(no subject)
Oct. 23rd, 2007 10:50 pm![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
quigonejinnOriginally written as part of a Hornblower/Edrington fic for ![[livejournal.com profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/external/lj-userinfo.gif)
commodorified, but I gave up on the full fic and finished this to get back in the hang of writing after the hiatus.
It was a comfortable visit: Pellew set a good table, had an excellent cellar. There was good shooting promised for later in the week, but Edrington nevertheless found himself unable to sleep. He was aging and forgetting the habits of soldiering, it seemed. The damp made his body ache, so he had the fire lit again in the library and went to sit in front of it.
"Cigar?"
It was Hornblower. He had the chair opposite and was offering an open box. It looked to be his personal stock -- yes, even in the low light, it had to be. They did not look like what Pellew offered after dinner. This was the first word that either of them had spoken since Hornblower came down to sit by the fire. It was such a companionable, comfortable silence, though, that Edrington shook his head instead of speaking.
Hornblower had been one of Pellew's midshipmen, but was a baronet now. Edrington remembered, too, that he and Hornblower had, in fact, been together during that nasty piece of work together in '94. The beach. The guillotine.
That had been a great deal of time ago: no one at the dinner would have remembered. They had all been military men, home from beating Bonaparte. The very best of their profession. Pellew knew how to select guests, how to arrange a visit, and during the later part of the evening, after the food was taken away and the real drink had been brought out, they got to talking about Wellington crossing the Douro in daylight to fight the French. Three of them had been there, and there was lively discussion. Badajoz, where the French had mined the walls, and the fighting had been brutal.
His memory did not want to leave Muzillac: the cool of the seawater around his legs and stomach. The curtains of the library were thick and possibly even velvet given how Pellew liked to spend money, but Edrington saw the white of the horse's eye, flashing around, the same color as the light on the sea. He heard the sound of the French coming over the hill, followed by the fit of the muzzle against the horse's head. It had tried to rear up at the last moment, and Edrington had to exert his strength and move quickly before it could decide to move. He grasped the cheekpiece and brought the muzzle to just below the ear; Edrington was not an introspective man, and he had shot plenty of horses before that, and after, too, but that beach was not an easy thing to forget.
Hornblower left his chair and had knelt at the hearth light his cigar at the fire. It put his face into the light; Edrington was not an imaginative man, but he rather thought that the shadows blurred the changes of thirty years.
The smell in the air as they left the beach. The final flash of the horse's eye when it saw the muzzle.
"Good piece of work you did at Le Havre," Edrington said. "Went a far sight better than what we tried at Muzillac."
Hornblower went very still, and in a further flash of imagination, Edrington wondered what Hornblower had been shooting -- what had Hornblower put into the sea at Le Havre?
commodorified, but I gave up on the full fic and finished this to get back in the hang of writing after the hiatus. It was a comfortable visit: Pellew set a good table, had an excellent cellar. There was good shooting promised for later in the week, but Edrington nevertheless found himself unable to sleep. He was aging and forgetting the habits of soldiering, it seemed. The damp made his body ache, so he had the fire lit again in the library and went to sit in front of it.
"Cigar?"
It was Hornblower. He had the chair opposite and was offering an open box. It looked to be his personal stock -- yes, even in the low light, it had to be. They did not look like what Pellew offered after dinner. This was the first word that either of them had spoken since Hornblower came down to sit by the fire. It was such a companionable, comfortable silence, though, that Edrington shook his head instead of speaking.
Hornblower had been one of Pellew's midshipmen, but was a baronet now. Edrington remembered, too, that he and Hornblower had, in fact, been together during that nasty piece of work together in '94. The beach. The guillotine.
That had been a great deal of time ago: no one at the dinner would have remembered. They had all been military men, home from beating Bonaparte. The very best of their profession. Pellew knew how to select guests, how to arrange a visit, and during the later part of the evening, after the food was taken away and the real drink had been brought out, they got to talking about Wellington crossing the Douro in daylight to fight the French. Three of them had been there, and there was lively discussion. Badajoz, where the French had mined the walls, and the fighting had been brutal.
His memory did not want to leave Muzillac: the cool of the seawater around his legs and stomach. The curtains of the library were thick and possibly even velvet given how Pellew liked to spend money, but Edrington saw the white of the horse's eye, flashing around, the same color as the light on the sea. He heard the sound of the French coming over the hill, followed by the fit of the muzzle against the horse's head. It had tried to rear up at the last moment, and Edrington had to exert his strength and move quickly before it could decide to move. He grasped the cheekpiece and brought the muzzle to just below the ear; Edrington was not an introspective man, and he had shot plenty of horses before that, and after, too, but that beach was not an easy thing to forget.
Hornblower left his chair and had knelt at the hearth light his cigar at the fire. It put his face into the light; Edrington was not an imaginative man, but he rather thought that the shadows blurred the changes of thirty years.
The smell in the air as they left the beach. The final flash of the horse's eye when it saw the muzzle.
"Good piece of work you did at Le Havre," Edrington said. "Went a far sight better than what we tried at Muzillac."
Hornblower went very still, and in a further flash of imagination, Edrington wondered what Hornblower had been shooting -- what had Hornblower put into the sea at Le Havre?
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(no subject)
Date: 2007-10-24 04:08 am (UTC)(no subject)
Date: 2007-10-24 12:17 pm (UTC)The canon consists of Books (10.5), Movies (1), AND TV movies (8)! The .5 is for the last, unfinished novel and the handful of short stories. The movie is an old one with Gregory Peck. The tv films are a recent A&E production. As for where; uh, are you familiar with *cough*emule*cough*?
(no subject)
Date: 2007-10-28 06:20 am (UTC)(no subject)
Date: 2007-10-24 12:27 pm (UTC)Pop me an e-mail? I can't find your current address anywhere, I swear.
(no subject)
Date: 2007-10-28 06:21 am (UTC)(no subject)
Date: 2007-10-24 12:40 pm (UTC)'The curtains of the library were thick and possibly even velvet given how Pellew liked to spend money, but Edrington saw the white of the horse's eye, flashing around, the same color as the light on the sea.'
And that last paragraph... whoa, total kick in the gut, but so wonderful.
(no subject)
Date: 2007-10-28 05:57 pm (UTC)(no subject)
Date: 2007-10-24 12:42 pm (UTC)!!!! Oh, Hornblower.
And also, I have this whole theory about Sheerness. Basically the need to retcon the whole fannish WOE and EMO version, based on some pictures I've seen posted of the Resident Commissioner's house.
(no subject)
Date: 2007-10-28 05:59 pm (UTC)<333333333
(no subject)
Date: 2007-10-24 12:55 pm (UTC)Comparing Bush to a dying horse. Bringing us back and forth from present to memory. Delving deep into Edrington's and HH's brains. Bush. Brutal. Beautiful. Damn you.
<333333333333333333333333333333333333333
(no subject)
Date: 2007-10-28 06:29 pm (UTC)(no subject)
Date: 2007-10-24 12:55 pm (UTC)(no subject)
Date: 2007-10-24 05:57 pm (UTC)'99 instead of '94? Or is E's memory playing tricks?
(no subject)
Date: 2007-10-25 02:06 am (UTC)(no subject)
Date: 2007-10-28 06:25 pm (UTC)