![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
seren_ccdTitle: Music Take me Underground - Part One
Fandom: Teeth, Claws and Guinness
Ship: Various original pairings
Word Count: 4,313
Rating: PG-13
Disclaimer: They are, well, actually, these guys are mine. All of them. I did borrow a set of characters from Terry Pratchett. However, if you ask them, they’ll say they were their own to begin with and he borrowed them. Either way, no infringement meant! Also the title comes from Evacuate the dance floor by Cascada. Yeah, I know, shut up.
A/N: This has been beta'd by the fabulous![[livejournal.com profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/external/lj-userinfo.gif)
fringedweller. I hope to have the second part up later this week!
Summary: The Autumn Festival in Cwm Alaw has always been known for food, games, mischief and dancing. However, no one ever expected this.
evacuate the dance floor.
i’m infected by the sound.
stop.
this beat is killing me.
music take me underground.
Cwm Alaw didn’t celebrate Halloween, precisely.
No, they celebrated the Autumn Festival.
No big name, no attachments to any particular religion/belief/deity/etc, just the Autumn Festival.
“It goes on all night the third night of the month of November,” Portia said as she poured Evan a cup of tea when he came into the cafe for lunch. He’d been looking a bit bewildered at the way the village seemed to explode in decorations and posters overnight. Portia had to explain the festival to him. “It’s a combination of Mischief Night and a few other holidays that occur in November. It’s also something to break up the monotony of the autumn. All the shopkeepers have a stand and there’s dancing and games and a maze.” Her smile was nostalgic as she said, “It actually began several years ago and has gone on in one form or another well before any of us were born. It possibly started centuries ago. A pagan festival that the valley held on to. In truth though, I suppose we’re celebrating nature. After all, nature and this earth were here long before anything else.”
Despite his Catholic upbringing shrieking and clutching its rosary at the concept, Evan rather liked the sound of the whole thing. “It’s been some time since I went to a proper festival. I have to say I’m looking forward to it.” He mentally brought up a calendar and was relieved to discover that the full moon was the night after the festival.
“I imagine you’ll be helping Hannah with her drinks booth?” Portia asked coming back by his table with a bowl of beef stew.
Evan’s eyes widened. “Her what?”
“The Sheep and Crow always have a booth at the festival with samples of local ales from all over Wales,” Portia said. “She could probably use a nice sturdy young man such as yourself to help keep things under control.”
“Are you saying she needs a bouncer?” Evan asked before taking a bite of stew and nearly groaning aloud at the rich flavour of the beef.
“Oh, is that the term?” Portia said innocently. “You should talk to her. How is she, by the way?”
Portia’s last question was phrased casually enough, but Evan could see the concern in her eyes over the ‘incident’ that occurred the week prior with Davis.
“She’s fine. Well, she says she’s fine,” Evan said staring into his bowl. “Loud noises make her jump, even though she tries to hide it.”
“You’ve been staying out at her house since it happened.” Portia wasn’t asking a question, merely stating a fact.
“I have,” he said. He met the older woman’s eyes. “Is that a problem?”
“Please. If Hannah wants you there, be there,” Portia said with smile.
“No, not that,” Evan said feeling his face flush. “I meant, uh, could me staying out there, ah, damage, um...”
“Evan, are you asking if you staying with Hannah, alone, in her house, will hurt her reputation and standing in the community?” The amused tone of Portia’s voice made Evan flush even more.
“I suppose I am,” he said stabbing at a piece of potato.
“Well, I’m hardly the woman to tell you anything about what a person should and shouldn’t do,” Portia said, “But I’m fairly sure that we are living in the twenty-first century and too many folks like Hannah and her family too much to ever think about saying anything against her. I’m pretty sure you’re safe.”
“Thanks,” he mumbled before eating more of his stew feeling somewhat like a teenager asking permission to date someone’s daughter.
“Don’t mention it,” Portia said her eyes sparkling with mirth. Then she left him to his lunch.
After he finished his lunch he gave a wave to Portia as well as a nice tip and went to his beat-up Range Rover to head out to Hannah’s house. The door creaked as he pulled it shut. The old thing had been sitting in Geraint the mechanic’s garage until Evan had bartered a full year of accounting as well as this and next year’s VAT returns for the thing. It had a tendency to ignore first gear and jump straight ahead to third, but it ran and that was good enough for Evan.
The old Rover trundled along the lane heading to the old Rees house and Hannah. She’d instructed him to come by after lunch and before his evening meeting with Stev Owens to go over the fishmonger’s accounts.
He pulled the truck in slowly, argued with the gear stick for a few minutes, then turned the engine off and headed inside.
“Hannah?” he called.
“In the kitchen!”
Evan walked through the house, unconsciously relaxing as he breathed in the scents of cinnamon and bergamot. He found Hannah in the kitchen staring with narrowed eyes at some clothes on the kitchen table.
“What is your opinion on waistcoats?” she asked him over her shoulder.
“I have to say I don’t have any strong opinions on waistcoats other than I’ve never seen anyone wear them outside of a panto, why?” he asked coming to stand next to her.
“Well, you’re planning on asking me if I’d like you to be my bouncer for the festival and I need to know how much you’re willing to look the part.” She turned and face him with a smile.
Evan blinked. “That is frightening. Are you and the Smythe’s psychically linked?”
“Nope,” she said. “You’re just that predictable. So! Waistcoats!”
“Right. Hit me.”
She did. With a grey and blue plaid waistcoat right to the face. Evan chuckled and removing his jacket, tried it on. Hannah approached him and with a critical eye, she adjusted the fit and smoothed it over his chest. Evan tried not to stare at her lips or her smooth neck or imagine what she might taste like. He didn’t do a very good job, but he did try.
