, light blue T-shirt and his trademark red plaid shirt tied around his waist. He ran his hand through his short, tousled blond hair and a couple of elegantly dressed women walked passed him, a look of disgust on their faces. Arnold winced a bit and leaned towards Felan, "Are you sure this is the right place? I don't exactly fit in here."
Felan smiled, "Den'a worry, " he said, "yeh will." Arnold gave him a puzzled look. "Right, now go'n an' get yeh key. I'll see yeh later, Arnold." Felan said and set the bags next to the bellboy who would take them to Arnold's room.
"Wait, if I need you, how can I get a hold of you?" The last thing Arnold wanted was to be left alone in this hotel with out knowing any French or another soul.
"Den'a worry, laddie, if yeh e'er be needin' me, jus' say me name, I'll 'ear it where e'er I am, trust me." Felan replied, then he smiled and started to walk towards the main door, but when he reached a large column that was supporting the vaulted ceiling, he walked behind it, but never past it...like he simply disappeared, yet nobody noticed if something unusual had happened.
Shaking his blond head, Arnold went to the main desk and a young, snooty looking woman asked, to Arnold's great relief, in American English, "How may I help you?" Arnold tried to smile and seem friendly, but the young woman simply glared at Arnold like he was a disgusting slug.
"Um...yes, reservation for Arnold." He said nervously.
"Just...Arnold?" asked the young woman, raising one eyebrow.
"Yes." Arnold replied. The woman began typing away and was visibly disappointed when she discovered that there was a reservation for an 'Arnold.'
"You've paid for two weeks stay. If you wish, you must tell us, at least, 24 hours in advance that you would like to stay at Le Joli Hôtel de Paris for a longer period of time." Arnold didn't know exactly what to say, so he simply nodded and the young woman continued, "Your room is Suite 26...Maurice will take you to your room."
Maurice the Bellboy, a preppy looking teenager, picked up Arnold's bags and room key and led the way to the elevator that led strait to Arnold's suite on the 34th floor. "Here you are, sir." Said Maurice once they reached Arnold's room. "Suite 26."
"Wow!" Arnold said stunned as Maurice opened the door to a huge room that was one of the nicest Arnold had ever seen. It was a living room with a large fireplace and a set of French doors that led out onto a balcony with possibly the best view of Paris.
"If you need anything, sir, there is a bar and for room service, just dial 2." Maurice stood there a moment, awaiting his tip and when Arnold realized that he was still standing there, he took a quarter out of his pocket and placed it in Maurice's white-gloved hand.
"Thanks." Said Arnold and he smiled like he had just given the man a fortune, then turned and went out onto the balcony. Maurice sighed, scowled a bit at Arnold's back, then left the suite without a word.
Arnold gazed at the magnificent view of Paris. He could see everything: the Eiffel Tower, the Arc de Triomphe, and even the Louvre. He smiled and said out loud to himself, "This must be the best view in all of Paris."
"Actually," said an Irish feminine voice, "It's the second best view of Paris." Arnold was so surprised he yelped, jumped and almost fell over the ledge. Brenna giggled slightly at Arnold as she sat in one of the seats on the balcony. Her black cat was in her lap, as usual; purring contentedly as Brenna caressed its fur. They looked as though they had been sitting there for quite some time.
"Miss O'Leigh?" Arnold questioned after his heart calmed down.
"The view," repeated Brenna airily, "it's actually the second best in Paris. The view from the Eiffel Tower is truly the best." She got up from the seat, her cat in her arms and her royal purple cloak enveloping her, walked over to Arnold and placed her black cat on the thick railing. "Right, so what do you think?" She asked Arnold after a moment.
"I think it's amazing and my room is great." He replied with a smile. Brenna nodded and smiled, too.
"I thought that since this might be your only chance to come to Paris, you'd want a nice place to stay while you're here. Did Felan get you here alright, I hope he didn't bother you too much...he does enjoy talking." She asked and Arnold nodded the affirmative.
"Yeah, we had a nice chat and he said he'd take me anywhere in Paris as long as I'm here." Brenna nodded this time and smiled. Arnold knew that smile; it was the same goofy smile he used to get on his face when he was younger and used to have a crush on Ruth and Lila.
"So...um...how long have you know Felan?" Arnold asked, trying to gage the relationship between the two 'magical' people. Brenna looked up at Arnold, a bit startled, then shrugged.
"Ach, we've known each other long enough." She said, "But now it's on to more important things, like the reason you're here."
"Helga." Said Arnold.
"Exactly." Brenna looked at Arnold a moment then picked up her cat and walked into the living room, Arnold followed her inside. She sat in an elegant chair and studied Arnold before she asked her question. "To basically pick up where we left off: do you have any idea what you are going to say to her when you see her?"
Arnold shook his football head and said, "No, it was really the only thing I thought about on the flight over here, but...I still have no idea what to say to her."
"Pretend that you have seen her everyday for the past five years, what do you think you'd say to her if it was an everyday occurrence?" Brenna asked. Arnold thought about this a moment, but he really didn't have a clue. He shrugged his shoulders and sat on the couch, putting his head in his hands. "Well," said Brenna, "I suppose you need to see her first to know what you might say to her."
"How do I find her?" Arnold asked.
Brenna smiled and replied, "I've already done that, Arnold. I told you that everything would be taken care of. In fact, Helga isn't living in Paris anymore." This news made Arnold fall off the couch.
"WHAT?!" he cried, pulling himself up, "I came here for nothing? I came all the way to Paris to find Helga and now she's not even here?!" Arnold clamored back on to the couch.
"I never said she wasn't here, Arnold. I knew Helga didn't live in Paris before you left. But I discovered that she's visiting here right now, actually, she arrived yesterday and she's staying here in this hotel." Said Brenna calmly, Arnold's reaction apparently not surprising her. "Helga lives in New York City. But she travels quite a bit and is rarely ever there." Brenna said calmly.
Brenna said, any trace of a smile was now gone from her face. She then stood, placed her cat around her shoulders and said, "I must go for now, Arnold. I have some things to take care of, but before I go I'll tell you this: In your closet is a tuxedo. The hotel is hosting a party tonight for a man named Kohlven Relmont. He's very wealthy and has been a benefactor to the hotel for a few years now. All the hotel guests are invited."
Arnold stared at the floor for a moment then looked up at Brenna and asked, "Miss O'Leigh, why are you so determined for Helga and I to see each other again?"
Brenna smiled brightly at his question and without a word she faded from sight. Arnold sighed and went into his bedroom. He opened the closet and found the tuxedo Brenna left for him. He took the tux off the rack and placed it on the bed to have a better look at it. That's when he noticed it...attached to the lapel of the jacket was a red rose, in full bloom.