Author's Note: For those of you who informed me that Captain Haddock would know how to crack an egg... well, you're right. It's just a story :)

Anyway, here's the new chapter! Enjoy!


Chapter 7

It took about an hour and a half of confusion and chaos, but they finally finished both the Christmas log and the casserole. After a largely unpleasant breakfast spent listening to Castafiore rattle on about breaking her heels in a street grate, they had cleaned up and sat in the living room to discuss what they should do next. Captain Haddock was completely against doing anything at the moment, and had wanted to go upstairs and take a nap, but nobody was even listening to him. So he had sulked in his armchair and listened to the conversation.

It was still early in the day— too early for the Christmas decorations, it was decided— so Castafiore had suggested that everybody go ice-skating.

"Ice skating!" Haddock had burst out. "That's ridiculous!"

But Tintin stepped in at that point in the conversation, declaring how wonderful and festive it would be to go skating—"especially on Christmas Eve!" -and that had somehow sealed the deal.

An hour later, Captain Haddock, Tintin, Bianca Castafiore, Calculus, Irma and Wagner were at the village skating center. The center was located farther out of the downtown than the Christmas festival, and the buildings were much smaller— two-story brick townhomes, a few cute shops, and the local train station.

Tintin had also decided to bring Snowy, looking ridiculous in his new pink winter coat and satin doggie booties. Haddock had originally vetoed both the dog and the outfit, but Tintin had gone ahead with both.

Tintin had let Snowy loose on the skating rink— much to Snowy's delight— and now, Snowy slid excitedly over the ice, barking and scampering in between the legs of passing skaters.

The sky looked overcast— more overcast than yesterday, a wide gray blanket over the brown, dead world. The air had more of a nip to it, as well; it was even colder than the night before. Haddock had made sure to bundle up in several layers of coats, scarves, and hats, but now he noticed that his feet were cold.

It's always something, he noted grumpily. I spent so much time getting ready, and I'm only wearing one pair of socks.

But his feet felt much warmer when they were tightly wrapped, by the rink attendant, in a pair of white-and-orange skates. Now, the only problem would be skating.

He wasn't much of an ice skater. It just wasn't his thing. He'd tried doing it before in the ponds around Marlinspike, and failed every time.

Oh, well. I might as well try.

So as he gingerly stepped onto the rink, Tintin, Castafiore, and the rest all let out a huge cheer.

"Blistering barnacles!" he called, looking back at them. "Don't cheer! Now when I fall, it'll look worse!"

"You won't fall!" shouted Tintin encouragingly, gloved hands cupped around his mouth.

"I will," affirmed the Captain. As he said it, he lost his balance, slipped, and sprawled flat on the ice.

A small ripple of laughter erupted from the sidelines, but quickly caught itself.

"Hold on, I'm coming!" called Tintin, and Haddock heard the sound of his friend sliding towards him on the ice. A pair of hands grabbed him and pulled him back into a standing position. As the Captain wobbled vaguely, trying to regain his equilibrium, he saw Castafiore in the corner of his vision, doing what looked like a perfect figure eight. She did look ridiculous, as usual, in a massive white rabbit-fur coat that made her look more like a snowball than a snowflake, but Haddock had to admit that she was doing a pretty fair job skating.

Although he would never admit it.

"She's good, isn't she, Captain?" commented Tintin, as he helped Haddock back up.

"Hrm… well… maybe," the Captain said, unwilling to show any more enthusiasm on the subject.

"Don't you wish you could look like her right now?" Tintin asked, watching Castafiore's round, furry figure with admiration.

Captain Haddock blinked.

"I— what in the world—" he stammered, reddening.

Tintin laughed. "I mean, don't you wish you could be skating like her?"

Oh.

"You didn't make that very clear," Haddock said, feeling awkward.

"Sorry, Captain!" Tintin smiled. "I didn't mean to say it quite that way!"

As Tintin skated off gracefully, Haddock couldn't help but feel that he had made a very large and unfortunate social blunder. Although it was partially Tintin's fault, too; he could have been a little clearer.

"Look like her, my foot," the Captain muttered, pushing himself down the side of the rink. And as he looked back at Castafiore, he decided that he was very content with himself, just the way that he was.

Well, maybe I could stand to be a bit better. As it was, he still had to grip the rink wall as he went along for support, and that wasn't very fun.

All right, he decided. I don't need to be as good as Castafiore, but I'll at least get off of this wall. For heaven's sake, even Wagner and Irma are better than I am!

