The Adventures of Tintin: Popol Vuh Redux
Written by: FossilQueen1984
Disclaimer: All right, you can put down the torches and pitchforks, I have returned. As usual, I only own Helene and the twins, along with Natalia and Paolo. All other characters are the intellectual property of Herge, Steven Spielberg, Peter Jackson, and 20th Century Fox. Also, if anyone is interested in knowing what Tintin looked like at age 18 months, look no further than the Christmas pictures of England's cutest tot, Prince Geroge. Also, Tintin's parents, Pierre and Annette, are voiced by and modeled after Hugh Bonneville and Elizabeth McGovern's roles on a certain show. Extra yummy chocolate-chips cookies to anyone who can name the roles and include a zinger by Professor McGonagall. For all reviewers, porcelain baby dolls that look like Prince George with soft, downy bodies that are extra cuddly. One last thing, Milou's voice actor is… Anthony Daniels! Enjoy!
Suggested Soundtrack: On a Clear Day…/A Town with an Ocean View/The Hilly Town- Joe Hisaishi, Scherzo for Motorcycle and Orchestra- John Williams
Chapter Two: The Trenzalore Affair Part 1
Late springs in Brussels were noted for the stable serenity of weather, the opening of the open air markets for a new season, the number of young couples bombarding churches to get married in the good weather… and the rise in violent crimes. Yes, after taking the long, cold winter off Belgian bank robbers wanted to get their "game season" off to a good start. How Helene Berlioz (nee Dupont) found herself standing on the back railing from the bank branch's second story preparing the next step of her escape was another story altogether.
The day had started out normally, oddly enough. She and Tintin had slept in later than usual because they had come down with nasty head colds and had been unable to meet Haddock for dinner out and then a movie. On top of that, Milou had eaten something rotten and had to be taken to the veterinarian to have his stomach pumped. The terrier was rather grumpy after that experience and spent the weekend on his favorite chair and ignoring the humans he lived with, unless it was time for walkies or food.
The early morning sun petered in between the Venetian blinds and landed on the redhead who rubbed his eyes and sat up. His wife of three years was buried under the bedclothes, her large eyes tightly closed who was hoping for at least one more hour of sleep. Helene was not an early riser, but for the last fortnight or thereabouts, getting up had been harder. The concept was easy enough, but for some reason all she really wanted to do was lounge around in bed all day long.
Tintin noticed the lag between himself rising for the day and his wife unusual loafing. On the days following the small ceremony in the back garden attended by Haddock, Mrs Finch, Alembick and the Thom(p)sons three years ago, Helene had always been the first up in the mornings. The drive she had, that burning desire to prove herself independent had settled down. Slightly. Helene still possessed a sharp wit about her, and any grief about her left eye got shot down. She was much more affectionate with her loved and friends now, her return had softened her personality, and for that everyone was thankful.
Helene heard her husband shuffle off towards the bathroom, and she reached over the bed's edge to touch her toes. There was something calming about exercising first thing, but today she over reached and she somersaulted over onto the floor. Wham! The next thing Helene knew, Milou was smothering her with doggy kisses. She groaned, "Cripes, Milou, can't you wait?" The terrier playfully barked and wagged his tail, clearly feeling better. Hearing Tintin sing along with the bathroom radio, she chuckled and decided to get breakfast going.
Passing through the den towards the kitchen, the large portrait hanging over the mantelpiece caught her eye. It had been taken back in January, during an unusual spate of cool, dry weather. Captain Haddock felt it was high time his only daughter had herself "a proper Haddock" wedding. In laymen's terms, the liturgy and the religious vows had to be overseen by a Presbyterian minister from Glasgow or Edinburgh, not some "namby-pamby washed up fop who washed out of clerical school because knees weren't the right shade red from not kneeling enough for their so called holy hours". Also, the venue was hosted at Moulinsart and of course, all of Belgian high society was there along with family and friends who had not attended the first ceremony. Tintin's best friend, Chang had been there as the best man, Calculus insisted on being in charge of the music (who knew he could play the piano so masterfully?) and surprisingly enough, Tintin's own parents!
Pierre had embraced his son warmly no more than five minutes before he was supposed to be up front, his son was finally marrying someone from their class in society. Disgusted, Tintin confronted him about being thrown out of the house and asked him if he had not read the paper in the last four years. Blushing, Pierre admitted that he had occasionally but Tintin had already left the room. It was here Annette, who had warmly congratulated her son about how he had become such an accomplished young man, dragged him to the front of the hall and they sat down as the service began.
To Pierre's great surprise, the young woman coming down the altar was none other than Helene Dupont, the little girl from the venture in the United Soviet Socialist Republic all those long years ago. She was still sporting an eye-patch, but it off of her left eye, just sitting at the side of her forehead. "Damn me if I'm not an old fool, kicking out my only son only to have the sylph returns, just like he always believed. Annette, I really am proud of Augustin, I really am," he admitted tearfully as the young couple exchanged their rings.
"Took ya long enough, yeh old fogey, admittin' to bein' proud of Tintin all these years," Haddock chided gently from beside the couple. He offered Pierre his handkerchief and the buttoned-up businessman honked his nose louder than a French horn as Tintin and Helene shared their "first" kiss. The reception had been nothing short of lovely, with toasts from Chang and Natalia Dellacroix, Helene's first real female friend in a very long time. Pierre had finally made amends with Tintin, and the Berlioz family was finally no longer at odds.
