Reel

It was Peeta that had finally convinced Effie that it would be okay for her to come to the Céilidh at the Hob. It was a time to celebrate the harvest and to toast the rebuilding of Twelve.

The boy had a golden tongue and she was very easily swayed.

She had dressed down for the occasion in a simple yellow frock. She felt almost invisible perched in a dark corner without her colour and sparkle. It was probably for the best – the few townsfolk that did recognise her these days were decidedly chilly if not downright hostile. She did not blame them – how could she? Half the time she was still disgusted with herself.

She sipped her drink, something strong made of apples that Haymitch had thrust into her hands, and watched as people arrived dressed in their Sunday best, voices greeting eachother with love and honour.

This wasn't a party as she knew it - everyone was relaxed and whole families intermingled. She watched as Peeta and Katniss moved throughout the large space, greeting almost everyone by name, exchanging hugs and kind words over news of their upcoming nuptials.

Effie hadn't even realised she craved such intimacy before. A hollowness in her chest seemed be crawling up inside her, making her eyes smart and sting. She was a nobody here - a nothing. Or even worse a blight which had brought them nothing but pain. She did not belong.

Haymitch appeared beside her, his solid presence a comfort as he forced himself onto the bench.

"Not having fun huh? 'Spose its not as fancy as those Capitol shindigs you're used to."

She studied the mug in her hands intently not wanting him to see how upset she really was. How lost she felt amongst these people – his people.

"It is nice." she assured him. "I have just never been to a...Céilidh... before."

He seemed to sense her discomfort for once and didn't press her further.

"They'll start the reels and jigs soon. You'll like them. I'll find you for a dance, all right Princess?"

She smiled faintly.

"Okay."

The music is entrancing and the complex dance steps make Effie dizzy just trying to follow them. It is beautiful and distracting, the up-tempo beat making her forget herself for a little while.

An elderly man seats himself in the centre of the band carrying a small velvet lined case. He opens it to reveal the most exquisite violin that Effie has ever seen, hand carved and inlaid with shell.

As a young girl Effie was forced to take music lessons as part of her deportment lessons - a young lady who could entertain was seen as a great asset in a trophy wife. Her several years of violin lessons were some of the happiest times of her childhood – evenings when she could lose herself in music away from the demands of perfection from her mother and father.

But when the gentleman begins to play – oh – Effie has not heard anything like it before. She is enthralled immediately at his intricacy and skill as he coaxes notes out of the instrument. People whirl all around her as she edges closer to the band – she wants to be able to play like this; free and easy, fun and complicated all at the same time.

In the break she steps forward to speak to him.

"Your playing – it is amazing. I wish I could play like that."

He looks at her through familiar grey eyes, a grin creasing at the corners of his mouth.

"Thank you kindly miss. I've not had much call for it lately, but tonight seems to be the night for celebrating. Do you play?"

She nods, hesitantly. "A long time ago."

"You never forget, here, give it a shot."

She takes the instrument reverently, feeling the delicate weight of the bow in her hands. She is pleased she ridded herself of her false nails now as she runs her fingers over the taut strings.

The classical piece which emerges from the violin when she draws the bow is haunting and note perfect. The people around her fall silent as she plays - tears falling in mourning.

The old man, Bill, peers at her face intently.

"What's your name girl?"

Effie was suddenly aware of the silence of the crowd awaiting her response.

"Effie. Effie Trinket. From the Capitol."

Bill snorted and shook his head.

"Oh, you're her. I thought you looked familiar." She passed the fiddle back to him with gentle fingers. "Well, you can play, I'll give you that."

"You... don't care?" She asked uncertainly.

A sad smile crossed Bill's face.

"Well, the way I hear it you did a lot of things back when, some bad, some good. And some things were done to you as well, and none of was them good. But you chose what was right in your heart, and your path ended up here. You did good by us in the end. No point in grudges. You're not Effie from the Capitol no more."

Effie swiped at her eyes as quiet murmured assent rippled slowly around her.

"Thank you." Her heart was reeling. The two simple words did not seem like enough to express her gratitude to these people.

"'Sides, Haymitch seems to like you well enough."

Many glasses of cider and countless jigs later Haymitch finds her. She is trying in vain to learn another reel from Greasy Sae. Her face is pink from alcohol.

"Charming the room now, huh Princess?"

"Haymitch!"

She's definitely a little on the intoxicated side, but she's smiling at last. She throws her arms around him in a bear hug, whole body pressed against his, face buried into his neck. It is a moment before he hugs her back, his fingers running up and down her spine through yellow cotton. She doesn't push him away.

"Want that dance now?" He twirls her around and she clutches him tighter.

Haymitch holds onto her on the way back to Victor's Village - supposedly to stop her stumbling on the steep path in her tipsy state. She doesn't mention it, but she doesn't seem to mind too much either.

"Did you hear me play Haymitch?"

He squeezes her hand. "I did, you were beautiful"

Hayffie Fanworks Challenge - Prompt #6 - Effie is not really from the Capitol.

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