Wherein we present a fanfic
Yes, I have finally finished a fanfic. I wanted to make it longer but I finally got around to rereading it today and realized that I wasn't going to get anywhere else on it and where I was made a perfectly find ending. It's set between Matelots and Treasure. Enjoy
Wherein We Acquire Some Animals
I woke alone in our wide hammock and carefully stretched before rolling out of it and going in search of Gaston. I found my matelot on the side of the house, palm fronds and several sturdy-looking pieces of wood arrayed before him.
He glanced up as I came around the side of the house and knelt before him. His eyes were warm emeralds in the morning light and he provided me with a faint smile. I wished I could speak to admonish him for his guilty mien, but the bandage about my head prevented it. If my jaw healed correctly, I would be rid of the damn thing within a few weeks.
His gentle touch on my cheek brought me back from fantasy with a sheepish smile.
“Let me examine it,” Gaston said softly, and I nodded.
He carefully unwound the bandage and poked at my jaw for a few moments before asking me to open my mouth as wide as I could.
I stretched it until it pained me to do so and was rewarded with a brief but thorough kiss that left me wishing that bone could heal quicker.
“It is healing well.” He tenderly retied the bandage around my jaw.
When he was finished, I motioned curiously at the fronds before him. Several were already lashed together and set a little aside from the rest.
He swept his gaze over the little assemblage as if attempting to remember how it had all gotten there. When his eyes finally returned to me, I was fighting to contain my amusement.
“I am making an awning,” he explained. “So we need not continuously be in the sunlight.”
I nodded again and pointed down to the beach this time. It was late in the morning for our regimen already, due mostly to the fact that he had ridden me hard the previous night and I had been exhausted. He, apparently, had still woken early and gone down to the beach to gather the materials he was using.
His curious frown slowly transformed into a hesitant grin. “The Horse is calm.”
I grinned back at him and pointed at the beach again. I would not let us grow lax in this. Not when it helped keep his Horse calm and under his control.
Amusement rumbled deep in his chest as he stood and swept the fronds closer to the wall of the house.
I straightened and waited for him to join me before trotting down the path that wound down from the promontory to the stretch of beach to the north, between the bay and the bog.
We preformed our morning regimen of running and sparring and were beginning to strip in order to frolic in the waves, as we were often wont to do, when a flyboat came round the point, headed into our little bay.
I looked to Gaston. He was tense, his hand clenching and unclenching over the rapier in his belt. I draped an arm over his shoulder and watched the flyboat approach the beach.
As it came closer, a great commotion reached us and I felt Gaston relax beside me. Anyone coming to attack our humble little home would not be quite so loud. Nor have a great many animals on their ship. Nor be our friends.
I found myself grinning as the flyboat drew even with us and Pete and Striker jumped onto the shore to pull it up onto the sand. They were as handsome as always, the handsomest men I had ever seen, with the exception of my matelot. My grin faded as I remembered the bitterness I harbored toward Striker. There were things we must speak of and forgive each other of but not this day.
He embraced me, though, followed by Pete, and I smiled again. These were our friends. Bitterness could wait.
“What have you brought us?” Gaston asked, eyeing the animals on the flyboat with unease.
I, too, turned my attention to the animals on the boat. There were several goats hungrily eyeing the sail, a handful of chickens penned into one side of the boat and two huge dogs lounging on the opposite side. Bella raised her head as Pete grabbed two of the chickens and turned to us with a pleased smile, a bird under each arm.
“WeBroughtYaMoreChickens.”
“And goats.” Striker nodded, grinning almost as widely as his matelot.
I felt the rumble of amusement in Gaston’s chest and shook my head. I pointed to the dogs and quirked a brow at our friends.
“We thought they would do you more good than us,” Striker explained quietly with a shrug. “We have the last litter of pups, you can keep this one here.”
“Puppies?” Gaston asked, new interest and the hint of a child-like mien in his eyes.
I grinned stupidly. Puppies would do my matelot good. I could have kissed Striker for thinking of it, despite my lingering anger.
“AyePuppies,” Pete said excitedly, motioning at Bella and her mate, a huge black dog named Taro, much to the annoyance of the hen in his grip. “TheyWon’tBeComin’FerAWhileThough.”
Gaston smiled.
“Get those goats off my ship before they eat the sail!” Striker exclaimed and we turned to see one of the aforementioned beasts chewing on the canvass, threatening to tear off a great section of cloth.
I wanted to tease Striker about his ship, the Virgin Queen, being away smuggling to the Spanish with the rest of our cabal, but the bandage about my head and Gaston’s warning glance prevented me from saying anything.
Gaston and I climbed aboard the small flyboat and urged the wretched goats to the side where we lowered them to Striker and Pete. Bella and Taro roused themselves if only to see what the commotion was about and were led down to our wolves as well.
Once all the goats were ashore, it was decided that Striker and I should attempt to herd them up the hill to our house while Gaston and Pete carried the chickens up. I was glad I was not expected to hold one of the writhing, squawking birds on the narrow path but I never expected goats to be as obstinate as they were. Not only did they eschew the path, they attempted to eat anything that caught their attention, including on more than one occasion, someone’s flesh. Thankfully, Bella and Taro would occasionally snap at one of them and we slowly made our way up to our hut.
