A/N: I hope my last chapter was alright. I rewrote it over and over and over... This chapter coincides a little with my other story, "By the Light of the Moon." If you haven't read it, I suggest you do. I'm going to change a few details, though.
A/N#2: This chapter is dedicated to my love of music. The songs used are from Loreena McKennit, "Book of Secrets." There's no possible way to convey the sounds of the music through words, so it would be much better if you just buy the CD and listen to the songs, in this order: 1. (4) Marco Polo, 2. (2) The Mummers' Dance, 3. (6) La Serenissima. But you could also just use those download thingies to get the songs, I guess. Trust me, this chapter would be a hundred times better with music. Since I can't really picture what the mummers wore, I'm imagining them in those Elvish costumes from LOTR, bedecked with colorful ribbons and rags, and wearing feather eye masks. I've been picturing this chapter in my head for a long time, and I hope it turns out okay.
Again, the lyrics were not written by me. The translation of "La Serenissima" is "The Most Serene One," referring to the city of Venice.
~*~*~*~*~*~*
Chapter 12: Cirque du Musique
The next few days passed without much excitement. Jack and Anne maintained a friendly acquaintance with each other; the crew, for the most part, gave Anne a wide berth; Gibbs continued to feed her little tidbits of information about Jack and listen to the Captain's nightly arguments with himself; and Cotton the parrot became Anne's adoptive pet.
They made port at a small village in Hispaniola one cool evening a week after Anne had joined the crew. Jack and Anne were walking a bit behind the others. Anne was scowling at her first attempt at plundering, which had, unfortunately, failed miserably, and Jack had already found himself a good rum supply.
"First time's a charm, love, as I always say," he said, patting her on the shoulder.
"I'm no good at this pirating stuff, Captain, I might as well swab the decks the rest of my life," she replied bitterly. Jack swung around the rum bottle in his hand as he tried to convince her how entirely professional she really was. He had always been a good lier. Suddenly Anne stopped walking and he plowed right into her.
"What?" She pointed into a clearing. The flickering light of a fire and the figures of a group of people could be seen through the bushes. Jack gazed interestedly at them, and then crept forward. Anne followed him. Suddenly music reached her ears: the beats of drums, clicking of castanets, the shrills of a viola, and the jolly melody of a mandola. A band of about a dozen played the tune as four pairs of men and women danced around the fire. The pair that caught Anne's attention were two women; one with blonde hair clad in a black mask and dress with white ribbons, and the other a mirror image with black hair, a white mask and dress, and black ribbons. The silk scarves in their hands and around their hair billowed out around them like clouds. Lanterns hung from the branches of the trees like glowing spider-webs.
Jack and Anne sat down in front of the crowd of people that had come to watch the procession. As soon as they made themselves comfortable, they tuned in to the music. It had a strange Middle Eastern melody which made the listener instantly imagine camels riding across the Arabian desert. It also made one wish to dance.
"Who are they?" Anne whispered to Jack.
"I'm guessing they're a mumming band," he replied.
"A what?"
"Nomadic tree-worshippers."
"Oh."
Soon the song was over, and the dancing stopped. A middle-aged woman whom they supposed was the leader of the group began to speak. She had waist-length, curly red hair intertwined with small violet flowers, and wore a magnificent peacock-feather mask.
"Thank you all for being our audience. I would like to have someone dance with us for our next song," she said. Her eyes scanned (or rather, they probably did even though no one could see them) the crowd, then landed on Anne.
"You," she said, pointing at her with a lace-enshrouded finger, "come up here." Anne, quite embarrassed at that point, followed the woman over to a young man who was waiting for a partner. He wore a billowing green tunic and a green mask. The peacock woman slid a mask over Anne's face and gestured to her to take the man's hand, then disappeared into the woods behind them.
"I can't dance," Anne blurted out to her partner. He chuckled and leaned in close to her to speak.
"Just follow my lead. My name is Dominic, by the way, miss," he said, in an unmistakable Irish accent. Anne smiled to find out that he was from her homeland.
"You're Irish," she said, and then wished she hadn't.
"Aye. Celtic, actually." They could say no more, because that's when the music started. After a few notes from a viola, the African drums began. Da, doo-doo da. Da, doo-doo da. Da, doo-doo da. Da, doo-doo doo da... Anne looked around and saw the woman from before walking between the trees, her shadow falling in the lights of the lanterns. A single pluck from the cello started her song. It was an ancient celebration of spring, lyrics passed down through the families, until they were molded and fitted to their own unique form.
