[POTC challenge fic] - "Song" - rated R
Challenge: Write a scene for each of the words below using characters from Pirates of the Caribbean.
1)spine
2)song
3)smoke
4)gold
5)box
6)flee
7)snake
8) memories
9)henna
10)eyes
Two down, eight to go. I wrote this at work, so God knows I may have missed something in proofing. *crosses fingers*
I’ve taken some liberties with the song snippets featured in this story. They are all modern songs, and where possible I’ve linked to translations and audio/video clips, as I know that most everyone reading this won’t get much out of trying to decipher the transliterated words by their lonesome.
Notes on songs: I chose “Silsila Yeh Chaahat Ka” (from the film Devdas) for Jack to sing because I love the imagery and find it especially fitting - a little mushy, perhaps, but that’s the nature of the genre. Cannot escape it. This is a song normally sung by a woman, but I also like to imagine Jack being undeterred by that, androgynous bad-boy that he is. It can be sung by a man, and I’ve heard it done in lower, sadder tones than my example features. Although this is a Hindi song, and Jack’s back-story in my universe will ultimately pin him with Tamil as his mother tongue, it’s not uncommon for Indians to speak several languages. My father personally speaks Tamil, Hindi, Telagu and Sinhalese just out of necessity, and I’d like to think that Jack’s like that - 20 languages in his head, addling his brain. Also, it’s nearly impossible to find a good translated transliteration of Tamil songs. J Here’s a link to the full lyrics as well as sound clips: http://www.bollyfm.net/bollyfm/translyricsinfo.php?mid=232&tid=1164 Check out the video at youtube: http://youtube.com/watch?v=k3A8bNWVrM0 Please note that I started the song mid-point - at 2 minutes, 45 seconds if you’re watching the video. Artistic license is a gem!
The other song, “Leily Nahari,” is a popular Arabic song by Amr Diab. There used to be a really haunting live version of it at www.6arab.com, but I’ve yet to relocate it. Until then, here’s a link to the full lyrics: http://www.datiki.com/music/AmrDiab/amrdiab.htm This is the video on youtube. Trust me when I say that when it’s not a slightly electronic, upbeat deal it’s insanely beautiful: http://youtube.com/watch?v=xaS2MoaYsDg Not sure where Jack may have picked up Arabic as of yet - maybe Kashmir or some Mediterranean port. My apologies for the way I had to post the song. Unfortunately, breaking the thing into proper lines was not possible. FYI: the numbers in the words represent sounds not existing in English.
As far as the violin playing goes, this will give you a better idea of the way I imagine him playing: http://www.musicalnirvana.com/instruments/violin.html I wholeheartedly suggest that you play both the Hindustani and Carnatic versions because, though Jack is described as playing in the Carnatic fashion, the sound would still be closer to the Hindustani clip. Originally, I wanted Jack playing a Carnatic instrument or a sitar, but logic won out - sitars are HUGE and it would be exceedingly stupid to try and imagine Jack having one lying around. Carnatic instruments, though heartbreakingly beautiful, either require too much study to be plausible or simply didn’t fit the songs I could find. Besides, Jack’s half-Indian, so the use of a European instrument for an Indian sound really floats my boat (and this was a concept that was still sort of new and edgy in those times).
2) SONG:
“Aye, and I’d tell you too, if it weren’t fer this infernal honor of mine.” Jack was a-sparkle with mischief as he laid his head in Elizabeth’s lap and grinned that indecent grin of his - gold teeth gleaming, brow sweat-glossed, eyes glassy with too much liquor. Making a showing of stretching across her lap and rolling his wrists, Jack looked for all the world to be as carefree and self-satisfied as a fish in fresh water, and Elizabeth wondered wryly if he didn’t just look like one as well, all the flopping about he was doing.
Rolling her eyes, she groaned in mock-exasperation and laid her palm on his forehead, liking the fit. “Careful, Jack -“
“Captain Jack.”
“As I said, careful Jack, lightning may strike you down yet.”
“But not if you get me first, eh me dearest Lady Doom?” He watched Elizabeth with all the predatory glee of a proper pirate, his mouth playfully set and his head pillowed in her lap. But that vacant, shark-like cast had fallen across his eyes - his mind perhaps wandering back to the Kraken’s first crunch of bone - and so the blithe smile he focused on her never quite reached the target.
And though it had been nearly a year since returning from the brink of the world, now and then she’d witness that dimness slip over him - always his eyes - and she’d know he hadn’t released her fully from scorn. Where his thoughts wandered in those moments she dared not consider, and yet he would always administer some gentle touch to soften the blow - his thumb across the back of her hand, a strand of hair tucked behind her ear - and she would feel the depth of him then. It was nearly comfort.
But the coldness in her belly persisted, despite what little sense she could make of it. In those times she’d ache, for just a moment, for a warm parlor and the promise of Will with some little gift of fruit in the afternoon. A mango for when he wanted her to slip out after dark. Plantains and guavas to signal a long night of work for him, and the occasional pear or apple meaning he would stay for dinner if circumstance allowed.