“Not bad, not bad,” she said. She gave him another one of her assessing looks and asked, “How far are you willing to go?”
“All the way,” he said without thinking, his voice low and his eyes going a bit dark.
Hannah’s eyes widened and she blushed, but she turned it into a glare and said, “I meant, are you comfortable with a hat?”
“Bring it on,” he said. “Michaels men are well-known for appreciating a good hat.”
She grinned and turned to pull something out of a cloth bag sitting next to the table. She pulled out a proper black bowler hat complete with a faded ribbon wrapped around the base just above the brim. Evan laughed with sincere pleasure.
“That’s a fantastic find,” he said. “Seriously. What a thing.”
Hannah smiled brightly. “Try it on,” she said handing it to him.
Evan placed the hat on his head and it felt incredibly right perched atop his head, the brim settling comfortably against his brow. He stepped out into the hallway to take a look at himself and grinned at his reflection in the mirror.
Hannah appeared in the mirror behind him, her grin matching his.
“Well, don’t you look like a proper bruiser,” she said.
“I’m a hooligan to the core, me darlin’,” he said laying the Irish lilt on thick. Hannah laughed and clapped her hands.
“Oh, you’re perfect!” she said. “The Sheep and Crow hasn’t had a proper bouncer since my uncle.”
She continued to smile and her voice turned fond. She ran a hand over his shoulder, tracing the seam of the waistcoat. “My grandfather Collen always wore this to the festival and then Aunt Gwendi gave them to Uncle Don to wear.”
Her eyes met Evan’s in the mirror. And now I’m giving them to you, went unsaid, but the words were there, in the moment, clear as day and heavy with feeling.
“I’m honoured,” Evan said, his throat feeling thick and the urge to touch her increasing tenfold. Hannah nodded and still holding his gaze with hers through the mirror, leaned forward and kissed his cheek.
“Thank you,” she said next to his ear. She pulled away before he could do anything, like say ‘you’re welcome’ or reach for her hand, or pull her to him and carry her upstairs to the massive bed he knew was in her bedroom.
“Now, we go look for rocks!” she said with far more enthusiasm than he thought rocks called for.
“Pardon?” he asked following her back to the kitchen, taking the waistcoat off as he went.
“Elinor needs very specific white rocks for her stand display and can’t be bothered to go into the woods to the quarry to get them,” Hannah said. “Whereas I can. So...rocks!”
“Right, why not,” Evan said, reluctantly taking the bowler hat off of his head. With a gentleness that made Hannah stare at him, he placed it back into its cloth bag.
“You know,” she said, her eyes following his actions, “I’m really quite glad you ended up on my porch. In case I hadn’t said it before.”
He straightened and felt a flush coming on. “I’m rather glad it was your porch I ended up on as well.”
Hannah nodded and gave him a little smile, then with a sharp turn on her heel, she headed out the kitchen door. Evan stood there for a moment, just staring at the open door. Then he heard, “You coming or not?”
He grinned and headed out the door after her.
Hannah fought the urge to take her boots off as she headed into the woods, Evan close behind her. But, there was a chill in the air and as much as she loved to wander the woods in her bare feet, she didn’t want to chance an injury or a cold.
Like she’d ever had either after a good day’s romp in the forest.
Evan didn’t say a word, but she knew he was watching her and the surroundings carefully. She wondered if he knew how much more observant he got closer to the full moon. How much more his eyes studied people and how his movements became more sure and well, graceful. She’d bet that he had no clue and wondered if the changes he made would bother him?
Hmmm. Something to ask him. At some point.
She continued to move through the woods, a smile gracing her lips. As they approached a small brook, Hannah picked up her pace and lightly hopped onto the same steady stones she’d been using for years.
A small splash behind her made her turn her head. Evan stood grimacing at his wet trainer, obviously a casualty of a bad step on a stone. He met her eyes.
“Not a word, MacNeil,” he warned.
“Heaven forbid, Michaels,” she said fluttering her eyes innocently. Evan snorted and she grinned.
They kept walking, Evan beside her, the back of his hand brushing against hers. Eventually, Hannah reached over and slipped her fingers through his. She caught a glimpse of a smile on his face and she bit her lip, trying to contain the massive amount of pleasure and contentment that was bursting throughout her body.
Finally, Evan asked, “May I ask where exactly where we’re off to?”
“The old quarry,” Hannah said. “Once upon a time, a beautiful young woman with hair as white as snow went for a swim in what was eventually turned into the quarry pond. She swam in it every day before meeting with her lover. However, a very bad man that she had spurned who was actually a dark, evil wizard followed her one day. He asked her once again to marry him, but she said no. So, he aimed his dark magic at her, magic that was going to erase her completely from existence. But, her lover appeared and with a cry, managed to deflect some of evil magic away.”
Hannah could feel Evan staring at her now, completely caught up in the story, so she continued. “The evil magic reflected off the surface of the water and struck the wizard in a mortal blow. Sadly, parts of the curse hit the young woman and she died, there in the water, held in her lover’s arms. But, rather than disappear completely from the world, each strand of her hair curled up and became a pure, white stone.”
Hannah felt a tug on her hand and realized that Evan had stopped walking. She faced him. His face was a study in wonder and bewilderment and he appeared to be struggling for words.
“How---? Where---?” he said.
“It’s just a story, Evan,” she said, feeling bemused. “We’ve got tons in the valley. They’ve been told to everyone and everyone tells everyone else. Besides, isn’t that a better story to tell than, ‘Oh, yeah, those rocks are here because there’s actually a vein of quartz running through the ground.’?”
