Disclaimer: I don't own anyone or anything that is related to Pirates of the Caribbean.
Challenge: This is in response to the Norrington Christmas Party Challenge. Things that were
supposed to be included: Commentary on dull socialite women,a puppy, kicked or otherwise,
a pianoforte,someone spilling hot apple cider,the sentence: "I think you broke it, sir."
Extra points for any Coupling references, Jane Austen characters (historical accuracy? what's
that?), or use of mistletoe.
Note: I am very unused to writing humour. As anyone who has read my only other story, it's angst. And Jack angst at that. But as I'm open minded, I decided to take on humour AND Norrington at the same time! It may seem a little.... off balance. Especially since it started out as angst (it's my natural instinct) and moved into humour. Don't ask how that happened ^_^ Anyhow, this is only my second fanfic, so enjoy if you can! If not, there are always more angsty Jack fics to write!
Deck the Halls
The rooms were dimly lit, and everywhere there was the sound of laughter, the soft sound of the dress material all the women wore swishing here and there, the clinks of glasses against other glasses and marble tables. From somewhere in the distance, the sound of the pianoforte drifted through the house, accompanied by a chorus of drunken men. Nearer, however, the orchestra played a light-waltz and in the middle of the ballroom, all of the young and beautiful danced, eyes betraying their true reasons for attending such balls; the lingering glances and shy invitations left a feeling of tension in the air. This tension was not lost on one man, who walked through the party. Though he was surrounded by people, one got the feeling he was in a world of his own. Though he came close, he never quite made contact with anyone, body or eyes. He sent of an air of apartness. His body was held straight and erect, as if still on duty. His uniform, which was to be worn at such social events as these, was freshly pressed, everything in the exact right place. To a stranger's eyes, and in truth to even those that knew him fairly well, he seemed slightly stuck up, but in truth he was simply a perfectionist.
Lieutenant James Robert Fitzwilliam Norrington stopped in front of a large Christmas Tree. It was tastefully decorated, not overly frilly as was the style these days. The lighted candles glistened over the evergreen. He liked the way Christmas trees looked, all lit up in the evening, sending a glow throughout the room and softening even Norrington's sour mood. Feeling as if he could finally breathe, alone for the most part except for a few stragglers here and there, Norrington for the first time saw that someone with a sense of humour had hung mistletoe in all the doorways. Norrington shook his. He walked over to get a glass of very warm apple cider. It's warmth traveled from the palms of his hands through his body. Outside the large window, he could see the beautiful weather outside. The sun was setting over the ocean, throwing the horizon into amazing colors. The palm trees swayed ever so slightly in the cool night breeze starting to come in, and the first stars blinked into existence in the heavens. It all unnerved James a little. He missed the cold, white winters of London, where Christmas meant snow so heavy one could barely go outdoors, but indoors, it was warm and cozy with the fire and could watch the snow fall lazily from safety..... James shook his head quickly, loosening the memories. He was still new here to Port Royale, fairly new anyway. It had only been a year and a half since he had been sent to the Caribbean, to Port Royale as part of his service duty to the crown. But even after so long, he still thought of England, so far away now, where the last remnants of his family remained. But he was here now, most likely to stay. Still, it didn't seem Christmas without winter.
As if by cue, he heard a shrieking, high-pitched voice suddenly exclaim his name loudly, and involuntarily he shuddered, flinching and pulling his shoulders up instinctively, protectively as if it would somehow hide him.
"Lieutenant Norrington!" The voice cried. It startled James so badly he spilled his warm apple cider. "I heard that you were here! And to think you slipped past me coming in! Come, I've just been talking about you!" the middle-aged woman said, saddling up next to Norrington. Norrington didn't like the sound of that. He cleared his throat, trying to give the impression that he simply couldn't be bothered by this now. The newcomer, Mrs. Franklin, the widow of one of his once-superiors, didn't notice. Or if she did, she ignored the sign completely. He had often been invited to dinner. He had only been invited because, while Lieutenant Franklin had respected him, James had seemed a perfect match for their daughter Kitty. James had only gone because he respected Lieutenant Franklin. He had no interest in Kitty, pretty and accomplished as she was. She could read, write, and speak both French and German, like all well-bred girls of her age, and could play the pianoforte and sing beautifully. She was terribly sweet... almost too sweet. She was also incredibly dull. Not that this was what bothered Lieutenant Norrington. He just simply wasn't interested in marrying her.
