Swagfic for gryphons_lair
Title: The Garden Party, or How to Decorate a Hat
Author: lolitalockhart
For: gryphons_lair
Rating: PG
Characters: Gillette, Norrington, Groves, the Swanns, OC
Summary: A garden party at Governor Swann's takes an interesting turn.
Author's note: EXTREME fluff. I'm not sure if this is an every day situation, since it is a garden party, but I suppose you could consider it one. My native language is not English, so any spelling mistakes will be because of that. I hope you'll enjoy it! ( Doodle of original character Lord Huddlesby, just because.)
Mod notes: Likes were gen, PG, minor characters (Gibbs, Cotton, Anamaria, Murtogg&Mullroy, Groves, Gillette, Estrella, et al), shipfic (as in fic about the Pearl, Dauntless, etc), comedy, "domestic" (IE: everyday life) stories. Prompts were oranges, birds, linen.
Feeling quite forlorn at the prospect of a garden party, Commodore Norrington had insisted both he and Lieutenant Groves had to come. Supposedly an honor for men of their ranks, it seemed more like a punishment as time passed; they were far more at home at sea. The room was hot and overly perfumed, each new guest bringing in more heat, and the Governor had a lot of friends to invite. Gillette supressed a sigh, and pursed his lips instead, only barely hiding his dislike of situations such as this.
The Commodore was busy saying nothing to the young Miss Swann, and to no suprise his fellow Lieutenant had already found a lady to dance with. Said lady had to be the shapeliest female in the room, of course; his friend's natural charm and handsome face had always attracted women, ever since they were midshipmen.
Not that Lieutenant Gillette felt jealous at all. He was a far superior naval officer, as well as actually possessing this little, in Port Royal often-overlooked thing: a brain.
Unfortunately, it seemed a brain was the last thing one needed at a garden party held by Governor Swann. The man himself, dressed in embroidered pastel yellow, was as per usual all smiles and excitement. His equally fashionable friends followed his every step, and there were plenty lonely widows present to laugh along with his unfunny attempts at wit.
Indeed, it seemed everyone was enjoying themselves more then he was. Lost in his thoughts, the young Lieutenant found himself straying from the rest of the guests, back into the mansion's hallway, where several more drinks and appetizers where placed upon the large, marble table. Thoughtlessly, he took one of the small, orange-colored drinks, and sipped it, noting the strange mixture of alcohol with some type of oranges; not his favorite fruit, but it was far too hot not to drink anything.
Just when he thought he'd found some peace and quiet, one of the other guests had also discovered the table with bottles and full plates; outside most of them were already empty. Despite the man's small stature, he couldn't have been more than four feet tall, his wig, an old-fashioned one like most of the guests', but powdery pink, was sure to get him noticed where ever he went. Though, being a proper Naval officer, Gillette knew better then to show any kind of shock at the man's odd appearance. Instead, he focused on the cuffs of his good uniform jacket, the one he kept aside for special events.
The man would go away, surely, and then he'd have peace and quiet again.
After about ten minutes, Lieutenant Gillette realized it had been a bit too quiet, and he decided to look down at the tiny gentleman, again. He appeared to be, quite seriously, in the middle of creating a piece of art made out of an orange and a few pink linen napkins, right atop his head.
Though he was usually far too polite to bother anyone, no matter how strangely people behaved, Gillette couldn't hold back the need to ask, his expression speaking for itself, really. "Sir, what on earth are you doing?" The man looked up, his enormous dark eyes and even larger dark eyebrows a stark contrast with the pink of his wig, and on his cheeks. Rouge, the lieutenant knew, being part French himself. Though his own father had been in the navy, his French mother had a few brothers and a father that all appeared to be quite fond of the stuff, perhaps in an attempt to hide the family trait of freckles.
"I ... I am creating a hat." The tiny man squeaked, looking up at the other accusingly, his small but plump frame puffing with each breath, as if it took great effort to speak. Apparantly still upset at such rudeness, he spoke up again. "W-why do you judge me so! I have forgotten my hat in the carriage."
The Lieutenant raised his eyebrows, and did his best not to look amused. "Well, an orange wouldn't be the best thing to put on top of a hat in this weather. I suggest you'd use something else, such as ... hm." He looked around, for a suitable replacement of the orange. There, in the corner of the hallway, was a gilded cage with two snow white doves. "Feathers."
"B-but where on earth would I find feathers, in this place?" Gillette smiled, his first genuine smile that evening, and made his way over to the cage, where the doves cooed softly. He scooped up some of the longer feathers that had fallen beside the cage, onto the floor, carefully dusting them off, before handing them to the older man.
"Oh my, I ... I ... these are just wonderful! I am Lord Huddlesby, by the way. It is wonderful to meet you!" Huddlesby smiled brightly, his dislike of earlier long gone, as he cast the orange aside, to start on the feathers, carefully tucking them into the linen hat. The pink of the linen and the white of the feathers went well, together.
