Chapter Two: Which involves limerence and landlords
As they made their way back to the Parry household, Cordelia told Howell in no uncertain terms that she refused to take part in his little game. Really, it was a matter of pride. Some people seemed to think that because she was a sexually open girl (as she liked to phrase it) that she had no pride. But Cordelia had a strict policy: once a boy rejected her, he never got a second chance.
Now admittedly, Howell had never rejected her—how could he have? It had never crossed her mind to pursue him. But when she was younger, he had hurt her feelings by constantly poking fun at her. And this was the perfect opportunity to even the score—for what better way was there to get back at him than by depriving him of something that he wanted?
Megan had a field day at dinner. Between Cordelia and Howell, she didn't know who to be more frustrated with. Fortunately, Cordelia had two things on her side. One, the only thing about Cordelia that could be readily criticized was her appearance. Two, without further proof that her sister-in-law had gone astray (and Megan was quite sure that she had), Megan had to restrain herself from launching an all out attack on the girl. After all, that was Gareth's area of jurisdiction … and if he wasn't going to exercise his authority … well, there was always Howell to turn on …
Megan's endless disapproval of Howell proved to be quite the source of amusement for Cordelia. Megan snapped at him for putting his elbows on the table, grilled him about where he kept disappearing to, and when he told her he'd been at the library, she made some very unsubtle comments about the uselessness of a degree in anthropology.
"Especially when you're focusing on the use of spells and charms in society," Megan spit out the last bit of that sentence as though it was a particularly sour lemon. "How is that going to contribute anything to the world? And more importantly, how is that going to get you a job? What do you plan to do—go live with a tribe of shamans in the Amazon?"
"Definitely not the Amazon—it's too sunny there—I'd have wrinkles before I was thirty!" Howell declared.
"Then what?" Megan demanded.
"I was thinking I'd go live with some wizards in a parallel dimension," Howell said with a perfectly straight face.
Cordelia would have laughed at Megan's expression—in fact, Gareth did laugh. But the moment was ruined for Cordelia by Howell winking at her. Why did he have to act as though they shared some intimate connection? In fact, all throughout dinner he'd been acting as if she hadn't refused him at all. The nerve of him—grinning at her as though they shared an inside joke, "accidentally" caressing her knee as he leaned forward to retrieve a dropped napkin …
Cordelia was especially annoyed because she knew that she would crumble in the face of his persistence. She hated to admit it, but in spite of her policy and her apparent feistiness, she actually had a very hard time saying "no" to people. She could do it once or twice … but if that didn't deter a person …
The more she thought about it, the more she realized that she wasn't entirely opposed to the idea of a date (or to the idea of something else entirely ...) with Howell. He was terribly attractive—even more so than the last time she'd seen him. Perhaps it was his new hair color—black really was an improvement over his naturally brown locks. And then there was the fact that he was smart. From the midst of Megan's critical ramblings, Cordelia had managed to pick out the rather impressive fact that Howell was already working on his PhD. And wasn't he only twenty-one? That was simply unheard of. Cordelia actually found herself envying him—by the time she was twenty-one, she would only be starting on her masters.
No, as far as men went, Howell was definitely not the worst she could do. And he hadn't actually rejected her, so she wouldn't really be breaking her policy. Plus, she had also gathered from Megan's grumbling that Howell had a tendency to drop girls as soon as he won them over, so it wasn't as though she'd be stuck with him for very long …
Cordelia's mind continued to work in this manner, listing reason after reason as to why she didn't actually have to go to the effort of turning Howell down yet again. In fact, her mind became so engrossed with its rationalizations that she was still awake when he quietly stepped into her room at two in the morning. For a second, she thought about pretending to be asleep … but only for a second …
Howell was not entirely without common sense when it came to women. True, he was mostly without common sense—but not entirely. There was a tiny (perhaps microscopic) part of himself that insisted on reminding the rest of him that he was only infatuated with Cordelia. But whenever he was wistfully daydreaming about the current object of his desire, it just didn't flow too well to think, "I'm infatuated with so-and-so." No, that particular phrasing was far too cumbersome (and far too pragmatic). Indeed, it was much smoother, much more poetic, to simply think, "I'm in love."
So that's what Howell thought to himself as he walked the streets of Porthaven the next day. And for once in his life, this self-delusion was beneficial—it functioned like a drug, taking the edge off of what would have otherwise been an unbearably frustrating time.
