for ladyorla and hexadecimal100
I had to change your phrase a little to make it work, Orla. Hope you still like it.
Title: Inshallah
Author: Ruth
Fandom: Robin of Sherwood
Pairing: none
Rating: PG
Warnings: angst, violence
word count: 475
*********
This is not how I expected my life to be. Yet, what is written, is written and Allah alone knows the destiny that lies before a man.
As a child, I played as did many before me "what will I be when I grow up?" I was going to be a mighty soldier, a true defender of the Faithful against the Infidel. My father was a breeder of horses; swift as gazelles with fine legs and proud tails. When I was seven, I was circumcised and consecrated to Allah. That night, when I was on my pallet, unable to sleep for the pain despite the wine and poppy that I had been given, two of the followers of the Old Man of the Mountain came to my father. It seemed that my father owed the Old Man a debt and he paid that debt with his youngest son.
So, I became an Assassin. I did all that I was asked until the one day they asked me too much.
The Elders summoned me into the room. "We have discovered the traitor. You, Nasir, will slay him," said the first Sheikh in a flat voice. "The traitor is Sarak."
"What proof?" I asked. The Sheiks sat bolt upright as if stung, shock written on their bearded faces; it was not for compliment's sake that I had been referred to as "The Silent One."
"You question us?" the first Sheikh's face darkened.
"Peace," said the second. "Sarak was his weapon's master. They have been as brothers. Here," this to me. "Is the proof." And he held up a silver medallion marked with the date of a recent Hadj, identical to the one I wore around my neck. "Is it sufficient?"
I bowed. "it is sufficient."
Pity stayed my hand from the death blow. Sarak lived. I should have died, but the Sheiks found a different punishment. They sold me as a slave to an Infidel who worshiped Eblis. DeBelleme thought by sacrificing to Azael, the Angel of Death that Death would pass him by. He was a fool. The Hooded Man brought him low.
I had nowhere to go. Possibly I could have worked my way back to my birthplace, but for what purpose? I would still be outcast among my people. My family would have listed me among the dead. The Assassins would hunt me down. I had heard many tales of this Hooded Man, how he fought what was evil in this cold, wet land. His cause is futile. The rich and the corrupt are ever in power. What better place to die a warrior's death than in a futile battle?
So it is. I am one of this band of outlaws.
Inshallah, as God wills.
Title: Inshallah
Author: Ruth
Fandom: Robin of Sherwood
Pairing: none
Rating: PG
Warnings: angst, violence
word count: 475
*********
This is not how I expected my life to be. Yet, what is written, is written and Allah alone knows the destiny that lies before a man.
As a child, I played as did many before me "what will I be when I grow up?" I was going to be a mighty soldier, a true defender of the Faithful against the Infidel. My father was a breeder of horses; swift as gazelles with fine legs and proud tails. When I was seven, I was circumcised and consecrated to Allah. That night, when I was on my pallet, unable to sleep for the pain despite the wine and poppy that I had been given, two of the followers of the Old Man of the Mountain came to my father. It seemed that my father owed the Old Man a debt and he paid that debt with his youngest son.
So, I became an Assassin. I did all that I was asked until the one day they asked me too much.
The Elders summoned me into the room. "We have discovered the traitor. You, Nasir, will slay him," said the first Sheikh in a flat voice. "The traitor is Sarak."
"What proof?" I asked. The Sheiks sat bolt upright as if stung, shock written on their bearded faces; it was not for compliment's sake that I had been referred to as "The Silent One."
"You question us?" the first Sheikh's face darkened.
"Peace," said the second. "Sarak was his weapon's master. They have been as brothers. Here," this to me. "Is the proof." And he held up a silver medallion marked with the date of a recent Hadj, identical to the one I wore around my neck. "Is it sufficient?"
I bowed. "it is sufficient."
Pity stayed my hand from the death blow. Sarak lived. I should have died, but the Sheiks found a different punishment. They sold me as a slave to an Infidel who worshiped Eblis. DeBelleme thought by sacrificing to Azael, the Angel of Death that Death would pass him by. He was a fool. The Hooded Man brought him low.
I had nowhere to go. Possibly I could have worked my way back to my birthplace, but for what purpose? I would still be outcast among my people. My family would have listed me among the dead. The Assassins would hunt me down. I had heard many tales of this Hooded Man, how he fought what was evil in this cold, wet land. His cause is futile. The rich and the corrupt are ever in power. What better place to die a warrior's death than in a futile battle?
So it is. I am one of this band of outlaws.
Inshallah, as God wills.