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fandomweekly2022-03-07 05:45 pm
fleuretteffoulkes) wrote in fandomweekly2022-03-07 05:45 pm
Entry tags:
[#128] Jonquille (Scarlet Pimpernel)
Theme Prompt: #128 - Gardening
Title: Jonquille
Fandom: The Scarlet Pimpernel - Baroness Orczy
Rating/Warnings: G
Bonus: Yes
Word Count: 601
Summary: Percy finds a flower for his hat, but others depend on the garden for more than just beauty.
This garden isn't a particularly hidden place, but nobody is hunting for Percy right at the moment, so he figures he can indulge himself for a minute. He's been hiding in caves and not-as-dry-as-he'd-like riverbeds for the past week; he can make the time to appreciate one of the few pieces of beauty he's seen since he was last in England beholding his wife's face (which is far better than twenty such gardens).
The vegetables, in the farther patches near the hedge, have obviously been tended since the d'Aubords fled. Probably some of the local peasantry hoping to obtain extra food while escaping particular notice. Many of them have aided Percy over the past week, and he's glad to know they're doing as well for themselves as they can. These are difficult times in France, and food is only one of many things that have grown scarce and precious. For them to aid him still, despite their hardships, is a precious gift; he wonders if there is more he ought to be doing to repay it.
Unlike the vegetables in the distance, the flower garden before him has not been tended at all. A few tulips, once carefully imported from Holland, now barely cling to life, while wild daffodils and other less beautiful weeds have overrun most of the bed.
There may be no one with time to tend the flowers anymore, but like so many things in France today, they still possess innate beauty in the midst of uproar. Percy leaves the tulips as they lie—their former owners will never return to their native land, but perhaps those who still live here may one day find time again to care for flowers. The daffodils, though, are easily replenishable, and he breaks the stem of one and tucks it carefully into his hatband. He left all of his fine lace back in England; it's nice to have at least something about his person that is truly beautiful. It reminds him of what he's fighting for.
A passing cart rolls to a stop near him. "Hé! Rateau!" It's Jean the butcher's son, who helped him to hide the Comtesse de Regle's twin infant daughters when he last passed through the countryside that surrounds the Château d'Aubord. "Going anywhere?"
Percy replaces his hat on his head and climbs into the cart. "Just to the far side of the village, if you don't mind. I'm glad to see that the gardens haven't died."
"They've produced well, and we're thankful," Jean says. "My sister comes here nearly every day to pick greens for our dinner, and we're not the only ones. Papa said we might transplant some of the plants into our own garden since Monsieur and Madame aren't using them anymore."
Suddenly, Percy realizes how he can repay their past and future kindnesses, at least in part. "And how is your own garden doing?" he asks. "Are there any seeds I can bring for you, next time I come from England?"
"I'm sure there are," Jean says. "I'll ask my sister." He smiles even more than he did when he lifted the little de Regles into the cart that had carried them to safety.
Seeds are light and small; Percy thinks that just as many as would fill his coat pocket could be enough to help everyone in the village. It's not enough to get people out of this country if he's not helping the ones who remain. By this time next year, he promises himself, the gardens of the ci-devant Château d'Aubord will be nothing compared to the gardens that surround it.
Title: Jonquille
Fandom: The Scarlet Pimpernel - Baroness Orczy
Rating/Warnings: G
Bonus: Yes
Word Count: 601
Summary: Percy finds a flower for his hat, but others depend on the garden for more than just beauty.
This garden isn't a particularly hidden place, but nobody is hunting for Percy right at the moment, so he figures he can indulge himself for a minute. He's been hiding in caves and not-as-dry-as-he'd-like riverbeds for the past week; he can make the time to appreciate one of the few pieces of beauty he's seen since he was last in England beholding his wife's face (which is far better than twenty such gardens).
The vegetables, in the farther patches near the hedge, have obviously been tended since the d'Aubords fled. Probably some of the local peasantry hoping to obtain extra food while escaping particular notice. Many of them have aided Percy over the past week, and he's glad to know they're doing as well for themselves as they can. These are difficult times in France, and food is only one of many things that have grown scarce and precious. For them to aid him still, despite their hardships, is a precious gift; he wonders if there is more he ought to be doing to repay it.
Unlike the vegetables in the distance, the flower garden before him has not been tended at all. A few tulips, once carefully imported from Holland, now barely cling to life, while wild daffodils and other less beautiful weeds have overrun most of the bed.
There may be no one with time to tend the flowers anymore, but like so many things in France today, they still possess innate beauty in the midst of uproar. Percy leaves the tulips as they lie—their former owners will never return to their native land, but perhaps those who still live here may one day find time again to care for flowers. The daffodils, though, are easily replenishable, and he breaks the stem of one and tucks it carefully into his hatband. He left all of his fine lace back in England; it's nice to have at least something about his person that is truly beautiful. It reminds him of what he's fighting for.
A passing cart rolls to a stop near him. "Hé! Rateau!" It's Jean the butcher's son, who helped him to hide the Comtesse de Regle's twin infant daughters when he last passed through the countryside that surrounds the Château d'Aubord. "Going anywhere?"
Percy replaces his hat on his head and climbs into the cart. "Just to the far side of the village, if you don't mind. I'm glad to see that the gardens haven't died."
"They've produced well, and we're thankful," Jean says. "My sister comes here nearly every day to pick greens for our dinner, and we're not the only ones. Papa said we might transplant some of the plants into our own garden since Monsieur and Madame aren't using them anymore."
Suddenly, Percy realizes how he can repay their past and future kindnesses, at least in part. "And how is your own garden doing?" he asks. "Are there any seeds I can bring for you, next time I come from England?"
"I'm sure there are," Jean says. "I'll ask my sister." He smiles even more than he did when he lifted the little de Regles into the cart that had carried them to safety.
Seeds are light and small; Percy thinks that just as many as would fill his coat pocket could be enough to help everyone in the village. It's not enough to get people out of this country if he's not helping the ones who remain. By this time next year, he promises himself, the gardens of the ci-devant Château d'Aubord will be nothing compared to the gardens that surround it.
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