“Oh, it certainly is,” he said. He shook his head. “I’ve never, never been around so much fantasy in my life. I mean...” He ran his free hand through his hair and looked around the woods. “A part of me is really just, scoffing at the whole thing and is just ready run. The other part of me...”
Evan trailed off and seemingly stared at nothing. Hannah prodded him by taking a step closer and said softly, “The other part of you--what?”
He turned to meet her gaze. She felt her heart stutter in her chest at the look of, oh wow, yeah, that was desire she saw. No doubt about that. Desire and maybe a little bit of resignation?
“The other part of me wants to devour it whole,” he said. “All of the stories, all of the traditions, all of the history. Learn all of it, make it a part of me forever.”
“Is that a bad thing?” she asked unsteadily.
Evan took a step closer to her, his face so very close to hers, his eyes a deep green with gold flecks staring into hers. “No. I don’t find it to be a bad thing at all, Hannah MacNeil.”
She leaned into him and was about to close her eyes when a loud shriek had her jerking away.
Evan tightened his grip on her hand and actually pulled her behind him and he stared down the path towards the quarry.
Eventually, he relaxed and chuckled. “I think there are some kids playing by the quarry pool.”
Hannah sighed and gave a bit of a laugh. “Not surprising. I used to do that myself.”
He turned his head to look at her and she noticed the gold in his eyes was more pronounced and made a mental note to tell him just how wolfy he was getting with only three days to go until the full moon. He opened his mouth to say something, but another shriek followed by laughter interrupted him. Evan rolled his eyes and his shoulders slumped.
Hannah pushed his shoulder. “The rocks are this way, wolfman.” Still holding onto his hand, she headed towards the water.
“You know,” she said. “That was a pretty impressive move just then. That whole pull-the-girl-behind-me, protective thing.”
“Oh, uh, thank you?” Evan said looking at her out of the corner of his eye.
“You do know you change a bit the closer we get to the full moon?” she asked, sensing him stiffen the second the words were out.
“Do I?” he asked, his voice low and tense.
“Not in a bad way,” she said quickly. “Just...it’s little things. Your hearing, the way you look around more. Like your instincts sharpen or something.”
The quarry pool was just ahead of them and Hannah could see a couple of kids from the village splashing about on the edge of it, skipping stones and shouting.
“They do sharpen,” Evan said, his grip strong on her hand, but his voice so soft she almost missed it. “I didn’t think anyone else noticed.”
“Well, they probably haven’t,” she said. “I just happen to be looking. And you may take that statement any which way you wish.”
Evan turned his head and gave her a smirk. “I may do just that.”
“Hey Hannah!” a chorus of voices called out.
Hannah turned and waved to the kids at the pool. “Hey trouble-makers! What’s on the mischief-making agenda today?”
The next hour was spent showing the kids how to properly skip stones and then a search for the specific white ones Elinor had requested. Hannah had laughed and smiled and felt more at ease than she had in a while. When she had enough rocks to satisfy Elinor, the kids yelled their good-byes and ran off into the woods.
Evan smiled and sent a stone skipping cleanly across the pool. Hannah nodded in appreciation. “Eight skips. Not bad, Michaels. I’m impressed.”
“Used to do this every summer,” he said searching the shore for another flat stone. “We’d head out of the city to my gran’s place. My brother and I would spend all day throwing each other in the lake and trying to outdo each other in various manly pursuits.”
“Who won?” Hannah asked.
“Oh, he did, easily,” Evan said with a grin. “He was older, taller, bigger. However, I was faster. The summer I finally beat him in running was one of the greatest summers of my life.”
“Do you miss him?”
Evan hesitated before throwing the stone. “I think I might.” He threw the stone and Hannah followed its path across the water. “I haven’t the foggiest idea of how to tell him everything though.”
He stared out across the pool, looking lost, his hands hanging limply by his sides. Hannah walked over to him and took a hand in hers. She leaned against his side and rested her chin on his shoulder. Evan turned his head so that his lips pressed against her forehead. They simply breathed in the late afternoon air.
Eventually, Hannah broke the silence with, “Do you see that oak tree over there? The big one with the large roots?”
“Yeah.”
“My Aunt Gwendi was conceived in that very spot.”
Evan’s laughter burst out of him and echoed around the quarry. “Was she indeed?”
“Yep,” Hannah said smiling. “It was a very good night or so I was told.”
“Well, I’ve always been partial to a nice sturdy cedar as opposed to oak, but when the mood’s right...” Evan shrugged. Hannah laughed and shoved him. He chuckled and turned to follow her as she started towards the path.
A loud caw drew his attention and he looked over to find a large raven perched on an old wooden sign warning people not to swim in the pool. The raven cocked his head to the right and seemed to stare at Evan. It let out another loud caw.
“Oh, yeah? So’s your ma,” Evan said to it. Hannah snorted and Evan was grinning when he caught up with her.
As they disappeared into the woods, the raven cocked its head to the left and cawed again.
Brenley of the Glenlings was not the sharpest fork in the picnic basket. Oh, he was kind and sweet and loved a good bash-up as much as the next basher-upper, but he was lacking, shall we say...street smarts.
It had never occurred to him in his long life (by the way, never ask a Glenling how long that life actually is, you’ll get an entire life’s history, complete with footnotes, an appendix and several demonstrations and skits) that a person would deliberately tell him something that was not the complete truth. To put it simply, Brenley was a gullible little bugger and would believe anything you told him.
Therefore, the other Glenlings tended to keep an eye on him, make sure he didn’t go astray and start doing un-Glenling like things (like embroidery or cryptic crosswords or macrame, although they did like making nets to throw on people, hmmm...may have to re-think the stance on macrame).