"Lieutenant Gillette, and you are very welcome." It wasn't like him to be so friendly with other people, but in the navy you were taught to be helpful. Naturally, the Lieutenant was only going by the book. He wasn't fond of this strange little man, or anything; anyone who had the nerve to go outside in a pink wig gained his immediate dislike.
Despite being French, Lieutenant Gillette had always dressed simply in his off-duty time, preferring darker shades, and little to no embroidery. It had a lot to do with his red hair and pale complexion, as well; most brighter colors clashed with it. Luckily, he could wear his good uniform to occasions such as this. Then, Huddlesby's high-pitched voice snapped him out of his thoughts. "Does this hat suit me? W-what do you like best about it?"
It was a bizarre creation, even though the colors were good, suspiciously resembling one of the paper hats he used to fold as a young boy, the feathers tucked between the brim unsteadily. Tiny Lord Huddlesby looked so hopeful and expectant, though, that the young man couldn't bring himself to say anything unkind. "It is a hat worthy of the Governor's garden party." Gillette smirked, realizing that wasn't even too much of a lie. He'd fit right in with the rest, like this. "But ... this would improve it." He took a safety pin from out of his pocket, they always carried those to keep medals and brocade in place, and secured the feather tightly against the linen.
"I ... I'd best return to the party, then. Thank you very much!" The small man waddled off, as fast as his short legs could carry him, leaving Gillette alone again.
It was strange; the more money these people had, the worse they managed to dress. Of course, these people's bad taste couldn't hold a handle to his fellow Frenchmen, where they to gain any sort of wealth at all.
From where he stood, the Lieutenant could see what went on outside perfectly. Groves had found another young woman to dance with, and Miss Swann had left the Commodore's company to talk with one of her female friends, instead. The Governor appeared to be admiring Huddlesby's hat, before announcing something to the large group of what had to be the wealthiest people, judging by their excessive use of gold embroidery.
None of it mattered, to Gillette. He'd just nurse another drink, and wait until the Commodore decided he'd be going home. It couldn't be long now, judging by his superior's obviously bored expression. His own boredom caused him to notice the orange that had previously been in Huddlesby's hat appeared to have fallen onto the floor.
Just as he leaned over to pick it up, no less then thirty ladies and gentlemen pranced into the hallway, to surround him with looks of both admiration and awe.
"Quoi?" Whenever the Lieutenant was truly shocked, and this was definitely the case, he'd return to his native tongue. The orange fell onto the floor.
"Is it true?" A young lady piped up. He reconized her, by her impressive bosom, as the woman his friend had been dancing with earlier. "Did you design Lord Huddlesby's hat?" An exceedingly plump gentleman, his scarlet vest unable to close entirely, spoke up next. "How did you come up with the idea for the feathers, Lieutenant?" More people crowded around him, and he genuinely thought they'd trample him, or at least cause him to go deaf!
Then, the Governor, with his impressive height, pushed them aside, naturally in the most gentlemanly of ways. "Come now, let him breathe! But do tell us, are you a hat designer as well as a Lieutenant?"
For the first time in his life, Lieutenant Gillette, known all through the navy for his wit and biting sarcasm, had no idea what to say. If he were to tell them they'd made the hat from scratch, Lord Huddlesby would've been horrified. Indeed, the tiny man, standing right in front of him, looked increasingly worried, large eyebrows furrowed. S-surely he wouldn't tell?
"I ... Well." What could he even answer to that? Luckily, there was always Commodore Norrington. He made his way over to the crowd, his stern voice causing all eyes to be on him, the moment he spoke. "There appears to be a misunderstanding concerning Lord Huddlesby's hat. Since he'd forgotten his hat in the carriage earlier, I sent a servant to fetch it for him."
Naturally, this WAS Commodore Norrington, the entire crowd trusted his every word. Why, it seemed plausible, and oh, what a gentleman the Commodore was. So tall, and stately. How lucky Miss Swann was to marry such a man! Only Gillette knew that said Miss Swann had left the party earlier, no doubt just as sick of it as he was. "Yes, Commodore Norrington is quite right." He couldn't have felt more grateful if he tried, really.
"But, then who designed the hat?" The Governor spoke, apparently not brushed aside as easily as the others. He wasn't the Governor for nothing!
Both Lieutenant Gillette and Lord Huddlesby where at loss of words, but the Commodore knew what to say, even at times like these; apparently he'd observed everything they'd done. "A relatively new designer, by the name of Gill Huddlette." Luckily no one heard the tiny man's giggling, nor his own quiet snickering. How on earth could Norrington keep a straight face through all of this?