I wondered whether the gods were giving us a blessing or a curse with the damned obstinate goats.
I'm not getting money for this and all characters are copyrighted to W.A. Hoffman.
Wherein We Acquire Some Animals
I woke alone in our wide hammock and carefully stretched before rolling out of it and going in search of Gaston. I found my matelot on the side of the house, palm fronds and several sturdy-looking pieces of wood arrayed before him.
He glanced up as I came around the side of the house and knelt before him. His eyes were warm emeralds in the morning light and he provided me with a faint smile. I wished I could speak to admonish him for his guilty mien, but the bandage about my head prevented it. If my jaw healed correctly, I would be rid of the damn thing within a few weeks.
His gentle touch on my cheek brought me back from fantasy with a sheepish smile.
“Let me examine it,” Gaston said softly, and I nodded.
He carefully unwound the bandage and poked at my jaw for a few moments before asking me to open my mouth as wide as I could.
I stretched it until it pained me to do so and was rewarded with a brief but thorough kiss that left me wishing that bone could heal quicker.
“It is healing well.” He tenderly retied the bandage around my jaw.
When he was finished, I motioned curiously at the fronds before him. Several were already lashed together and set a little aside from the rest.
He swept his gaze over the little assemblage as if attempting to remember how it had all gotten there. When his eyes finally returned to me, I was fighting to contain my amusement.
“I am making an awning,” he explained. “So we need not continuously be in the sunlight.”
I nodded again and pointed down to the beach this time. It was late in the morning for our regimen already, due mostly to the fact that he had ridden me hard the previous night and I had been exhausted. He, apparently, had still woken early and gone down to the beach to gather the materials he was using.
His curious frown slowly transformed into a hesitant grin. “The Horse is calm.”
I grinned back at him and pointed at the beach again. I would not let us grow lax in this. Not when it helped keep his Horse calm and under his control.
Amusement rumbled deep in his chest as he stood and swept the fronds closer to the wall of the house.
I straightened and waited for him to join me before trotting down the path that wound down from the promontory to the stretch of beach to the north, between the bay and the bog.
We preformed our morning regimen of running and sparring and were beginning to strip in order to frolic in the waves, as we were often wont to do, when a flyboat came round the point, headed into our little bay.
I looked to Gaston. He was tense, his hand clenching and unclenching over the rapier in his belt. I draped an arm over his shoulder and watched the flyboat approach the beach.
As it came closer, a great commotion reached us and I felt Gaston relax beside me. Anyone coming to attack our humble little home would not be quite so loud. Nor have a great many animals on their ship. Nor be our friends.
I found myself grinning as the flyboat drew even with us and Pete and Striker jumped onto the shore to pull it up onto the sand. They were as handsome as always, the handsomest men I had ever seen, with the exception of my matelot. My grin faded as I remembered the bitterness I harbored toward Striker. There were things we must speak of and forgive each other of but not this day.
He embraced me, though, followed by Pete, and I smiled again. These were our friends. Bitterness could wait.
“What have you brought us?” Gaston asked, eyeing the animals on the flyboat with unease.
I, too, turned my attention to the animals on the boat. There were several goats hungrily eyeing the sail, a handful of chickens penned into one side of the boat and two huge dogs lounging on the opposite side. Bella raised her head as Pete grabbed two of the chickens and turned to us with a pleased smile, a bird under each arm.
“WeBroughtYaMoreChickens.”
“And goats.” Striker nodded, grinning almost as widely as his matelot.
I felt the rumble of amusement in Gaston’s chest and shook my head. I pointed to the dogs and quirked a brow at our friends.
“We thought they would do you more good than us,” Striker explained quietly with a shrug. “We have the last litter of pups, you can keep this one here.”
“Puppies?” Gaston asked, new interest and the hint of a child-like mien in his eyes.
I grinned stupidly. Puppies would do my matelot good. I could have kissed Striker for thinking of it, despite my lingering anger.
“AyePuppies,” Pete said excitedly, motioning at Bella and her mate, a huge black dog named Taro, much to the annoyance of the hen in his grip. “TheyWon’tBeComin’FerAWhileThough.”
Gaston smiled.
“Get those goats off my ship before they eat the sail!” Striker exclaimed and we turned to see one of the aforementioned beasts chewing on the canvass, threatening to tear off a great section of cloth.
I wanted to tease Striker about his ship, the Virgin Queen, being away smuggling to the Spanish with the rest of our cabal, but the bandage about my head and Gaston’s warning glance prevented me from saying anything.
Gaston and I climbed aboard the small flyboat and urged the wretched goats to the side where we lowered them to Striker and Pete. Bella and Taro roused themselves if only to see what the commotion was about and were led down to our wolves as well.
Once all the goats were ashore, it was decided that Striker and I should attempt to herd them up the hill to our house while Gaston and Pete carried the chickens up. I was glad I was not expected to hold one of the writhing, squawking birds on the narrow path but I never expected goats to be as obstinate as they were. Not only did they eschew the path, they attempted to eat anything that caught their attention, including on more than one occasion, someone’s flesh. Thankfully, Bella and Taro would occasionally snap at one of them and we slowly made our way up to our hut.
I wondered whether the gods were giving us a blessing or a curse with the damned obstinate goats.
I'm not getting money for this and all characters are copyrighted to W.A. Hoffman.