"Funny how time flies, isn't it," the ginger in question commented as he wrapped his arms around his wife's shoulders. She nodded, here it was early April already. Tired of the adorable romantic moment unfolding, Milou jumped up on his hind legs and complained, "Oh dear, oh dear, oh dearie me! It's time for me to eat! Oh dear, oh dear, oh dearie me!" He jumped around some more and howled pitifully. Tintin and Helene broke out of their reminiscing, time to eat.
Because Tintin was needed at the office to help manage the office since Paolo was away at an editor's convention in Barcelona, Helene would need to make their latest deposits at the bank. Because the bank was particular about dog's dropping on the floor, dogs had to wait out back in the company garden (the building was a renovated house). After placing Milou out back, Helene handed the cheques over to the teller, when something rattled in her stomach. Excusing herself, Helene dashed across the floor and into the ladies water closet when there was a burst of gunfire and loud voices shouting, "This is a stick up, don't anybody move! Now, empty that safe! Cor blimey, that's a whole load of good stuff. Trenzalore will be glad to hear- hey! Flush the water closets, we don't want no witnesses."
Having just finished when she heard the words, Helene panicked. What was she going to do? Just then, a gush of cool air from above gave her an idea. Standing up on top of the toilet, she just managed to squirm up the ventilation shaft and into metallic safety when there was a violent burst of gun fire, and the door fell down inside the area. Three unshaven men looked around and reported, "Ent anyone in 'ere boss." The leader cautiously looked around, doubtful. He had noticed that the vent was down. Well, it would be her loss. He gestured to his comrades and they quickly fled the scene with the ill-gotten loot, but not before severely damaging the antechamber and wounding every last employee within sight.
As they sped off, several officers were on the scene when someone shouted, "HEY Thom(p)sons, get in here. We got a witness." Both men stopped at the door, appalled they had to breach decorum to interview a witness in the ladies water closet of all places. Thompson went in first and exclaimed, "I know this camera, its Helene's! Old bean, get in here! Helene must've shimmied up the ventilation shaft to escape. Impossible girl, such a good match for Tintin. Any kids in that family will be just astounding, you mark my word. What's wrong?" His partner looked pale, "Thompson, we must find her! They're coming back!" A loud burst of gun fire confirmed that, and with pistols drawn, the rejoined their comrades in arms and fought to take back the bank.
Meanwhile, Helene had bailed out upstairs in one of the offices, when something caught her eye. There were a series of folders out and the documents in them were highlighted and notes seemed to have retracted. Defalcations maybe? She silently cursed leaving her camera behind when another round of gunfire started up again. This was cutting to close for comfort. She began looking for a way out, and an unopened window was her answer.
"This'll have to do for now, I guess," she commented. Once she was outside, she could now hear how awful the situation really was. All around her, Helene's ears were bombarded with the wails of ambulance and police sirens, the intermittent shells of heavy gunfire- it was like a miniature war zone. "Haven't we suffered enough under the German annihilators," she conjectured as she clung to the stucco. As far as she could tell, there was no real way down, or at least an easy way. From below, Milou barked up to her, "Wait, it's Helene! We're saved! Over here, over here!" He jumped around and Helene laughed when she heard his barking.
It took a few minutes for Helene to formulate a plan to get back down on the ground. Normally, her mind would be racing at millions of miles per second, taking in all sorts of data, but today, everything was murky, like clouded water in a stream after releasing a caught fish. It had been like this for the past two weeks, what on Earth was going on? Squeezing any negative thoughts from her head, Helene readjusted herself to slide along the second floor gutters and shoving her fingers into the nooks and crannies like a mountain climber. She was just about to make it down to the main level hedges that sat just below the window sills when a random bullet ricocheted off the stucco not 6 inches from her and landed in the wooden fence that separated the office common area from the alley! Heart racing, she grabbed her scarf and slid down a horizontal wire that secured some ancient rigging on the roof to a corner post.
Holding on for dear life, she flew down the line like a comet, but not without injury. Another bullet hit her scarf and she landed in the compost heap. Milou jumped into action and wedged himself between the assailant and his mistress. The gunman just laughed, when Helene jumped up from a running start to tackle him. Instead, he roughly shoved her to the ground where she landed on her bum and scrapped her hands.
Loading his gun again, he began monolouging about how inevitable this all was, how merciful he was letting her escape. Sitting up in sheer protest, the man shot right at her, the bullet grazing her left shoulder. Helene smirked, "That's the best you can do? It's only a flesh wound." Aggravated by the taunt, he yelled some random obscenity in low Italian and reloaded his weapon… only to have it jam. Pausing to take a look, Helene quickly grabbed a stone and used as much force as she could onto the man's head. Once he hit the ground, she called to Milou and they dashed towards the front.
By now, the whole area was swarming with officers and Helene and Milou were out of it. The last 20 minutes had really been quite stressful. By now, the adrenaline had worn of and Helene was doing her best not to cry in public. As she and her faithful canine made their way towards the crowd, she could hear a familiar voice, "Excuse me, but you need to let me in, I'm with the press, here's my pass. My wife was here…Helene?"
Exhausted but overjoyed, she collapsed into his arms and they kissed for the longest time before an ambulance whisked them off to hospital. Before dozing off, Helene whispered the words "Trenzalore" and "Defalcations" to her concerned husband. What had Helene stumbled across and who was Trenzalore?