Request Ficlet for Erinya
Apr. 10th, 2005 04:33 pm![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
dwgmOne more for the Drabble/Ficlet Request Meme, written for ![[livejournal.com profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/external/lj-userinfo.gif)
erinya who wanted...
It was some time ‘til the end of the middle watch, and sleep held most souls captive aboard the Dauntless. As it turned out, this included the brig’s lone guard, snoring gently in the dim light of the one small lantern. The corner of Elizabeth’s mouth twitched against a grim smile: it was well for her, of course, but if James discovered this lack of diligence, the young man might pay dearly.
Steeling herself, she entered the dreadful space. She had not come here before. Those of Barbossa’s men who had survived the battle were packed into these two bigger cells near the door, and she certainly had no wish ever to see them again, or for them to see her. Needs must, however: her goal lay past them. She could feel eyes upon her—they were not all asleep. But, to her relief, there were no sounds save those natural to men at rest. She moved on, into deeper shadows.
It was the last cell. The light of the sentry’s lantern nearly failed here, and Jack’s shape was barely discernable in the gloom. But he was awake.
He rose with silent grace and crossed to her. “What are you doing here, Miss Swann?” he asked in voice meant for her ears alone.
She wanted to reach through the grate and touch him. Instead, she said, rather gruffly, “I’ve brought you something.” She reached into an inner pocket of the red coat and drew out the silver flask, handing it to him.
There was a flash of white and gold, visible even in the gloom. “What’s this, then?” he asked, pulling the stopper.
“Rum.”
With a minimum of fuss, he set the flask to his lips and took a drink. “Ah! Mother’s milk,” he said, voice still soft. “It’s good. Where’d you get it?”
“From James, of course.”
There was a small, surprised silence. Then, “Oh. Of course. Don’t suppose he knows?”
“Oh, no.”
He chuckled, took another, deeper drink, then said, provocatively, “You should be spanked. But I don’t suppose he would.”
She successfully stifled a bark of shocked laughter, and said, with mock indignation, “Of course not!” Then, after the briefest of pauses, asked suspiciously, “Would you?”
“Of course not. I’d kiss you.”
She nodded, and watched him drink again.
Pausing once more, he wiped his lips on his sleeve. “My sincere thanks, Miss Swann,” he said, quite seriously.
'Miss Swann'. “It’s Elizabeth. And I would it had been the key!” He stared, and she added, bitterly, “I tried to get it, you know.”
“You didn’t!”
“I did! But… but I couldn’t.” A warm hand touched hers where it held the grate. Half choking she said, “I have spoken… begged my father, and James. They will do nothing. And Will… he stands at the rail and looks to the sea, and asks what one man can do?”
“A home question,” Jack remarked, his voice light.
Her hand turned and gripped his. “If I were a man, I’d show him what one man can do!”
He squeezed back, briefly. “You’d make a fine pirate, love.”
“Would I?” She took a deep breath, withdrew her hand, and her voice was less strained as she said, “Be careful, Captain. If fate intervenes, I may hold you to that.”
He nodded, and raised the little flask once more. “Here’s to fate, then, eh?”
~.~
Of all the money e're I had, I spent it in good company,
And all the harm I've ever done, alas was done to none but me;
and all I've done for want of wit, to memory now I can't recall,
so fill me to the parting glass, goodnight and joy be with you all.
Of all the comrades e're I had, they're sorry for my going away,
and all the sweethearts e're I had , they wish me one more day to stay,
but since it falls unto my lot that I should go and you should not,
I'll gently rise and softly call, goodnight and joy be with you all.
If I had money enough to spend and leisure time to sit awhile,
there is a fair maid in this town who sorely has my heart beguiled.
Her rosey cheeks and ruby lips, alone she has my heart in thrall,
so fill me to the parting glass, goodnight and joy be with you all.
