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19 December 2010 @ 09:22 am
Fic: ‘Tis the Season: The laugh needed some work.  
Title: ‘Tis the Season: The laugh needed some work.
Fandom: Hogfather (movie)
Rating: (G)
Time Period: During events in Hogfather.
Summary: An accidental meeting.

Author's Note: This is quick ‘n’ dirty (for definition see the F. A. Q.).

I’d been half-planning this particular story since I watched Hogfather at the beginning of the month and was wondering about the accidental meetings Albert mentioned when suggesting a public appearance with Death as the Hogfather.

I have no clue if this story works, character wise, or not since I’ve not written an anthropomorphic character as the main character in years.


Disclaimer
All characters contained herein are the intellectual property of Terry Pratchett and Vadim Jean (his interpretation); I am not affiliated with nor endorsed by them.


_______________________


The red-suited figure picked up the letter on the small table next to the window. The hood covered the face underneath as the figure read the letter that had been left by the plate with two pork pies* with a glass of sherry nearby which the turnips were hiding behind.

After the spilled sherry was shaken a little from it, of course.

Dere Hogfather,

For Hogswatch I wud like a sword an a Gharstly Omnian Inquisition Torchure Chambur with a Wind-up Rack an Nearly Real Blud You Can Use Agian Again. An a dolly. An a white candy cane. I have been gud this year.

Plees Please find two pork pies an sherry for you an turnips for Gouger an Rooter an Tusker an Snouter.

My fren friend Willim Willam Willaim says you are my father really but I dun believe him.

Yrs. Virginia Prood. Aged 7 yrs.


The figure placed the letter back on the table, near the glass of sherry** and reached for the pies and turnips to put in the sack at his feet. He waved a gloved hand and an Omnian Ghastly Inquisition Torture Chamber (Victims Not Included. 3-10 years.) appeared in the stocking hanging from the mantle above the fireplace. On the tree hung a large green, red and (mostly) white candy cane while beside the fireplace, near the pokers, a sword leaned against the wall.

A piece of paper was held up and consulted.
SOOTY BOOTPRINTS

The figure glanced down. Two sooty boot prints were clearly seen in front of the fireplace.

PORK PIES, the figure murmured and ran a finger down the rest of the list.

TURNIPS
SHERRY
HO HO HO


“Excuse me,” a small voice behind the figure interrupted. “Who are you?”

A gloved hand patted the jolly tummy under the suit (it stayed where it was meant to) before turning around to face a dressing-gowned child who stood in the hallway. HO. HO. HO. That laugh didn’t sound right. Hadn’t Albert said it was supposed to be a fat laugh that sounded like he was pissing brandy and crapping plum pudding, pardon his Klatchian?

“Are you the Hogfather?” The little girl peered at the red-cloaked figure, trying to peek under the hood. “You look very thin.”

THAT IS WHY I NEED THE PORK PIES, the figure replied.

“Is your beard fake?”

IT IS VERY REAL, he assured the child.

“What happened to your nose? Isn’t it supposed to be a pig’s nose?”

This was not going very well, he decided, and with a wave of his hand, stopped time. The little girl froze mid-step and the candles had paused mid-flicker. There was a scrabbling noise in the chimney that ended when a pair of boots erupted in the fireplace. “Master!”

The red-suited figure turned and the boots fell the last foot (no pune† intended) into the fireplace. The pointy-eared man with the floppy green hat adjusted his ears and climbed out of the fireplace. He dusted some of the soot off his clothes and, while he was doing that, patted his pockets, looking for a match; the hand-rolled cigarette hung from a corner of his mouth. “Lucky I was that the fire weren’t lit,” he drily commented until his eyes‡ fell on the sword. “You can’t go givin’ ‘er that, master! She’ll cut ‘erself!”

SHE ASKED FOR IT, the red-suited figure explained. IF SHE HURTS HERSELF, SHE’LL LEARN A LESSON.

“That it’s sharp, yes, but if you don’t go givin’ children swords, master!” Albert looked around. “It’s just not what you do.” He saw the sherry-stained letter and picked it up. “She’s seven,” he read. “Savage little blighters, seven year olds. She’ll cut up all her friends with a real sword!”

The figure in the red suit looked at the red girl. OH, ALL RIGHT. A hand was waved and the sword became wooden.

Albert had put the letter down, drunk the rest of the sherry and realised he’d lost the filling of his cigarette. He sighed and slowly chewed on the paper dangling from his lip. “Time to go, master. Done everything?”

YES.

“Righto. Off we go then!” Albert walked back to the fireplace and began to climb up the chimney. The red-suited figure waited until all sounds of Albert’s climbing had disappeared before the sack was picked up and its fingers were snapped.

Click. Time resumed.

YOU SHOULD GO TO BED, the figure told the little girl who had no idea time had stopped. Her foot landed in the room, step completed. She opened her mouth, closed it and turned around to go back to bed. Who was she to argue with the Hogfather, even if his beard wasn’t real and he didn’t have the right nose?˚

The figure waited until she was out of sight before – HOHO. HO!

That still didn’t sound right. The figure turned and walked through the wall. It really was much more convenient than going up and down chimneys, after all.














* The pies were slightly nibbled, with applesauce nearby because everyone knows that applesauce is a better accompaniment for pork pies than anything else could be.

** Let’s be very honest, since it is Hogswatch: it was an almost empty glass. Fathers should not be allowed to put the sherry on the table since they can never resist having a quick nip on a cold night. And then another. And another. And another until almost the whole glass of sherry put out for the Hogfather is almost empty.

† If words cannot be a play on themselves, what can?

‡ They didn’t literally fall on the sword. That would make him a zombie and he knew he weren’t one of those. He didn’t have to sew his body parts back on, for starters!

˚ She was Virginia Prood, aged 7, who always asked questions but she wasn’t quite herself at that moment. Later, she’d ask herself why she hadn’t asked questions of the strange Hogfather by the fireplace.
 
 
 
Armchair DM: Igor: Joy! Joy! Joy! Joy!armchairdm on December 19th, 2010 11:25 am (UTC)
Oh this is simply beautiful. The footnotes make it seem more like the book(s) than the movie mind you. You've captured Death in particular perfectly. Not so sure about Albert; but then his character varies a lot more anyway. Look at him in Mort for example; compared to Hogfather and he's quite different.

I really need to pick up some of my missing books.

Love the icon BTW!
F. J.: Christmas Candlesmorethanacandle on December 19th, 2010 12:51 pm (UTC)
The footnotes make it seem more like the book(s) than the movie mind you.
I couldn't resist the footnotes.

Not so sure about Albert; but then his character varies a lot more anyway. Look at him in Mort for example; compared to Hogfather and he's quite different.
Albert's based on the movie!Albert so, hopefully, he's true to Vadim Jean's interpretation.

You've captured Death in particular perfectly.
Thank you.

Love the icon BTW!
And thank you; it suits the story very well, I felt.

Edited at 2010-12-19 12:52 pm (UTC)
Armchair DM: Igor: A Rod Of Silencearmchairdm on December 20th, 2010 12:27 pm (UTC)
I think it's true to the movie Albert; it's just harder to tell than with Death.

The icon suits the story perfectly. I remember Death has these startling blue eyes.
F. J.: Christmas Candlesmorethanacandle on December 20th, 2010 12:53 pm (UTC)
I think it's true to the movie Albert
Thank you.

The icon suits the story perfectly. I remember Death has these startling blue eyes.
I'm glad the eye you can see is a startling enough blue.