Disclaimer: I don't own Howl's Moving Castle. Enough said. Full stop. End of sentence.
Wizard Howl
Wizard Howl Jenkins was admittedly one of the most talented, handsome and well-dressed wizards in Ingary, Stranglia, High Norland and any other kingdom which was known for its proficient use of magic. It was also rumoured that he could win the heart of any girl he chased after.
But under all that glamour, the Great Wizard Howl could only amount to being a terribly vain coward and a slither-outer who hated being pinned down to anything. He was actually one of those flirtatious men who enjoyed playing Romeo until the girls fell in love with him. Then he would be running turn tail before he got involved in any long-term commitments.
But this was not only relevant in terms of romance. Howl was so scared of being caught inside the nets of those 'on the spur of the moment' vows he may or may not have made, that his bedroom was covered over every wall, floor, ceiling and otherwise, with a redundancy of magical mobiles, gadgets, trinklets, books, featherly objects, hanging herbs and various other dangling, spinning or swinging things which were used to avoid the rather dogmatic Witch of the Waste, the King and Madame Suliman (though the latter two really were actually working together) and anyone else who was trying to find him.
It was almost ten in the morning when Howl woke up. He yawned and stretched in his bed, staring at the wide, blinking eye on the door before groggily sitting up.
'What's the point of getting up?' he thought melancholy, even though he knew that it was quite late. 'I'll probably get caught again today, at any rate.'
'I swear that the King was about to make me the Royal Wizard last time I met him!' Howl added, shuddering at the horrifying thought of the dreaded responsibility that he would have to have to carry, if, may the Lord forbid, such a dreadful thing would ever occur.
No, he much preferred to just run around chasing girls. It was much easier than living a stuffy life surrounded by uptight, snobby nobles. And besides, he always enjoyed it when the girls fell heads-over-heels in love for his good looks and charm which he worked tirelessly to perfect, not that he didn't think that he wasn't perfect in the first place.
But then after he had his fun, he would have to dump those love-struck girls, which was always very awkward and messy. Especially when their mothers, fathers, aunts, the girls, or any other irritated family member or friend would be at his door with either a kitchen knife, axe, rolling pin, law suit, or a mixture of all four; all after his blood.
Howl reluctantly clambered out of bed, down the hall and into the bathroom, which was conveniently placed a mere seven steps from his bedroom.
"Calcifer!" Howl yelled, "Make hot water for my bath!" The habitual groaning came from downstairs and he could vaguely hear the words 'exploited' and 'unfair treatment of fire demons'.
He turned on the tap, undressed and hung up his white shirt on the only hook he could find which wasn't hidden under the other clothes that he had 'planned' to wash but never got round to it. Howl stepped into the warm water and gave a contented sigh as leaned back against the bathtub, enjoying the few moments of peace which he got every morning.
After almost an hour, the bath water began to grow cold. Though he could have had warmed it up with a spell, or asked Calcifer to heat the water again, Howl half-heartedly got up and pulled the plug. He towelled himself down and then changed into his one of his favourite suits: a pink and blue blazer with yellow hemming. Then he began his daily routine in front of the mirror with his many, many beauty products, spells and potions, starting with that blond dye for his blonde, luscious hair.
When he considered himself presentable, he climbed down the dust-ridden stairs, and watched his young apprentice, Markl, once again, trying to persuade Calcifer into bending over so he could cook a rather late breakfast.
"Please?" pleaded Markl.
"No!" Calcifer shouted lividly, dramatically waving two arm-shaped tongues of fire in the air. "I'm a scary fire demon! I DO NOT COOK BREAKFAST!"
"It's only bacon and eggs."
"Go have bread and cheese instead."
"Just this once?" beseeched the hungry young boy.
"Absolutely not, Markl. It's not going to happen!" exclaimed the outraged fire demon indignantly.
After determining that this dispute was a complete waste of time, Howl decided to settle the quarrel himself. "Hand over the pan." Howl ordered. "Calcifer, bend over."