Sadly, you can’t watch someone all the time.
Brenley walked thoughtfully through the forest on the eastern side of Cwm Alaw. He was in search of something amazing. Something useful. Something pointy. Something blunt. Well, to be honest, he was actually just rambling, but it always sounds better to say that you are looking for something should anyone ask. Not that Brenley was expecting anyone to ask. Which is of course, the precise time someone did ask.
“Hello, Glenling brother,” a voice said from just above Brenley’s head. “What are we looking for today?”
Brenley took a step back and looked up.
Sitting on a fallen tree trunk, next to a lovely batch of moss and lichen, was a man. At least, Brenley thought he was a man. He was shaped like a man, with the requisite arms, legs, nose, head, and ears in all the correct places. But, something was just that tiny bit off and it made Brenley think he was not quite human.
The not-quite-human smiled at Brenley and Brenley smiled back without reserve. After all, it wasn’t like Brenley was human either.
“I’m looking for something,” Brenley informed the not-quite-human. “It’s most important.”
“Ah, yes, I see,” the not-quite-human replied. “The ever important something. What will you do with it when you find it?”
“Take it to the festival,” Brenley said bouncing lightly on his toes. “We’ve been invited.”
“What would a festival be without Glenlings to make sure the ale gets the proper attention?” the not-quite-human said with a smile that didn’t quite reach his eyes. But then, his eyes were very light and his lashes and brows were very dark, and with lashes as dark as his, it wasn’t surprising nothing ever made it past that barrier to his eyes.
“Why are you in the forest today? What are you looking for?” Brenley asked.
“You, my good man,” the not-quite-human said.
“Me?” Brenley asked, his green eyes wide with surprise.
“Yes, you. You see,” the not-quite-human said looking very sad, “I cannot attend the festival, a prior engagement, you understand.”
Brenley didn’t, but he nodded as though he did.
“And although I cannot attend, I wanted to give something to the festival and the people in my absence,” the not-quite-human continued. He gave Brenley a penetrating look. “Do you think you are Glenling enough to be my messenger?”
The Glenling puffed up his chest. “I am a Glenling, sir. The most Glenling-est Glenling who ever Glenling-ed.”
The not-quite-human smiled brightly revealing a handsome smile and perfect teeth. Perhaps too perfect, if one stared long enough. Teeth are supposed to uneven to help with the mastication of food. The not-quite-human’s teeth looked like teeth look in a picture book. As in, not real. But, Brenley wasn’t looking very closely and he wanted to know more about being a messenger.
“Well, that is precisely the type of man I’m looking for,” the not-quite-human said cheerfully, his voice as smooth and thick as honey poured into tea. “Now, it’s very simple. It’s a word. Well, two words.”
“Words?” Brenley was very confused. A something was supposed to be a something, not words. Which were something, but of a different sort.
“That’s right, words,” the not-quite-human said. He looked up into the trees and seemed to get lost watching the movement of the clouds above. “Just two little words,” he said quietly, a small secret smile on his face. He turned back to Brenley. “Tripudio demens.”
“Say what now?” Brenley asked frowning and hooking a thumb in the pocket of his coveralls.
“Tripudio demens,” the not-quite-human repeated. “All you have to do is go to the festival with your brothers and say that to anyone you like. Anyone that looks like they should be having more fun or should be laughing, say the magic words to them and their mood will turn right around and they’ll start to dance.”
“Really? Them words’ll make the person dance? Even if they hate dancin’?” Brenley asked.
The not-quite-human nodded and pointed at a little sapling near Brenley’s foot. “Try it out.”
Brenley looked at the not-quite-human and then at the sapling with its three small branches and the sum total of seven leaves that was standing tiny and proud out of the earth. The Glenling took a deep breath and said, almost conversationally, ”Tripudio demens.”
The sapling shook itself all over, a trembling little vibration that started below the ground in its roots, then up the thin brown trunk and out the three branches to shake each and every leaf. All seven of them. Brenley laughed and shook his head at the sight of the sapling shaking and jerking about every which way.
Brenley looked up at the not-quite-human. “Those are some words.”
“They are indeed, my friend,” the not-quite-human said. “Will you take on this mission? Will you be my messenger?”
“It would be my honour,” Brenley said proudly. “In fact, I’ll go practice on the rhododendrons in the valley next door.”
“A good plan,” the not-quite-human said smiling once again that smile that couldn’t reach his eyes. “Thank you, Brenley of the Glenlings.”
Brenley saluted him and left.
The not-quite-human chuckled and ran a hand over his thick black hair. He looked down at the little sapling still shaking and jerking furiously, all of its leaves scattered on the ground.
The not-quite-human chuckled again and looking up once more into the sky, he shed his human form and took to the air.
A large black feather drifted down to land amongst the scattered leaves.
Part Two
Next time in Cwm Alaw...
Evan tightened his hold on her waist and tears streamed down Hannah’s face and her mouth was open as she gasped in breaths. He firmly cupped the back of her head and tried to hold her in place, but she was too caught up in the spell and her head jerked out of his hand.
“No!” he shouted. “Stay with me!”
“Can’t!” she said. “Evan, let-- me go--.”
Fandom: Teeth, Claws and Guinness
Ship: Various original pairings
Word Count: 4,313
Rating: PG-13
Disclaimer: They are, well, actually, these guys are mine. All of them. I did borrow a set of characters from Terry Pratchett. However, if you ask them, they’ll say they were their own to begin with and he borrowed them. Either way, no infringement meant! Also the title comes from Evacuate the dance floor by Cascada. Yeah, I know, shut up.