You see, Porthaven was just not Howell's cup of tea, nor was it his pint of beer or any other beverage he might consider consuming. For one, it was almost exactly like his hometown in Wales. Sure, there were fishermen instead of farmers, and an ocean instead of fields—but that was where the distinction between the two ended. If Howell hadn't been so busy imagining possible future encounters with Cordelia, he would have been moaning to himself about the injustice of going so far (hell, he went to another universe!) only to end up basically where he had started out from: in a small town, with hard-working, boring people who had no appreciation for his flamboyant spirit or for magic ...
And yes, the people of Porthaven had no appreciation for magic. In fact, there had not been a single witch or wizard working in or around Porthaven ever since Mrs. Pentstemmon moved to Kingsbury some fifty odd years ago. Howell found this terribly hard to fathom. After all, magic in Ingary was as necessary as technology was in his home world. A town going without magic here was like a town going without electricity in Britain.
But the analogy apparently had its limitations, because the people of Porthaven got on perfectly fine without magic. Which only made matters worse for Howell. It was bad enough that he was dealing with people who weren't accustomed to magic, and who were therefore wary of it. But he also had to be dealing with people who didn't have an obvious need for magic, and who were therefore that much more unlikely to welcome it—or him—into their lives.
It started with the landlord. Mrs. Pentstemmon had found Howell a small, crooked house near Porthaven's harbor. The man who owned the place was short and round, with bushy sand-colored sideburns and a ruddy complexion. He had squinty blue eyes that became even squintier upon catching sight of Howell in his gaudy finery.
"So what is it exactly that you do, uh, Mr. ...?"
"Umm ..." Howell hesitated for a moment, quickly debating with himself as to what name he should use here. Usually, he took great care when inventing his pseudonyms, making sure that they fit the location and the occasion perfectly, and that they projected the ideal image. In the past, he had even used numerology to analyze possible aliases, just to make sure that his new name wasn't going to give him some undesirable quality (of course, he later concluded that numerology was just amusing nonsense, but that's another story …).
This time, however, his brain had gotten so tangled up in fantasies of Cordelia that he had completely neglected his usual name-choosing routine.
"Jenkin," he finally said. And when he said it, he realized it was quite fitting. Why not use a name that was virtually the same as his real one, when this town was virtually like his home?
"But please, call me Howl," he added, smiling in a pleasantly distracted manner.
"So what is it exactly that you do, Mr. Jenkin?" the landlord repeated.
"Hmm," was Howell's only response, as he was currently inventing scenarios in which he somehow, inexplicably ran into Cordelia in the streets of Porthaven. He thought she would look rather lovely dressed like a sea-side maid, with a billowing skirt and a ruffling blouse …
"Mr. Jenkin?" the landlord eyed Howell suspiciously. It was clear that he was quickly coming to the conclusion that Howell was no longer in possession of all of his marbles.
"Oh … yes," Howell painfully snapped himself back to reality. "What do I do … why, don't you know? I'm the town's new wizard."
The landlord somehow managed to squint even more while simultaneously raising his eyebrows. He sped headlong into his conclusion regarding Howell's sanity, crashing into it with a nearly audible mental thud. Yes, after that response, he definitely thought that Howell belonged in an asylum, and not in Porthaven, and especially not in a building that he owned.
"A wizard, huh?" the landlord snorted. "So what, you do spells and the like?"
"Indeed," Howell nodded. "Is there any particular spell that you'd like? One to cure near-sightedness, perhaps?"
The landlord only hardened his squint. "How about something to make sure you pay your rent on time?"
"Why on earth would you need a spell for that?" Howell directed his question towards the sky. "My good fellow, I assure you that I pay my bills as regularly as the tide comes in. And in case you still doubt me …"
Howell reached into his pocket and withdrew a silk purse. He dumped nearly all of its contents into the landlord's broad hands, feeling terrifically magnanimous as he did so.
"That should cover the next few months," Howell patted the man amiably on one round shoulder. "Until then, take care, my myopic friend."
The landlord stared at the pile of gold coins resting in his hands. He was utterly flabbergasted. Howell couldn't have stunned the man more had he turned him into a toad. As for Howell, in his current state of love-induced impairment, it hadn't quite hit him that he had just given away almost all of the money he had to his name.
Well, so much the better.
