Big Bang Fic: The Red Leather Trousers Escapade (9/17)
Title: The Red Leather Trousers Escapade (9/17)
Author: wingedflight21
Rating: K+
Word Count: ~24K
Disclaimer: The Chronicles of Narnia do not, never have, and most likely never will belong to me.
Possible Spoilers/Warnings: Occurs in an AU of The Silver Chair.
Author's Notes: A huge thanks to snitchnipped, rthstewart, and especially accidentalsquid as well as anyone else who helped me through these last few months and numerous chapters.
Summary: An assassination attempt gone wrong sends Jill and Eustace off to solve the mystery behind the attacks, all while playing dead. SCAUverse.
-X-
Chapter Eight
-X-
Her throat felt tight. All around, the terrorists were singing some ridiculous ditty about hats at the top of their lungs and Eustace was right in the middle of it. Completely oblivious, too. She wondered how much he had had to drink. Even worse - she knew that he wasn’t one to spontaneously go off and get drunk, which meant someone had put him up to it.
She bit her lip and tugged at Eustace’s arm. He waved his other hand, still clutching a half-empty mug of something much stronger than his usual cider, and sang - no, it was more of a shout:
“If I’ve got one for you, could it cost me a shoe?
A hat, my dear, a hat!
I’d buy the shade blue, a blue one for you,
A hat, my dear, a hat!”
“Eustace, shut up!” she hissed at him, and tugged at his arm again. He barely noticed. In frustration, she stomped down hard on his foot, cutting him off mid-chorus.
“Pole?” He blinked up at her as though only just noticing she was there. Jill resisted the urge to trod on his foot a second time out of frustration.
“Scrubb, we have to go.”
“But - but - hats!”
Not again, she thought wearily, and before he could rejoin the song, bent over to hiss in his ear, “Life. And. Death.”
“Wha-?”
Of course he couldn’t even properly enunciate his words anymore, she realized with despair. If the room weren’t so crowded and loud, she would try to explain further, but had to settle for fixing him with her most intimidating glare.
Finally, finally, he moved. He didn’t set the tankard down, but by Aslan, he was moving. There was a moment as he was standing up where Eustace misjudged his balance and fell towards her and she went to catch him and there was beer all over her front and suddenly their hands were entwined. Jill took advantage of this and towed Eustace forward, weaving through the crowd and apologizing to everyone she knocked into. Behind her, Eustace had rejoined the song, now singing something about his pa - no, his pa’s hat.
She tried pulling him towards the door but the little bit of Eustace’s awareness that had not been numbed by the drink protested and they somehow ended up in the corner, instead. It wasn’t ideal, but at least it was a better location that at the table with everyone watching.
“Eustace, do you even know who these men are?”
“Isak,” he answered promptly, and much too loud. “And Teriko and Tankana and -”
“Terrorists,” she interrupted.
He blinked. “What?”
She lowered her voice further. “They are terrorists. A gang. Wreaking havoc by day and…” She wrinkled her nose, “clearly, getting wasted by night.”
“No, but they-“ He frowned, forcing his brain into thought, “We were talking politics, earlier.”
“See?”
“But it wasn’t like that. It was… it was… civilized.”
“I’m sure anything would appear to be civilized when your conversation partner has spent the last hour buying your drinks.”
He looked so stunned, so betrayed, that Jill almost wished she could take back that last statement the moment after she made it.
“Must’ve been them, then?” Eustace asked softly.
She knew immediately what he was referring to. “Must have been.”
He visibly sagged and leaned back against the wall. Jill faced him awkwardly, still all too aware of their need to get out of the tavern and back to their rented room. She also wanted to apologize, although that was rubbish; it was Eustace who was drunk and consorting with their attackers and who’d disappeared.
Eustace rubbed at his forehead and then glanced up at her again with a sheepish smile. Then, his eyes shifted over her shoulder. She turned to find one of the terrorists that had been at the table with Eustace.