A/N: This has been beta'd by the fabulous
fringedweller. I hope to have the second part up later this week! Summary: The Autumn Festival in Cwm Alaw has always been known for food, games, mischief and dancing. However, no one ever expected this.
evacuate the dance floor.
i’m infected by the sound.
stop.
this beat is killing me.
music take me underground.
Cwm Alaw didn’t celebrate Halloween, precisely.
No, they celebrated the Autumn Festival.
No big name, no attachments to any particular religion/belief/deity/etc, just the Autumn Festival.
“It goes on all night the third night of the month of November,” Portia said as she poured Evan a cup of tea when he came into the cafe for lunch. He’d been looking a bit bewildered at the way the village seemed to explode in decorations and posters overnight. Portia had to explain the festival to him. “It’s a combination of Mischief Night and a few other holidays that occur in November. It’s also something to break up the monotony of the autumn. All the shopkeepers have a stand and there’s dancing and games and a maze.” Her smile was nostalgic as she said, “It actually began several years ago and has gone on in one form or another well before any of us were born. It possibly started centuries ago. A pagan festival that the valley held on to. In truth though, I suppose we’re celebrating nature. After all, nature and this earth were here long before anything else.”
Despite his Catholic upbringing shrieking and clutching its rosary at the concept, Evan rather liked the sound of the whole thing. “It’s been some time since I went to a proper festival. I have to say I’m looking forward to it.” He mentally brought up a calendar and was relieved to discover that the full moon was the night after the festival.
“I imagine you’ll be helping Hannah with her drinks booth?” Portia asked coming back by his table with a bowl of beef stew.
Evan’s eyes widened. “Her what?”
“The Sheep and Crow always have a booth at the festival with samples of local ales from all over Wales,” Portia said. “She could probably use a nice sturdy young man such as yourself to help keep things under control.”
“Are you saying she needs a bouncer?” Evan asked before taking a bite of stew and nearly groaning aloud at the rich flavour of the beef.
“Oh, is that the term?” Portia said innocently. “You should talk to her. How is she, by the way?”
Portia’s last question was phrased casually enough, but Evan could see the concern in her eyes over the ‘incident’ that occurred the week prior with Davis.
“She’s fine. Well, she says she’s fine,” Evan said staring into his bowl. “Loud noises make her jump, even though she tries to hide it.”
“You’ve been staying out at her house since it happened.” Portia wasn’t asking a question, merely stating a fact.
“I have,” he said. He met the older woman’s eyes. “Is that a problem?”
“Please. If Hannah wants you there, be there,” Portia said with smile.
“No, not that,” Evan said feeling his face flush. “I meant, uh, could me staying out there, ah, damage, um...”
“Evan, are you asking if you staying with Hannah, alone, in her house, will hurt her reputation and standing in the community?” The amused tone of Portia’s voice made Evan flush even more.
“I suppose I am,” he said stabbing at a piece of potato.
“Well, I’m hardly the woman to tell you anything about what a person should and shouldn’t do,” Portia said, “But I’m fairly sure that we are living in the twenty-first century and too many folks like Hannah and her family too much to ever think about saying anything against her. I’m pretty sure you’re safe.”
“Thanks,” he mumbled before eating more of his stew feeling somewhat like a teenager asking permission to date someone’s daughter.
“Don’t mention it,” Portia said her eyes sparkling with mirth. Then she left him to his lunch.
After he finished his lunch he gave a wave to Portia as well as a nice tip and went to his beat-up Range Rover to head out to Hannah’s house. The door creaked as he pulled it shut. The old thing had been sitting in Geraint the mechanic’s garage until Evan had bartered a full year of accounting as well as this and next year’s VAT returns for the thing. It had a tendency to ignore first gear and jump straight ahead to third, but it ran and that was good enough for Evan.
The old Rover trundled along the lane heading to the old Rees house and Hannah. She’d instructed him to come by after lunch and before his evening meeting with Stev Owens to go over the fishmonger’s accounts.
He pulled the truck in slowly, argued with the gear stick for a few minutes, then turned the engine off and headed inside.
“Hannah?” he called.
“In the kitchen!”
Evan walked through the house, unconsciously relaxing as he breathed in the scents of cinnamon and bergamot. He found Hannah in the kitchen staring with narrowed eyes at some clothes on the kitchen table.
“What is your opinion on waistcoats?” she asked him over her shoulder.
“I have to say I don’t have any strong opinions on waistcoats other than I’ve never seen anyone wear them outside of a panto, why?” he asked coming to stand next to her.
“Well, you’re planning on asking me if I’d like you to be my bouncer for the festival and I need to know how much you’re willing to look the part.” She turned and face him with a smile.
Evan blinked. “That is frightening. Are you and the Smythe’s psychically linked?”
“Nope,” she said. “You’re just that predictable. So! Waistcoats!”
“Right. Hit me.”
She did. With a grey and blue plaid waistcoat right to the face. Evan chuckled and removing his jacket, tried it on. Hannah approached him and with a critical eye, she adjusted the fit and smoothed it over his chest. Evan tried not to stare at her lips or her smooth neck or imagine what she might taste like. He didn’t do a very good job, but he did try.
“Not bad, not bad,” she said. She gave him another one of her assessing looks and asked, “How far are you willing to go?”
“All the way,” he said without thinking, his voice low and his eyes going a bit dark.
Hannah’s eyes widened and she blushed, but she turned it into a glare and said, “I meant, are you comfortable with a hat?”
“Bring it on,” he said. “Michaels men are well-known for appreciating a good hat.”