Kitty would one day be just like her mother, James knew, trying hard to focus back on the grating voice of Mrs. Franklin before him, spreading her horrid gossip as she always did. That was one thing James couldn't abide about Mrs. Franklin. Her life revolved around gossip, feeling no shame at the expense of other's feelings, her only thoughts of both her and her daughter keeping their high status in the social scale.
"Yes, that's very kind of you, Mrs. Franklin," James said absently. Across the room he could see one of his only close friends in Port Royale, Francois Gillette, also recently shipped in from England. Gillette looked almost as uncomfortable as James felt, but was doing a far less convincing job of hiding it.
"And Kitty plays the pianoforte so well! You really should hear her sing, Lieutenant! Her disposition is ever so agreeable!" Mrs. Franklin continued as James nodded, playing along. The dancing continued, and suddenly, having lost track of Mrs. Franklin's rumblings, found himself stuck in a bad situation! "Oh Kitty! Kitty, darling, please come say hello to our guest, Lieutenant Norrington!" Mrs. Franklin was calling.
"Oh, no, really I mustn't," James protested, trying his best not to be rude. "It would be a shame for such a distinguished dancer as Miss Franklin to be burdened by such a poor dancer as myself!"
"Oh nonsense, Lieutenant!" Mrs. Franklin insisted, dragging the poor young girl over to them. Kitty smiled in her usual pretty, dull way as she curtseyed. Norrington took her hand and politely kissed it. Mrs. Franklin was practically burst with joy.
"I'd be pleased if you'd do the honour of dancing with me," Norrington recited. Kitty politely accepted, and they moved on. Norrington had about had it with politeness. They danced a short while, and spoke of petty things, such as the weather. As if either of them cared about the weather. As if the weather ever really changed drastically in Port Royale anyway. As they danced, Norrington looked around at the other party guests. The ones enjoying themselves the most seemed to have had quite a lot to drink. In one corner, a horde of pretty girls, sisters, were eyeing the eligible young men, and one strangely moody one glaring out at the party guests in particular.
As the song ended, he courteously let Kitty go about her social business, and returned to the other room. The drunk singers had been momentarily removed so a young girl, not in any way very pretty, or even very good at singing, could have her chance to show off her "agreeable disposition" and her "accomplishments." She sung terribly, and Norrington almost felt slightly sympathetic for her as the guests forced themselves to look interested and polite. Regardless of his sympathy, however, he felt a strange need to laugh loudly at such an inappropriate time. Why were the most unfunny things sometimes strangely amusing at the worst times? When she had finished, she immediately threw herself into another song, apparently unaware of her lack of talent, and despite himself, Norrington had to leave the room. He had much preferred the drunken carols to that.
"Lieutenant Norrington! Hello again! I did have such a lovely time dancing this eve!" came a voice, halting James in his steps. Silently he cursed and turned to face Kitty, beaming at him with those pretty blue eyes.
"Ah, Miss Franklin, it was a pleasure, I must agree," he said with a smile. He wondered if he had misjudged Kitty, and perhaps she was interested in him after all. That made it all the worse. But he could not forever put off marriage. Whether he desired it or not, one day he would need a wife. Kitty smiled simply. He wished greatly she would not start talking of dull things like gossip again. Socialite women could be so nerving at times.
"You can call me Kitty, Lieutenant," Kitty said suddenly in a softer voice. Norrington backed up suddenly out of instinct, eyes wide as he looked at Kitty. Good Lord, was she trying to seduce him?! Perhaps he had misjudged Kitty after all! Though he wasn't sure he liked this Kitty much better....
"Er... James, if you like," he replied shakingly, eyes scanning the room for someone to notice this improper encounter between two young, un-married people. No-one looked. Norrington wondered suddenly how many of Mrs. Franklin's socialite friends were behind this.
"Look where we're standing, James!" Kitty said delightedly, pointing upwards, as if it were all some big accident on where she'd stopped him. James, a sinking feeling in his chest, looked upwards slowly. There, in the doorway, was some bright green mistletoe. He groaned inwardly.
