*Return Owl to Sandburg*soho_angelAugust 6 2006, 06:05:58 UTC
Dear Mr. Sandburg,
I have likewise heard well of you, sir. And I do indeed love books--more than is good for me, according to Crowley. The Hogwarts library is a credit to the school and to you, which makes it all the more distressing to think I may have caused a problem there.
I'm afraid on my recent visit I was a bit more talkative than was strictly necessary, perhaps contributing to the disturbance mentioned by Professor Maturin, though I assure you it was unplanned and I did my best to keep my voice down to an appropriate volume. I will also note, in my own defense, that it is extremely difficult to remain quiet when one trips over a fellow student seated between the stacks and lands on a sore wing.
I apologize also if my note seemed a bit over-dramatic. The past few weeks have been exceedingly difficult, to the point that I have literally found myself getting into some sort of jam every time I venture out of the dorm, and it appears this time was no exception.
Any disciplinary measures you see fit to apply shall of course meet with no objection. I scarcely need add that it won't happen again, as I am giving serious thought to nailing my door shut and becoming the first hermit angel in history.
Speaking of noise, that thud you just heard was the sound of my head connecting with the wall.
(Are you a Seraphim?) My office. If I can keep sherry on hand for Crowley, I can keep tea on hand for you. And there's more than enough room for wingspace. I've indugled in a large office.
B.Sandburg (The Most Kind and Benevolent Librarian)
A Principality, actually, but why stand on ceremony? I'll be there shortly.
Aziraphale
---
A few minutes later, Aziraphale arrived at Sandburg's office, carrying a package of chocolate biscuits he'd miracled up and still feeling a bit wrung out. He'd been close to tears on discovering the notice in the hall, not because it would really be such a disaster to have the librarian and one Professor annoyed with him (if it had been directed at him at all, which he now suspected it wasn't,) but simply because it came on top of everything else.
The way things had been going lately, the man ought to rightfully fear for his teacups. But for a cuppa and a friendly (and non-volume-controlled) conversation with someone who wasn't right in the middle of everything, Aziraphale figured he could make one more attempt at socializing before he threw in the proverbial towel.
He knocked firmly at the librarian's door, and waited.
The door was opened by a very suspicious, scowling house elf, wrapped in a librarian curtain toga and eyeing the angel's pants.
"Yes?" It asked. It was now eyeing the package of biscuits with the air of someone who'd just discovered thirty year old dirty socks.
Pass the door came the faint sound of Indo-Cuban music, and the scent of clean hot steam from boiling water, the the fainter scent of an array of different teas.
"Hello," Aziraphale said, smiling at the House Elf, "my name is Aziraphale, and I have an invitation to join Mr. Sandburg for tea." He always tried to be as polite and friendly as possible to the House Elves; he wasn't among those who called for their liberation, as he knew a thing or three about willing servitude, but that made them no less worthy of respect and consideration than anyone else. "Would you be kind enough to inform him that I'm here, please?"
The house elf, pulled the door open more and sniffed. "He's expecting you."
Inside the office, which was indeed fairly large; with walls hidden behind book cases, except where one arched window stood clear revealing a view of the grounds; Blair was sitting behind his desk. Glasses on, he was reading through a set of owl mail, making notes.
A tray was on the desk, with a pot of hot water and a few canisters of tea leaves, two cups and other acutraments.
"Aziraphale." Blair said with a bit of hesitance. "Tell me I didn't just garble that like Klingon."
Aziraphale continued to smile, though he had the oddest feeling he'd just committed some obscure breach of etiquette. "Thank you."
"Good evening, Mr. Sandburg," he said a few moments later in answer to the librarian's greeting. "A touch more emphasis on the first syllable, perhaps, but you did quite well. Er." He paused fractionally. "Klingon?"
"Klingon, fictional alien language. It's quite popular. If I'd had the time a few years ago I might have picked it up. Maybe I will pick it up here. If I can find either a Klingon, or a book on the language. Please have a seat," Blair continued as he pushed his paperwork to one side.