"'When in the Springtime of the year,
When the trees are crowned with leaves,
When the ash and oak, and the birch and yew,
Are dressed in ribbons fair
When owls call
The breathless moon
In the blue veil of the night,
The shadows of the trees appear
Amidst the lantern light...'"
Dominic twirled Anne around him and they began to dance. The wind blew through the leaves, causing the fire to flicker.
"'We've been rambling all the night
And some time of this day,
Now returning back again,
We bring a garland gay.'"
Jack sat, dividing his attention between the singer and Anne, who was laughing and spinning around with her partner, her hair flying around her face from beneath the bandanna.
"'Who will go down to those shady groves
And summon the shadows there,
And tie a ribbon on those sheltering arms,
In the Springtime of the year?
The songs of the birds seem to fill the wood,
That when the fiddler plays,
All their voices can be heard
Long past their woodland days..."
Anne looked over Dominic's shoulder and saw Jack watching her, the firelight glistening in his dark eyes. She lost her step and stumbled, but soon regained her balance again and hoped that no one had noticed.
"'We've been rambling all the night,
And some time of this day,
Now returning back again,
We bring a garland gay.'"
The singer knelt down in front of Jack and lay a string of white blossoms around his neck.
"'And so they linked their hands and danced
'Round in circles and in rows,
And so the journey of the night descends,
When all the shades are gone
A garland gay we bring you here,
And at your door we stand,
It is a sprout well budded out
The work of our Lord's hand.'"
She stood back up and threw two handfuls of flowers into the crowd, and they rained down like multicolored jewels onto the heads of the bystanders.
"'We've been rambling all the night,
And some time of this day,
And not returning back again,
We bring a garland gay.'"
Dominic twirled Anne around like a top, and she nearly collided with another dancer. She noticed that many of them held palm branches in their hands. The singer also began to dance, bringing Jack the impression of a spirit, as she stepped lightly on her feet and her voluminious blue-green gown spread out around her.
"'We've been rambling all the night,
And some time of this day,
And not returning back again,
We bring a garland gay.'"
The viola and the drums slowly faded into silence, and the dancing stopped. Anne caught her breath, thanked her partner, and went to sit beside Jack again. There was a vacant expression on his face which was so unlike him she almost laughed, and could only be the by-product of deep thought.
"Jack?" He jumped and blinked, and then seemed to realize that she was there. "What did you think?"
"'S alright."
"Nice flowers."
"Thank you."
Apparently the mummers were not done with their show, because the red-haired woman spoke to them again.
"I would love to have a volunteer violinist to help us now, as our current one is in need of a break." She looked hopefully around at the audience, but, as Anne noticed, no one even stirred. Anne stayed where she was. She knew less about instruments than she knew about knitting. (And that wasn't very much.)
"No one?" The woman looked back at the fiddler and opened her mouth to speak.
"I can." Everyone turned to look at the man who had risen. Gypsy, or whatnot, by the looks of him, thought one man in the back. "I can play." Jack shifted from one foot to the other as he faced the woman, hoping to whatever gods there were that none of his crew were watching. He gave his coat and hat to Anne, and then took the violin from its owner. He ran his hand along its curves, and plucked at a string. He hadn't played in a long while; Lord only knew if he still remembered how. I can't believe I'm doing this, he thought.
"What should I play?" he asked.
"Anything you wish, and we will go along with you," replied the woman, and she took a seat at a beautiful gilded harp with Gaelic inscriptions along the top. Jack rested his chin against the instrument and held the bow to the "A" string, waiting for inspiration to hit him. He had been to many countries and had heard many songs, but he wasn't sure of the exact notes. Suddenly a song came floating into his consciousness, from the blue waters of Venice. "La Serenissima", an old Italian hymn.
He started playing, cautious and shaky at first, but then the harp joined him, and then a cello, double bass, and viola. Doo doo do do dee, da doo da do do dae... The melody was haunting and beautiful, and it curled and swept through the clearing like wisps of smoke, touching every person with gentle fingers. As Jack played his mind drifted back to his mother and how she had given him his first violin when he was eight.
'The difference between a fiddle and a violin,' she had instructed, 'is that fiddles are played quickly and are often used for folk songs.' As he became more accustomed to the music, his fingers moved more quickly on the strings, jumping from "E" to "D" to "A." The bow moved swiftly and surely, knowing its agenda and not faltering.
