Breaking and Healing, a fic about Djaq
Written for: hoodland Secret Santa 2010
A gift for: kegel84
Title: Breaking and Healing
Characters: Djaq, gang, Marian
Rating: G
Words: 2,747
Beta reader: shinysparks Thank you, as always!! ♥
A/N: A bit of research of cookies for muslim celebrations, medieval baking and “physician stuff” during the Middle Ages made me almost certain that this story isn't too anachronistic. Also some Austen speak and even a whole Austen quote - see if you can catch it. (I’d also like to point out that a certain leather-clad Master-at-Arms is not even mentioned in this fic. HA! How’s that for a challenge? ;-) )
BREAKING AND HEALING
Winter came early that year. Djaq was worried; apart from the usual bouts of flu and chest afflictions, there were many hurt and broken limbs. Most were easily enough to set, but when a small child in Clun had an infection in a broken shin that Djaq could not cure and subsequently died, Djaq was not only unhappy. She was exhausted to her very core.
What is the use?
It was a treacherous thought, a thought a healer could never allow oneself. If there was no use... No, the thought could not be completed. Not regarding healing, not regarding anything.
She had spent many months in England by now. This England; cold, damp and green. Djaq loved the greenery, the protection and beauty. The shade. The healing properties of many plants she had never encountered before. New, exciting knowledge.
Her new friends; nay, her new family, was here. Robin Hood and his gang. They were all dear to her - some more than others - and they had all, in different ways, been forced to do things that was wrong, but making things right - if properly fought for.
All but Allan. On days like these, Djaq wondered if not Allan’s betrayal could have been forgiven after all. He had been part of the gang that was now her family and she had seen him lose his brother. Djaq did not like it that he was no longer a part of the gang. They did well, but there was a missing limb, a wound that would not heal.
On days like these, Djaq walked without her usual energy and slumped under the cloak, looking down on the frosty ground and speaking very little. The others said nothing, but noticed. They all felt uneasy, but Will would look almost forlorn. He missed Allan as well, more than he dared to voice in his own mind, and there was a fear deep within of losing Djaq too. What if she wanted to return to her homeland? Losing her as well was too much to think about.
Robin saw and was thoughtful. He did not like to think back of what had happened any more. Forward was the only way, new plans was the solution. They had all lost so much, but they must not lose England. They all had their part to play. Djaq had to see the point in helping the way she did best. Robin smiled, he had a plan.
Christmas was soon upon them. Djaq smiled and shook her head. These English with their love of pork and ale. Heathens all of them, but endearing heathens. This year, Eid-al-Fitr would be just four days before Christmas Eve, on the winter solstice. A good omen, one would think, were it not for the fact that Djaq could never be sure if her calculations were right, sure that she observed what ought to be observed in her worship, sure that her new family could be anything more than heathens, sure that it would end well, sure that it was any use -
It is of no use.
There was the treacherous thought again, the thought that broke something within her. If they could not save England, if they could not save their souls, if her home was lost, if her own soul was in beyond hope, if every life she managed to save was doomed anyway - how could they go on? How could she go on?
Well, it was almost Eid and winter solstice. Days would be longer again. Winter would pass eventually. Djaq tried to take heart from that knowledge. The end of Eid would mean the end of fast as well. It had not been hard to observe it during winter, since it was dark early and food was scarce. The gang was planning some sort of Christmas celebration. Much spoke longingly about meat but also cakes, sweet, sweet cakes.
Djaq’s mouth watered. Unbeknownst of the others, she had managed to stash away some treasures; fine semolina flour, white sugar from the east and walnuts found in the garden of the razed Knighton Hall. She would surprise Much and the others with some real cookies for Eid. They would be surprised, getting such fine cakes so many days before Christmas. Djaq contemplated whether she should mention that it was Eid, an important celebration for her. Or should she stay silent, keeping it to herself and not importune it on them? She was not sure. But the idea of making cookies in secret was a thought that kept her going.
It was not hard to keep anything secret at the moment; the whole gang seemed intent on sneaking away on their own pursuits this time of the year. Djaq fleetingly wondered if they avoided her because of her low spirits, but decided not to ask anyone. If she wanted them to seek her company, it was her own responsibility to make herself agreeable company. As it was, she did not have much energy to be agreeable company, but she did her chores and saw to the sick with non-failing duty.
Just as Djaq was hiding her womanly status, she was also hiding her womanly overtones. Her past, both before being held captive and after, had taught her that a woman especially, if she have the misfortune of knowing anything, should conceal it as well as she can. Posing as a man made it easier to go out in the villages and use her knowledge of healing. Even if she did not hide her curves anymore, the villagers accepted her for what she was. She helped them; a dark-skinned woman with baffling skills. She was with Robin Hood’s gang. She was accepted. She was already an outlaw, she could not be expected to be a natural part of the community. She never would in any case. Always an outsider; here and at home. Knowing too much. Being too much. Always alone.
Two days before Eid, she was able to borrow the baking oven from a grateful baker in Nottingham, whose son she had cured. The baker had saved her some butter and procured some fine rose water; a real treasure. Djaq had brought the semolina, sugar and the walnuts, glad she would not use the baker’s stores. Who knew how closely the flour was accounted for?
