Overdue
Title: Overdue
Author: capt_facepalm
Rating: PG-13
Fandom: Discworld
Characters: Sam Vimes, the Librarian, Sybill Vimes (née Ramkin)
Summary: Prompt fill for Challenge 108 at great_tales
Warnings: (none)
Word Count: 750-ish
Author's Notes: I have not read all of Terry Pratchett's Discworld, but I love what I have read so far!
.oOOo.
There was a time when Sam Vimes (recently retired Captain of the City Watch[1]), would not be caught dead attending a gala at the Unseen University. Yet this night, he stood with an insincere smile pasted on his face, mingled, and made small talk with the other guests in the seven-and-a-half-sided Great Hall.
The unfamiliar comfort of his shoes made his feet ache, the silken smoothness of his tunic made his skin itch, and the plumes... well, he had drawn the line at plumes. It was a testament of his love for his wife, Lady Sybill, that he had even agreed to accompany her. Formal occasions were something he knew he would have to become accustomed to, marrying, as he had, well above his station. As a member of one of the oldest[2], and most respected[3] Ankh-Morpork families, Lady Sybill was a prominent supporter of the University and was naturally expected to attend many of their formal functions[4].
In one corner, a group of wizards were admiring the Chancellor’s new shoes and that brought Sam Vimes’ thoughts back to his own feet and their luxurious misery.
‘Whine. Whine. Give the dog a canapé.’
Sam absently slipped a cheesy nibbly to the scruffy mutt at his feet and turned to face his wife. Who was not there. She had disappeared. In her place hunched a large orangutan.
‘Ook.’
‘Oh, good evening, Librarian.’
‘Ook. Ook?’
‘No, I don’t know where Lady Sybill went to. But it can’t be far. She was just here.’
‘Ook. Ook. Ook.’
‘Now, really! I cannot imagine my wife violating the rules of the library. For one, she is always quiet and respectful when she visits your collection. Two: she always returns her materials no later than the last date shown, and three, she rarely, if ever, meddles with the nature of causality[5].’
‘Ook...’ the great ape’s long toes drummed on the ancient floor in agitation.
‘I’m sure there has been some mistake, but you should speak with her directly. What has she not returned?’
‘Ook eek. Ook eek.’
‘ “On the Origin of Sparkies: Evolution of Swampe Dragonnes?” Yes, that rather sounds like something she would borrow,’ Sam admitted. His wife’s love and devotion to the care of orphaned, abused, and neglected swamp dragons was only surpassed by her love for her husband.[6]
.oOOo.
‘You have aggravated the Librarian, Sybill,’ Sam said in the carriage as they returned to their estate. ‘I thought you knew better than to retain library materials past their return date. Now he’s going bananas over some dusty old tome about Revolutionary Dragons, or something.’
‘Oh dear. I thought that was what he was pursuing me about. It took all my social skills-’
‘-Guile and cunning-’
‘-What was that, Sam? As I was saying, I had to keep two steps ahead of him all evening. I’m positively worn out, and I have a very good reason for not returning it.’
‘Tell me?’
‘Better still, I’ll show you!’
.oOOo.
The footman held the door as the couple alighted from their carriage. Instead of going directly into the house, Sybill led Sam down to the small building that served as the kennel for rehabilitating swamp dragons. A red light shone from the far corner. As it was well past midnight, the several charges lay sleeping. Full bellies gurgled ominously and small sulphurous wisps emitted with every contented snore. Sybill and Sam made their way to the back corner of the hospice where the source of the red light was revealed.
It was not, as Sam had originally assumed, the light of a red-tinted lantern, but that of a magical fire, surrounding yet not consuming, an ancient-looking book, set for the safety of all, in a large brazier.
Sybill raised an eyebrow and said, ‘Everytime we try to close it or move it, the flames grow higher. There is nothing in its catalogue entry mentioning any magical properties associated with this book[7], yet now it is impossible to return.’
Her husband turned and made to leave.
‘Wait, Sam! What are you going to do?’
‘There are only two things we can do. The first is to send a message to the Librarian informing him that he is free to come and retrieve the book for himself at his earliest convenience.’
‘And the second thing?’
‘Retrieve the bag of marshmallows[8] from the pantry.’
Footnotes
[1] And consequently, considerably more involved with them than ever.
[2] Sybill was the last of the line of the House of Ramkin.
[3] Which is by means of saying, a family which managed to retain wealth and influence. (Also, filthy rich. This cannot be understated.)
[4] And attend all the ones where a donation was expected.
[5] As far as we know.
[6] On most days. Not the drinking-with-his-buddies-days. Nor, the brawling-with-his-buddies-days. Often, these were the same days.
[7] All standardised library classification systems have a provision for magical properties. Negligent cataloguing in this field is a criminal offense.
[8] Marshmallows, unbeknownst by all, are the one constant thing (other than L-Space) which unites all the known universes. Yumm!
.oOOo.
