shyaway (shyaway) wrote in wallflowering, @ 2008-02-27 22:43:00 |
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Entry tags: | fic: potc - gen |
PotC fic: The Twelve Days of Christmas (Bill/wife, G, 8/12)
Title: The Twelve Days of Christmas
Author: shyaway
Rating: G
Pairing: Bootstrap Bill/Mrs Turner
Disclaimer: Pirates of the Caribbean and its characters belong to Disney.
Summary: Twelve festive piratey drabbles inspired by the carol.
A Partridge in a Pear Tree
Turtle Doves
French Hens
Calling Birds
Gold Rings
Geese a-Laying
Swans a-Swimming
The first day of 1699 was dawning calm and bright. All was tranquil; the ground, lace-covered with snow, felt staid under Bill’s feet after so long at sea. He was chilled to the bone, and worn out – it was a weary seven miles from Dover to the village of his childhood, and the presents he carried for his parents were growing heavier with every step. At least he hadn’t much further to go. He was approaching the last house before his family’s: that of the Armitages. John Armitage had been a slightly distant figure of Bill’s childhood, too old to be a playfellow, too young to be looked up to as an adult.
Someone was emerging from their ramshackle cowshed. As the unfamiliar woman drew nearer, Bill recalled hearing that John had taken a younger wife from another town some distance away. This must be her.
“Good morning,” he called out politely.
She came closer and he saw that she had dimples and brown eyes. “Good morning. You’re a stranger here, I think.”
Bill introduced himself and explained his connection to her neighbours.
“Oh, you’re a member of the Turner family. I’ve only been in the village a few weeks, not long enough to get to know everyone.”
“A few weeks? I thought John was married three years ago.”
She frowned. “Yes – to my sister. Anne and the boys have been ill with influenza. I’m nursing them.” She held up the bucket in her hand. “And milking the cow. That has to be done, rain of shine.”
“Then you are – ” Bill hesitated, trying to dredge up Anne Armitage’s maiden name, “-Miss Cartwright?”
“Yes, I am – ”
“Sarah!” a voice called from the house.
“Oh – I must go. But I … I hope you will stay in the village for a while? Long enough to call on us, at least?”
Certainly. If he could, he would stay long enough for a wedding.