"Pick a tea and are those chocolate ?" He asked, nodding to the tin.
"I've begun to wonder since coming to this place whether there is any such thing as fiction," Aziraphale said. Despite his wry tone, it wasn't a complaint; the enormous variety of living things, places, societies, even fundamental natural laws that were represented within the school, somehow co-existing where it ought to logically be impossible--it sometimes took his breath away.
"Thank you," he said, seating himself and studying the selection of teas. "Oh my, how lovely. Darjeeling, first flush, don't you think?
"And yes, they are," he added, setting the tin on the desk. "I didn't know your preference, of course, but if something else would be more appropriate they can easily be changed."
"Well there's quite a bit of fiction in the Library, but it doesn't seem to get checked out very often. Not many people think of asking for a pass to the restricted fiction section."
The house elf appeared at the table and began to portion out and pour for tea. James shot his assistant a grateful look that seemed to go ignored, except that Tally's frown seemed a little less firm.
"Change it? Why? It's a gift isn't it? You didn't have to bring anything. It was totally nice of you. Chocolate's more than fine."
"Well, it only seemed polite," Aziraphale said. He was a bit old-fashioned in that respect, as in so many others, and he deeply appreciated Sandburg's gracious manner.
"And I wanted to thank you for the invitation," he added, a touch ruefully, "and to assure you I am not always quite so neurotic as I must have come across in my letters. I oughtn't have jumped to conclusions. It was simply the most unfortunate timing..." He shook his head. "But tell me, did the young...gentleman so adamant about the permission slip get sorted out?"
"I'm sure he'll find a way to get one. He seemed very...determined."
Tally passed Aziraphale his tea and then passed Blair his cup, before giving a slight nod, and disappearing again, only to show up a few moments later with a plate.
"And I ...ok you did sound a bit in need of good, calming therapist. Which made me wonder who angels go to see. Or does G-d have a couch?" Blair smiled as warmly as he could. "Never mind, you'll probably tell me the same thing Crowley said. Or some version of if you told me you'd have to kill me. Or I'd probably die on the spot or something. And I as much fun as coming back is. Dying's painful. And not a really relaxing topic. What set you off though, if you don't mind me asking? This place can't be any stranger than heaven."
Aziraphale accepted his teacup with a murmur of thanks and sipped appreciatively at the delicious beverage as Sandburg spoke.
"You might be surprised," he said dryly. "The problem with Paradise is that it is, by definition, perfect, and therefore nothing unexpected or in any way out of the ordinary can ever happen. It gets very old very quickly. As for my own issues, though, it isn't the place per se, it's been a series of specific events. Have you spoken to Crowley at all recently?"
"Haven't seen Crowley in a little while. We had some sherry, well he did, I had tea, we talked books, he was..." Blair paused to find just the right verb. "Withdrawn." Blair shrugged and sipped his tea.
"It's actually very hard to try and psychoanyalze someone like Crowley. I don't remember any hissing though. What's wrong?"
I have likewise heard well of you, sir. And I do indeed love books--more than is good for me, according to Crowley. The Hogwarts library is a credit to the school and to you, which makes it all the more distressing to think I may have caused a problem there.
I'm afraid on my recent visit I was a bit more talkative than was strictly necessary, perhaps contributing to the disturbance mentioned by Professor Maturin, though I assure you it was unplanned and I did my best to keep my voice down to an appropriate volume. I will also note, in my own defense, that it is extremely difficult to remain quiet when one trips over a fellow student seated between the stacks and lands on a sore wing.
I apologize also if my note seemed a bit over-dramatic. The past few weeks have been exceedingly difficult, to the point that I have literally found myself getting into some sort of jam every time I venture out of the dorm, and it appears this time was no exception.
Any disciplinary measures you see fit to apply shall of course meet with no objection. I scarcely need add that it won't happen again, as I am giving serious thought to nailing my door shut and becoming the first hermit angel in history.
Speaking of noise, that thud you just heard was the sound of my head connecting with the wall.
Your servant,
Aziraphale
Reply
Tea?
B.Sandburg
Reply
Oh, you have no idea. When and where?