She grinned and turned to pull something out of a cloth bag sitting next to the table. She pulled out a proper black bowler hat complete with a faded ribbon wrapped around the base just above the brim. Evan laughed with sincere pleasure.
“That’s a fantastic find,” he said. “Seriously. What a thing.”
Hannah smiled brightly. “Try it on,” she said handing it to him.
Evan placed the hat on his head and it felt incredibly right perched atop his head, the brim settling comfortably against his brow. He stepped out into the hallway to take a look at himself and grinned at his reflection in the mirror.
Hannah appeared in the mirror behind him, her grin matching his.
“Well, don’t you look like a proper bruiser,” she said.
“I’m a hooligan to the core, me darlin’,” he said laying the Irish lilt on thick. Hannah laughed and clapped her hands.
“Oh, you’re perfect!” she said. “The Sheep and Crow hasn’t had a proper bouncer since my uncle.”
She continued to smile and her voice turned fond. She ran a hand over his shoulder, tracing the seam of the waistcoat. “My grandfather Collen always wore this to the festival and then Aunt Gwendi gave them to Uncle Don to wear.”
Her eyes met Evan’s in the mirror. And now I’m giving them to you, went unsaid, but the words were there, in the moment, clear as day and heavy with feeling.
“I’m honoured,” Evan said, his throat feeling thick and the urge to touch her increasing tenfold. Hannah nodded and still holding his gaze with hers through the mirror, leaned forward and kissed his cheek.
“Thank you,” she said next to his ear. She pulled away before he could do anything, like say ‘you’re welcome’ or reach for her hand, or pull her to him and carry her upstairs to the massive bed he knew was in her bedroom.
“Now, we go look for rocks!” she said with far more enthusiasm than he thought rocks called for.
“Pardon?” he asked following her back to the kitchen, taking the waistcoat off as he went.
“Elinor needs very specific white rocks for her stand display and can’t be bothered to go into the woods to the quarry to get them,” Hannah said. “Whereas I can. So...rocks!”
“Right, why not,” Evan said, reluctantly taking the bowler hat off of his head. With a gentleness that made Hannah stare at him, he placed it back into its cloth bag.
“You know,” she said, her eyes following his actions, “I’m really quite glad you ended up on my porch. In case I hadn’t said it before.”
He straightened and felt a flush coming on. “I’m rather glad it was your porch I ended up on as well.”
Hannah nodded and gave him a little smile, then with a sharp turn on her heel, she headed out the kitchen door. Evan stood there for a moment, just staring at the open door. Then he heard, “You coming or not?”
He grinned and headed out the door after her.
Hannah fought the urge to take her boots off as she headed into the woods, Evan close behind her. But, there was a chill in the air and as much as she loved to wander the woods in her bare feet, she didn’t want to chance an injury or a cold.
Like she’d ever had either after a good day’s romp in the forest.
Evan didn’t say a word, but she knew he was watching her and the surroundings carefully. She wondered if he knew how much more observant he got closer to the full moon. How much more his eyes studied people and how his movements became more sure and well, graceful. She’d bet that he had no clue and wondered if the changes he made would bother him?
Hmmm. Something to ask him. At some point.
She continued to move through the woods, a smile gracing her lips. As they approached a small brook, Hannah picked up her pace and lightly hopped onto the same steady stones she’d been using for years.
A small splash behind her made her turn her head. Evan stood grimacing at his wet trainer, obviously a casualty of a bad step on a stone. He met her eyes.
“Not a word, MacNeil,” he warned.
“Heaven forbid, Michaels,” she said fluttering her eyes innocently. Evan snorted and she grinned.
They kept walking, Evan beside her, the back of his hand brushing against hers. Eventually, Hannah reached over and slipped her fingers through his. She caught a glimpse of a smile on his face and she bit her lip, trying to contain the massive amount of pleasure and contentment that was bursting throughout her body.
Finally, Evan asked, “May I ask where exactly where we’re off to?”
“The old quarry,” Hannah said. “Once upon a time, a beautiful young woman with hair as white as snow went for a swim in what was eventually turned into the quarry pond. She swam in it every day before meeting with her lover. However, a very bad man that she had spurned who was actually a dark, evil wizard followed her one day. He asked her once again to marry him, but she said no. So, he aimed his dark magic at her, magic that was going to erase her completely from existence. But, her lover appeared and with a cry, managed to deflect some of evil magic away.”
Hannah could feel Evan staring at her now, completely caught up in the story, so she continued. “The evil magic reflected off the surface of the water and struck the wizard in a mortal blow. Sadly, parts of the curse hit the young woman and she died, there in the water, held in her lover’s arms. But, rather than disappear completely from the world, each strand of her hair curled up and became a pure, white stone.”
Hannah felt a tug on her hand and realized that Evan had stopped walking. She faced him. His face was a study in wonder and bewilderment and he appeared to be struggling for words.
“How---? Where---?” he said.
“It’s just a story, Evan,” she said, feeling bemused. “We’ve got tons in the valley. They’ve been told to everyone and everyone tells everyone else. Besides, isn’t that a better story to tell than, ‘Oh, yeah, those rocks are here because there’s actually a vein of quartz running through the ground.’?”
“Oh, it certainly is,” he said. He shook his head. “I’ve never, never been around so much fantasy in my life. I mean...” He ran his free hand through his hair and looked around the woods. “A part of me is really just, scoffing at the whole thing and is just ready run. The other part of me...”
Evan trailed off and seemingly stared at nothing. Hannah prodded him by taking a step closer and said softly, “The other part of you--what?”