Anne was befuddled by this new discovery. Who in their WILDEST imagination would have guessed that Jack Sparrow could play a musical instrument? Especially one as hard as the violin. Jack seemed to know what he was doing, too. His face held a look of extreme concentration. His wrist was even moving in expert vibrato.
Eeeeeeeeee, eeeeeee EEE ah-ah-eeee, the violin sang, ahhh-eee ahh. With the last pluck of the harp and ring of the cello, the song ended. Jack handed the instrument back to its owner, shook his hand, and turned back to loud applause from the crowd. Anne brushed the tears from her eyes and stood up.
"That was wonderful," she said.
"Ah, well, you know..." Jack replied, not looking right at her. He was slightly embarrassed to admit that the great Jack Sparrow could play a feminine instrument like that. But Anne did know, and she was beginning to see a new side of him that not many people knew about.
~*~*~*~*~*
A/N: *sigh* I love those songs. I listened to them about twenty times each until I really got into the 'feeling.' Writing to music is fun, but very hard. This chapter took a long time. Like I said before, it would be a lot better if you had the CD to listen to. But I know that not everyone has the same taste in music as me. I made Riona and Dominic Irish mostly as a celebration of 25% of my background. For Dominic, I'm imagining a Colin Farrell-ish appearance. He is the only guy who can compare with Jack Sparrow on the Hotness scale. Hee hee. I also watched the "Riverdance" video that my Irish great-grandmother gave to my mom. Very interesting. I think that's how I imagine them dancing. The amount of research that went into this chapter was unbelievable...
A/N #2: I made Jack play the violin mostly because I thought it would be neat to have him do something so out-of-character like that. Think about it, maybe that's what helped him with his sword-fighting rhythm. I do play the violin, and it is a very hard instrument. Your fingers have to be in the EXACT spot, or your notes don't turn out right. Vibrato is when you move the wrist of your left hand (the one you press on the strings with) back and forth very quickly. It's difficult to do for some people, and tiring after a while. But it makes the notes sound prettier. That's why it's called vibrato, you know, "vibrate." Ah, don't you just love these music lessons? But no one loves long author's notes, so please, review! And tell me if you play an instrument or if you've heard the songs on here. Or if you're Irish! =)
A/N#2: This chapter is dedicated to my love of music. The songs used are from Loreena McKennit, "Book of Secrets." There's no possible way to convey the sounds of the music through words, so it would be much better if you just buy the CD and listen to the songs, in this order: 1. (4) Marco Polo, 2. (2) The Mummers' Dance, 3. (6) La Serenissima. But you could also just use those download thingies to get the songs, I guess. Trust me, this chapter would be a hundred times better with music. Since I can't really picture what the mummers wore, I'm imagining them in those Elvish costumes from LOTR, bedecked with colorful ribbons and rags, and wearing feather eye masks. I've been picturing this chapter in my head for a long time, and I hope it turns out okay.
Again, the lyrics were not written by me. The translation of "La Serenissima" is "The Most Serene One," referring to the city of Venice.
~*~*~*~*~*~*
Chapter 12: Cirque du Musique
The next few days passed without much excitement. Jack and Anne maintained a friendly acquaintance with each other; the crew, for the most part, gave Anne a wide berth; Gibbs continued to feed her little tidbits of information about Jack and listen to the Captain's nightly arguments with himself; and Cotton the parrot became Anne's adoptive pet.
They made port at a small village in Hispaniola one cool evening a week after Anne had joined the crew. Jack and Anne were walking a bit behind the others. Anne was scowling at her first attempt at plundering, which had, unfortunately, failed miserably, and Jack had already found himself a good rum supply.
"First time's a charm, love, as I always say," he said, patting her on the shoulder.
"I'm no good at this pirating stuff, Captain, I might as well swab the decks the rest of my life," she replied bitterly. Jack swung around the rum bottle in his hand as he tried to convince her how entirely professional she really was. He had always been a good lier. Suddenly Anne stopped walking and he plowed right into her.