“Lover’s quarrel?” he drawled, “If it helps in any way, it was I who persuaded your man to come out with us. He was quite determined to wait for you - although it was you who was late to the… lover’s tryst.”
She whirled back around. “Eustace!” she accused, before realizing her mistake.
“Eustace?” the terrorist repeated.
Eustace pressed his lips together. If he could have moved any further back against the wall, Jill was sure that he would have.
“Thought your name was Erlian,” the man continued obliviously. Jill prayed he was too drunk to sort through the muddle. “Erlian, Eustace, Erlian, Eust- oh.”
He looked as though he had seen a ghost. His eyes flicked between the two of them. “And you,” he said finally, “Erlian’s lover. Eustace’s lover. Would I be correct in calling you Jill?”
“Not at all,” she said sharply. There was an awkward pause in which the man stared at her and she glared back while trying unsuccessfully to recall what false name she had come up with. Of course she wouldn’t remember now, when she most had need of it.
It was Eustace who ended the awkward moment, stepping forward and gripping Jill’s arm. “Let’s go,” he said, much clearer than he had been talking a moment ago, and directed her towards the door. She finally peeled her eyes away from the terrorist and stumbled with Eustace along the side of the room.
For one brief moment, she believed the terrorist had let it go - let them go. And then, just as they make it to the door, he stepped in front of them. “You’re s’posed to be dead. Both of you.”
“So are a lot of people,” Eustace responded lightly. He attempted to continue forward; the man shifted to block their path.
“Mind telling me exactly what’s going on?”
“We’re attempting to leave,” Eustace responded, “And you are in our way.”
The man stared hard at them and raised his voice. “I say you don’t leave until I know exactly what is going on.”
The song - had everyone else been singing of hats this entire time? - faltered as the tavern’s patrons glanced over, before picking up again. From the table in the back corner - the one that Eustace had originally been sitting at - several others threaded their way through the room.
“We’re not looking for trouble,” Jill started. She squared her shoulders and tried not to appear as apprehensive as she felt. Eustace’s grip tightened on her arm.
“Look, Isak,” Eustace said in a low voice, “Please. We just want to leave.”
“And I just want to know what you’re playing at. Seems a foolish way to elope - run into debt back home? Throwing your old life away to start anew?”
The others from the back table surrounded them now, two blocking the tavern patron’s view and the others blocking the way to the door. “Giving our country a bad name,” one muttered.
“Here to cause trouble,” growled another.
Jill’s throat was tight and her fists clenched. “Stop playing,” she spit out, “If you want us dead then-“
“Dead?” Isak barked a laugh. “Look, lady. I’m no murderer.”
“But -”
Eustace stared hard at her. “Where did you hear they were terrorists?”
“Terrorists?” Isak coughed. “You thought -“ And he laughed again, harder this time, and Jill had never wished to disappear more than at this moment.
“And who would wanna kill you?” another man asked.
Jill was sinking into embarrassment but through it she heard Eustace respond, “That’s what we’re trying to find out.”
-X-
Someone had pressed a glass into Jill’s hand before she’d even sat down at the table. She should have refused it, knew she needed a clear head. On the other hand, it had been a trying two days and everyone else was quite drunk and enjoying it. As much as she knew that she probably shouldn’t, Jill didn’t exactly want to be the only one left out.
She dropped into the nearest empty chair, two down from where Eustace was, and raised it to her mouth. She wasn’t sure what she was expecting - something strong and chosen not for quality of taste but alcohol content, most like - but the scent of pineapple surprised her. Tentatively, she took a sip and found the soft, dry wine rather delicious.
“This is excellent,” she said, unable to fully suppress her astonishment. “What type of wine is it?”
“Merspit,” answered the girl to her right - Teriko, if Jill remembered properly. “Best wine on the island. A Haluan specialty, it is.”
“It’s a pineapple wine,” added the woman on Jill’s other side. She waited as Jill took another sip before stretching out her hand. “Name’s Tankana.”
