|Sequel to "Tómas"
Overall rating: PG-13
Category: slash, adventure, humour
Other characters appearing: Lord George Cutler Beckett, Lt. Greitzer, Lt. Groves, Will Turner plus cameos by Prince Frederick of Prussia and Voltaire
Feedback: very welcome. Good or bad.
Author's note: I thought that "Tómas" was the weirdest story I've ever written. Well, I was wrong.
Summary: There is nothing that a leprechaun wouldn't do for his treasure, so all is not lost for James Norrington.
Gillette turned lobster red and shook his fists.
"There will be much more to be sorry for if you shouldn't allow me aboard immediately, Will Turner," he yelled. "I'll make sure your wife will hear in all details about the incident with that wrench at the tavern at Tortuga, and then there's this little story about Anamaria and your breeches, and-"
"Mr. Gillette!" Will Turner appeared at the railing. He was a bit green around the gills, but that aside, he hadn't changed much. "I know you, you would never do such a thing!"
"Dare me! It will be in every paper and gazette! Especially the ones she is reading!"
Voltaire quickly stepped in front of his cousin. He took off his hat and bowed politely.
"Captain Turner, sir, I understand that there are rules you have to adhere to. But in the interest of Mother Nature's order, I have to clarify that Mr. Gillette is, strictly speaking, not a man, but a leprechaun, and as such immortal. Aren't there any exceptions for mythical beings?"
Will scratched his head.
"I don't know. If you're not dead, why do you want to come aboard the Flying Scotsman?"
"I'm looking for James Norrington," Gillette said over Voltaire's shoulder. "If he's aboard the Flying Scotsman, then I want to be there, too. If he's not, well, then on your way!"
"One moment, please." Will disappeared, and Gillette already worried that the Flying Scotsman would hoist anchor and leave without him when he finally reappeared.
"You may come aboard," he announced. "But you'll have to pay the fare."
"Of course!" Gillette looked into his pot, but alas, it was empty. Not one coin was left, and he looked at his cousin.
"Do you have any change?"
Voltaire shook his head.
"No, but why worry? Just blink and fill your pot!"
"You've really spent too much time in your bog," Gillette snapped. "Do you think we'd be so concerned for our gold of we just had to blink to get it?"
Gillette began to search frantically in his pockets, but alas, a dried grape aside, he didn't find anything which could have paid the ferryman.
"Would you accept a due bill, Mr. Turner?" he finally asked in desperation.
"No," Will replied, "but wait a second."
Again he left, only to return and throw two coins to Gillette.
"Here. Somebody's paid your fare."
Voltaire was the first to climb the ladder, closely followed by Gillette. Once on deck, he couldn't help but feel a pang of disappointment, for the Flying Scotsman did not meet his expectations of a ghost ship. No skeletons were hoisting the anchor, no ghoulish beasties haunting the deck. Instead, there were five sailors playing Nine Men's Morris, and one man with a peg leg smoking a pipe. That was the only unusual thing, considering that they were under water. The Flying Scotsman was as ordinary and boring as a ship could be.
Gillette cared neither for ship nor pipes nor Nine Men's Morris; the moment he set foot on the deck of the Flying Scotsman, he was looking for James Norrington. However, the man was nowhere in sight, and Gillette's heart sank. Had all been in vain?
"Welcome aboard, gentlemen," Will said politely. "I'd never expected to see you again." Looking at Gillette, he added: "I admit that I always thought you were a little bit - strange. So what are you two then? Ghosts?"
"Leprechaun," Gillette muttered.
"And my name is Voltaire. I'm a writer of most inspiring novels and sharp-witted essays, author of formidable plays, a historian and philosopher. I'm also a scientist, inventor, will-o'-the-wisp and his cousin."
"Leprechaun? Will-o'-the-wisp?" Will laughed. "I love a man with a sense of humour! Now, in all seriousness: what are you?"
"Will Turner: you are captain of a ship which ferries the dead to the afterlife. You sailed on the Black Pearl. You met Calypso the sea goddess and the mighty kraken - both distant cousins, by the way. Good grief, your heart is stored in a chest, and yet you doubt my existence?"
Will shrugged. "I think this is all very strange. It does explain a few things, though. My wife always insisted that you're not of this world."
Gillette just wanted to make some rather unflattering comment about Mrs. Turner-née-Swann when he felt a hand on his shoulder.
"He is telling the truth, Will. He is, indeed, a leprechaun." Gillette spun around, and found himself face to face with James Norrington. "My leprechaun."
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|THE FLYING SCOTSMAN 16/18
by Molly Joyful