Captain Haddock had this vague idea that everybody else at the skating rink had grown up in some distant, snowy country, where they'd practiced skating every day since they were five. Why did he have to be so bad at it, when everybody else glided effortlessly over the ice? It just wasn't fair.

Okay, I'll try. But if it's too hard, I'll stop.

He took a tentative step forward…

…and fell flat on the ground again. He tried to pick himself up, but the ice was too slippery. "Billions of blue blistering barnacles in a thundering typhoon!" he barked. He was past irritated; he was past annoyed. He was angry.

"Poor Captain!"

He froze when he heard the sound. Not her, please, not her, he prayed silently.

"Poor, poor Captain Hassock! Look at yourself, on the ground like that!"

Yep, it was her. There would be no way around it. He looked up in time to see the giant, furry snowball herself skating towards him, a look of motherly concern on her face.

Why does she always have to notice when embarrassing things happen to me? Haddock complained silently.

"You big baby!" she chortled, bending down to help him up. Reluctantly, he accepted the help, mainly because he was pretty sure that he would've stayed there for another hour had not Tintin or Castafiore made the offer.

"You poor, deluded creature!" Castafiore sang, helping the Captain to his feet. "You don't want me to teach you how to skate, do you? Ahahaha!"

Haddock stood up, shakily brushing off his clothes with gloved hands. "I— er— don't think so, Signora," he said, hoping she wouldn't press it, and pretty sure that she would.

"Nonsense, Captain Hitchcock! Take my hand, and I'll show you how it's done." Without waiting for a response, she grabbed Haddock's hand and began to slide over the ice.

"No, thank you, Signora… er, Castafiore!" he sputtered. "No need!" He could already feel his legs giving way under the weight of his body, and he expected to fall at any moment.

But surprisingly, he didn't fall. As Bianca firmly held his hand in hers, he felt a calming, reassuring steadiness. Actually, this isn't that bad! he realized, feeling pleased with himself.

It was annoying that he had to hold somebody else's hand like a two-year-old child, especially Castafiore's. But after several laps around the rink, his legs began to get steadier and steadier, and he realized, Wow, I'm having fun! I'm really having fun!

He felt pretty sure he could handle the rink by himself now. Pushing away from Castafiore slightly, he said, "Signora, thank you for your help… but, er…"

He felt the motion stop. Bianca looked towards him, looking slightly flushed. He couldn't tell if she was annoyed or exhilarated, but, knowing Castafiore, she was probably annoyed.

"But?" she asked, pursing her lips.

"But I think I can, well, handle it on my own now." It was an innocent enough request, and he hoped she wouldn't be offended.

Castafiore opened her mouth wide. "My good man—"

"Wooah! Wooah!"

Haddock and Castafiore both looked in the direction of the sound. It was Snowy, spread flat on the ice, legs splayed in all directions. His coat, Haddock noted, had come untied, and one of the booties was missing.

"The poor thing!" Castafiore exclaimed. "Oh, how terrible!"

Seconds later, she was pumping her way across the ice to get to Snowy. Haddock let out a long breath, watching her go. That was lucky! I was really about to get it there!

Finally, I can skate on my own now.

The first lap he did around the rink was ten times easier, fun even. He was a bit wobbly on the corners, but all in all, he felt like a professional. Especially considering how bad he'd been when he started only an hour ago.

/

When they walked through the front doors of Marlinspike that evening, feeling slightly tired (especially Haddock, whose legs were burning like crazy), Nestor emerged from the cellar, carrying the annual boxes of Christmas decorations.

When he saw them, he stopped and put the boxes down.

"Nestor!" the Captain called, walking towards his butler. "Do you need any help with those, old chap?"

Truth be told, Captain Haddock had never been gladder to see his butler than he was now. Castafiore's earlier good mood had completely vanished around the time they left the skating rink, and the Captain had ended up sitting next to her on the car ride home, listening to her rant about how opera was losing the public's interest. He'd tried to stay out of the conversation as much as possible. But the trouble was that, besides Irma and Wagner (who didn't really count, because they were basically mute), Haddock was the only other person in the car.

So he'd had to nod every so often, and say, "That's terrible," if she looked upset, and "That's horrible," if she looked even more upset. Unfortunately, they'd been caught in rush-hour holiday traffic on the way back, and the drive had been about twenty minutes longer than usual.

Needless to say, he was glad to be back at Marlinspike.

"I think it's taken care of," Nestor replied, bringing the Captain back to reality.

