A Very Hannibal Christmas
or A Christmas Feast of Two
The decking of the halls was a very important part of the Christmas season for Hannibal Lector and although it had never been for Will Graham, he joined in on the festivity. Hannibal enjoyed Christmas mostly for the excuse of indulging himself in a sumptuous feast while Will had never found much cause for celebration even during the holidays. Yet at Hannibal's suggestion of therapeutic merit, Will decided to give it a try this year. They garnished the fireplace in evergreen boughs; and lashings of mistletoe was hung from the awnings, their rosy red berries making the dark house merry. The fire crackled in the hearth, warming the room as a snowstorm brewed outside.
From the kitchen a multitude of mouth-watering scents could be smelt and Will enquired of his friend what was cooking. Hannibal smiled and winked but would not utter a word on the topic of the menu. They continued their work until the house was utterly merry.
After the decorations were hung, Hannibal asked Will if he would help him bring in the tree. Will nodded and they retrieved from the yard a thick, deep green fir. It was soon hoisted and settled in the corner of the living room. Together they strung up the ornaments, beautiful glass creations with images of reindeer and festive icons.
"The celebration of Christmas has deep pagan roots Will. Roots so deep that thousands of years later, despite the efforts of their Christian concurrers, they have endured. For example, the oak tree was first worshiped by the Norse and their evergreen foliage was taken as a reminder that winter does not last."
Will sighed, "It was comforting to them to know that the sun always rises."
"Indeed. It is healthy to be reminded that our woes will not endure forever and that the light eventually reaches every darkened corner. The urge to celebrate when it is dark is a psychological phenomenon, as we are most vulnerable to depression when the light ceases to shine."
"So you're saying," Will said with a smile, "that you're urging me to participate in Christmas in the name of my mental health?"
Hannibal returned his smile and nodded, "Doctor's orders."
When Hannibal retired to the kitchen to attend to the food, Will heard the stereo switch on. A familiar melody fluttered through the air, but the lyrics were quite different than he remembered.
"Have yourself a merry little Christmas, it may be your last; Next year we may all be living in the past...No good times like the olden days...Faithful friends who were dear to us, will be near to us no more...From now on, we'll have to muddle through somehow. So have yourself a merry little Christmas now."
"What song is this?" Will asked, calling into the other room. A short second later a reply was heard, "Have Yourself a Merry Little Christmas, as sung by Judy Garland."
Will was confused, "But these aren't the lyrics."
A short puff of amusement could be heard ease from Hannibal's lips, "Oh, yes this a quite rare recording. This is the original version."
Will listened to the song and understood why Hannibal liked this version better. When he returned with the turkey in toe he explained, "This version is urging the listeners to enjoy what is right now because it may indeed be their last. There is beauty in living for the moment and not concerning oneself with the past nor the future."
Will sat down in the dining room chair, "I suppose that is true; and we all have to muddle through once and awhile don't we?"
"Yes, indeed and for some people it may indeed be their last Christmas..."
Will didn't know what do with that thought as the turkey was place on the table. Various other mouth-watering dishes were placed down before him but Will dared not ask what was the contents of them lest he dislike the answer. Hannibal sat at the chair in front of him; plucking the decretive mistletoe from the top of the turkey, Hannibal continued, "The mistletoe plant is poisonous," he said as he twirled the plant in his fingers, "And yet it has a place in our homes. The Norse once thought that the sap of this plant brought life and, it is theorised, that if soldiers met in a forest under one of these bunches of greenery, they should declare peace for the day."
"Declare peace?" Will enquired.
Hannibal smiled, "Yes. If only for a single day."
Will turned to the tree and asked, "Have we declared peace?"
"It's an interesting thought Will but to declared peace once must first be at war and were we ever truly at war? And if we ever were than we surly are not at this moment. Therefore we cannot declared peace for a day for it has already been struck long ago."
Will sighed, "I suppose so."
Hannibal popped a bottle red Zinfandel wine and did the honours of pouring it into both of their glasses. He then stood and rose his glass in a toast, "To a decadent Christmas, as it is and as it has always been. Merry Christmas Will."
Will stood and rose his glass as well, replying, "And a merry Christmas to you as well Hannibal."
They clinked their glasses and then sat back down as they tucked into their beautifully delicious Christmas dinner.
And it was a merry Christmas to all and to all of them a final goodnight.
A/N: A story written for the Christmas season and despite never having experienced a white Christmas I hope I captured it well enough. Merry Christmas!