It seemed there was far more to being a Commodore then sailing through storms and arresting pirates, these days.
Author: lolitalockhart
For: gryphons_lair
Rating: PG
Characters: Gillette, Norrington, Groves, the Swanns, OC
Summary: A garden party at Governor Swann's takes an interesting turn.
Author's note: EXTREME fluff. I'm not sure if this is an every day situation, since it is a garden party, but I suppose you could consider it one. My native language is not English, so any spelling mistakes will be because of that. I hope you'll enjoy it! ( Doodle of original character Lord Huddlesby, just because.)
Mod notes: Likes were gen, PG, minor characters (Gibbs, Cotton, Anamaria, Murtogg&Mullroy, Groves, Gillette, Estrella, et al), shipfic (as in fic about the Pearl, Dauntless, etc), comedy, "domestic" (IE: everyday life) stories. Prompts were oranges, birds, linen.
Feeling quite forlorn at the prospect of a garden party, Commodore Norrington had insisted both he and Lieutenant Groves had to come. Supposedly an honor for men of their ranks, it seemed more like a punishment as time passed; they were far more at home at sea. The room was hot and overly perfumed, each new guest bringing in more heat, and the Governor had a lot of friends to invite. Gillette supressed a sigh, and pursed his lips instead, only barely hiding his dislike of situations such as this.
The Commodore was busy saying nothing to the young Miss Swann, and to no suprise his fellow Lieutenant had already found a lady to dance with. Said lady had to be the shapeliest female in the room, of course; his friend's natural charm and handsome face had always attracted women, ever since they were midshipmen.
Not that Lieutenant Gillette felt jealous at all. He was a far superior naval officer, as well as actually possessing this little, in Port Royal often-overlooked thing: a brain.
Unfortunately, it seemed a brain was the last thing one needed at a garden party held by Governor Swann. The man himself, dressed in embroidered pastel yellow, was as per usual all smiles and excitement. His equally fashionable friends followed his every step, and there were plenty lonely widows present to laugh along with his unfunny attempts at wit.
Indeed, it seemed everyone was enjoying themselves more then he was. Lost in his thoughts, the young Lieutenant found himself straying from the rest of the guests, back into the mansion's hallway, where several more drinks and appetizers where placed upon the large, marble table. Thoughtlessly, he took one of the small, orange-colored drinks, and sipped it, noting the strange mixture of alcohol with some type of oranges; not his favorite fruit, but it was far too hot not to drink anything.
Just when he thought he'd found some peace and quiet, one of the other guests had also discovered the table with bottles and full plates; outside most of them were already empty. Despite the man's small stature, he couldn't have been more than four feet tall, his wig, an old-fashioned one like most of the guests', but powdery pink, was sure to get him noticed where ever he went. Though, being a proper Naval officer, Gillette knew better then to show any kind of shock at the man's odd appearance. Instead, he focused on the cuffs of his good uniform jacket, the one he kept aside for special events.
The man would go away, surely, and then he'd have peace and quiet again.
After about ten minutes, Lieutenant Gillette realized it had been a bit too quiet, and he decided to look down at the tiny gentleman, again. He appeared to be, quite seriously, in the middle of creating a piece of art made out of an orange and a few pink linen napkins, right atop his head.
Though he was usually far too polite to bother anyone, no matter how strangely people behaved, Gillette couldn't hold back the need to ask, his expression speaking for itself, really. "Sir, what on earth are you doing?" The man looked up, his enormous dark eyes and even larger dark eyebrows a stark contrast with the pink of his wig, and on his cheeks. Rouge, the lieutenant knew, being part French himself. Though his own father had been in the navy, his French mother had a few brothers and a father that all appeared to be quite fond of the stuff, perhaps in an attempt to hide the family trait of freckles.
"I ... I am creating a hat." The tiny man squeaked, looking up at the other accusingly, his small but plump frame puffing with each breath, as if it took great effort to speak. Apparantly still upset at such rudeness, he spoke up again. "W-why do you judge me so! I have forgotten my hat in the carriage."
The Lieutenant raised his eyebrows, and did his best not to look amused. "Well, an orange wouldn't be the best thing to put on top of a hat in this weather. I suggest you'd use something else, such as ... hm." He looked around, for a suitable replacement of the orange. There, in the corner of the hallway, was a gilded cage with two snow white doves. "Feathers."
"B-but where on earth would I find feathers, in this place?" Gillette smiled, his first genuine smile that evening, and made his way over to the cage, where the doves cooed softly. He scooped up some of the longer feathers that had fallen beside the cage, onto the floor, carefully dusting them off, before handing them to the older man.
"Oh my, I ... I ... these are just wonderful! I am Lord Huddlesby, by the way. It is wonderful to meet you!" Huddlesby smiled brightly, his dislike of earlier long gone, as he cast the orange aside, to start on the feathers, carefully tucking them into the linen hat. The pink of the linen and the white of the feathers went well, together.