~~ Traditional Irish Folk Song ~~
erinya who wanted...~ The Parting Glass ~
It was some time ‘til the end of the middle watch, and sleep held most souls captive aboard the Dauntless. As it turned out, this included the brig’s lone guard, snoring gently in the dim light of the one small lantern. The corner of Elizabeth’s mouth twitched against a grim smile: it was well for her, of course, but if James discovered this lack of diligence, the young man might pay dearly.
Steeling herself, she entered the dreadful space. She had not come here before. Those of Barbossa’s men who had survived the battle were packed into these two bigger cells near the door, and she certainly had no wish ever to see them again, or for them to see her. Needs must, however: her goal lay past them. She could feel eyes upon her—they were not all asleep. But, to her relief, there were no sounds save those natural to men at rest. She moved on, into deeper shadows.
It was the last cell. The light of the sentry’s lantern nearly failed here, and Jack’s shape was barely discernable in the gloom. But he was awake.
He rose with silent grace and crossed to her. “What are you doing here, Miss Swann?” he asked in voice meant for her ears alone.
She wanted to reach through the grate and touch him. Instead, she said, rather gruffly, “I’ve brought you something.” She reached into an inner pocket of the red coat and drew out the silver flask, handing it to him.
There was a flash of white and gold, visible even in the gloom. “What’s this, then?” he asked, pulling the stopper.
“Rum.”
With a minimum of fuss, he set the flask to his lips and took a drink. “Ah! Mother’s milk,” he said, voice still soft. “It’s good. Where’d you get it?”
“From James, of course.”
There was a small, surprised silence. Then, “Oh. Of course. Don’t suppose he knows?”
“Oh, no.”
He chuckled, took another, deeper drink, then said, provocatively, “You should be spanked. But I don’t suppose he would.”
She successfully stifled a bark of shocked laughter, and said, with mock indignation, “Of course not!” Then, after the briefest of pauses, asked suspiciously, “Would you?”
“Of course not. I’d kiss you.”
She nodded, and watched him drink again.
Pausing once more, he wiped his lips on his sleeve. “My sincere thanks, Miss Swann,” he said, quite seriously.
'Miss Swann'. “It’s Elizabeth. And I would it had been the key!” He stared, and she added, bitterly, “I tried to get it, you know.”
“You didn’t!”
“I did! But… but I couldn’t.” A warm hand touched hers where it held the grate. Half choking she said, “I have spoken… begged my father, and James. They will do nothing. And Will… he stands at the rail and looks to the sea, and asks what one man can do?”
“A home question,” Jack remarked, his voice light.
Her hand turned and gripped his. “If I were a man, I’d show him what one man can do!”
He squeezed back, briefly. “You’d make a fine pirate, love.”
“Would I?” She took a deep breath, withdrew her hand, and her voice was less strained as she said, “Be careful, Captain. If fate intervenes, I may hold you to that.”
He nodded, and raised the little flask once more. “Here’s to fate, then, eh?”
~.~
Of all the money e're I had, I spent it in good company,
And all the harm I've ever done, alas was done to none but me;
and all I've done for want of wit, to memory now I can't recall,
so fill me to the parting glass, goodnight and joy be with you all.
Of all the comrades e're I had, they're sorry for my going away,
and all the sweethearts e're I had , they wish me one more day to stay,
but since it falls unto my lot that I should go and you should not,
I'll gently rise and softly call, goodnight and joy be with you all.
If I had money enough to spend and leisure time to sit awhile,
there is a fair maid in this town who sorely has my heart beguiled.
Her rosey cheeks and ruby lips, alone she has my heart in thrall,
so fill me to the parting glass, goodnight and joy be with you all.
~~ Traditional Irish Folk Song ~~
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no subject
Date: 2005-04-10 09:03 pm (UTC)The period language is fun to play with, and seems to give PotC fics an appropriately historical flavor. There is some controversy, of course, about how much of it is actually authentic, but that always seems like quibbling to me. We're not writing textbooks here.