Post by Muse on Dec 13, 2011 4:58:42 GMT 10
For: Pandora
MORE Evin for the maximum Ficmas Joy! HUZZAH!
(I hope no one minds that I've uploaded to the Ficmas Area even though it is Dec. 12th. If so, please please feel free to delete this or move it to the regular Tortall Fanfiction area!)
From: Muse
Title: Ten Lords a-Leaping, or, Wherein There Are Cracked Up Carols.
Rating: PG-13
Wishlist Item: #1 - Evin!
Summary:It’s Midwinter in Corus and Miri is the sole witness to a prank backfiring in a bad way on the Riders...at least until Evin escapes into the out-of-doors! Part ten of “The Twelve Days of Mischief...or, It Came Upon a Midwinter Weird”.
Rated for: Evin and the Riders imbibing alcohol...author does not condone underage drinking or the over-consumption of alcoholic beverages.
Ten Lords a-Leaping...or Wherein There Are Cracked Up Carols.
“It’s all going according to plan,” Evin rubbed his hands together, watching gleefully as the other Riders crowded around the two large bowls on the table. “The Own won’t know what hit them!”
“This is definitely our best plan yet,” Farant elbowed Natan in the ribs.
Evin watched their antics for a moment longer, than turned to Miri. “Say, Miri, do you remember which bowl we put the rum in?” Evin wondered as their fellow Riders gleefully helping themselves to egg nog.
Miri turned slowly. “…er, no?”
“Pity.” Evin rubbed his chin, “because they’ve already started drinking…”
The implications of what he was saying sinking in, Miri looked at Evin, dumbstruck, in time to see him raise a finger decisively.
“Ah, well. A MAN MUST GO DOWN WITH HIS SHIP!”
Helpless, Miri could only pray that the Riders would decide to have a nice, quiet evening for once.
Half a mark later, Miri found herself outside at the urging of one slightly dizzy Evin Larse. “It’s so beautiful, Miri!” he cried, and Miri resisted the urge to smack him upside the head and drag him back inside.
Maybe sweet-talking him would help. “Evin, sweetie, come on, come back inside now—“
Opening his arms as if to embrace the whole of the palace, Evin threw his head back, unmindful of the snow falling into his eyes, and bawled out:
“SIIIIIIIIIIIIILENT NIIIIIIIIIIIIIGHT!”
A window several floors up crashed open, jumping on its hinges as one irate secretary stuck his head out. “NO IT BLOODY WELL ISN’T!”
Miri, frozen somewhere between laughing and crying, watched as the rest of her Rider group, lead by their fearless leader, serenaded the yard with a truly unique rendition of the timeless midwinter song.
Sadly, the inside of the palace echoed a whole lot more than the relatively harmless “out of doors concert” that the Riders had been giving up until mere moments ago.
“On the fourth—“ Evin halted, confused, rubbing his nose before nodding and continuing,“On the third day of midwinter, my true love gaaaaaaaave—“
Miri grabbed his arm. “Evin!” she hissed, “don’t you think you could be, you know, a little, er, quieter?!”
He gave her a bemused smile. “Come on Miri, get in the Midwinter Spirit! You gotta know some carols!”
Deni threw and arm around her friend and hiccupped. “Yeah, we’re aaaaaall singing!”
“I know one!” Padrach exclaimed, before shouting, “Here we come a wassailing—“
“What’s a wassail?” wondered a pensieve Ysbel, looking around distractedly. “Are we looking for one?”
“—among the leaves so—“
“FIVE GOOOOOOLDEN RIIIIIIIIIIIIINGS!” Evin interrupted dramatically, lunging forward even as a vase toppled slowly from its table behind him.
Miri, caught between a falling Evin and a falling (probably priceless) crystal vase from Carthak, cringed as her decision to catch her Group Leader ended with him landing on top of her to the tinkling sound of “broken”.
“Hello!” Evin told her delightedly, “we’re on the ground!”
Slowly and repeatedly, Miri knocked her head against the floor.
The hall was empty.
Slightly panicked, Miri looked around frantically. The shards of crystal were still there, but Evin was suspiciously missing. She had only take her eye off them for a moment—how cold she lose nine raucous, caroling, slightly tipsy Riders? It’s not like they were unnoticeable!
Torn, she looked at the broom, then the empty hallway, then the door.
Broom.
Hall.
Door.
“Dammit.” She tossed the broom in roughly the direction of what used to be the vase. “Evin Larse, when I find you, you are so.dead.”
Miri charged into the Midwinter Ball, only to come up short. There was too much “peace on earth/goodwill toward men” in the room for Evin to be here; dancers twirled serenely in the middle of the floor whilst the rest of the nobility sat or stood around the room in subdued, polite conversation. In fact, the only person acting out of place seemed to be herself.
Dom looked at her oddly, puzzled as he took in her harried appearance. Nearby, other members of the Own shifted uneasily, and in the midst of the panic welling up in her stomach, Miri stifled a grin. The Own was obviously on alert for a prank, and entirely unawares of how the tables had accidentally been turned.
