HMC: Oh Granita!
I finished reading the Castle trilogy a few days ago. I must say, that Diana Wynne Jones is the cat's pajamas. I adore her. I wish I read her as a child. I need to read her other novels and I don't care if they are listed in the children's section! She is incredibly funny and refreshing. I love the disorderly magic that runs throughout the Castle books, it reminds me of the howling wilderness of uncontrollable magic in Books of Magic.
I haven't been inspired by many things lately, so this little fanfic surprised me when I started writing it in my head. I haven't written any fanfic in years, so please be gentle. It's not so much as a one-shot as a conversation between two males who dislike being co-dependent on each other. Like most of Jane Austen's work, HMC doesn't reveal any conversations without Sophie. My mind played a bit with that.
title: Oh Granita!
rating: T
series: Howl's Moving Castle
word count: 1100+
spoilers? None if you've watched the movie.
disclaimers: Howl's Moving Castle belongs to Diana Wynne Jones. My mental image of Howl and Calcifer belongs to Studio Ghibli. Granita belongs to Umberto Eco.
Sophie gave a weak cackle of laughter. Her heart was behaving badly again.
Howl realized that something was wrong with her. He jumped indoors across his guitar, took hold of her elbow, and sat her in the chair. “Take it easy now!” Something happened between Howl and Calcifer then. Sophie felt it, because she was being held by Howl, and Calcifer was still leaning out of the grate. Whatever it was, her heart began to behave properly almost at once. Howl looked at Calcifer, shrugged, and turned away... (Chapter 8)
Oh Granita!
(In which Calcifer accuses Howl of having FEELINGS)
It was past midnight when the door opened. A weary wizard with interesting bones and much glamour on his skin swept into the confines of his castle. This wizard affected a dramatic sigh as he shut the door. He then spun the color-coded knob around several times before majestically throwing off his peacock-colored cloak.
Unfortunately for the man, the only conscious being in the castle was the one most used to his histrionics.
“And what was that all about?” Calcifer raised a fiery eyebrow in Howl’s direction, with the tone of one taking up a conversation left unfinished.
“What are you talking about,” the wizard replied absently, shaking off the dust from his natty suit.
“You know what I’m talking about,” the fire demon hissed. “What did you do?”
“Today I went to see the lovely Lettie Hatter. She let slip many interesting things about her family.”
Calcifer frowned at the attempt to change the topic. “I’m not interested in that. I’m talking about what you did this morning! It’s the first time your heart gave a thump in any direction. It surprised me so much I almost pissed myself to death.”
Howl thought about that for a moment. “You lack the proper parts to piss, Calcifer.”
The fire demon was indignant at this reminder of his physical limitations. “You know what I mean!”
“Come on, now. The heart must have slipped off a log,” Howl cajoled the demon. “Awfully difficult piece of equipment to balance on burning logs, you know. How you manage is absolutely scintillating. Yes, that is the only logical explanation possible.”
Calcifer folded his arms, like a dreaded aunt about to deliver a long lecture to a recalcitrant youth. He wasn’t buying this glib excuse. “I’m sure it wasn’t doing any slipping, you old fraud. You are beginning to have feelings again.”
Howl put on a suitably aghast expression. “What are you insinuating, my good man?”
“Nothing, except that despite the terms of our contract there have been times when your heart -- which keeps me alive, thank you very much -- still reacts independently of me.” Calcifer spat this out very fast. “I am beginning to think you like her a bit too much.”
Howl swiveled his head back to the grate so fast Calcifer could have almost sworn that Howl’s spine snapped. “Ridiculous. My heart is a blackened piece of coal due to you.”
“Not quite,” Calcifer said, “which makes it all the more surprising.”
Howl was almost disgusted with this conversation. “But she’s an old woman. A clean, meddlesome old woman.”
“Not for the lack of trying to make her young again,” Calcifer agreed solemnly. It surprised him that Howl didn’t even try to deny who they were talking about, for starters. “How many times have you...?”
