(no subject)

[thewidewideworld]

[from here}

Sinric comes down from his room, still dressed his furs and heavily embroiled tunic but looking fresh and scrubbed.

He smiles brightly to see Hannibal.

Comments

[thewidewideworld]

Alcuin laughs. "It sounds as if you've known young and privileged boys, il doctor."

Sinric shakes his head. "I don't recall all of you being so ready to run and play. I remember you as quite the scholar."

Niketas snorts. "I was trying to impress Father."

[cook_the_rude]

"At the very beginning, I used to be one," Hannibal admits. "Not a prince, of course, but the princeling of our own mole-hill."

[thewidewideworld]

"A nobleman's breeding as well as bearing?" Alcuin asks softly. "It would seem you are a man of many parts, Dr Lecter."

The past tense isn't lost on Niketas. "You no longer claim your linage?" As someone who as himself been parted from his name.

[cook_the_rude]

"We were driven out and largely killed by enemies of my parents," Hannibal says, gravely. "Only I survived to be taken in by my uncle in Francia."

[thewidewideworld]

Sinric threads his fingers in Hannibal's, squeezing gently.

Niketas nods slowly. "Did you seek revenge on those who took your family and lands?"

[cook_the_rude]

"Yes," Hannibal says. "But it didn't restore our ranks and possessions."

[thewidewideworld]

Niketas nods. "Nor the lives lost." There's sadness in his voice and Sinric reaches to comfort him, just as he did Hannibal.

Alcuin watches the exchange with interest, old eyes missing nothing. "It would seem you have done well for yourself, Dr Lecter. Made a worth life of your hardship."

[cook_the_rude]

"Both natueal gifts and good education helped me up again, from the ruins," Hannibal says, "but the grief never goes away."

[thewidewideworld]

Sinric holds both than hands, giving both Niketas and Hannibal his support. "But even from the ruins, may we find hope and purpose."

There seems to be a lull in the feast, a moment of quiet around the hall. So Sinric decided to brighten it. He lifts his voice in song, starting with something polite, suitable for a church celebration. It doesn't take much for his trained voice to fill up the space, drawing the ear.

The reaction from the hall is positive, from everyone but the Abbot who glares. He moves to perch on the table, still holding Hannibal's hand.

[cook_the_rude]

Hannibal holds on to that hand and gazes up at Simric as he sings.

[thewidewideworld]

If Sinric knows anything it's how to work a crowd. He starts with an innocent song, with just enough praise to God to keep the Abbot from stopping him.

Soon enough his song shifts to a love song, lilting and aching. But still innocent and sweet. By now, he owns the room, and every eye is on him.

Niketas leans back in his chair; clean, clear tears in the corners of his eye, reminded of happier times.

[cook_the_rude]

Hannibal leans back as well, eyes on Sinric, ears wide open -- but a shred of his attention stays on Niketas, and is pleased with the change.

[thewidewideworld]

There's no magic in it but Sinric's voice and heart. And his gift for carrying a crowd.

When he has every heart aching on the dying notes of his song, he shifts.

A happy, bouncing song. The sort that makes people want to sing along. He grins at Hannibal, making an effort to keep the song clean as he shifts to stand on the table.

[cook_the_rude]

Hannibal smiles, and starts clapping along, and tapping his foot.

[thewidewideworld]

Even the abbot's scowl is lifting a little as Sinric leads a call and response song. It's a Christmas miracle.

Another young monk stands up, his voice rather deep as he takes up the counterpoint. Sinric grins brightly, stepping back a little to let the young man shine.

[cook_the_rude]

There are more monks clapping discreetly, or tapping their feet, or rapping the tables now; Hannibal sits back and smiles up at Sinric.

[thewidewideworld]

Sinric sits back down, letting the young monks take over the song. The song has become infections and has spread across the room. His job here is done.

He settles at Hannibal's side, so very happy.

[cook_the_rude]

Hannibal smiles at Sinric, and raises his glass.

[thewidewideworld]

Sinric lifts his own glass and drinks deeply, leaning against his shoulder. More food comes and Sinric makes a point of eating some this time.

Niketas reaches across to give Sinric a pat. "Time hasn't dulled your voice in the slightest."

[cook_the_rude]

"It has given him skill, training and a new edge to his repertoire," Hannibal agrees.

[thewidewideworld]

"And many new songs." Sinric smiles. "Although I doubt this is the right room for Nippon fisherman's songs." He reaches for more wine.

[cook_the_rude]

"People wouldn't understand them," Hannibal chuckles, "so you can just as well sing one."

[thewidewideworld]

"I could." Sinric smiles. "But I think my turn is over for now."

He gestures to the young monks, singing together over a complicated hymn and clearly very proud to sing in such harmony.

Alcuin taps Sinric's shoulder gently. "I think these old bones are ready to rest. Walk me back to my room, my boy. The sooner you can come back and enjoy your night."

Sinric bounces to his feet to offer his teacher an arm.

He glances to Hannibal, making sure he's content to stay.

[cook_the_rude]

Hannibal is quite content, listening and tasting and soaking up the early medieval monastery to his heart's content.

[thewidewideworld]

Niketas sits with him in silence, listening to the monks sing the glory of the new-born Christ.

But there's something heavy in his silence, something unsaid.