"Lieutenant Gillette, and you are very welcome." It wasn't like him to be so friendly with other people, but in the navy you were taught to be helpful. Naturally, the Lieutenant was only going by the book. He wasn't fond of this strange little man, or anything; anyone who had the nerve to go outside in a pink wig gained his immediate dislike.
Despite being French, Lieutenant Gillette had always dressed simply in his off-duty time, preferring darker shades, and little to no embroidery. It had a lot to do with his red hair and pale complexion, as well; most brighter colors clashed with it. Luckily, he could wear his good uniform to occasions such as this. Then, Huddlesby's high-pitched voice snapped him out of his thoughts. "Does this hat suit me? W-what do you like best about it?"
It was a bizarre creation, even though the colors were good, suspiciously resembling one of the paper hats he used to fold as a young boy, the feathers tucked between the brim unsteadily. Tiny Lord Huddlesby looked so hopeful and expectant, though, that the young man couldn't bring himself to say anything unkind. "It is a hat worthy of the Governor's garden party." Gillette smirked, realizing that wasn't even too much of a lie. He'd fit right in with the rest, like this. "But ... this would improve it." He took a safety pin from out of his pocket, they always carried those to keep medals and brocade in place, and secured the feather tightly against the linen.
"I ... I'd best return to the party, then. Thank you very much!" The small man waddled off, as fast as his short legs could carry him, leaving Gillette alone again.
It was strange; the more money these people had, the worse they managed to dress. Of course, these people's bad taste couldn't hold a handle to his fellow Frenchmen, where they to gain any sort of wealth at all.
From where he stood, the Lieutenant could see what went on outside perfectly. Groves had found another young woman to dance with, and Miss Swann had left the Commodore's company to talk with one of her female friends, instead. The Governor appeared to be admiring Huddlesby's hat, before announcing something to the large group of what had to be the wealthiest people, judging by their excessive use of gold embroidery.
None of it mattered, to Gillette. He'd just nurse another drink, and wait until the Commodore decided he'd be going home. It couldn't be long now, judging by his superior's obviously bored expression. His own boredom caused him to notice the orange that had previously been in Huddlesby's hat appeared to have fallen onto the floor.
Just as he leaned over to pick it up, no less then thirty ladies and gentlemen pranced into the hallway, to surround him with looks of both admiration and awe.
"Quoi?" Whenever the Lieutenant was truly shocked, and this was definitely the case, he'd return to his native tongue. The orange fell onto the floor.
"Is it true?" A young lady piped up. He reconized her, by her impressive bosom, as the woman his friend had been dancing with earlier. "Did you design Lord Huddlesby's hat?" An exceedingly plump gentleman, his scarlet vest unable to close entirely, spoke up next. "How did you come up with the idea for the feathers, Lieutenant?" More people crowded around him, and he genuinely thought they'd trample him, or at least cause him to go deaf!
Then, the Governor, with his impressive height, pushed them aside, naturally in the most gentlemanly of ways. "Come now, let him breathe! But do tell us, are you a hat designer as well as a Lieutenant?"
For the first time in his life, Lieutenant Gillette, known all through the navy for his wit and biting sarcasm, had no idea what to say. If he were to tell them they'd made the hat from scratch, Lord Huddlesby would've been horrified. Indeed, the tiny man, standing right in front of him, looked increasingly worried, large eyebrows furrowed. S-surely he wouldn't tell?
"I ... Well." What could he even answer to that? Luckily, there was always Commodore Norrington. He made his way over to the crowd, his stern voice causing all eyes to be on him, the moment he spoke. "There appears to be a misunderstanding concerning Lord Huddlesby's hat. Since he'd forgotten his hat in the carriage earlier, I sent a servant to fetch it for him."
Naturally, this WAS Commodore Norrington, the entire crowd trusted his every word. Why, it seemed plausible, and oh, what a gentleman the Commodore was. So tall, and stately. How lucky Miss Swann was to marry such a man! Only Gillette knew that said Miss Swann had left the party earlier, no doubt just as sick of it as he was. "Yes, Commodore Norrington is quite right." He couldn't have felt more grateful if he tried, really.
"But, then who designed the hat?" The Governor spoke, apparently not brushed aside as easily as the others. He wasn't the Governor for nothing!
Both Lieutenant Gillette and Lord Huddlesby where at loss of words, but the Commodore knew what to say, even at times like these; apparently he'd observed everything they'd done. "A relatively new designer, by the name of Gill Huddlette." Luckily no one heard the tiny man's giggling, nor his own quiet snickering. How on earth could Norrington keep a straight face through all of this?
It seemed there was far more to being a Commodore then sailing through storms and arresting pirates, these days.