Fic: Jolly Times
TITLE: Jolly Times
AUTHOR: Pearlsie
DISCLAIMER: Not mine. Never mine. Except for anyone that you don't recognize. All Disney's otherwise.
CHARACTERS: James Norrington, and a pack of OC's. And one young other, who I shall not mention by name, lest it ruin the surprise.
RATING: G!!
WARNINGS: Cheerful, fat women.
SUMMARY: James' 15th Christmas. And someone makes an appearence.
SERIES: That X-mas one.
Vendors shrieked like tropical birds, flapping bright silks and flashing jewels about. People hurried and pushed and shouted, flooding through the streets in masses. The sides weren't just speckled with beggars; they were lined with them. It wasn't just the odd thief darting through the crowd that you had to beware of, it was every other person. Babies bawled and puked, children shrieked and pulled, donkeys brayed, and camels staggered imposingly. A fair red-head was catching flies, his mouth agape. The lean and rangy youth beside him with bleached brown hair and a dark tan, simply looked harassed.
"Where- How- What- !" The red-head stammered out in abrupt bellows, head swivelling rapidly. He clung desperately to his older companion’s sleeve, terrified of getting lost. The companion frowned, absently clutching a purse to his chest. His head swivelled as well, but with a purpose. With one glance he ascertained where a shifty urchin was going, with another he checked a towering camel nearby, and another look determined how far they were from the street he was aiming for.
"We're not far now," James Norrington assured the younger boy. Thomas Gillette looked up at him, brown eyes bewildered and beseeching. James hid a grin in his shoulder. "See that vendor with the snakes, up there?"
"Aye... I think..." He stretched up on his tiptoes, lacking James' height. "Aye, what of it?" His forced nonchalance failed, but James didn't let him know.
"We turn just beyond him. ‘Allo Abda!" This last comment was directed cheerfully at an old peddler selling rags on a corner. He sat there every day, from sunrise to sunset, and had for as long as anyone could recall.
The two youth reached the corner and struggled against the wave of humanity on to the side street. Miraculously, though the street was narrow, one had elbow room. James shrugged himself free of Thomas' death grip on his sleeve and sped up. Thomas trotted to keep pace with James' long strides.
"So, where are we going, exactly?" He demanded, "All you said was that you had something to show me." The brown eyes sparked like tawny fire.
"I do. It's amazing. Best place in the whole port!" James beamed at Thomas, and then pushed the other boy away from him, playfully. Thomas just grinned and went along with it.
Thomas shifted closer to James, however, when he noticed their surroundings. The buildings around them that were packed together, climbing over one another and spreading out tented tendrils, weren't the most respectable of places. If the market street had been bright and showy, this was dark and furtive, though still far cheerier than any English town. He eyed the robed and burka'd women as though they carried swords under their heavy clothing.
James seemed oblivious to his partner's suspicions, blithely strolling through the people, a casual nod here and there. He picked up the pace when a small, vibrant red building lurched into view. Thomas grunted and simply struggled to keep up. He wasn't going to ask the older boy to slow down.
They darted across the street, earning a disgusted glare from a lolling donkey. James' face was flushed, eyes gleaming with pleasure. They reached the tented entrance, and James brushed aside the curtain with familiar ease. Thomas gulped audibly.
The interior was dimly lit, fogged with incense. Candlelight flickered glumly in the hallway stretching before them. Something stirred and rustled forward, large and round, looming dangerously...
“Ameys darling! Iz wonderful to see you again! Iz you holiday, ya?" A fluorescent, dark woman swooped down and grabbed James into an embrace. James could only laugh; her pronunciation of his name tickled him every time.
"Yes, yes, Aliya, it's our holiday!" James had never laughed so carelessly in front of Thomas before. "I told you that; do you remember? And I told you I was bringing-"
"-A guest! Wullah! Ya, I remember. Iz this heem?" A helpless gurgle was the only sound the small boy made as he was swept up into a vivid embrace.
It took much reassuring, and tugging, on James' part to free them both. And then more to have their hostess lead them down the hallway into the main room. There, laid out with delicate care and eyed with much longing by the other boarders, was a magnificent foreign feast. Aliya, in her dotage, had spared her Christian lad no expense. Not on his holiday.