Jill shook hands and hesitated, wondering which name to give. Tankana laughed. “We all heard the story, know your name, an’ all that. Ranell.” She winked solemnly and sauntered off to the bar.
Teriko was swaying side to side in her chair, humming along to the music that came from the other side of the tavern. Jill recognized it as the song everyone had been singing earlier and asked rather awkwardly, “So, what’s with the hats?”
The other girl barked out a laugh. “Oh, that’s just Isak. His da’s a hat maker, is all.”
“But not Isak?” Jill had gotten the impression that most businesses stayed primarily in the family, similar to how it worked in Narnia.
“Naw. Isak’s got four older brothers. He helps out when needed, but with the ‘conomy on the down-turn, not many folks buying hats.”
Eustace leaned forward, his eyes sharp considering his level of inebriation. “You mean,” he scowled, “that whole discussion was just to get me to buy a hat?”
“Oh no,” Teriko shook her head rapidly. “He genuinely believes everyone should own a hat.”
“Course everyone should own a hat!” Isak roared from the other side of the table. Jill jumped, not having realized that he’d been listening the whole time. “You need a hat, too,” he decided, staring right at her with such intensity that Jill ducked her head. “A nice one. Pina weave, ‘course, with a broad rim.”
“Pina weave?”
“Made from pineapples,” Tankana answered. Jill hadn’t even noticed her return from the bar, but now she held a full glass of what looked the same as Jill’s own drink. “The fibres of the pineapple leaves, to be exact,” she added, her words surprisingly distinct despite the alcohol that clung to her breath. “Very good for hats.”
“Not like we have a shortage of pineapples,” Teriko muttered, and then brightened considerably. “‘Nother merspit?”
“I’ve barely -” Jill began, and realized she’d drunk the entire glass.
Prologue | Chapter 1 | Chapter 2 | Chapter 3 | Chapter 4 | Chapter 5 | Chapter 6 | Chapter 7 | Chapter 8 | Chapter 9 | Chapter 10 | Chapter 11 | Chapter 12 | Chapter 13 | Chapter 14 | Chapter 15 | Epilogue|
Author: wingedflight21
Rating: K+
Word Count: ~24K
Disclaimer: The Chronicles of Narnia do not, never have, and most likely never will belong to me.
Possible Spoilers/Warnings: Occurs in an AU of The Silver Chair.
Author's Notes: A huge thanks to snitchnipped, rthstewart, and especially accidentalsquid as well as anyone else who helped me through these last few months and numerous chapters.
Summary: An assassination attempt gone wrong sends Jill and Eustace off to solve the mystery behind the attacks, all while playing dead. SCAUverse.
-X-
Chapter Eight
-X-
Her throat felt tight. All around, the terrorists were singing some ridiculous ditty about hats at the top of their lungs and Eustace was right in the middle of it. Completely oblivious, too. She wondered how much he had had to drink. Even worse - she knew that he wasn’t one to spontaneously go off and get drunk, which meant someone had put him up to it.
She bit her lip and tugged at Eustace’s arm. He waved his other hand, still clutching a half-empty mug of something much stronger than his usual cider, and sang - no, it was more of a shout:
“If I’ve got one for you, could it cost me a shoe?
A hat, my dear, a hat!
I’d buy the shade blue, a blue one for you,
A hat, my dear, a hat!”
“Eustace, shut up!” she hissed at him, and tugged at his arm again. He barely noticed. In frustration, she stomped down hard on his foot, cutting him off mid-chorus.
“Pole?” He blinked up at her as though only just noticing she was there. Jill resisted the urge to trod on his foot a second time out of frustration.
“Scrubb, we have to go.”
“But - but - hats!”
Not again, she thought wearily, and before he could rejoin the song, bent over to hiss in his ear, “Life. And. Death.”
“Wha-?”
Of course he couldn’t even properly enunciate his words anymore, she realized with despair. If the room weren’t so crowded and loud, she would try to explain further, but had to settle for fixing him with her most intimidating glare.