"Er... yes, some sort of plant, it seems," he said lightly. Kitty laughed.
"Oh, you're awfully silly sometimes, James!" she said as if it were the biggest joke in the world, though he could see in her eyes she was slightly annoyed at his brush-off. "It's mistletoe, of course!"
"Oh, so it is!" James said. He continued to back away slowly. Even if he did have an interest in courting Kitty, this was certainly not the proper way to conduct it.
"You know what they say about Mistletoe," Kitty said, and suddenly to James' horror her eyes closed and she leaned forward very far forward to attack his lips. In a blur of a moment, James suddenly fell over something, and Kitty came tumbling after, landing on top of him in a very unseemingly way. There was a loud crash as they fell, and all eyes turned to the two.
A hand reached down to help Kitty up, her face red with embarrassment as she smoothed out her expensive dress. James allowed himself to be helped up. Those around him thought he resembled something of a kicked puppy.
"Miss Franklin, I'm dreadfully sorry," he apoligised as he began to turn around to look at Kitty. " Are you all right?"
"Lieutenant! Whatever happened?!" Mrs. Franklin shrilled in concerned way as she ran towards them, interrupting his awkward apology.
" Nothing, we seem to simply have had a collision with one of your servants," muttered James. He could really, really use the brandy right now.
"Where's the brandy?" he muttered as he tried to clean himself off.
"Ummm. I think you broke it, Sir," said the young servant uncertainly.
"What do you bloody mean I 'broke' it?" James said grouchily. "How can one break the brandy?"
"Er..." the servant gestured towards the ground where the brandy glasses lay shattered.
"Oh, well that's bloody perfect," James grumbled to himself. In a desperate attempt to focus the attention somewhere else other than himself, he turned to the flushing Mrs. Franklin.
"Why don't we finish decorating the tree?" It was a tradition at the house to finish decorating with all the guests watching so they could all ooo and ahhh. Would some-one like to get the angel for the top of the tree? Where's it gone off to?" That worked. Nearly. Oh, so very nearly!
"I think you broke that too, sir," The servant said nervously. "What? How is that possible?!" cried James. Once again the servant pointed to the floor.
"There it is," he said. James glared at him.
"What was the Angel for the top of the Christmas tree doing on the same cart as the brandy?!" Mrs. Franklin cried. James didn't even want to know the answer to that one. This was turning out to be one bloody Christmas.
"Had a bit of a tumble there, James?" Gillette said with a slight smirk on his face. James caught his eyes with a glare.
"Oh DO shut up," he said. Gillette laughed and James rolled his eyes. But by now the party had lost interest already, and the drunken men had managed to take over the pianoforte again as the rest of the party filed into the room with the tree.
"DECK THE 'ALLS WITH BOUGHS OF 'OLLY!" they sang loudly and off key as the orchestra tried desperately to play along as was their job, but they failed miserably. Especially since the drunks couldn't seem to remember the words, much less what song they were on.
"FA LA LA LA LA LA LA LA LA LA!"
Finally, though, a new angel was found to adorn the tree and Kitty and James' little 'incident' seemed to be forgotten about. As the party carried on, James lost himself in thought and found himself staring out the window once more. From here one could see the sea, and now it was dark, the winter constellations all in their places and the moon on the rise.
"'TIS THE SEASON TO....ANGELS WE 'AVE 'EARD ON 'IGH!"
If there was one thing James liked about his new home was his job. He loved the sea as much as any sailor, and he was most content when sailing out to see, doing his duty. When he was young, just a child, he'd hoped it would bring adventure. Somewhere deep inside, he still hoped that.
"FA LA LA LA LA!"
He turned his attention back to the party. The Governor and his daughter had finally arrived, making their fashionably late entrance as usual. He was quite fond of the young girl, Elizabeth, though, like all children, he often had the urge to throttle her with all her annoying questions.
"ER.... SOMETHING PUDDING! HALLELUJAH FA LA LA!"
Suddenly, all the tension fled from Norrington, and despite himself he felt at ease. Even with Kitty eyeing him seductively from across the room. Even though his nice, clean suit smelled of brandy. Port Royale was his home now, adventures or not.
"FA LA LA LA LA!!!!! LA! LA! LA! LAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAA!"