AUTHOR: Pearlsie
DISCLAIMER: Not mine. Never mine. Except for anyone that you don't recognize. All Disney's otherwise.
CHARACTERS: James Norrington, and a pack of OC's. And one young other, who I shall not mention by name, lest it ruin the surprise.
RATING: G!!
WARNINGS: Cheerful, fat women.
SUMMARY: James' 15th Christmas. And someone makes an appearence.
SERIES: That X-mas one.
Vendors shrieked like tropical birds, flapping bright silks and flashing jewels about. People hurried and pushed and shouted, flooding through the streets in masses. The sides weren't just speckled with beggars; they were lined with them. It wasn't just the odd thief darting through the crowd that you had to beware of, it was every other person. Babies bawled and puked, children shrieked and pulled, donkeys brayed, and camels staggered imposingly. A fair red-head was catching flies, his mouth agape. The lean and rangy youth beside him with bleached brown hair and a dark tan, simply looked harassed.
"Where- How- What- !" The red-head stammered out in abrupt bellows, head swivelling rapidly. He clung desperately to his older companion’s sleeve, terrified of getting lost. The companion frowned, absently clutching a purse to his chest. His head swivelled as well, but with a purpose. With one glance he ascertained where a shifty urchin was going, with another he checked a towering camel nearby, and another look determined how far they were from the street he was aiming for.
"We're not far now," James Norrington assured the younger boy. Thomas Gillette looked up at him, brown eyes bewildered and beseeching. James hid a grin in his shoulder. "See that vendor with the snakes, up there?"
"Aye... I think..." He stretched up on his tiptoes, lacking James' height. "Aye, what of it?" His forced nonchalance failed, but James didn't let him know.
"We turn just beyond him. ‘Allo Abda!" This last comment was directed cheerfully at an old peddler selling rags on a corner. He sat there every day, from sunrise to sunset, and had for as long as anyone could recall.
The two youth reached the corner and struggled against the wave of humanity on to the side street. Miraculously, though the street was narrow, one had elbow room. James shrugged himself free of Thomas' death grip on his sleeve and sped up. Thomas trotted to keep pace with James' long strides.
"So, where are we going, exactly?" He demanded, "All you said was that you had something to show me." The brown eyes sparked like tawny fire.
"I do. It's amazing. Best place in the whole port!" James beamed at Thomas, and then pushed the other boy away from him, playfully. Thomas just grinned and went along with it.
Thomas shifted closer to James, however, when he noticed their surroundings. The buildings around them that were packed together, climbing over one another and spreading out tented tendrils, weren't the most respectable of places. If the market street had been bright and showy, this was dark and furtive, though still far cheerier than any English town. He eyed the robed and burka'd women as though they carried swords under their heavy clothing.
James seemed oblivious to his partner's suspicions, blithely strolling through the people, a casual nod here and there. He picked up the pace when a small, vibrant red building lurched into view. Thomas grunted and simply struggled to keep up. He wasn't going to ask the older boy to slow down.
They darted across the street, earning a disgusted glare from a lolling donkey. James' face was flushed, eyes gleaming with pleasure. They reached the tented entrance, and James brushed aside the curtain with familiar ease. Thomas gulped audibly.
The interior was dimly lit, fogged with incense. Candlelight flickered glumly in the hallway stretching before them. Something stirred and rustled forward, large and round, looming dangerously...
“Ameys darling! Iz wonderful to see you again! Iz you holiday, ya?" A fluorescent, dark woman swooped down and grabbed James into an embrace. James could only laugh; her pronunciation of his name tickled him every time.
"Yes, yes, Aliya, it's our holiday!" James had never laughed so carelessly in front of Thomas before. "I told you that; do you remember? And I told you I was bringing-"
"-A guest! Wullah! Ya, I remember. Iz this heem?" A helpless gurgle was the only sound the small boy made as he was swept up into a vivid embrace.
It took much reassuring, and tugging, on James' part to free them both. And then more to have their hostess lead them down the hallway into the main room. There, laid out with delicate care and eyed with much longing by the other boarders, was a magnificent foreign feast. Aliya, in her dotage, had spared her Christian lad no expense. Not on his holiday.