Howell dreamily went into his new home, and barely saw what it looked like. He somehow managed to cast a spell to transport his belongings from Mrs. Pentstemmon's, but even that suffered from his distracted condition. He just couldn't stop thinking of Cordelia: Cordelia in the aforementioned billowy dress, taking that aforementioned billowy dress off of Cordelia, Cordelia on the beach, Cordelia in the water, Cordelia being kidnapped by pirates and subsequently being rescued by Howell … It was only after he turned one of his favorite suits into a floor mat during the transportation process that he finally began to wake up.
During that time period, word of Howell's coming had already spread through half of Porthaven. It started with the landlord complaining to his sister that a crazy (albeit wealthy) wizard was now one of their tenants. The sister then went to her husband and the husband went to his cousin and the cousin went to the pub, and by the time the news had reached the other side of town, people were gasping in horror at the fact that Porthaven was now home to a dark sorcerer who fed babies to dragons in exchange for treasure.
The rumors then ricocheted back to the side of Porthaven that had first witnessed Howell's arrival. The cousin left the pub and drunkenly went to the husband who went to the sister who hit the landlord over the head with a rolling pin, hysterically demanding how her brother could have accepted money stained with innocent blood. For a moment, the landlord wondered about that himself, but the glittering of the gold provided a rather satisfying answer.
In any case, it wasn't surprising that when Howell re-emerged from his little townhouse in order to make his way back to his own world (and to his lovely Cordelia), that he observed the people along his street behaving quite bizarrely. Many frantically ran indoors as he walked by, while others glared fiercely or even hissed at him.
Well, this is certainly a bit worse than I expected, Howell thought to himself. Perhaps I shouldn't have worn pink …
But then the sister of the landlord came running after him withthe rolling pin, screaming that he had stolen her brother's soul. It was at times like this that all thoughts of color-coordination fled Howell's mind and survival instincts took over. He threw down a spell and teleported to the Porthaven marshes.
No, Porthaven was definitely not Howell's cup of tea. And for that matter, Howell had thoroughly proved that he was not Porhaven's cup of tea either.
It was an understatement to say that Howell was relieved to be back in Wales. It was also an understatement to say that this relief was terribly unnerving. If Wales suddenly seemed more inviting than Ingary, Howell felt that his life had lost its meaning, and that he might have to hang himself.
Fortunately for Howell, he remembered that Cordelia lived in Wales. He plucked a few blades of grass from beneath his feet, and transformed them into three luscious red roses. Suddenly, it made perfect sense for Wales to seem more inviting than Ingary. Really, what had he ever been thinking to leave home like that? He had gone so far (hell, he went to another universe!) and yet the thing he was looking for had always been right under his nose. (Well, it had always been right under his nose minus the four years that it had been off in America …).
When Howell arrived back at Rivendell, he found Cordelia by herself in the kitchen, drinking a glass of water. There was something so exquisite about the way she drank water—the way she held the glass with one hand while the other rested on her hip, the way she tilted her pointed chin, the way she gazed off into the distance. He leaned against the kitchen doorway, roses in hand, content to watch as she quenched her thirst.
"I got something for you," he said softly after she put the glass down.
She jumped, first looking startled, and then looking somewhat disappointed.
Ah, she must be upset that I was gone all day, he thought to himself.
Cordelia didn't move as he walked up to her. She didn't say anything, though as she caught sight of the roses, her disappointed look turned to one of apprehension. She still didn't speak even after she had taken the roses from his hands. She stared down into their vast, velvety blossoms, her face tightening as if she was very anxious and very determined to accomplish something.
"Howell, I don't do serious relationships," she finally said, speaking fast and with an edge of panic in her voice. "I mean, you probably weren't thinking that … I mean, last night was … I mean, I don't know what you're thinking … but if you're thinking that …"
"Cordelia, dear, they're just flowers. I don't do serious relationships either," Howell smiled disarmingly, then sauntered out of the kitchen. He left Cordelia standing there, staring at the roses much like the landlord had stared at his gold coins.
A/n: "Limerence" is technically a mature version of infatuation ... Howl probably isn't being mature here, but I just thought the word sounded nice in the title. :)
And sorry to anyone who's feeling pain on Sophie's behalf because of this fic ... feel free to shoot me for writing about Howl with an OC. :)
As for why I have Howl acting like a playboy before he's given his heart away ... well, hopefully this fic will explain why I chose that stance when it's finished. :)
Now,on an unrelated side note ... is there any way to prevent the spaces between words from being deleted when you upload documents?