The Winged Horse
Title: The Winged Horse.
Author: Sam (AKA pygmy)
Fandom: Robin Hood
Genre: General, Fluff
Rating: G
Characters: Much, Djaq
Disclaimer: I don’t own Much (But I did steal his jumper)
Summary: Much and Djaq have a midnight chat.
Much couldn’t sleep. He lay uncomfortably on the ground listening to his snoring friends and staring up at the stars. He tried to remember something one of the soldiers in the Holy Land had told him about the stars, a story of a horse, a winged horse, but he had a terrible memory for tales and folklore. He looked around the night sky again looking for the flying horse but all the sparkling spots looked the same to him and he couldn’t make out any distinguishing shapes.
Somewhere in the darkness he heard someone move, his hand was about to grab his sword, when he realised it was Djaq walking past, he thought about saying something but she had already gone. He turned over.
He lay there for a while listening to Djaq wondering around the camp then he thought he heard her whimper. He sat up, groaned and rubbed his neck, he looked around the camp and noticed her small figure next to the fire. He stood up slowly and started to walk towards the heat of the campfire.
“Djaq? Can’t you sleep?” as soon as he said it he regretted asking such an obvious question.
She shrugged her shoulders not looking up from the flames. Much wasn’t sure if he should sit down or leave her to her thoughts.
“I miss my homeland” Djaq said suddenly.
“Erm…Right” Much sat down slowly thinking she still might tell him to go away, but she didn’t.
“I keep thinking about the village I grew up in, and how it’s been destroyed by the fighting, and my friends” She paused “I don’t know if they are still alive and I know my family are dead” Her voice broke and she put her head in her hands.
Much couldn’t think of anything to say, he had never seen her this upset, she had always spoke of her family with pride never sadness, always celebrating their lives never grieving their deaths. He put his hand on her shoulder, something he had done many times to Robin when he had been sad.
“My family are dead too” he said quietly, he wasn’t sure this was the right thing to say, but the words had left his mouth before he could stop them.
She looked at him “I didn’t realise, I’m sorry”
He felt embarrassed “I’m sorry too” He smiled awkwardly at her.
They both sat there silently for a while, Muchs hand still on her shoulder.
“Do you mind me asking what happened to your family?” she asked quietly and awkwardly.
“My father died in jail before I was born” He looked at Djaq and added quickly “He wasn’t a bad person, he was a miller, he stole some flour cause he had no money to feed my mother when she was heavily expecting” He paused realising her had never told anyone, not even Robin, about his parents. When he looked at Djaq she was staring at him with caring eyes, he suddenly felt very comfortable talking.
“My mother brought me up alone, before passing herself when I was 10”
He realised Djaqs hand was on his, he hadn’t noticed her doing this and stared at their entwined fingers resting on her shoulder. She noticed this and began talking rather fast to cover up his embarrassment.
“She, my Mother, gave me the nickname Much”
“I thought Much was your real name?” she said sounding interested.
“Many do, I’ve been using Much since the day she died. I was a sickly child, smaller and weaker than the other boys, the villagers would say I would never amount to much. My mother would stand up for me telling them all I was special then she would take me to one side and tell me not to listen to them that I could be much if I wanted to be, she would call me Much. When she died I dropped my name and went by Much”
Djaq was looking at him with tears in her eyes “what was your Mothers name?”
“Genevieve”
Then she smiled and turned away from him and stood up. She searched around the camp fire for a few minutes stumbling on the rocks before returning with 2 flasks. She handed one to Much.
“A toast- to Genevieve, a devoted mother”
“And to Djaq, a beloved brother”
They both drank then sat in a comfortable silence listening to the flames from the small fire and the snores from their friends.
Djaq suddenly stood up “Goodnight Much”
He smiled up at her and watched her walk away then turn around and walk back to him. She knelt on one knee.
“So if Much is a nickname, what’s your real name?”
Much smiled and turned back to the fire “Nicholas, my name is Nick, after my father”
She smiled kindly at him and walked away.
When he lay down he quietly turned on to his side, closed his eyes and dreamed of himself and Djaq riding a flying horse out of Sherwood Forest.