Calcifer grudgingly tolerated the humiliation of having a frying pan positioned over his head, grumbling resentfully. Howl picked up two slices of bacon and four eggs from the basket.
He tossed the bacon onto the oiled pan and cracked the eggs against the side, throwing the shells at Calcifer who ate them up ravenously.
Markl supplied two plates and Howl placed one slice of bacon and two eggs on each.
"Clear the table," Howl commanded, and Markl pushed the spells, books, papers, clothes and anything else that was there, from the table. They sat down and ate with the only clean silverware that they could find.
Rather, Markl ate while Howl played with his food.
"And Calcifer," Howl added, twisting in his chair to look at him. "I'll be visiting Market Chipping to see Lettie today. Can you bring the Castle closer to Upper Folding?"
"I'm the only one who actually does any work around here," grumbled the fire demon before he retreated into the grate in self-pity. "I'll take the first opportunity that comes by that can take me out of this place." And thus proceeded into his daydream of what he would do if such a miracle did occur.
But both Howl and Calcifer knew that it was probably never going to happen. For one thing, no-one but themselves knew about the conditions of their contract, nor could they tell anyone else about it.
It was, as Calcifer maddeningly put it, 'confidential information'.
"Umm . . . Master Howl?" began Markl nevously as he eyed his slice of bacon.
"Hmm?" responded Howl absently as he looked out of the window which had a rather nice water view of dockside town of Porthaven. He watched an old fisherman ramble up the slopy street with his kip bag filled with long rolls of bread.
"Do . . . do you think that we should get someone to help us clean the castle?"
Howl scowled at the boy. The castle wasn't that dirty. Despite the fact that there was a tapestry of cobwebs and dust on every available wall and surface, and that the laundry and washing up hadn't been done in months, and that the place could very well be dubbed as an asylum for spiders and other pests of various shapes, sizes and colour whom had been kicked out of their previous homes, and also that you couldn't find anything without scouring up and down the castle at least five times; it wasn't that unbearable. What else would you expect in a bachelors' pad?
"It was just a suggestion," said Markl hastily before quickly wolfing down his breakfast as if he hadn't eaten for months.
Howl got up from his seat and carried his plate over to Calcifer and emptied his breakfast over the fire.
"I'm going out," he said shortly and decended the steps towards the door. "Calcifer, pick me up here before evening." He turned the handle until it the dial pointed green-up. The portal bell gave a light tinkle as it confirmed its new position. "If you need to answer the door, Markl, wear the magic cloak I gave you." Howl opened the portal door and stepped out onto the front portico, waiting impatiently for the mechanical legs to creak to a stop.
"What's the point of forcing me to cook your breakfast if you're never going to eat it?" Calcifer called after him before the wizard had closed the door and had stepped onto the grassy plain of the Wastes.
The gigantic castle, which looked more like a large pile of junk carelessly thrown together, slowly and agonisingly pushed itself up off the ground with several painfully loud screeches of grinding metal and then noisily lumbered away, leaving a stream of puffy, black smoke which billowed from its many chimneys and pipes in its wake.
The real reason why Howl had planned this outing was that he did not want to be caught at home by the royal messengers. Whenever an affair was being planned, regardless of its insignificance, all the magicians and wizards, including Howl, who were taught at the Royal Sorcery Academy, or were apprenticed to Madame Suliman, would besummoned to assist the King over those petty matters, and in this case: war.
The King of Ingary would send a commissionaire, either a soldier, officer, mayor or page boy, every morning, who would have a tediously long, polite and excessively flowery speech prepared, to formally ask for his 'required presence to the royal palace of Ingary to confer the pressing matters of the upcoming war which is of a crucial and great importance for the future of our great and noble country' as both Wizard Pendragon, Wizard Jenkins and any other magic-welding alias he had taken up in his lifetime of twenty-seven years.