"What?" She pointed into a clearing. The flickering light of a fire and the figures of a group of people could be seen through the bushes. Jack gazed interestedly at them, and then crept forward. Anne followed him. Suddenly music reached her ears: the beats of drums, clicking of castanets, the shrills of a viola, and the jolly melody of a mandola. A band of about a dozen played the tune as four pairs of men and women danced around the fire. The pair that caught Anne's attention were two women; one with blonde hair clad in a black mask and dress with white ribbons, and the other a mirror image with black hair, a white mask and dress, and black ribbons. The silk scarves in their hands and around their hair billowed out around them like clouds. Lanterns hung from the branches of the trees like glowing spider-webs.
Jack and Anne sat down in front of the crowd of people that had come to watch the procession. As soon as they made themselves comfortable, they tuned in to the music. It had a strange Middle Eastern melody which made the listener instantly imagine camels riding across the Arabian desert. It also made one wish to dance.
"Who are they?" Anne whispered to Jack.
"I'm guessing they're a mumming band," he replied.
"A what?"
"Nomadic tree-worshippers."
"Oh."
Soon the song was over, and the dancing stopped. A middle-aged woman whom they supposed was the leader of the group began to speak. She had waist-length, curly red hair intertwined with small violet flowers, and wore a magnificent peacock-feather mask.
"Thank you all for being our audience. I would like to have someone dance with us for our next song," she said. Her eyes scanned (or rather, they probably did even though no one could see them) the crowd, then landed on Anne.
"You," she said, pointing at her with a lace-enshrouded finger, "come up here." Anne, quite embarrassed at that point, followed the woman over to a young man who was waiting for a partner. He wore a billowing green tunic and a green mask. The peacock woman slid a mask over Anne's face and gestured to her to take the man's hand, then disappeared into the woods behind them.
"I can't dance," Anne blurted out to her partner. He chuckled and leaned in close to her to speak.
"Just follow my lead. My name is Dominic, by the way, miss," he said, in an unmistakable Irish accent. Anne smiled to find out that he was from her homeland.
"You're Irish," she said, and then wished she hadn't.
"Aye. Celtic, actually." They could say no more, because that's when the music started. After a few notes from a viola, the African drums began. Da, doo-doo da. Da, doo-doo da. Da, doo-doo da. Da, doo-doo doo da... Anne looked around and saw the woman from before walking between the trees, her shadow falling in the lights of the lanterns. A single pluck from the cello started her song. It was an ancient celebration of spring, lyrics passed down through the families, until they were molded and fitted to their own unique form.
"'When in the Springtime of the year,
When the trees are crowned with leaves,
When the ash and oak, and the birch and yew,
Are dressed in ribbons fair
When owls call
The breathless moon
In the blue veil of the night,
The shadows of the trees appear
Amidst the lantern light...'"
Dominic twirled Anne around him and they began to dance. The wind blew through the leaves, causing the fire to flicker.
"'We've been rambling all the night
And some time of this day,
Now returning back again,
We bring a garland gay.'"
Jack sat, dividing his attention between the singer and Anne, who was laughing and spinning around with her partner, her hair flying around her face from beneath the bandanna.
"'Who will go down to those shady groves
And summon the shadows there,
And tie a ribbon on those sheltering arms,
In the Springtime of the year?
The songs of the birds seem to fill the wood,
That when the fiddler plays,
All their voices can be heard
Long past their woodland days..."
Anne looked over Dominic's shoulder and saw Jack watching her, the firelight glistening in his dark eyes. She lost her step and stumbled, but soon regained her balance again and hoped that no one had noticed.
"'We've been rambling all the night,
And some time of this day,
Now returning back again,
We bring a garland gay.'"
The singer knelt down in front of Jack and lay a string of white blossoms around his neck.
"'And so they linked their hands and danced
'Round in circles and in rows,
And so the journey of the night descends,
When all the shades are gone
A garland gay we bring you here,
And at your door we stand,
It is a sprout well budded out
The work of our Lord's hand.'"
She stood back up and threw two handfuls of flowers into the crowd, and they rained down like multicolored jewels onto the heads of the bystanders.
"'We've been rambling all the night,
And some time of this day,
And not returning back again,
We bring a garland gay.'"
Dominic twirled Anne around like a top, and she nearly collided with another dancer. She noticed that many of them held palm branches in their hands. The singer also began to dance, bringing Jack the impression of a spirit, as she stepped lightly on her feet and her voluminious blue-green gown spread out around her.
"'We've been rambling all the night,
And some time of this day,
And not returning back again,
We bring a garland gay.'"
The viola and the drums slowly faded into silence, and the dancing stopped. Anne caught her breath, thanked her partner, and went to sit beside Jack again. There was a vacant expression on his face which was so unlike him she almost laughed, and could only be the by-product of deep thought.