She might have time to head them off—
Voices in the hallway captured Miri’s attention, and she turned to the door in horror.
Not here, not here, not here…
The mumbling grew closer, and Miri recognized the tune of one apparently much-abused carol. She braced herself, unable to look at the door; the Court was in for one unforgettable—
But no explosion of drunken good-cheer erupted into the Ball; the doorway remained empty. Miri craned her neck, then flinched as she heard “--HOLLY!” bellowed beyond the room.
Evin Larse came crashing through the ornamental window to the left of the door to a strong chorus of “FA LALALALAAAAAAAH LALALA LAAAAAAAA!”
All across the ballroom, startled by the almighty cacophony of shattering glass, lords leapt to their feet; on the dais, Jon jumped, searching for the source of the noise. Further down the table, it was hard to tell who was laughing harder, Raoul or Gary. The former, dropping back to his chair, slid half off it in a fit of laughter, while the latter stuffed a fist in his mouth, presumably to try and hold back his mirth. Further down the dais, Alanna kept grabbing at George’s hands; by standing, he pulled out of her reach and began a slow clap. The lady knight, red as a beet, took the opportunity to forget the threat that Jon had made years ago, and hid under the table.
To Miri’s left, Baird leaned heavily on his son’s shoulder, wiping streaming eyes and trying to maintain dignity while completely ignoring the fact that for once, Nealan of Queenscove had been struck dumb. Nearby, Daine was using Numair’s sleeve to wipe her own eyes, gasping, “I didn’t know anyone sang worse than you do!”
Wyldon was turning a brilliant and inspired shade of puce, while Duke Gareth his a smirk behind a graceful hand. Several nobles, including one Burchard of Stone Mountain, stalked stiffly from the room only to bump into Farant and Natan by the door, who cheered loudly and toasted them. Turomot of Wellam, once again faced with the overabundance of...Evin, in the ballroom, simply sat back down and patted his face with his napkin. This time, it was someone else’s turn to deal with the Riders.
Raoul fell out of his chair, convulsing with gales of laughter and earning one hard, venomous glade from Jon.
Grinning broadly even as he staggered haphazardly, Evin caught himself on the dais mid-rendition of a new carol, which carried surprisingly far through the rapidly silencing Court.
“You’d better not pout, you’d better not—“
He waggled his eyebrows suggestively at Thayet, “…in a pear tree.”
Miri covered her face with her hands.
Gary roared with laughter.
MORE Evin for the maximum Ficmas Joy! HUZZAH!
(I hope no one minds that I've uploaded to the Ficmas Area even though it is Dec. 12th. If so, please please feel free to delete this or move it to the regular Tortall Fanfiction area!)
From: Muse
Title: Ten Lords a-Leaping, or, Wherein There Are Cracked Up Carols.
Rating: PG-13
Wishlist Item: #1 - Evin!
Summary:It’s Midwinter in Corus and Miri is the sole witness to a prank backfiring in a bad way on the Riders...at least until Evin escapes into the out-of-doors! Part ten of “The Twelve Days of Mischief...or, It Came Upon a Midwinter Weird”.
Rated for: Evin and the Riders imbibing alcohol...author does not condone underage drinking or the over-consumption of alcoholic beverages.
Ten Lords a-Leaping...or Wherein There Are Cracked Up Carols.
“It’s all going according to plan,” Evin rubbed his hands together, watching gleefully as the other Riders crowded around the two large bowls on the table. “The Own won’t know what hit them!”
“This is definitely our best plan yet,” Farant elbowed Natan in the ribs.
Evin watched their antics for a moment longer, than turned to Miri. “Say, Miri, do you remember which bowl we put the rum in?” Evin wondered as their fellow Riders gleefully helping themselves to egg nog.
Miri turned slowly. “…er, no?”
“Pity.” Evin rubbed his chin, “because they’ve already started drinking…”
The implications of what he was saying sinking in, Miri looked at Evin, dumbstruck, in time to see him raise a finger decisively.
“Ah, well. A MAN MUST GO DOWN WITH HIS SHIP!”
Helpless, Miri could only pray that the Riders would decide to have a nice, quiet evening for once.
Half a mark later, Miri found herself outside at the urging of one slightly dizzy Evin Larse. “It’s so beautiful, Miri!” he cried, and Miri resisted the urge to smack him upside the head and drag him back inside.
Maybe sweet-talking him would help. “Evin, sweetie, come on, come back inside now—“
Opening his arms as if to embrace the whole of the palace, Evin threw his head back, unmindful of the snow falling into his eyes, and bawled out:
“SIIIIIIIIIIIIILENT NIIIIIIIIIIIIIGHT!”
A window several floors up crashed open, jumping on its hinges as one irate secretary stuck his head out. “NO IT BLOODY WELL ISN’T!”