He turned to meet her gaze. She felt her heart stutter in her chest at the look of, oh wow, yeah, that was desire she saw. No doubt about that. Desire and maybe a little bit of resignation?
“The other part of me wants to devour it whole,” he said. “All of the stories, all of the traditions, all of the history. Learn all of it, make it a part of me forever.”
“Is that a bad thing?” she asked unsteadily.
Evan took a step closer to her, his face so very close to hers, his eyes a deep green with gold flecks staring into hers. “No. I don’t find it to be a bad thing at all, Hannah MacNeil.”
She leaned into him and was about to close her eyes when a loud shriek had her jerking away.
Evan tightened his grip on her hand and actually pulled her behind him and he stared down the path towards the quarry.
Eventually, he relaxed and chuckled. “I think there are some kids playing by the quarry pool.”
Hannah sighed and gave a bit of a laugh. “Not surprising. I used to do that myself.”
He turned his head to look at her and she noticed the gold in his eyes was more pronounced and made a mental note to tell him just how wolfy he was getting with only three days to go until the full moon. He opened his mouth to say something, but another shriek followed by laughter interrupted him. Evan rolled his eyes and his shoulders slumped.
Hannah pushed his shoulder. “The rocks are this way, wolfman.” Still holding onto his hand, she headed towards the water.
“You know,” she said. “That was a pretty impressive move just then. That whole pull-the-girl-behind-me, protective thing.”
“Oh, uh, thank you?” Evan said looking at her out of the corner of his eye.
“You do know you change a bit the closer we get to the full moon?” she asked, sensing him stiffen the second the words were out.
“Do I?” he asked, his voice low and tense.
“Not in a bad way,” she said quickly. “Just...it’s little things. Your hearing, the way you look around more. Like your instincts sharpen or something.”
The quarry pool was just ahead of them and Hannah could see a couple of kids from the village splashing about on the edge of it, skipping stones and shouting.
“They do sharpen,” Evan said, his grip strong on her hand, but his voice so soft she almost missed it. “I didn’t think anyone else noticed.”
“Well, they probably haven’t,” she said. “I just happen to be looking. And you may take that statement any which way you wish.”
Evan turned his head and gave her a smirk. “I may do just that.”
“Hey Hannah!” a chorus of voices called out.
Hannah turned and waved to the kids at the pool. “Hey trouble-makers! What’s on the mischief-making agenda today?”
The next hour was spent showing the kids how to properly skip stones and then a search for the specific white ones Elinor had requested. Hannah had laughed and smiled and felt more at ease than she had in a while. When she had enough rocks to satisfy Elinor, the kids yelled their good-byes and ran off into the woods.
Evan smiled and sent a stone skipping cleanly across the pool. Hannah nodded in appreciation. “Eight skips. Not bad, Michaels. I’m impressed.”
“Used to do this every summer,” he said searching the shore for another flat stone. “We’d head out of the city to my gran’s place. My brother and I would spend all day throwing each other in the lake and trying to outdo each other in various manly pursuits.”
“Who won?” Hannah asked.
“Oh, he did, easily,” Evan said with a grin. “He was older, taller, bigger. However, I was faster. The summer I finally beat him in running was one of the greatest summers of my life.”
“Do you miss him?”
Evan hesitated before throwing the stone. “I think I might.” He threw the stone and Hannah followed its path across the water. “I haven’t the foggiest idea of how to tell him everything though.”
He stared out across the pool, looking lost, his hands hanging limply by his sides. Hannah walked over to him and took a hand in hers. She leaned against his side and rested her chin on his shoulder. Evan turned his head so that his lips pressed against her forehead. They simply breathed in the late afternoon air.
Eventually, Hannah broke the silence with, “Do you see that oak tree over there? The big one with the large roots?”
“Yeah.”
“My Aunt Gwendi was conceived in that very spot.”
Evan’s laughter burst out of him and echoed around the quarry. “Was she indeed?”
“Yep,” Hannah said smiling. “It was a very good night or so I was told.”
“Well, I’ve always been partial to a nice sturdy cedar as opposed to oak, but when the mood’s right...” Evan shrugged. Hannah laughed and shoved him. He chuckled and turned to follow her as she started towards the path.
A loud caw drew his attention and he looked over to find a large raven perched on an old wooden sign warning people not to swim in the pool. The raven cocked his head to the right and seemed to stare at Evan. It let out another loud caw.
“Oh, yeah? So’s your ma,” Evan said to it. Hannah snorted and Evan was grinning when he caught up with her.
As they disappeared into the woods, the raven cocked its head to the left and cawed again.
Brenley of the Glenlings was not the sharpest fork in the picnic basket. Oh, he was kind and sweet and loved a good bash-up as much as the next basher-upper, but he was lacking, shall we say...street smarts.
It had never occurred to him in his long life (by the way, never ask a Glenling how long that life actually is, you’ll get an entire life’s history, complete with footnotes, an appendix and several demonstrations and skits) that a person would deliberately tell him something that was not the complete truth. To put it simply, Brenley was a gullible little bugger and would believe anything you told him.
Therefore, the other Glenlings tended to keep an eye on him, make sure he didn’t go astray and start doing un-Glenling like things (like embroidery or cryptic crosswords or macrame, although they did like making nets to throw on people, hmmm...may have to re-think the stance on macrame).
Sadly, you can’t watch someone all the time.
Brenley walked thoughtfully through the forest on the eastern side of Cwm Alaw. He was in search of something amazing. Something useful. Something pointy. Something blunt. Well, to be honest, he was actually just rambling, but it always sounds better to say that you are looking for something should anyone ask. Not that Brenley was expecting anyone to ask. Which is of course, the precise time someone did ask.