“Twice already. Perhaps three times will be the charm. Excuse me.” Howl banished his boots and tiptoed across the creaky floorboards. He glanced about, worried that the dog would block his path. The dog detested him, but it certainly adored Sophie. Just like the woman, blast her, Howl cursed inwardly, to have oddments and orphans looking after her interests within a minute.
Howl didn’t realize the import of his own thought. He certainly didn’t consider himself to be an oddment, and yet, here he was. Standing over Sophie like an indulgent fool, trying to make her pretty once more.
Maybe if Sophie was free from the curse, Howl wouldn’t have to spare a thought about her anymore. Because as she was, wizened and demanding, Howl found himself thinking about her all the time. It wasn’t fair, when there were so many other women he could be thinking about, too.
Howl stood before the space underneath the stairs and smiled. Thankfully, the dog was not sleeping beside its champion. It was probably upstairs with Michael then.
Sophie was peacefully slumbering on her pallet. Howl could sense the deep, even intakes of her breathing. Her silvery hair gleamed in the low light, and in the darkness, she did not look like an old crone. Perhaps the curse lightened as she slept, and Howl could almost sense the shadow of the beautiful young woman he met on May Day. It frustrated him that he could not be certain.
“Lovely, eh?” Calcifer simmered, as he watched from the sidelines. “Never thought you liked fruitcake. Unattainable fruitcake, but cake nonetheless. Flavored like Lolita but with a hint of granny. A Granita.”
“Shut up,” Howl mumbled under his breath. “There are reasons to do this.”
“Granita, oh Granita. Flower of my adolescence, torment of my nights...”
“Shut up!”
Calcifer subsided, suppressing his throaty laugh, as Howl began to summon his magic. “Aren’t you going to help me?”
The demon thought about it for a moment, and then remembered his other contract. “No,” he replied.
Howl almost gritted his teeth, but as soon as he realized Calcifer would do nothing more than burn more firewood, he got down to business.
For a flicker of a moment, Wizard Howl and the castle was absolutely still.
Then without warning, Howl spoke his words of power under his breath. The room filled with preternatural light. Gossamer and ribbonlike, it emerged from the tips of Howl’s fingertips and spread out like a blanket. The light gently draped itself over Sophie’s sleeping form and then dissolved into the air.
Sophie, troubled in her sleep, rolled to her side. Her eyes were still shut tightly.
Howl stepped back and waited. Yet his effort was wasted. It was difficult to tell, now that the room plunged back into darkness, but Howl knew his charm didn’t work at all.
“You have to try something else, next time,” Calcifer said, all wise after the deed was done. “Maybe you can try it when she’s awake, for starters.”
“Of course not,” Howl said, as he prepared to go upstairs. “It’s even stronger when she’s conscious.”
“Why are you so eager to take this curse off dear old Sophie? She’s part of the household now.”
“The sooner I lift her curse, the sooner she’ll be out of my hair. It’s the only reason.”
The fire demon almost hooted with derision. “So you say, Howl, so you say.”
“Good night, Calcifer.”
Howl was almost at the top of the stairs when he heard the grate crackle with life again. He knew Calcifer almost as well as he knew himself. He knew Calcifer was just dying to have the last word.
“Liar,” the fire demon hissed to no one in particular. “Howell Jenkins is a horrible liar.”
To Howl’s horror, Sophie stirred in her sleep again. “Liar,” she echoed, and then she drifted off again.
“Sophie always talks back at this time of night,” Calcifer was red-hot in his smugness. “But in the morning, she never remembers.”
Howl was absolutely livid. “I can take back what’s mine and kill you myself.”
“We both know you aren’t going to do that,” the fire demon grinned as he dove down to the bottom of his grate.
The wizard’s shoulders slumped down. Deep in his heart (the one that was smoking among the logs) he knew Calcifer only spoke the truth.