Miri, frozen somewhere between laughing and crying, watched as the rest of her Rider group, lead by their fearless leader, serenaded the yard with a truly unique rendition of the timeless midwinter song.
Sadly, the inside of the palace echoed a whole lot more than the relatively harmless “out of doors concert” that the Riders had been giving up until mere moments ago.
“On the fourth—“ Evin halted, confused, rubbing his nose before nodding and continuing,“On the third day of midwinter, my true love gaaaaaaaave—“
Miri grabbed his arm. “Evin!” she hissed, “don’t you think you could be, you know, a little, er, quieter?!”
He gave her a bemused smile. “Come on Miri, get in the Midwinter Spirit! You gotta know some carols!”
Deni threw and arm around her friend and hiccupped. “Yeah, we’re aaaaaall singing!”
“I know one!” Padrach exclaimed, before shouting, “Here we come a wassailing—“
“What’s a wassail?” wondered a pensieve Ysbel, looking around distractedly. “Are we looking for one?”
“—among the leaves so—“
“FIVE GOOOOOOLDEN RIIIIIIIIIIIIINGS!” Evin interrupted dramatically, lunging forward even as a vase toppled slowly from its table behind him.
Miri, caught between a falling Evin and a falling (probably priceless) crystal vase from Carthak, cringed as her decision to catch her Group Leader ended with him landing on top of her to the tinkling sound of “broken”.
“Hello!” Evin told her delightedly, “we’re on the ground!”
Slowly and repeatedly, Miri knocked her head against the floor.
The hall was empty.
Slightly panicked, Miri looked around frantically. The shards of crystal were still there, but Evin was suspiciously missing. She had only take her eye off them for a moment—how cold she lose nine raucous, caroling, slightly tipsy Riders? It’s not like they were unnoticeable!
Torn, she looked at the broom, then the empty hallway, then the door.
Broom.
Hall.
Door.
“Dammit.” She tossed the broom in roughly the direction of what used to be the vase. “Evin Larse, when I find you, you are so.dead.”
Miri charged into the Midwinter Ball, only to come up short. There was too much “peace on earth/goodwill toward men” in the room for Evin to be here; dancers twirled serenely in the middle of the floor whilst the rest of the nobility sat or stood around the room in subdued, polite conversation. In fact, the only person acting out of place seemed to be herself.
Dom looked at her oddly, puzzled as he took in her harried appearance. Nearby, other members of the Own shifted uneasily, and in the midst of the panic welling up in her stomach, Miri stifled a grin. The Own was obviously on alert for a prank, and entirely unawares of how the tables had accidentally been turned.
She might have time to head them off—
Voices in the hallway captured Miri’s attention, and she turned to the door in horror.
Not here, not here, not here…
The mumbling grew closer, and Miri recognized the tune of one apparently much-abused carol. She braced herself, unable to look at the door; the Court was in for one unforgettable—
But no explosion of drunken good-cheer erupted into the Ball; the doorway remained empty. Miri craned her neck, then flinched as she heard “--HOLLY!” bellowed beyond the room.
Evin Larse came crashing through the ornamental window to the left of the door to a strong chorus of “FA LALALALAAAAAAAH LALALA LAAAAAAAA!”
All across the ballroom, startled by the almighty cacophony of shattering glass, lords leapt to their feet; on the dais, Jon jumped, searching for the source of the noise. Further down the table, it was hard to tell who was laughing harder, Raoul or Gary. The former, dropping back to his chair, slid half off it in a fit of laughter, while the latter stuffed a fist in his mouth, presumably to try and hold back his mirth. Further down the dais, Alanna kept grabbing at George’s hands; by standing, he pulled out of her reach and began a slow clap. The lady knight, red as a beet, took the opportunity to forget the threat that Jon had made years ago, and hid under the table.
To Miri’s left, Baird leaned heavily on his son’s shoulder, wiping streaming eyes and trying to maintain dignity while completely ignoring the fact that for once, Nealan of Queenscove had been struck dumb. Nearby, Daine was using Numair’s sleeve to wipe her own eyes, gasping, “I didn’t know anyone sang worse than you do!”
Wyldon was turning a brilliant and inspired shade of puce, while Duke Gareth his a smirk behind a graceful hand. Several nobles, including one Burchard of Stone Mountain, stalked stiffly from the room only to bump into Farant and Natan by the door, who cheered loudly and toasted them. Turomot of Wellam, once again faced with the overabundance of...Evin, in the ballroom, simply sat back down and patted his face with his napkin. This time, it was someone else’s turn to deal with the Riders.
Raoul fell out of his chair, convulsing with gales of laughter and earning one hard, venomous glade from Jon.
Grinning broadly even as he staggered haphazardly, Evin caught himself on the dais mid-rendition of a new carol, which carried surprisingly far through the rapidly silencing Court.
“You’d better not pout, you’d better not—“
He waggled his eyebrows suggestively at Thayet, “…in a pear tree.”
Miri covered her face with her hands.
Gary roared with laughter.