But Jack tipped her chin, halting her mental escape, tilting her face towards him with a sooty thumb, a morsel of the rum’s heat returning in a hot flush at his touch. With marked nonchalance, she ran her fingers over a damp, spongy dreadlock.
He turned into her touch almost imperceptibly, and moonlight caught him just so, beads of water still speckling his hair.
“You’re almost silver in this light,” she said with a voice absent-sounding, though her fingers played at his temple. For a moment she thought something tender folded over him.
But lightning quick he was Jack again, out of her lap and dancing about the beach, some limerick or other sending the crew into fits.
“It’s a night for a song, isn’t it me darlin’?”
“And here I thought we were done with the howling after that last storm.”
She summoned her most superior pout.
“Is that a challenge to my musical prowess or are you just commenting on my animal magnetism?”
“Is a baboon more musical or magnetic?”
Jack made a great show of wincing and clutching his chest.
“Ah a vixen ye are, shooting such arrows into my besotted heart! I’ll have you know I’m Captain Jack Sparrow, greatest maritime musician to sail these seven seas - isn’t it, Gibbs?”
“Aye, a right fine miracle it is, singing down the sirens from their cliffs an’ all.”
“And siren you are,” Jack said, his intent eyes returning to examine her body with a rawness that peeled her of all composure, his swagger pitching him just a trifle closer as he studied her in front of the whole raucous, drunken crew.
Voice dusky, she responded in kind. “Let’s have it.”
“Ah. For you then, oh frightful siren.”
Elizabeth leaned forward awaiting some lewd pirate’s tune. But Jack, never a pillar of predictability, chose instead to make a dash for the longboat, returning with Ragetti’s ramshackle violin. He sat on the edge of some driftwood across from her, flames separating them, and proceeded to tuck the instrument firmly between his shoulder and foot.
A rather wobbly Ragetti squinted at the strange arrangement.
“Wot sort of fiddle playin’ that be, Cap’in?”
“Not fiddle playin’,” Jack replied, leaning back a bit from what Elizabeth could only imagine was a wall of acrid breath slamming into him. “This is fiddling of a different kind, and I think you’ll find it quite liberating, as it were.”
“Sea-tar playin’ like wot you told us of?”
Scooting a few inches away from Ragetti, Jack settled back on the log, a low sigh of resignation escaping as he drew the bow over the strings, plucking and tuning with brows knit.
“Yes, something like that. And it’s sitar not sea-tar.”
“Like I said sea-“
Jack waived him of with a loose flourish.
After a few minutes of shrill plucking, the corners of Jack's mouth turned up in victory, and his bow began its slow drag across the strings.
It was a sound like no other. Free yet controlled, crisp but wailing - something like the sound of heartbreak. Elizabeth felt herself drift with his playing, buoyant and aching with it.
And then Jack began to sing.
But it was not the voice of Captain Jack.
He formed the strange words fully, his mouth careful to project their roundness, the tune breaking and fluttering in a style and language that neither Elizabeth nor the men expected.
“Faasla tha doori thi,” his eyes fixed on the ocean.
“ Faasla tha doori thiiii,” and then on Elizabeth, the note held long but trembling exotically.
“Tha judaai ka aalam, intezaar mein nazrein thi….” His eyes on her with the look of something splintered behind, eyes like water she would drown in, and she shivered as he turned away slightly, towards the sea.
She held herself still - erect - but her blood roared, rushing with his bow. Her mind wandered to the memory of him on the deck of the Pearl, to her own thumb trailing over his hand as she left him to die. She was snapping inside. As surely as he sang, she shattered.
Returning his gaze to her, voice strong and urgent, he was careful to look at her softly and enunciate the next line.
“Ghoomke toofaan aaya hai par tujhko bujha nahin paaya hai.”
And he unfurled her with that honeyed voice, slightly off-key but fervent. She was ribbons in the wind, something lovely and helpless and unfettered.
Later that night:
The Pearl sways gently, rocking them. The only sounds are the sighs of Elizabeth’s slow breathing and the steady lapping of water against wood. Jack’s glad they’ve returned onboard to sleep, the fresh air proving slightly less appealing than the promise of a tangle in his soft bed. To be sure, there’s a bit of tang to the air - he can’t deny that, what with her saltiness and his own omnipresent odor. A touch of garlic and fish, if he’s honest. But they make a savory dish, the two, and he’s happy enough with it.
And of course there’s the joy of Elizabeth, naked and resplendent in her sweat-sheen, body stretched across the mess of blankets on her stomach, her head propped on her forearms. He wants to press his feet to her bare back, wants to flip her over and examine the dip in her clavicle.
For a minute, Jack’s overcome with all sorts of wicked thoughts involving his tongue and that pocket at throat’s base. Instead, he walks to the table to browse the charts he’d fretted over all of the day prior, and being moderately satisfied, he returns to lay beside her, propped on his elbow.
He waits for her to speak. She has the look of a woman chewing on something, and he’s patient as she collects herself.
“How did you learn to play like that, Jack?”