Aziraphale
Reply
(Are you a Seraphim?) My office. If I can keep sherry on hand for Crowley, I can keep tea on hand for you. And there's more than enough room for wingspace. I've indugled in a large office.
B.Sandburg (The Most Kind and Benevolent Librarian)
Reply
A Principality, actually, but why stand on ceremony? I'll be there shortly.
Aziraphale
---
A few minutes later, Aziraphale arrived at Sandburg's office, carrying a package of chocolate biscuits he'd miracled up and still feeling a bit wrung out. He'd been close to tears on discovering the notice in the hall, not because it would really be such a disaster to have the librarian and one Professor annoyed with him (if it had been directed at him at all, which he now suspected it wasn't,) but simply because it came on top of everything else.
The way things had been going lately, the man ought to rightfully fear for his teacups. But for a cuppa and a friendly (and non-volume-controlled) conversation with someone who wasn't right in the middle of everything, Aziraphale figured he could make one more attempt at socializing before he threw in the proverbial towel.
He knocked firmly at the librarian's door, and waited.
Reply
"Yes?" It asked. It was now eyeing the package of biscuits with the air of someone who'd just discovered thirty year old dirty socks.
Pass the door came the faint sound of Indo-Cuban music, and the scent of clean hot steam from boiling water, the the fainter scent of an array of different teas.
Reply
Reply
Inside the office, which was indeed fairly large; with walls hidden behind book cases, except where one arched window stood clear revealing a view of the grounds; Blair was sitting behind his desk. Glasses on, he was reading through a set of owl mail, making notes.
A tray was on the desk, with a pot of hot water and a few canisters of tea leaves, two cups and other acutraments.
"Aziraphale." Blair said with a bit of hesitance. "Tell me I didn't just garble that like Klingon."
Reply
"Good evening, Mr. Sandburg," he said a few moments later in answer to the librarian's greeting. "A touch more emphasis on the first syllable, perhaps, but you did quite well. Er." He paused fractionally. "Klingon?"
Reply
"Pick a tea and are those chocolate ?" He asked, nodding to the tin.
Reply
"Thank you," he said, seating himself and studying the selection of teas. "Oh my, how lovely. Darjeeling, first flush, don't you think?
"And yes, they are," he added, setting the tin on the desk. "I didn't know your preference, of course, but if something else would be more appropriate they can easily be changed."
Reply
The house elf appeared at the table and began to portion out and pour for tea. James shot his assistant a grateful look that seemed to go ignored, except that Tally's frown seemed a little less firm.
"Change it? Why? It's a gift isn't it? You didn't have to bring anything. It was totally nice of you. Chocolate's more than fine."
Reply
"And I wanted to thank you for the invitation," he added, a touch ruefully, "and to assure you I am not always quite so neurotic as I must have come across in my letters. I oughtn't have jumped to conclusions. It was simply the most unfortunate timing..." He shook his head. "But tell me, did the young...gentleman so adamant about the permission slip get sorted out?"
Reply
Tally passed Aziraphale his tea and then passed Blair his cup, before giving a slight nod, and disappearing again, only to show up a few moments later with a plate.
"And I ...ok you did sound a bit in need of good, calming therapist. Which made me wonder who angels go to see. Or does G-d have a couch?" Blair smiled as warmly as he could. "Never mind, you'll probably tell me the same thing Crowley said. Or some version of if you told me you'd have to kill me. Or I'd probably die on the spot or something. And I as much fun as coming back is. Dying's painful. And not a really relaxing topic. What set you off though, if you don't mind me asking? This place can't be any stranger than heaven."
Reply
"You might be surprised," he said dryly. "The problem with Paradise is that it is, by definition, perfect, and therefore nothing unexpected or in any way out of the ordinary can ever happen. It gets very old very quickly. As for my own issues, though, it isn't the place per se, it's been a series of specific events. Have you spoken to Crowley at all recently?"
Reply
"It's actually very hard to try and psychoanyalze someone like Crowley. I don't remember any hissing though. What's wrong?"
Reply
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