Finally, finally, he moved. He didn’t set the tankard down, but by Aslan, he was moving. There was a moment as he was standing up where Eustace misjudged his balance and fell towards her and she went to catch him and there was beer all over her front and suddenly their hands were entwined. Jill took advantage of this and towed Eustace forward, weaving through the crowd and apologizing to everyone she knocked into. Behind her, Eustace had rejoined the song, now singing something about his pa - no, his pa’s hat.
She tried pulling him towards the door but the little bit of Eustace’s awareness that had not been numbed by the drink protested and they somehow ended up in the corner, instead. It wasn’t ideal, but at least it was a better location that at the table with everyone watching.
“Eustace, do you even know who these men are?”
“Isak,” he answered promptly, and much too loud. “And Teriko and Tankana and -”
“Terrorists,” she interrupted.
He blinked. “What?”
She lowered her voice further. “They are terrorists. A gang. Wreaking havoc by day and…” She wrinkled her nose, “clearly, getting wasted by night.”
“No, but they-“ He frowned, forcing his brain into thought, “We were talking politics, earlier.”
“See?”
“But it wasn’t like that. It was… it was… civilized.”
“I’m sure anything would appear to be civilized when your conversation partner has spent the last hour buying your drinks.”
He looked so stunned, so betrayed, that Jill almost wished she could take back that last statement the moment after she made it.
“Must’ve been them, then?” Eustace asked softly.
She knew immediately what he was referring to. “Must have been.”
He visibly sagged and leaned back against the wall. Jill faced him awkwardly, still all too aware of their need to get out of the tavern and back to their rented room. She also wanted to apologize, although that was rubbish; it was Eustace who was drunk and consorting with their attackers and who’d disappeared.
Eustace rubbed at his forehead and then glanced up at her again with a sheepish smile. Then, his eyes shifted over her shoulder. She turned to find one of the terrorists that had been at the table with Eustace.
“Lover’s quarrel?” he drawled, “If it helps in any way, it was I who persuaded your man to come out with us. He was quite determined to wait for you - although it was you who was late to the… lover’s tryst.”
She whirled back around. “Eustace!” she accused, before realizing her mistake.
“Eustace?” the terrorist repeated.
Eustace pressed his lips together. If he could have moved any further back against the wall, Jill was sure that he would have.
“Thought your name was Erlian,” the man continued obliviously. Jill prayed he was too drunk to sort through the muddle. “Erlian, Eustace, Erlian, Eust- oh.”
He looked as though he had seen a ghost. His eyes flicked between the two of them. “And you,” he said finally, “Erlian’s lover. Eustace’s lover. Would I be correct in calling you Jill?”
“Not at all,” she said sharply. There was an awkward pause in which the man stared at her and she glared back while trying unsuccessfully to recall what false name she had come up with. Of course she wouldn’t remember now, when she most had need of it.
It was Eustace who ended the awkward moment, stepping forward and gripping Jill’s arm. “Let’s go,” he said, much clearer than he had been talking a moment ago, and directed her towards the door. She finally peeled her eyes away from the terrorist and stumbled with Eustace along the side of the room.
For one brief moment, she believed the terrorist had let it go - let them go. And then, just as they make it to the door, he stepped in front of them. “You’re s’posed to be dead. Both of you.”
“So are a lot of people,” Eustace responded lightly. He attempted to continue forward; the man shifted to block their path.
“Mind telling me exactly what’s going on?”
“We’re attempting to leave,” Eustace responded, “And you are in our way.”
The man stared hard at them and raised his voice. “I say you don’t leave until I know exactly what is going on.”
The song - had everyone else been singing of hats this entire time? - faltered as the tavern’s patrons glanced over, before picking up again. From the table in the back corner - the one that Eustace had originally been sitting at - several others threaded their way through the room.
“We’re not looking for trouble,” Jill started. She squared her shoulders and tried not to appear as apprehensive as she felt. Eustace’s grip tightened on her arm.
“Look, Isak,” Eustace said in a low voice, “Please. We just want to leave.”
