En Garde
Title: En Garde
Rating: PG
Word count: 454 words
Characters/Pairings: Guy, Much
Prompt: Guy/Much; first night in the forest
Summary: It’s him, he realises. They don’t trust him enough to stay in their camp without murdering them all in their beds.
Notes: Not technically a drabble, but I'm posting here anyway. I just won't post this one to the drabblefest comm.
The noise of the forest takes him by surprise. Before when he’s been there, riding through on patrol or in pursuit of the outlaws he’s now thrown in his lot with, it has been quiet, almost unnaturally so, as if the whole forest is holding its breath until he’s passed through. Now though, the noise is truly deafening. Leaves rustle and crackle with the slightest puff of wind, insects chirrup incessantly, and from somewhere in the darkness two owls hoot at one another in greeting.
It’s more than enough to ensure Guy has no chance of sleeping tonight.
Fed up with restless tossing and turning he throws back his blankets, slips on his boots and coat, and sets off away from the camp. He doesn’t get very far before a voice calls out from the darkness.
“Who’s there?”
The speaker steps out of the shadows. It’s Hood’s former servant. Much, if he remembers correctly.
Guy takes a step towards him, so that he too is visible in the dim light of the moon. Suspicion crosses Much’s face.
“What are you doing?”
Guy is expecting the accusation in the other man’s voice; it’ll take a lot longer than one day for the last few years to be forgotten. He shrugs, grateful that he left his sword by his bunk; looking like he poses a threat is the last thing he needs in this situation.
“I couldn’t sleep,” he confesses, waving vaguely at the cacophonous surroundings.
To his surprise, Much’s wary expression softens. Clearly he’s not the only one to be kept awake by the noise.
“You get used to it,” Much says stiffly, aware that Gisborne’s not likely to be leaving their camp any time soon.
Guy inclines his head towards the other outlaw. “It doesn’t look that way to me.”
Much shakes his head. “I’m keeping watch.”
Guy nearly asks what for - Isabella’s hardly likely to send guards after them in the middle of the night when such a ploy has never worked in the daytime before - but stops himself. It’s him, he realises. They don’t trust him enough to stay in their camp without having someone to make sure he doesn’t murder them all in their beds, or sneak off to betray them, so they’ve put a guard-dog on him.
He shrugs again. He might as well make it easy for them.
He takes out the dagger he had secreted in his boot and, ignoring the looks of panic on Much’s face (although to his credit the other man masks it pretty quickly), hacks the top off a young sapling. Then he settles down against a tree, careful to remain within eyeshot of Much, and starts whittling away at the wood until morning.
Rating: PG
Word count: 454 words
Characters/Pairings: Guy, Much
Prompt: Guy/Much; first night in the forest
Summary: It’s him, he realises. They don’t trust him enough to stay in their camp without murdering them all in their beds.
Notes: Not technically a drabble, but I'm posting here anyway. I just won't post this one to the drabblefest comm.
The noise of the forest takes him by surprise. Before when he’s been there, riding through on patrol or in pursuit of the outlaws he’s now thrown in his lot with, it has been quiet, almost unnaturally so, as if the whole forest is holding its breath until he’s passed through. Now though, the noise is truly deafening. Leaves rustle and crackle with the slightest puff of wind, insects chirrup incessantly, and from somewhere in the darkness two owls hoot at one another in greeting.
It’s more than enough to ensure Guy has no chance of sleeping tonight.
Fed up with restless tossing and turning he throws back his blankets, slips on his boots and coat, and sets off away from the camp. He doesn’t get very far before a voice calls out from the darkness.
“Who’s there?”
The speaker steps out of the shadows. It’s Hood’s former servant. Much, if he remembers correctly.
Guy takes a step towards him, so that he too is visible in the dim light of the moon. Suspicion crosses Much’s face.
“What are you doing?”
Guy is expecting the accusation in the other man’s voice; it’ll take a lot longer than one day for the last few years to be forgotten. He shrugs, grateful that he left his sword by his bunk; looking like he poses a threat is the last thing he needs in this situation.
“I couldn’t sleep,” he confesses, waving vaguely at the cacophonous surroundings.
To his surprise, Much’s wary expression softens. Clearly he’s not the only one to be kept awake by the noise.
“You get used to it,” Much says stiffly, aware that Gisborne’s not likely to be leaving their camp any time soon.
Guy inclines his head towards the other outlaw. “It doesn’t look that way to me.”
Much shakes his head. “I’m keeping watch.”
Guy nearly asks what for - Isabella’s hardly likely to send guards after them in the middle of the night when such a ploy has never worked in the daytime before - but stops himself. It’s him, he realises. They don’t trust him enough to stay in their camp without having someone to make sure he doesn’t murder them all in their beds, or sneak off to betray them, so they’ve put a guard-dog on him.
He shrugs again. He might as well make it easy for them.
He takes out the dagger he had secreted in his boot and, ignoring the looks of panic on Much’s face (although to his credit the other man masks it pretty quickly), hacks the top off a young sapling. Then he settles down against a tree, careful to remain within eyeshot of Much, and starts whittling away at the wood until morning.