“Hello, Glenling brother,” a voice said from just above Brenley’s head. “What are we looking for today?”
Brenley took a step back and looked up.
Sitting on a fallen tree trunk, next to a lovely batch of moss and lichen, was a man. At least, Brenley thought he was a man. He was shaped like a man, with the requisite arms, legs, nose, head, and ears in all the correct places. But, something was just that tiny bit off and it made Brenley think he was not quite human.
The not-quite-human smiled at Brenley and Brenley smiled back without reserve. After all, it wasn’t like Brenley was human either.
“I’m looking for something,” Brenley informed the not-quite-human. “It’s most important.”
“Ah, yes, I see,” the not-quite-human replied. “The ever important something. What will you do with it when you find it?”
“Take it to the festival,” Brenley said bouncing lightly on his toes. “We’ve been invited.”
“What would a festival be without Glenlings to make sure the ale gets the proper attention?” the not-quite-human said with a smile that didn’t quite reach his eyes. But then, his eyes were very light and his lashes and brows were very dark, and with lashes as dark as his, it wasn’t surprising nothing ever made it past that barrier to his eyes.
“Why are you in the forest today? What are you looking for?” Brenley asked.
“You, my good man,” the not-quite-human said.
“Me?” Brenley asked, his green eyes wide with surprise.
“Yes, you. You see,” the not-quite-human said looking very sad, “I cannot attend the festival, a prior engagement, you understand.”
Brenley didn’t, but he nodded as though he did.
“And although I cannot attend, I wanted to give something to the festival and the people in my absence,” the not-quite-human continued. He gave Brenley a penetrating look. “Do you think you are Glenling enough to be my messenger?”
The Glenling puffed up his chest. “I am a Glenling, sir. The most Glenling-est Glenling who ever Glenling-ed.”
The not-quite-human smiled brightly revealing a handsome smile and perfect teeth. Perhaps too perfect, if one stared long enough. Teeth are supposed to uneven to help with the mastication of food. The not-quite-human’s teeth looked like teeth look in a picture book. As in, not real. But, Brenley wasn’t looking very closely and he wanted to know more about being a messenger.
“Well, that is precisely the type of man I’m looking for,” the not-quite-human said cheerfully, his voice as smooth and thick as honey poured into tea. “Now, it’s very simple. It’s a word. Well, two words.”
“Words?” Brenley was very confused. A something was supposed to be a something, not words. Which were something, but of a different sort.
“That’s right, words,” the not-quite-human said. He looked up into the trees and seemed to get lost watching the movement of the clouds above. “Just two little words,” he said quietly, a small secret smile on his face. He turned back to Brenley. “Tripudio demens.”
“Say what now?” Brenley asked frowning and hooking a thumb in the pocket of his coveralls.
“Tripudio demens,” the not-quite-human repeated. “All you have to do is go to the festival with your brothers and say that to anyone you like. Anyone that looks like they should be having more fun or should be laughing, say the magic words to them and their mood will turn right around and they’ll start to dance.”
“Really? Them words’ll make the person dance? Even if they hate dancin’?” Brenley asked.
The not-quite-human nodded and pointed at a little sapling near Brenley’s foot. “Try it out.”
Brenley looked at the not-quite-human and then at the sapling with its three small branches and the sum total of seven leaves that was standing tiny and proud out of the earth. The Glenling took a deep breath and said, almost conversationally, ”Tripudio demens.”
The sapling shook itself all over, a trembling little vibration that started below the ground in its roots, then up the thin brown trunk and out the three branches to shake each and every leaf. All seven of them. Brenley laughed and shook his head at the sight of the sapling shaking and jerking about every which way.
Brenley looked up at the not-quite-human. “Those are some words.”
“They are indeed, my friend,” the not-quite-human said. “Will you take on this mission? Will you be my messenger?”
“It would be my honour,” Brenley said proudly. “In fact, I’ll go practice on the rhododendrons in the valley next door.”
“A good plan,” the not-quite-human said smiling once again that smile that couldn’t reach his eyes. “Thank you, Brenley of the Glenlings.”
Brenley saluted him and left.
The not-quite-human chuckled and ran a hand over his thick black hair. He looked down at the little sapling still shaking and jerking furiously, all of its leaves scattered on the ground.
The not-quite-human chuckled again and looking up once more into the sky, he shed his human form and took to the air.
A large black feather drifted down to land amongst the scattered leaves.
Part Two
Next time in Cwm Alaw...
Evan tightened his hold on her waist and tears streamed down Hannah’s face and her mouth was open as she gasped in breaths. He firmly cupped the back of her head and tried to hold her in place, but she was too caught up in the spell and her head jerked out of his hand.
“No!” he shouted. “Stay with me!”
“Can’t!” she said. “Evan, let-- me go--.”
![[identity profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/openid.png){kind=small}
no subject
Date: 2011-04-26 01:47 pm (UTC)no subject
Date: 2011-04-26 02:22 pm (UTC)no subject
Date: 2011-04-26 02:27 pm (UTC)no subject
Date: 2011-04-26 02:47 pm (UTC)no subject
Date: 2011-04-26 02:37 pm (UTC)no subject
Date: 2011-04-26 02:48 pm (UTC)no subject
Date: 2011-04-26 04:11 pm (UTC)no subject
Date: 2011-04-28 07:54 am (UTC)no subject
Date: 2011-04-27 02:36 pm (UTC)And that teaser is evil, btw.
no subject
Date: 2011-04-28 07:55 am (UTC)no subject
Date: 2011-04-28 07:54 am (UTC)no subject
Date: 2011-04-28 09:34 am (UTC)