|Sequel to "Tómas"
Overall rating: PG-13
Category: slash, adventure, humour
Other characters appearing: Lord George Cutler Beckett, Lt. Greitzer, Lt. Groves, Will Turner plus cameos by Prince Frederick of Prussia and Voltaire
Feedback: very welcome. Good or bad.
Author's note: I thought that "Tómas" was the weirdest story I've ever written. Well, I was wrong.
Summary: There is nothing that a leprechaun wouldn't do for his treasure, so all is not lost for James Norrington.
"... and when I woke up, I was still aboard the Flying Dutchman, but luckily, there was a new captain," Norrington finished his story.
"How fascinating," Gillette said, lying on the floor, his head in Norrington's lap, but Voltaire doubted that his cousin had paid much attention to Norrington's words. He'd spent the last hour gazing lovingly at his captain with a very dopey look on his face, but Voltaire, for the life of him, couldn't see the attraction. He was already four sheets to the wind thanks to Will Turner's excellent rum, but even that didn't help. Just what was it that Tómas saw in James Norrington? A plain looking man in an ugly uniform, with bad teeth and the eyes of a sad beagle.
He shrugged and refilled his glass. If Tómas was happy, who was he to judge? He only hoped they'd leave soon; he missed his Marquise and there were some fascinating experiments waiting for him back home.
"I don't know if that would be the term I'd use," Norrington said. "But now I want to know how you and your cousin found me. I've given up hope I'd ever see you again."
"How could you doubt!" Gillette was outraged. "I'd never give up on you; you're as dear to me as my pot of gold!"
"Is that good or bad?" Will asked Voltaire.
"Coming from a leprechaun, that's very good. It's a statement of great commitment."
"I see. Very odd. But please, do tell your story now, Mr. Gillette, I'm curious as well."
Gillette scratched his head.
"That's a complicated story. First we went to see the king, then we found Greitzer, made the captain drunk and stole his ship. Groves was surprised, but never mind, and then there were the mermaids and cousin Seoirse and Robert the potato bug fairy. We freed the imprisoned sailors, then you came, and here we are."
The confused faces around him indicated that none of those present had even the faintest idea what Gillette was talking about. He tapped his fingers impatiently on the floor planks of Will Turner's cabin.
"It was all very boring, trust me. The important thing is that we're here. And that I've come to save my captain. When are you ready to leave?"
Norrington sighed and didn't reply.
"There's nothing to worry about, James," Gillette explained cheerfully. "I'll take you home, and introduce you to my family. And as long as you don't insult any banshees, all will be well. Maybe my nana will give you a pot to fill as well, and then we can-"
"I'm afraid he can't leave, Mr. Gillette," Will interrupted him. "He's as much bound to this ship as I am."
"Not quite." Norrington gave Gillette a sad sidewise glance. "Will's time is almost up. He had to serve as captain on the Flying Scotsman for ten years, then he's allowed to return to his wife. I can't leave, though. I'm cursed, Thomas; I can't pass on to eternity, and I can't return to life. So I'll have to stay on this ship till judgement day."
"And when will that be?"
"Nobody can tell."
"That sounds like a very long time." Gillette jumped up. "This is not acceptable! I didn't fight mermaids and fairies, not to talk of sacrificing my gold, just to go home without you!"
"God knows how much I wish I could change this," Norrington said. "The happiest hours of my life were those spent with you. But still, I'm grateful that I at least could see you again one last time."
Voltaire groaned and grasped for the bottle.
"Oh, for crying out loud, stop being so dramatic! This is not one of cousin Shakespeare's plays!" He took a swig straight from the bottle. "I do not agree with what you have to say, James Norrington, but I'll defend to the death your right to say it. Even if it's balderdash. There's something you seem to have in common, you mortals and leprechauns: you all lack common sense and imagination."
He leaned back and smiled happily.
"But luckily for you, I am here. Leave this up to me, gentlemen. There is nothing Voltaire can't fix!"
* * *
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|THE FLYING SCOTSMAN 17/18
by Molly Joyful