Author: Sam (AKA pygmy)
Fandom: Robin Hood
Genre: General, Fluff
Rating: G
Characters: Much, Djaq
Disclaimer: I don’t own Much (But I did steal his jumper)
Summary: Much and Djaq have a midnight chat.
Much couldn’t sleep. He lay uncomfortably on the ground listening to his snoring friends and staring up at the stars. He tried to remember something one of the soldiers in the Holy Land had told him about the stars, a story of a horse, a winged horse, but he had a terrible memory for tales and folklore. He looked around the night sky again looking for the flying horse but all the sparkling spots looked the same to him and he couldn’t make out any distinguishing shapes.
Somewhere in the darkness he heard someone move, his hand was about to grab his sword, when he realised it was Djaq walking past, he thought about saying something but she had already gone. He turned over.
He lay there for a while listening to Djaq wondering around the camp then he thought he heard her whimper. He sat up, groaned and rubbed his neck, he looked around the camp and noticed her small figure next to the fire. He stood up slowly and started to walk towards the heat of the campfire.
“Djaq? Can’t you sleep?” as soon as he said it he regretted asking such an obvious question.
She shrugged her shoulders not looking up from the flames. Much wasn’t sure if he should sit down or leave her to her thoughts.
“I miss my homeland” Djaq said suddenly.
“Erm…Right” Much sat down slowly thinking she still might tell him to go away, but she didn’t.
“I keep thinking about the village I grew up in, and how it’s been destroyed by the fighting, and my friends” She paused “I don’t know if they are still alive and I know my family are dead” Her voice broke and she put her head in her hands.
Much couldn’t think of anything to say, he had never seen her this upset, she had always spoke of her family with pride never sadness, always celebrating their lives never grieving their deaths. He put his hand on her shoulder, something he had done many times to Robin when he had been sad.
“My family are dead too” he said quietly, he wasn’t sure this was the right thing to say, but the words had left his mouth before he could stop them.
She looked at him “I didn’t realise, I’m sorry”
He felt embarrassed “I’m sorry too” He smiled awkwardly at her.
They both sat there silently for a while, Muchs hand still on her shoulder.
“Do you mind me asking what happened to your family?” she asked quietly and awkwardly.
“My father died in jail before I was born” He looked at Djaq and added quickly “He wasn’t a bad person, he was a miller, he stole some flour cause he had no money to feed my mother when she was heavily expecting” He paused realising her had never told anyone, not even Robin, about his parents. When he looked at Djaq she was staring at him with caring eyes, he suddenly felt very comfortable talking.
“My mother brought me up alone, before passing herself when I was 10”
He realised Djaqs hand was on his, he hadn’t noticed her doing this and stared at their entwined fingers resting on her shoulder. She noticed this and began talking rather fast to cover up his embarrassment.
“She, my Mother, gave me the nickname Much”
“I thought Much was your real name?” she said sounding interested.
“Many do, I’ve been using Much since the day she died. I was a sickly child, smaller and weaker than the other boys, the villagers would say I would never amount to much. My mother would stand up for me telling them all I was special then she would take me to one side and tell me not to listen to them that I could be much if I wanted to be, she would call me Much. When she died I dropped my name and went by Much”
Djaq was looking at him with tears in her eyes “what was your Mothers name?”
“Genevieve”
Then she smiled and turned away from him and stood up. She searched around the camp fire for a few minutes stumbling on the rocks before returning with 2 flasks. She handed one to Much.
“A toast- to Genevieve, a devoted mother”
“And to Djaq, a beloved brother”
They both drank then sat in a comfortable silence listening to the flames from the small fire and the snores from their friends.
Djaq suddenly stood up “Goodnight Much”
He smiled up at her and watched her walk away then turn around and walk back to him. She knelt on one knee.
“So if Much is a nickname, what’s your real name?”
Much smiled and turned back to the fire “Nicholas, my name is Nick, after my father”
She smiled kindly at him and walked away.
When he lay down he quietly turned on to his side, closed his eyes and dreamed of himself and Djaq riding a flying horse out of Sherwood Forest.