|Sequel to "Tůmas"
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 "Tůmas" 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.
Robert, looking up from his books, gave Voltaire and Gillette a suspicious glance upon their return, but the two looked like butter wouldn't melt in their mouths. Thinking of fairies as being far superior to leprechauns and their ilk, the idea that the two might pose a risk to his business didn't even cross his mind. He put the quill back on paper and added together once again his gains.
"Ah, there you are. Did you enjoy your walk?" Lord Cutler Beckett had changed into a robe of bright red, and rather than a crown, he was now wearing a tricorne made of red velvet, adorned with diamonds.
Voltaire shrugged. "We saw some seaweed and sea cucumbers - nothing special. You know what it's like; if you've seen one sea bed, you've seen them all."
"Indeed, indeed," his lordship agreed, barely hiding his boredom. "Unfortunately, nothing exciting ever happens here. So, how is your plan for my liberation developing?"
"All in its good time," Gillette grumbled. "But don't forget, dear cousin: once you're free, you will have to tell me where I can find James Norrington. Should you try to weasel out of your word, I'll personally carry you back to the mermaids."
"How can you doubt me? Me, your dearest cousin?" Lord Cutler Beckett dropped back on the luxurious sofa and covered his eyes with his arm. "That I must suffer such ingratitude! Robert, where is my sel volatile?"
"Dissolved, sir," Robert replied, not interrupting his work. "We're under water."
"I think I've seen rocks of sulphur not far from here. Maybe you could fetch some for his Highness," Voltaire suggested. "They are very smelly."
"I am an accountant, not a footman," Robert snapped. "I'd say that you are the expert for treasures of the soil here, why don't you go and dig some out?"
"Robert, stop being difficult. I want sulphur! I need sulphur! Fetch me sulphur! This is not a request!"
Robert slammed book and quill on the table and stood up.
"Your non-request is my command," he snarled. Then he left, but not without glaring daggers at Voltaire, who gave him his brightest smile and waved him off with one of the Marquise's embroidered handkerchiefs.
Once he was certain that Robert was out of earshot, Gillette hurried to the sofa and pulled his lordship up by the collar of his coat.
"How could you!" he cried, shaking his cousin hard. "How could you become accomplice to enslaving those men? Don't you have any honour? Have you forgotten all your mother has taught you? By the Spirits of the Forest, I'll make sure you'll never put a foot on our green meadows again!"
"Have you lost your mind? Let me go! You ruin my suit!" Cutler Beckett squealed. "And what is this talk about slavery? What business do I have with slavery? What do you think I am, a mortal?"
Gillette didn't let go of him. He pulled him so close that their two long noses almost clashed, and Cutler Beckett began to feel very uncomfortable. He'd never seen his cousin so angry.
"I'm talking about the men in the orlop, the men your accountant has sold to the mermaids for gold, rather than allowing them to rest in peace! Are you trying to tell me you didn't know about it?"
"Robert? Sold them?" Cutler Beckett paled. "But Tůmas, cousin - you know I would never do such a thing! It is true that I cherish gold above all else, but there are laws that even I would never break!"
Gillette let go of him.
"So you weren't aware of Robert's little business then?"
"Absolutely not. The cheek of him! Opening shop in my premises and not even paying rent! And of course, shameful about the men," he added hastily. "What are you planning to do now?"
Voltaire picked up one of the diamonds that had fallen off Cutler Beckett's tricorne, inspected it and put it in his pocket.
"Very nice. I promised my Marquise a souvenir from my journey, you see. Well then, here's my plan. It's all about the three wishes, Seoirse. Do as I tell you, and you'll be free by sunrise."
"By sunrise?" Cutler Beckett sat up and looked at Voltaire with great hope. "Tell me what to do, and I will do it. I'd do anything to be free, as long as it won't cost me any gold."
Voltaire gave him a very stern look.
"Stand on the table, Seoirse."
His lordship looked puzzled, but he did as he was told.
"And now? Now you'll sing."
"I beg your pardon?"
"I said: sing, Seoirse! The louder, the better!"
Cutler Beckett sent a pleading look at Gillette, but he only shrugged, indicating that he didn't have the slightest idea what Voltaire was up to.
"Oh well," Cutler Beckett sighed. "There's no harm in trying."
He cleared his throat, and the next moment, he began to belt out "Stay, Prince, and hear" from Purcell's Dido and ∆neas.
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|THE FLYING SCOTSMAN 11/18
by Molly Joyful