"Jack?" He jumped and blinked, and then seemed to realize that she was there. "What did you think?"
"'S alright."
"Nice flowers."
"Thank you."
Apparently the mummers were not done with their show, because the red-haired woman spoke to them again.
"I would love to have a volunteer violinist to help us now, as our current one is in need of a break." She looked hopefully around at the audience, but, as Anne noticed, no one even stirred. Anne stayed where she was. She knew less about instruments than she knew about knitting. (And that wasn't very much.)
"No one?" The woman looked back at the fiddler and opened her mouth to speak.
"I can." Everyone turned to look at the man who had risen. Gypsy, or whatnot, by the looks of him, thought one man in the back. "I can play." Jack shifted from one foot to the other as he faced the woman, hoping to whatever gods there were that none of his crew were watching. He gave his coat and hat to Anne, and then took the violin from its owner. He ran his hand along its curves, and plucked at a string. He hadn't played in a long while; Lord only knew if he still remembered how. I can't believe I'm doing this, he thought.
"What should I play?" he asked.
"Anything you wish, and we will go along with you," replied the woman, and she took a seat at a beautiful gilded harp with Gaelic inscriptions along the top. Jack rested his chin against the instrument and held the bow to the "A" string, waiting for inspiration to hit him. He had been to many countries and had heard many songs, but he wasn't sure of the exact notes. Suddenly a song came floating into his consciousness, from the blue waters of Venice. "La Serenissima", an old Italian hymn.
He started playing, cautious and shaky at first, but then the harp joined him, and then a cello, double bass, and viola. Doo doo do do dee, da doo da do do dae... The melody was haunting and beautiful, and it curled and swept through the clearing like wisps of smoke, touching every person with gentle fingers. As Jack played his mind drifted back to his mother and how she had given him his first violin when he was eight.
'The difference between a fiddle and a violin,' she had instructed, 'is that fiddles are played quickly and are often used for folk songs.' As he became more accustomed to the music, his fingers moved more quickly on the strings, jumping from "E" to "D" to "A." The bow moved swiftly and surely, knowing its agenda and not faltering.
Anne was befuddled by this new discovery. Who in their WILDEST imagination would have guessed that Jack Sparrow could play a musical instrument? Especially one as hard as the violin. Jack seemed to know what he was doing, too. His face held a look of extreme concentration. His wrist was even moving in expert vibrato.
Eeeeeeeeee, eeeeeee EEE ah-ah-eeee, the violin sang, ahhh-eee ahh. With the last pluck of the harp and ring of the cello, the song ended. Jack handed the instrument back to its owner, shook his hand, and turned back to loud applause from the crowd. Anne brushed the tears from her eyes and stood up.
"That was wonderful," she said.
"Ah, well, you know..." Jack replied, not looking right at her. He was slightly embarrassed to admit that the great Jack Sparrow could play a feminine instrument like that. But Anne did know, and she was beginning to see a new side of him that not many people knew about.
~*~*~*~*~*
A/N: *sigh* I love those songs. I listened to them about twenty times each until I really got into the 'feeling.' Writing to music is fun, but very hard. This chapter took a long time. Like I said before, it would be a lot better if you had the CD to listen to. But I know that not everyone has the same taste in music as me. I made Riona and Dominic Irish mostly as a celebration of 25% of my background. For Dominic, I'm imagining a Colin Farrell-ish appearance. He is the only guy who can compare with Jack Sparrow on the Hotness scale. Hee hee. I also watched the "Riverdance" video that my Irish great-grandmother gave to my mom. Very interesting. I think that's how I imagine them dancing. The amount of research that went into this chapter was unbelievable...
A/N #2: I made Jack play the violin mostly because I thought it would be neat to have him do something so out-of-character like that. Think about it, maybe that's what helped him with his sword-fighting rhythm. I do play the violin, and it is a very hard instrument. Your fingers have to be in the EXACT spot, or your notes don't turn out right. Vibrato is when you move the wrist of your left hand (the one you press on the strings with) back and forth very quickly. It's difficult to do for some people, and tiring after a while. But it makes the notes sound prettier. That's why it's called vibrato, you know, "vibrate." Ah, don't you just love these music lessons? But no one loves long author's notes, so please, review! And tell me if you play an instrument or if you've heard the songs on here. Or if you're Irish! =)