"Are you sure?" he asked. The idea of carrying boxes in the cellar seemed appealing, when he compared it to the fate that would probably befall him if he stayed upstairs with Castafiore. "I'd really like to help, to get away from, uh…" Haddock gestured towards Bianca. "She's not in the best of moods."

Nestor hesitated. "Well, there are a few more—"

"There you are, Chester!" Bianca Castafiore shouted, storming towards them from behind. "Did it really have to take you that long? This kind of behavior is inexcusable! Utterly inexcusable!"

Haddock rolled his eyes at Nestor, as if to say, This is what I'm talking about.

/

Castafiore was in such a bad mood that the Christmas decorating would have been a complete flop, if not for the Christmas tree.

It turned out that Nestor had already set up not only the tree, but the fir garlands, wreathes, ribbons, and the small sprig of mistletoe that they hung from the arch to the dining room. This was no small task, both because of Marlinspike's sheer size, and the fact that Nestor liked to put up as many decorations as possible. (He made an entry every year for the Most Beautifully Decorated Homes award, and had won twice.)

The tree was beautiful. It rose almost all the way to the ceiling of the two-story living room, and even without the ornaments, it was a masterpiece of Mother Nature. It was…

"It's simply magnificent!" Castafiore had sung, clasping her hands together in exultation.

That was when the trouble had begun.

Castafiore had been convinced that the best way to accentuate the tree's natural beauty would be to cover it in gold and pink ornaments. "It's in all of the opera houses," she had assured them, "as a tribute to the art of fine music!" According to her books, the tree could only be done justice if it was covered, from the proverbial head to toe, in glittering gold and pink ornaments, stuffed painted peacocks, gold leaf ribbons, and French horns. "We can get them from the local band," she'd explained, as if this couldn't possibly be a problem.

While Captain Haddock had wanted to vomit at the thought of such a tree, his ideas were much simpler. He envisioned a Christmas tree with minimal decorations, perhaps a few ornaments and a star, to let the beauty of the actual tree shine through. In fact, he would have been perfectly happy to leave the tree exactly as it was, without any decorations at all.

Calculus had proposed a Christmas tree that was covered in various roses and tropical flowers, with a few palm trees scattered around the room. Completely oblivious to the appalled expressions around him, he continued that "It would be the most scientifically pleasing, since what we see here is, after all, a tree."

Tintin, ever the diplomat, had wanted to come to a compromise. His color scheme for the tree would be red and green. There would be lots of ornaments and some ribbon, not too much, but enough to give the tree a little sparkle. "Essentially," he'd said, "that's what everybody wants, right?"

Haddock had noted that Tintin had forgotten to incorporate Calculus' proposal. Of course, everybody hated Calculus' proposal, but it just seemed fair to point out Tintin's oversight.

"Well, then, we'll put some roses on the tree," Tintin had concluded. "Agreed?"

"We'll vote on it," Castafiore had said, grimly.

/

Unsurprisingly, Castafiore won out in the end. Despite Haddock's desperate protests that it would be ugly, and then that he didn't have enough money for it, she somehow garnered enough votes for the plan to be carried through. The Captain secretly suspected that Irma and Wagner had voted for Castafiore— after all, who else would they vote for?

Nestor wearily began making preparations for buying the decorations, while Castafiore trotted off with him to make sure everything was carried out to her liking. Calculus went off to the lab, for no apparent reason. Irma and Wagner went upstairs.

Captain Haddock and Tintin sat across from each other in front of the fireplace. For a moment, they just stared at one another, neither able to think of anything to say, nor feeling the need to say anything. Finally, Haddock let his head sag, and sighed wearily.

"I can't believe that Castafiore's... design... if you can call it that…"

Tintin laughed softly. "Yeah."

"I guess it doesn't really matter," Haddock mused. "It's only this once. As long as that cachinnating cockatoo doesn't come back next year," he added, although the insult sounded forced.

"It won't be that bad."

Suddenly, Haddock sat up, eyes widening. "Tintin! Can you believe that it's Christmas tomorrow?"

"I believe it," said Tintin, smiling.

"I mean, but Christmas!" Haddock ran a hand through his hair. "It's actually Christmas tomorrow! Blistering barnacles, I've been waiting all year for this day!"

When Tintin didn't answer, the Captain looked out of the window. It was dark now, and he could see the reflection of the glowing fireplace in the glass. But the ground looked just as bare as ever.

"I wonder if we'll get any snow," Haddock said miserably.


Author's Note: Christmas tomorrow! Yay! (Not for real, I mean in the book. lol) And be looking forward to their Christmas party. That's going to be great.

Next chapter soon! As always, review if you liked it!