Please sign the flaming guestbook
Author: capt_facepalm
Rating: PG-13
Fandom: Discworld
Characters: Sam Vimes, the Librarian, Sybill Vimes (née Ramkin)
Summary: Prompt fill for Challenge 108 at great_tales
Warnings: (none)
Word Count: 750-ish
Author's Notes: I have not read all of Terry Pratchett's Discworld, but I love what I have read so far!
.oOOo.
There was a time when Sam Vimes (recently retired Captain of the City Watch[1]), would not be caught dead attending a gala at the Unseen University. Yet this night, he stood with an insincere smile pasted on his face, mingled, and made small talk with the other guests in the seven-and-a-half-sided Great Hall.
The unfamiliar comfort of his shoes made his feet ache, the silken smoothness of his tunic made his skin itch, and the plumes... well, he had drawn the line at plumes. It was a testament of his love for his wife, Lady Sybill, that he had even agreed to accompany her. Formal occasions were something he knew he would have to become accustomed to, marrying, as he had, well above his station. As a member of one of the oldest[2], and most respected[3] Ankh-Morpork families, Lady Sybill was a prominent supporter of the University and was naturally expected to attend many of their formal functions[4].
In one corner, a group of wizards were admiring the Chancellor’s new shoes and that brought Sam Vimes’ thoughts back to his own feet and their luxurious misery.
‘Whine. Whine. Give the dog a canapé.’
Sam absently slipped a cheesy nibbly to the scruffy mutt at his feet and turned to face his wife. Who was not there. She had disappeared. In her place hunched a large orangutan.
‘Ook.’
‘Oh, good evening, Librarian.’
‘Ook. Ook?’
‘No, I don’t know where Lady Sybill went to. But it can’t be far. She was just here.’
‘Ook. Ook. Ook.’
‘Now, really! I cannot imagine my wife violating the rules of the library. For one, she is always quiet and respectful when she visits your collection. Two: she always returns her materials no later than the last date shown, and three, she rarely, if ever, meddles with the nature of causality[5].’
‘Ook...’ the great ape’s long toes drummed on the ancient floor in agitation.
‘I’m sure there has been some mistake, but you should speak with her directly. What has she not returned?’
‘Ook eek. Ook eek.’
‘ “On the Origin of Sparkies: Evolution of Swampe Dragonnes?” Yes, that rather sounds like something she would borrow,’ Sam admitted. His wife’s love and devotion to the care of orphaned, abused, and neglected swamp dragons was only surpassed by her love for her husband.[6]
.oOOo.
‘You have aggravated the Librarian, Sybill,’ Sam said in the carriage as they returned to their estate. ‘I thought you knew better than to retain library materials past their return date. Now he’s going bananas over some dusty old tome about Revolutionary Dragons, or something.’
‘Oh dear. I thought that was what he was pursuing me about. It took all my social skills-’
‘-Guile and cunning-’
‘-What was that, Sam? As I was saying, I had to keep two steps ahead of him all evening. I’m positively worn out, and I have a very good reason for not returning it.’
‘Tell me?’
‘Better still, I’ll show you!’
.oOOo.
The footman held the door as the couple alighted from their carriage. Instead of going directly into the house, Sybill led Sam down to the small building that served as the kennel for rehabilitating swamp dragons. A red light shone from the far corner. As it was well past midnight, the several charges lay sleeping. Full bellies gurgled ominously and small sulphurous wisps emitted with every contented snore. Sybill and Sam made their way to the back corner of the hospice where the source of the red light was revealed.
It was not, as Sam had originally assumed, the light of a red-tinted lantern, but that of a magical fire, surrounding yet not consuming, an ancient-looking book, set for the safety of all, in a large brazier.
Sybill raised an eyebrow and said, ‘Everytime we try to close it or move it, the flames grow higher. There is nothing in its catalogue entry mentioning any magical properties associated with this book[7], yet now it is impossible to return.’
Her husband turned and made to leave.
‘Wait, Sam! What are you going to do?’
‘There are only two things we can do. The first is to send a message to the Librarian informing him that he is free to come and retrieve the book for himself at his earliest convenience.’
‘And the second thing?’
‘Retrieve the bag of marshmallows[8] from the pantry.’
Footnotes
[1] And consequently, considerably more involved with them than ever.
[2] Sybill was the last of the line of the House of Ramkin.
[3] Which is by means of saying, a family which managed to retain wealth and influence. (Also, filthy rich. This cannot be understated.)
[4] And attend all the ones where a donation was expected.
[5] As far as we know.
[6] On most days. Not the drinking-with-his-buddies-days. Nor, the brawling-with-his-buddies-days. Often, these were the same days.
[7] All standardised library classification systems have a provision for magical properties. Negligent cataloguing in this field is a criminal offense.
[8] Marshmallows, unbeknownst by all, are the one constant thing (other than L-Space) which unites all the known universes. Yumm!
.oOOo.
Please sign the flaming guestbook