[Stargate: Drabble] "Copper for a Song" [SG-22, G]
Title: Copper for a Song
Prompt: writerverse challenge #20 it’s always the butler (write a story based on a cliché)
Cliché used: “buy something for a song”
Word Count: 813
Rating: G
Original/Fandom: Stargate SG-1 ( SG-22, original characters)
Pairings: none
Summary: At an off-world market, Gryff makes a trade.
Note(s): originally posted to the writerverse wv_library
Copper for a Song
When spring came on P9X-1143, the people from the villages surrounding the stargate held a huge outdoor market. SG-22 had arrived the day before it started, delivering a supply of medicines, and the locals had invited them to stay.
“There will be a great celebration,” said Marta Ivansdotir, headwoman of the first village that SG-11 had made contact with several months before. “A feast, with music and dancing to welcome the new year.” But she’d waved off their offers to help with the preparations and shooed them toward the market.
It was certainly something to see. Stalls and carts of all shapes and colors crowded into the wide meadow just beyond the ‘gate, selling fruit and ceramic pottery, fabrics and jewelry, various things made of bronze, iron or silver. Jason stopped at every metal-smith, eying the range of hand-forged blades, Toby was often as intrigued by the design of the stalls as by what they were selling and Levi flitted between the merchants, fascinated by everything, but nothing had really caught Gryff’s attention until they came across an elderly man selling copper pots and pans.
But, half-hidden in a corner of his brightly-painted cart, was a much smaller piece. It was copper, too, the figure of a bird with outstretched wings, clasping silk ribbons in a rich royal blue. Gryff had seen ladies wearing similar decorations in their elaborate updos, but this was by far the loveliest she’d seen.
The rest of her team wandered past her as Gryff wiped her fingers on her BDU pants, making sure they were clean before she reached out to touch it gently.
“Ah,” said the peddler. “I was wondering when someone would spot that.”
“It’s beautiful,” Gryff told him, sincerely.
He smiled. “It would look even prettier in lovely copper hair like yours.”
She smiled back. “I’m afraid we’re only window shopping- I mean, I’m sorry, but I don’t have any currency.”
Jason leaned over her shoulder, suddenly, then looked up at the peddler. “Could we barter for it?”
“Jason…” Gryff protested.
He ignored her. “Sir?”
“Oh, certainly, a barter,” said the other man. “I prefer it, truth be told.”
“We don’t have very much to trade, either,” said Gryff. “We have to return our equipment when we go back to our world.”
“Your equipment does not interest me,” said the peddler. “However, I believe you do have something that I would gladly take in payment for this piece: a song.”
“A song?” Gryff repeated. “Just a song?”
“Are the most precious things always ones we can hold in our hands?” he replied. “I made the item that is for trade, and I can ask whatever price I think fair. Why shouldn’t I trade one beautiful thing for another?”
Gryff smiled. “But how do you know I can sing?”
He laughed. “You have a singer’s voice, young woman, even when you speak. One song, that is my price.”
“Then I accept,” said Gryff.
“Excellent! I am ready to hear it, if that is acceptable to you.”
“Sure,” she replied. “A beautiful song, right? Jase, what do you think?”
The Marine paused, thinking. “I’ve always liked that one you sing along to at Christmas. With the really high notes?”
“Oh, that one. Yes.” To the peddler, she said, “This song is called O Holy Night. On our world, many people believe in a god who was born as a human, who then grew up and died to save the souls of his followers. Once a year, they celebrate what they think is his birthday, with lights and presents, and lots of songs like this one.”
Gryff took a deep breath, and began to sing. It had been a while since she had done much more than sing along with the radio, but her voice remembered the notes, rising and falling and soaring with the high notes. When she finished, her team applauded, and the peddler rested a hand over his heart.
“How beautiful!” he said, “Thank you.” He picked up the hair clip and placed it in her hand. “I feel I have gotten the better deal in this trade.”
“I think we’ll have to agree to disagree on that,” said Gryff. She slid her fingers along one of the ribbons, which slithered like water to hang down again.
“Here, sir, let me,” said Jason. He’d gotten pretty good at helping Gryff with her hair when she’d sprained a wrist or broken some ribs, and in a few moments, he’d settled the copper bird in her hair, artfully weaving the ribbons into the braid coiled around her head.
“Looks great, Gryff,” said Toby.
She smiled and held out a hand to the peddler. “Thank you,” she said. “I’m Gryff- Captain Gryffydd, SG-22. This is Sergeant Jason Vicks, Lieutenant Walter Tobias and Dr. Levi Flannigan.”
He shook her hand, firmly. “Mathias Eliasson,” he said. “Well met, new friends.”