“And I just want to know what you’re playing at. Seems a foolish way to elope - run into debt back home? Throwing your old life away to start anew?”
The others from the back table surrounded them now, two blocking the tavern patron’s view and the others blocking the way to the door. “Giving our country a bad name,” one muttered.
“Here to cause trouble,” growled another.
Jill’s throat was tight and her fists clenched. “Stop playing,” she spit out, “If you want us dead then-“
“Dead?” Isak barked a laugh. “Look, lady. I’m no murderer.”
“But -”
Eustace stared hard at her. “Where did you hear they were terrorists?”
“Terrorists?” Isak coughed. “You thought -“ And he laughed again, harder this time, and Jill had never wished to disappear more than at this moment.
“And who would wanna kill you?” another man asked.
Jill was sinking into embarrassment but through it she heard Eustace respond, “That’s what we’re trying to find out.”
-X-
Someone had pressed a glass into Jill’s hand before she’d even sat down at the table. She should have refused it, knew she needed a clear head. On the other hand, it had been a trying two days and everyone else was quite drunk and enjoying it. As much as she knew that she probably shouldn’t, Jill didn’t exactly want to be the only one left out.
She dropped into the nearest empty chair, two down from where Eustace was, and raised it to her mouth. She wasn’t sure what she was expecting - something strong and chosen not for quality of taste but alcohol content, most like - but the scent of pineapple surprised her. Tentatively, she took a sip and found the soft, dry wine rather delicious.
“This is excellent,” she said, unable to fully suppress her astonishment. “What type of wine is it?”
“Merspit,” answered the girl to her right - Teriko, if Jill remembered properly. “Best wine on the island. A Haluan specialty, it is.”
“It’s a pineapple wine,” added the woman on Jill’s other side. She waited as Jill took another sip before stretching out her hand. “Name’s Tankana.”
Jill shook hands and hesitated, wondering which name to give. Tankana laughed. “We all heard the story, know your name, an’ all that. Ranell.” She winked solemnly and sauntered off to the bar.
Teriko was swaying side to side in her chair, humming along to the music that came from the other side of the tavern. Jill recognized it as the song everyone had been singing earlier and asked rather awkwardly, “So, what’s with the hats?”
The other girl barked out a laugh. “Oh, that’s just Isak. His da’s a hat maker, is all.”
“But not Isak?” Jill had gotten the impression that most businesses stayed primarily in the family, similar to how it worked in Narnia.
“Naw. Isak’s got four older brothers. He helps out when needed, but with the ‘conomy on the down-turn, not many folks buying hats.”
Eustace leaned forward, his eyes sharp considering his level of inebriation. “You mean,” he scowled, “that whole discussion was just to get me to buy a hat?”
“Oh no,” Teriko shook her head rapidly. “He genuinely believes everyone should own a hat.”
“Course everyone should own a hat!” Isak roared from the other side of the table. Jill jumped, not having realized that he’d been listening the whole time. “You need a hat, too,” he decided, staring right at her with such intensity that Jill ducked her head. “A nice one. Pina weave, ‘course, with a broad rim.”
“Pina weave?”
“Made from pineapples,” Tankana answered. Jill hadn’t even noticed her return from the bar, but now she held a full glass of what looked the same as Jill’s own drink. “The fibres of the pineapple leaves, to be exact,” she added, her words surprisingly distinct despite the alcohol that clung to her breath. “Very good for hats.”
“Not like we have a shortage of pineapples,” Teriko muttered, and then brightened considerably. “‘Nother merspit?”
“I’ve barely -” Jill began, and realized she’d drunk the entire glass.
Prologue | Chapter 1 | Chapter 2 | Chapter 3 | Chapter 4 | Chapter 5 | Chapter 6 | Chapter 7 | Chapter 8 | Chapter 9 | Chapter 10 | Chapter 11 | Chapter 12 | Chapter 13 | Chapter 14 | Chapter 15 | Epilogue|