Howl had no intention of fighting. But that vow he had taken for his magical education (which he did not finish) forced him to accept, and he was also too pusillanimous to just go up to the palace and give Madame Suliman a straightforward 'no'.
So, as the slipperly coward which he was, the Wizard Howl would leave it to his 8-year-old apprentice to figure out how to get rid of the courteous couriers who were quite bewildered and exasperated that neither of the practised wizards were ever home, at both Kingsbury or Porthaven, and they were too frightened to try and knock on the door of that other wizard who owned the moving castle. Little did they know that all three doors lead to the same place and were answered by the same blue-cloaked, long bearded, short, 'old' man.
Howl made his way down an unlevel trail which winded down a rather steep hill. It was actually quite a beautiful, sunny day, and it was almost noon. Behind him was a rather picturisque view of the majestic, snow-capped mountain ranges of the Folding Valley, which was partly obscured by a thick fog.
From his elevation, he could see the blue canal which snaked around the town, as well as the tall buildings and roads of Market Chipping which was alive with bustling crowds.
From the maliciously well-planned spot which Calcifer had dropped him off, Market Chipping was a slopy, rocky fifty minute walk away. But not that Howl minded. Howl had always loved the countryside with its wide, spacious meadows carpeted with grassy floors.
In fact, he had grown up in a quaint, green pasture which his uncle had left him with. He may have had visited the place less often than he liked, but that could not be helped with his rather busy lifestyle of courting girls, looking after his wizardry business (though it was actually Markl who did that), and trying to escape the demanding clutches of the King and Madame Suliman, and as well as avoiding the Witch of the Waste while still being a handsome, dashing, spruce fellow on top.
When Howl finally reached the main road of Market Chipping after quite a long and difficult walk, he looked back over the rolling green hills and the town roof tops and saw a thin waft smoke and a tiny, black, moving dot, almost hidden in the misty horizon. Howl couldn't help giving a pleased grin at his 'little' display of magic.
Howl had decided to pay a visit to a few girls that may have had caught his eye lately, not just that pretty blue-eyed apprentice Lettie from that Cesari bakery shop. It was a pity that he tired of those girls so easily, but it was all part of that incident which happened one night about twelve years ago, involving Calcifer, and that mysterious, but pretty girl who had short silver hair who had disappeared before his very eyes.
Howl had long since lost count of all those young hearts he had courted, 'stolen' and then dumped after the second date, and in rare cases, the third. But despite the pleasure that he got out of the chase, Howl still couldn't help but feel a bit sorry for those poor girls' hearts.
As Howl turned the corner, he saw people lined up along the sidewalk, staring down the flower-scattered road as if expecting something to appear at any moment.
When he finally noticed the lack of the usual buses, carriages and cars, he heard cheering, pounding drums, fanfares, and as well as a marching army of proud soldiers.
He had completely forgotten! The King had decided to host a parade today for the soldiers who were about to go into war in the battlefront against their neighbouring countries of Stranglia and High Norland. There was something about the kidnapping of Stranglia's Prince Justin.
Howl swore quietly under his breath. He usually would have had taken the opportunity to flirt with a few pretty girls and look for his next 'heart to steal', but he couldn't risk the possibility of the military officials catching him. They would force him to seeing Madame Suliman again, which was resolutely undesirable.
As Howl quickly glanced around for a place to hide, his eyes caught a rather plain girl with plaited hair and in a long, green dress which was much too old for her, trying to inconspicuously slip past the crowds and hurriedly escape into the back alleyways.
'She looks familiar,' Howl thought ruefully to himself, though he was certain that they had never met. He glanced back up the road at the advancing parade. 'At least she wouldn't force me to see Madame Suliman.'
And with that, Howl quickly followed the retreating girl down the alley.
A/N: Oh gosh . . . I think that I tangled a bit too much of Howl from the book into the Howl from the movie . . . . :S
By the way, thank you to everyone who has put up with me and my awkward 1000 times bad writing and awful timing . . . :S