-finis-
Note: Originally published in Misreadings, Umberto Eco's parody of Lolita can be read online. It's here: http://thefloatinglibrary.com/2008/08/24/granita/ After reading it, think about HMC again and then freak out. XD
I haven't been inspired by many things lately, so this little fanfic surprised me when I started writing it in my head. I haven't written any fanfic in years, so please be gentle. It's not so much as a one-shot as a conversation between two males who dislike being co-dependent on each other. Like most of Jane Austen's work, HMC doesn't reveal any conversations without Sophie. My mind played a bit with that.
title: Oh Granita!
rating: T
series: Howl's Moving Castle
word count: 1100+
spoilers? None if you've watched the movie.
disclaimers: Howl's Moving Castle belongs to Diana Wynne Jones. My mental image of Howl and Calcifer belongs to Studio Ghibli. Granita belongs to Umberto Eco.
Sophie gave a weak cackle of laughter. Her heart was behaving badly again.
Howl realized that something was wrong with her. He jumped indoors across his guitar, took hold of her elbow, and sat her in the chair. “Take it easy now!” Something happened between Howl and Calcifer then. Sophie felt it, because she was being held by Howl, and Calcifer was still leaning out of the grate. Whatever it was, her heart began to behave properly almost at once. Howl looked at Calcifer, shrugged, and turned away... (Chapter 8)
Oh Granita!
(In which Calcifer accuses Howl of having FEELINGS)
It was past midnight when the door opened. A weary wizard with interesting bones and much glamour on his skin swept into the confines of his castle. This wizard affected a dramatic sigh as he shut the door. He then spun the color-coded knob around several times before majestically throwing off his peacock-colored cloak.
Unfortunately for the man, the only conscious being in the castle was the one most used to his histrionics.
“And what was that all about?” Calcifer raised a fiery eyebrow in Howl’s direction, with the tone of one taking up a conversation left unfinished.
“What are you talking about,” the wizard replied absently, shaking off the dust from his natty suit.
“You know what I’m talking about,” the fire demon hissed. “What did you do?”
“Today I went to see the lovely Lettie Hatter. She let slip many interesting things about her family.”
Calcifer frowned at the attempt to change the topic. “I’m not interested in that. I’m talking about what you did this morning! It’s the first time your heart gave a thump in any direction. It surprised me so much I almost pissed myself to death.”
Howl thought about that for a moment. “You lack the proper parts to piss, Calcifer.”
The fire demon was indignant at this reminder of his physical limitations. “You know what I mean!”
“Come on, now. The heart must have slipped off a log,” Howl cajoled the demon. “Awfully difficult piece of equipment to balance on burning logs, you know. How you manage is absolutely scintillating. Yes, that is the only logical explanation possible.”
Calcifer folded his arms, like a dreaded aunt about to deliver a long lecture to a recalcitrant youth. He wasn’t buying this glib excuse. “I’m sure it wasn’t doing any slipping, you old fraud. You are beginning to have feelings again.”
Howl put on a suitably aghast expression. “What are you insinuating, my good man?”
“Nothing, except that despite the terms of our contract there have been times when your heart -- which keeps me alive, thank you very much -- still reacts independently of me.” Calcifer spat this out very fast. “I am beginning to think you like her a bit too much.”
Howl swiveled his head back to the grate so fast Calcifer could have almost sworn that Howl’s spine snapped. “Ridiculous. My heart is a blackened piece of coal due to you.”
“Not quite,” Calcifer said, “which makes it all the more surprising.”
Howl was almost disgusted with this conversation. “But she’s an old woman. A clean, meddlesome old woman.”
“Not for the lack of trying to make her young again,” Calcifer agreed solemnly. It surprised him that Howl didn’t even try to deny who they were talking about, for starters. “How many times have you...?”