THE END
Current Mood:
hot
Prompt: writerverse challenge #20 it’s always the butler (write a story based on a cliché)
Cliché used: “buy something for a song”
Word Count: 813
Rating: G
Original/Fandom: Stargate SG-1 ( SG-22, original characters)
Pairings: none
Summary: At an off-world market, Gryff makes a trade.
Note(s): originally posted to the writerverse wv_library
Copper for a Song
When spring came on P9X-1143, the people from the villages surrounding the stargate held a huge outdoor market. SG-22 had arrived the day before it started, delivering a supply of medicines, and the locals had invited them to stay.
“There will be a great celebration,” said Marta Ivansdotir, headwoman of the first village that SG-11 had made contact with several months before. “A feast, with music and dancing to welcome the new year.” But she’d waved off their offers to help with the preparations and shooed them toward the market.
It was certainly something to see. Stalls and carts of all shapes and colors crowded into the wide meadow just beyond the ‘gate, selling fruit and ceramic pottery, fabrics and jewelry, various things made of bronze, iron or silver. Jason stopped at every metal-smith, eying the range of hand-forged blades, Toby was often as intrigued by the design of the stalls as by what they were selling and Levi flitted between the merchants, fascinated by everything, but nothing had really caught Gryff’s attention until they came across an elderly man selling copper pots and pans.
But, half-hidden in a corner of his brightly-painted cart, was a much smaller piece. It was copper, too, the figure of a bird with outstretched wings, clasping silk ribbons in a rich royal blue. Gryff had seen ladies wearing similar decorations in their elaborate updos, but this was by far the loveliest she’d seen.
The rest of her team wandered past her as Gryff wiped her fingers on her BDU pants, making sure they were clean before she reached out to touch it gently.
“Ah,” said the peddler. “I was wondering when someone would spot that.”
“It’s beautiful,” Gryff told him, sincerely.
He smiled. “It would look even prettier in lovely copper hair like yours.”
She smiled back. “I’m afraid we’re only window shopping- I mean, I’m sorry, but I don’t have any currency.”
Jason leaned over her shoulder, suddenly, then looked up at the peddler. “Could we barter for it?”
“Jason…” Gryff protested.
He ignored her. “Sir?”
“Oh, certainly, a barter,” said the other man. “I prefer it, truth be told.”
“We don’t have very much to trade, either,” said Gryff. “We have to return our equipment when we go back to our world.”
“Your equipment does not interest me,” said the peddler. “However, I believe you do have something that I would gladly take in payment for this piece: a song.”
“A song?” Gryff repeated. “Just a song?”
“Are the most precious things always ones we can hold in our hands?” he replied. “I made the item that is for trade, and I can ask whatever price I think fair. Why shouldn’t I trade one beautiful thing for another?”
Gryff smiled. “But how do you know I can sing?”
He laughed. “You have a singer’s voice, young woman, even when you speak. One song, that is my price.”
“Then I accept,” said Gryff.
“Excellent! I am ready to hear it, if that is acceptable to you.”
“Sure,” she replied. “A beautiful song, right? Jase, what do you think?”
The Marine paused, thinking. “I’ve always liked that one you sing along to at Christmas. With the really high notes?”
“Oh, that one. Yes.” To the peddler, she said, “This song is called O Holy Night. On our world, many people believe in a god who was born as a human, who then grew up and died to save the souls of his followers. Once a year, they celebrate what they think is his birthday, with lights and presents, and lots of songs like this one.”
Gryff took a deep breath, and began to sing. It had been a while since she had done much more than sing along with the radio, but her voice remembered the notes, rising and falling and soaring with the high notes. When she finished, her team applauded, and the peddler rested a hand over his heart.
“How beautiful!” he said, “Thank you.” He picked up the hair clip and placed it in her hand. “I feel I have gotten the better deal in this trade.”
“I think we’ll have to agree to disagree on that,” said Gryff. She slid her fingers along one of the ribbons, which slithered like water to hang down again.
“Here, sir, let me,” said Jason. He’d gotten pretty good at helping Gryff with her hair when she’d sprained a wrist or broken some ribs, and in a few moments, he’d settled the copper bird in her hair, artfully weaving the ribbons into the braid coiled around her head.
“Looks great, Gryff,” said Toby.
She smiled and held out a hand to the peddler. “Thank you,” she said. “I’m Gryff- Captain Gryffydd, SG-22. This is Sergeant Jason Vicks, Lieutenant Walter Tobias and Dr. Levi Flannigan.”
He shook her hand, firmly. “Mathias Eliasson,” he said. “Well met, new friends.”
THE END
Current Mood:
hot