At that moment she’s impossibly young to him, and with none of his earlier bitterness he remembers the Elizabeth Swan of Port Royal, corseted and blushing.
“That’s Captain Jack, lass.” But he’s smiling warmly, and he strokes her hair with a gentle hand.
“Mmm,” fluttering eyelids betraying her sleepiness, “Captain, do tell me how you learned to play the fiddle so wickedly.”
She rolls over, catlike and unhurried. Her nipples are a lovely salmon that, in places, have turned indigo from previous ministrations. Jack feels a moment of pity for himself and his increasing age. If he were ten years younger, he mused, there’d be less of him talking and more of him displaying his full attention, as it were.
“Well pet -”
She rolls her eyes.
“As I was sayin’, Warrior Queen, my father brought me a rotten old fiddle as a boy - never saw much of him but when I did, right as rain he’d have me something. Well, he gave me a fiddle thinkin’ I’d play at it a bit and leave it go. But my mother thought I might learn something of Indian art, so she sent me in the afternoons for lessons with a teacher. Rotten old coot. But it suited me fair enough to play, and I liked the way proper ladies just cringed at a violin being stroked so”
“I’m glad your mother made you go. Listening to that music -” but she stops short as though something hidden in her catches.
A beat. Two.
“What language were you singing in?’
“Hindi.”
“What did the words mean?”
“It’s a long song.”
“We’ve got all night.”
“Alright, alright. ‘Faasla tha doori thi’ means ‘there was space’ or ‘there was distance.’”
“Mmm.”
His fingertips skip across her collarbones.
“’Tha judaai ka aalam, intezaar mein nazrein thi’ is roughly ‘there was a world of separation,’ and ‘ghoomke toofaan aaya hai par tujhko bujha nahin paaya hai’ is ‘wandering, a storm has come but could not extinguish you.””
She looks at him with something too serious for him to acknowledge, and she lifts his hand from her breastbone to kiss the pads of his fingers.
“Sing me another?”
“Same language?”
She sits up a touch, leaning on her elbow and examining him.
“How many do you know?”
“Surely you are aware of Captain Jack Sparrow’s astounding abilities with his tongue? I know as many languages as there are names for the sea”
“Is that why you so rarely make sense, dashing Captain? Too much to sort through?”
Feigning great pain, he pouts derisively and grabs his hat from the floor, and as he sets it atop his head with aplomb, he cannot help but grin at the ridiculous picture he must make - naked but for his ruddy tricorn.
“Another one then,” says Elizabeth, settling back into her nest of blankets.
“Aye, aye,” he says, clearing his throat. “Tis a dancers song originally, but tonight we’ll call it a lullaby, savvy?”
“We have an accord,” she says shutting her eyes and burrowing a bit deeper into the covers.
“Jack?”
“Hmm?”
“Tell me the meanings when you finish.”
“What’s in it for me?”
“I won’t beat you black and blue in your sleep.”
“Well then, Pirate Queen, it seems we have another accord. Now settle yourself.”
“Mmm.”
He studies her a moment, hair caught in knots, lips still a sliver too red and swollen. Searching his mind for a song he won’t butcher, he settles on an Arabic tune his sister was fond of and says a half-prayer that he won’t trip over the words.
Beginning in high, clear tones, he doesn’t pause to collect himself at each line. Rather, he croons somewhat shakily, fumbling through but aware that her breathing has calmed to a familiar tempo.
“Leily nahary ta3ala 7abiby la malamah, 7abiby khodny leek.
Leily nahary ta3ala 7abiby alby yama 7abiby khaf 3aleek.
Yareet ana ashofak osady
Yareet hawak dah kan 7obb 3ady
Ganbak 7aiaty de agmal 7ayah
Ha7keelak eih khalas manta shayef
Men gheer ma2ool akeed enta 3aref
Kalam kteer ana nefsy a2oloh
Wekalam kteer yaretak te2oloh
Ganbak 7ayaty de agmal 7ayah.”
She’s asleep - he’s sure - and he covers her gently. Standing carefully, he tiptoes to his clothes piled near the table and dresses, watching her slumber and considering a date with another bottle of rum on deck.
He bends to her temple, whispering so low he wonders if his voice breaks the stillness at all.
“Days and night you come to me.
My love, don’t blame me, but take me with you.
Days and night you come to me.
My heart has always been worried about you.
I wish I can see you in front of me.
I wish your love was just a normal feeling.
With you my life is the best time.”
And though he's ruffled a bit by the speaking of it, she sleeps on.. He turns to the door barely intact. It’s like the snapping of a thing, he thinks, but a good pirate always honors an accord.
Title: Song
Fandom: Pirates of the Caribbean
Spoilers: Post my hypothetical AWE
Pairing: Jack/Elizabeth
Rating: a strong R (nudity, innuendo)
Word Count: 2,189
Summary: Written for a friend's ficlet challenge - the second of ten. Jack's got some secret skills.
Disclaimer: I don't own POTC or any of the people in it. Would that I was that rich....
Feedback is fabulous!