“Twice already. Perhaps three times will be the charm. Excuse me.” Howl banished his boots and tiptoed across the creaky floorboards. He glanced about, worried that the dog would block his path. The dog detested him, but it certainly adored Sophie. Just like the woman, blast her, Howl cursed inwardly, to have oddments and orphans looking after her interests within a minute.
Howl didn’t realize the import of his own thought. He certainly didn’t consider himself to be an oddment, and yet, here he was. Standing over Sophie like an indulgent fool, trying to make her pretty once more.
Maybe if Sophie was free from the curse, Howl wouldn’t have to spare a thought about her anymore. Because as she was, wizened and demanding, Howl found himself thinking about her all the time. It wasn’t fair, when there were so many other women he could be thinking about, too.
Howl stood before the space underneath the stairs and smiled. Thankfully, the dog was not sleeping beside its champion. It was probably upstairs with Michael then.
Sophie was peacefully slumbering on her pallet. Howl could sense the deep, even intakes of her breathing. Her silvery hair gleamed in the low light, and in the darkness, she did not look like an old crone. Perhaps the curse lightened as she slept, and Howl could almost sense the shadow of the beautiful young woman he met on May Day. It frustrated him that he could not be certain.
“Lovely, eh?” Calcifer simmered, as he watched from the sidelines. “Never thought you liked fruitcake. Unattainable fruitcake, but cake nonetheless. Flavored like Lolita but with a hint of granny. A Granita.”
“Shut up,” Howl mumbled under his breath. “There are reasons to do this.”
“Granita, oh Granita. Flower of my adolescence, torment of my nights...”
“Shut up!”
Calcifer subsided, suppressing his throaty laugh, as Howl began to summon his magic. “Aren’t you going to help me?”
The demon thought about it for a moment, and then remembered his other contract. “No,” he replied.
Howl almost gritted his teeth, but as soon as he realized Calcifer would do nothing more than burn more firewood, he got down to business.
For a flicker of a moment, Wizard Howl and the castle was absolutely still.
Then without warning, Howl spoke his words of power under his breath. The room filled with preternatural light. Gossamer and ribbonlike, it emerged from the tips of Howl’s fingertips and spread out like a blanket. The light gently draped itself over Sophie’s sleeping form and then dissolved into the air.
Sophie, troubled in her sleep, rolled to her side. Her eyes were still shut tightly.
Howl stepped back and waited. Yet his effort was wasted. It was difficult to tell, now that the room plunged back into darkness, but Howl knew his charm didn’t work at all.
“You have to try something else, next time,” Calcifer said, all wise after the deed was done. “Maybe you can try it when she’s awake, for starters.”
“Of course not,” Howl said, as he prepared to go upstairs. “It’s even stronger when she’s conscious.”
“Why are you so eager to take this curse off dear old Sophie? She’s part of the household now.”
“The sooner I lift her curse, the sooner she’ll be out of my hair. It’s the only reason.”
The fire demon almost hooted with derision. “So you say, Howl, so you say.”
“Good night, Calcifer.”
Howl was almost at the top of the stairs when he heard the grate crackle with life again. He knew Calcifer almost as well as he knew himself. He knew Calcifer was just dying to have the last word.
“Liar,” the fire demon hissed to no one in particular. “Howell Jenkins is a horrible liar.”
To Howl’s horror, Sophie stirred in her sleep again. “Liar,” she echoed, and then she drifted off again.
“Sophie always talks back at this time of night,” Calcifer was red-hot in his smugness. “But in the morning, she never remembers.”
Howl was absolutely livid. “I can take back what’s mine and kill you myself.”
“We both know you aren’t going to do that,” the fire demon grinned as he dove down to the bottom of his grate.
The wizard’s shoulders slumped down. Deep in his heart (the one that was smoking among the logs) he knew Calcifer only spoke the truth.
-finis-
Note: Originally published in Misreadings, Umberto Eco's parody of Lolita can be read online. It's here: http://thefloatinglibrary.com/2008/08/24/granita/ After reading it, think about HMC again and then freak out. XD