T'was the UNCLE Round Robin - Chapter II
Dec. 7th, 2016 12:30 am![[identity profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/openid.png){kind=small}
alynwa.livejournal.com posting in ![[community profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/community.png){kind=small}
section7mfuThe two men began to change into black slacks, turtlenecks, socks and shoes and then spread black grease paint on their faces. They each put black gunnysacks on the their beds and began packing them with extra ammo clips, plastic explosives, blasting caps, detonating wire, a camera, gloves and various other sundry items that might come in handy during a reconnaissance mission.
“Do you think Sir Thomas thought it odd when we requested sharing the same room?” Napoleon asked. “There’s got to be at least thirty bedrooms in this place.”
“I do not know and I do not care: We know THRUSH is definitely in the area so I much prefer we stay in close proximity.” He looked around the room which was easily thirty feet by forty feet. “It is not like we are tripping over each other. And besides, there is…interesting history and legend swirling around this area and our host.”
Napoleon lifted his sack to check its heft. Looking at his watch he said, “We should leave here as soon as the lights go out at Kilchurn, so we have about an hour.” Now that the strategist in him had a plan, he focused on the last thing his partner said. “What history and what legend?”
The Russian sat and began disassembling and cleaning his gun, a routine he did so often that his hands moved by rote. “Regarding Loch Awe, supposedly there are creatures called ‘kelpies’ that inhabit it.”
“And what, pray tell, are kelpies?”
“A kelpie is a supernatural water horse. It appears as a gray or white pony or smallish horse that is friendly and appears lost. One can tell it is a kelpie because its mane constantly drips water. If a person is foolish enough to climb on its back to ride it, the kelpie will take him to a watery grave as it is impossible to dismount.”
Napoleon glanced out at the loch and shivered. “That’s a pleasant thought. What’s the story about our host?”
“Sir Thomas Bean may or may not have an ancestor named Alexander Bean. No one knows for sure if he ever existed, but according to Scottish lore, Alexander Bean, or Sawney Bean as he was known, lived in the mid – 15th century, just at the time Castle Kilchurn was built. According to legend, he, his wife, their fifteen children and thirty – one grandchildren were criminals and cannibals. He and his family allegedly robbed, murdered and ate more than one thousand people during the reign of King James I before they were caught and all executed.”
“Fantastic. And how long have the Beans lived in this castle?”
“Since the 14th century, so if Sawney Bean did exist, he lived here.”
“Terrific. Killer horses in the water and possibly, cannibalistic ghosts wandering the halls of the place I’m sleeping at night. Does Mr. Waverly know any normal people besides Mrs. Waverly?”
“I suggest you ask him when we return.”
“Very funny. I’m keeping my fingers crossed that whatever is going on across the loch is something we can resolve reasonably fast. I have every intention of carving Aunt Amy’s turkey Christmas Day and availing myself of her delicious meal and hospitality. And of course, she is expecting you, too.” He checked his watch. “It’s time. Let’s go.”
Illya picked his sack and followed Napoleon. I am hoping you have not jinxed us, he thought.
“Do you think Sir Thomas thought it odd when we requested sharing the same room?” Napoleon asked. “There’s got to be at least thirty bedrooms in this place.”
“I do not know and I do not care: We know THRUSH is definitely in the area so I much prefer we stay in close proximity.” He looked around the room which was easily thirty feet by forty feet. “It is not like we are tripping over each other. And besides, there is…interesting history and legend swirling around this area and our host.”
Napoleon lifted his sack to check its heft. Looking at his watch he said, “We should leave here as soon as the lights go out at Kilchurn, so we have about an hour.” Now that the strategist in him had a plan, he focused on the last thing his partner said. “What history and what legend?”
The Russian sat and began disassembling and cleaning his gun, a routine he did so often that his hands moved by rote. “Regarding Loch Awe, supposedly there are creatures called ‘kelpies’ that inhabit it.”
“And what, pray tell, are kelpies?”
“A kelpie is a supernatural water horse. It appears as a gray or white pony or smallish horse that is friendly and appears lost. One can tell it is a kelpie because its mane constantly drips water. If a person is foolish enough to climb on its back to ride it, the kelpie will take him to a watery grave as it is impossible to dismount.”
Napoleon glanced out at the loch and shivered. “That’s a pleasant thought. What’s the story about our host?”
“Sir Thomas Bean may or may not have an ancestor named Alexander Bean. No one knows for sure if he ever existed, but according to Scottish lore, Alexander Bean, or Sawney Bean as he was known, lived in the mid – 15th century, just at the time Castle Kilchurn was built. According to legend, he, his wife, their fifteen children and thirty – one grandchildren were criminals and cannibals. He and his family allegedly robbed, murdered and ate more than one thousand people during the reign of King James I before they were caught and all executed.”
“Fantastic. And how long have the Beans lived in this castle?”
“Since the 14th century, so if Sawney Bean did exist, he lived here.”
“Terrific. Killer horses in the water and possibly, cannibalistic ghosts wandering the halls of the place I’m sleeping at night. Does Mr. Waverly know any normal people besides Mrs. Waverly?”
“I suggest you ask him when we return.”
“Very funny. I’m keeping my fingers crossed that whatever is going on across the loch is something we can resolve reasonably fast. I have every intention of carving Aunt Amy’s turkey Christmas Day and availing myself of her delicious meal and hospitality. And of course, she is expecting you, too.” He checked his watch. “It’s time. Let’s go.”
Illya picked his sack and followed Napoleon. I am hoping you have not jinxed us, he thought.
![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
Christmas Round Robin
Date: 2016-12-07 03:49 pm (UTC)Thanks for a great addition to the story!
RE: Christmas Round Robin
Date: 2016-12-07 06:20 pm (UTC)Re: Christmas Round Robin
Date: 2016-12-07 06:31 pm (UTC)