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A "Shiny Pressie" for Trinityvixen
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trinityvixen started a "write a fanfic as a Christmas present" thread. She gave me the following cue for a Discworld fic: Nobbs, Colon, and a dreidel.Nobby and Colon stared at the little object dubiously.
“It’s a what?” asked Colon.
“A dreidel,” replied Carrot. He handed Angua a box of evergreen boughs. She wrinkled her nose.
“Where did these come from?” she asked. “They smell wrong.”
“I clipped them from the hedges down by the Unseen University,” he said cheerfully. “The wizards didn’t mind. I thought they would look nice on the mantel.”
A frond from the box caressed Angua’s face. She shoved it back down. It wriggled under her hand.
“The green stuff, I get,” said Colon. “But I don’t understand why we have dreedles and manure and orange candles and rubber ducks. What does any of this stuff have to do with decorating for Hogswatch?”
“Not everyone celebrates Hogswatch,” Carrot repeated patiently. “And since we serve all the citizens of Ankh-Morpork, we should decorate to include everybody. The ducks for example – the Anasians celebrate tomorrow as the night that the Soul Cake Duck was born. They say that without the birth of the Duck, there would be no Soul Cake Tuesday.*”
“But why do we have a pile of manure in the corner?”
Carrot looked uncertain. “I was told it was important. I think we’re supposed to burn it for a week and a day.”
“And the orange candles?” Angua untangled the branch from her hair.
“Well, every religion seems to do something with candles this time of year, but they’re all supposed to be different colors. Red, white, green, gold, blue…orange is the only color that won’t exclude someone.”
“By which he means, orange was the only color left in the shops when he sent Detritus to buy candles,” muttered Colon.
Nobby continued to poke at the dreidel. “But what’s it supposed to do?”
“It’s part of a game. You spin it, and the side that lands facing up determines how much of the pot you get.”
Nobby perked up. “Pot?”
“The pile of chocolate coins. Everyone gets some at the beginning, and then you play to see who wins them.”
“Really. And what does each of the funny marks mean?”
His Grace Samuel Vimes, Duke of Ankh, Commander of the Ankh-Morpork City Watch, struggled to look dignified as he stood up again. The icy patch had been totally unexpected. He was grateful that the side street was bare of anyone who could have seen him fall on his rump. He tugged his scarf closer. It was bitterly cold this morning, and he didn’t really have a good reason to be wandering about when there was a roaring fire and a mug of eggnog waiting for him at home. And an elaborate tree, and a pile of presents, and a gaggle of maids scurrying about decorating and cleaning and primping for the impending Hogswatch Night dinner…Somehow, taking on a beat seemed like a quieter, more relaxing way to spend the morning. And Hogswatch was usually a relatively quiet day for someone in his profession. Most folk were at home, contemplating their presents (or lack thereof). Later in the evening, the city would return to normal as its citizens tried to steal each other’s presents or take out their lack thereof on each other, but the afternoon was usually quiet.
Which was why he could hear the whooping and yelling coming from behind the gate at the end of the alley.
On an ordinary day, this might not cause much comment. However, coming from a row of shops closed for Hogswatch, the hubbub was enough to cause his copper’s instincts to prick up.
He pushed open the door, and the noise stopped cold. A few dozen faces stared at him in surprise. They were a motley bunch – dwarves, trolls, and humans, all briefly ignoring their differences in pursuit of what lay on the table. A large pile of gold coins were arranged in stacks in front of players. In the middle of the table lay a small wooden toy. And sitting in the middle, guilt shining from their faces, were Fred Colon and Nobby Nobbs.
“Do I even want to know?”
“We’re, ummm…”
Nobby broke in. “Promoting cross-cultural sensitivity!”
Vimes blinked. He was surprised that Nobby even knew how to pronounce the words. “And cross-cultural sensitivity involves piles of gold and a…what is that?”
“A dreedle, sir.” Colon didn’t flinch.
“A what-now?”
“It’s a traditional game, sir. Captain Carrot taught us.”
“Carrot taught you to play a gambling game for gold coins.”
“Well…it’s supposed to be played with foil-covered chocolate…”
“But the trolls don’t like chocolate,” Nobby supplied. “And the dwarves would rather play for real gold instead of gold candy. And we didn’t want to be d’scrimnatory.”
“I…see.” Vimes closed his eyes. The Watch was no longer what it once was; he could try to punish them for running a gambling ring. But… “Cross-cultural sensitivity, you say?”
They nodded.
“Well, I suppose a little interspecies socializing can’t hurt. It’s Hogswatch, after all.”
Tension drained from the room.
Vimes shrugged, and turned to head home. Maybe some eggnog would be nice after all. He very carefully didn’t ask Nobby about the rubber duck.
*The Anasians have a number of rather bizarre beliefs, including that the Duck loves tax collectors, hates fig trees, and died on Soul Cake Tuesday so that they can go to paradise after they themselves die. They are generally considered irrational and irritating. Especially when they go about smiting fig trees.
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Thanks so much! Coincidentally, I have worked on yours as well, and I should have it done in another week at most.
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