A Hogswatch Carol

Author's Note: This is the last instalment in the Carol series. There was going to be a seventh, but I'm going to be busy this Christmas Eve, so – sorry.

Alas, I think romance has become a staple in my one-shots. I just can't seem to get away from the damn thing. Not even here.

Thank you to everyone who's read and reviewed this series, especially Manveri Mirkiel, who's faithfully reviewed every chapter – so I can forgive her for forgetting Lobsang.

And this is my favourite Christmas carol ever.

6. Silver Bells

Children laughing, people passing
Meeting smile after smile
And on every street corner you'll hear

Silver bells, silver bells
It's Christmas time in the city
Ring-a-ling, hear them sing
Soon it will be Christmas day

Commander Vimes shoved the last piece of paperwork into the Out tray and allowed himself a gasp of relief.

Well, that was that then. He wouldn't be looking at any more paperwork, not till the holidays were over.

He checked the clock. Half past eight. That should be enough time for him to stroll, and still get back home before the turkey was cold.

Vimes stood up, stretched, went over to the door of his office and opened it. The corridor was empty. At first glance the stairwell appeared to be so too, but Vimes' copper's eyes spotted a small figure lurking in the shadows beneath the sprig of mistletoe that had mysteriously appeared on the wall this morning.

Vimes sighed. "Nobby, give it up. Angua and Sally have been walking in zigzags since morning."

Corporal Nobbs shuffled reluctantly into the light. "'s only tradition, Mister Vimes. I din't intend no harm."

He looked so forlorn that Vimes relented. "Okay. You can keep the ones in the canteen. But for goodness sake take this one down! I don't want people canoodling in front of my office, d'you hear, Nobby?"

Nobby muttered his acquiescence morosely. Vimes left him jumping up and down and trying to reach the hook on which the mistletoe was dangling.

Vimes went down the stairs, hands in pockets. He dropped in at the canteen, where most of the officers (due to lack of work or a pure lethargy brought on by the holiday spirit) were slacking, or stoning (no intended pun, in the case of the trolls) Most of them had given in to the festive feeling and were engaged in card games.

Sergeants Littlebottom and Colon looked up guiltily as Vimes approached their table, an expression of mild interest on his face. He waved at them, to tell them to continue. Reg Shoe had his back to Vimes, and was watching eagle-eyed as Detritus carefully laid a card on the table and said, "Three."

"Bluff," said Reg automatically.

Detritus grinned a diamond grin. Reg furiously turned the card over. It was a three.

Scowling as well as the stitches allowed him, Reg took the whole stack and shuffled it crossly. Detritus calmly put one of his own cards face down on the canteen table and said, "Nine."

"Nine," said Colon hastily, putting down his own.

"Nine," adjoined Cheery, putting down hers.

"Nine," muttered Reg, slapping a card on the table.

"Bluff," announced Detritus happily.

Colon reached over and flipped the top card over. "Yep, it's an eight. All yours, Reg."

Reg glared, but reluctantly took the cards and assimilated them into his stack.

"Hallo, Mister Vimes," boomed Detritus, looking up suddenly. "Sorry we didn't see you."

"Oh, don't mind me," answered Vimes jovially. "Just go on with the game. Don't you enjoy a good freezing winter, Detritus?"

Detritus nodded his great head. "Yeah, Mister Vimes. I love winter." He pulled a card out of his steadily thinning deck and put it down. "Six."

"Six," followed Colon, adding his own card.

"Bluff."

Vimes left the canteen as Colon's swearing echoed through the Watch House.

He was relaxed. This rarely happened to him, reflected Vimes, because it was very hard to be relaxed when he was chasing murdering psychopaths, and that sort of thing cropped up quite often in his schedule. But for once the spirit of Hogswatch seemed to be catching on. Nothing had come up. Not even Vetinari had summoned him to the Palace. It was really too good to be true.

Vimes seriously hoped nothing was going to come up. Even obsessed coppers needed a break a couple times a year, and this was one of those times.

He decided he had better get out of the Watch House before something did crop up, and set off an irresistible chain of events which would inevitably involve him missing Sybil's Hogswatch dinner. After all, Carrot would still be around, wouldn't he? It was time, as Sybil had so often told him, to delegate.

Speaking of Carrot……

Vimes decided to take the back stairs out, and immediately wished he hadn't. Bit of late, though.

Carrot and Angua broke apart guiltily as he stared at them. Carrot turned the same shade as Fred Colon after a long hard run. Angua suddenly found her nails very fascinating.

"Ah, sorry," said Vimes, looking uncomfortably from his captain, to his lieutenant, to Nobby's misbegot mistletoe sprig above them both, to the ceiling. "Me bad. Carry on with whatever you're doing, I'm just going off duty now."

As he disappeared hastily from view, Carrot said anxiously, "Angua, should we move somewhere else? Where we're not Obstructing Traffic?"

"Shut up, Carrot."

Outside, Vimes wrapped his coat around him and winced as he stepped into the street. He worshipped his worn cardboard soles all right, but there were circumstances in which thicker protection was admittedly preferable. Such as, for example, snow.

"Hello, Mister Vimes!" The voice came to his right – when Vimes squinted hard, he could see Constable Visit's beaming face in the midst of a muffler explosion. "Would you like a pamphlet?"

"No thanks," Vimes declined hastily. "You gave me one this morning already."

"But I could not help noticing, Mister Vimes," went on Visit, still incredibly cheerfully, "that you gave it to Constable Ping. I myself fervently pray that the Good God Om will speed up his recovery from his cold – but wouldn't you like another one?"

"Er, no," repeated Vimes. "I think you should give them to someone who can – er, appreciate them better."

"We've got a midnight service at our temple!" called Visit desperately after him as he trudged off into the snow. "To show our thanks to the Great Om for the wonderful gift of Hogswatch! It's free admission!"

"Go inside and get some hot cocoa before you catch a cold, Visit," was the only reply.

Constable Visit stared after the departing figure of his commander dejectedly. Then he sneezed.

Even though he trusted the divine Om to keep him in good health, thought Visit as he shuffled inside the warmth of the Watch House, it might be good, perhaps, to make His job easier. He must have a lot more important things to do, this Hogswatch.

Now alone, Vimes plodded through the snowed up streets. The Watch House was a twinkling mass of lights behind him. Snow blurred the air and made navigation difficult, but his freezing feet weren't so numb they couldn't tell Treacle Mine cobblestones when they trod on them. He stuffed his hands in his pockets, huffed into the air, and tramped on.

Snow settled with decisive permanence on his coat shoulders. Vimes grinned, despite himself, and thought of the great fireplaces of the Ramkin mansion, the spread headed by the great turkey, and Sybil sitting, waiting in the armchair by the fire, little Sam in her lap.

Vimes sped up.

And all about the city, on every street corner, above all the bustle, he could hear the ringing of the Night Watch bells. All's well, they said. All's well, this Hogswatchnight, all's well.

End.

Happy Hogswatch.