The baker’s wife came out, smilingly, as Djaq prepared the dough. She took interest in the proceedings, said little, walked back and forth humming a little and Djaq found herself humming along after a while. It was good company. Setting a dough was nice, not so different from mixing a medicine, after all. For once, womanly pursuits did Djaq good. Indeed, working with the hands in this concentrated manner felt very good. She could understand Will’s need to go away and work with wood. His hands were so capable, strong and fine. His concentration when he worked with a fine piece of wood was a true delight to behold. He would look up at her, blushing, and she would look away, guiltily.
Djaq paused, her cheeks were hot and her breath short. Probably the heat from the oven. Working with her hands and thinking of Will’s proficiency brought back the memory of her father’s skills in surgery. He had owned a set of excellent surgery tools and taught her to use them. How Djaq missed those tools, as so many other things! Skill, concentration and proficiency was expected by a good surgeon. The English did their blood-letting and sawed off limbs. There was so much more to surgery than that! Had she been able to perform surgery as her father had taught her, she could have saved several lives and...
She had to shake off that feeling. There was a meaning in doing what she and all of them did, there had to be.
The next day was Sunday. After having left the dough over night in the bakery, Djaq came back to make the cookies. The family was in church, so Djaq was all alone. She got to work: mixing walnuts with rosewater and sugar, shaping cookies, trying to make them a bit fanciful, the way her mother had made them. Putting her heart into it, Djaq could almost feel satisfied with the result. She walked around in the bakery, from chore to chore, a spring in her step again. Taking out plate after plate from the oven, she sprinkled sugar that she had grinded into fine dust over them; a generous amount. Well, it was a large amount of cookies. Some for the gang, some for the baker family and enough to hand out in the villages. Lots and lots of cookies.
Pausing, Djaq looked up and saw cookies on every surface. Extravagant! There was a feeling very similar to joy in Djaq’s heart at that moment. Enough to indulge on, even for Much. Sweetness to share, for each and all. It felt good: giving something by her and from her to the others was probably what their Christmas was all about. She might never get what she fully needed in this country, but she still had much to give and she would keep on giving of herself.
The baker family came home and stood there gaping. Djaq started to laugh and the others joined her. After giving them a cookie each and gathering the other cookies carefully in a large basket, she was ready to go back home... to Sherwood. Will had promised to help her and turned up just in time to carry the other handle of the big basket.
“What is this, Djaq?” he asked and sniffed curiously. There was a delightful scent from the basket.
“You will see tomorrow, Will!” said Djaq and smiled warmly. Will smiled back and accepted, knowing she would tell him if she said so.
~*~
It was almost mid-day. Djaq had greeted the day early, said her prayers and then allowed herself to go back to bed for a sleep-in. Waking up much later, she snuggled under the warm covers while a bleak midwinter sun lit up the camp. She rose for a late breakfast while the others came back for lunch. They were surprised by her tardiness, but there were no comments or remarks, only smiles.
“Having a good day, Djaq?” Robin said with a smile.
“Oh, yes!” Djaq said while enjoying her breakfast. “I have a surprise for you all later!”
“Surprise!” said Much. “What sort of surprise?”
“Ah, if she tells us, Much, it won’t be a surprise!” Robin laughed.
“Is it food?” Much said hopefully.
There was a sound indicating that someone was coming.
“That would be Marian!” said Robin and the others did not seem surprised, though Djaq was.
Marian entered the camp smilingly and carrying a parcel that she handed to Little John. She greeted them all and went over to Djaq, engaging her in friendly conversation. The young noblewoman looked happy and had a mischievous gleam in her eyes; Djaq did not know what to make of it. Marian kept her occupied with an unusual amount of chatter, while the gang finished their meal, save Will, who went away for a while.
When everyone had finished eating and Will returned, Djaq decided it was time for the treat. She and Marian carried the basket to the middle of the camp and there was a lot of cheering from the gang when Djaq started handing out cookies. Much was not the only one to be ecstatic. Everyone ate with great gusto, praising her baking skills until she begged them to stop.
“So, Djaq! Cookies!” said Robin.
“Oh yes. Enough for at least the kids in the villages too!” said Djaq, wiping powdered sugar from her cheek.
“A good way to celebrate Eid!” said Little John and the others murmured in agreement while munching.
Djaq turned to stone; “How did you know!?” she exclaimed.
Robin laughed; “We heard a merchant in Nottingham speaking of Saracens visiting in London and refusing to eat during daylight, until it was time for our midwinter solstice.”
“It wasn’t hard to figure out why!” said Much happily. “In the Holy Land, I remember well how they observed the fast during Ramadan!”
“I noticed that you did not eat,” said Little John. “That, I did not like.”
“But then Much and Robin put two and two together and explained it to us,” said Will seriously.
“So we decided to make your Eid-al-Fitr special, Djaq!” Marian concluded.
Djaq was already dumbfounded, but when Will went forward with a small box - the wood was dark and looked distinctly foreign - Djaq felt herself go warm in the skin, despite the cold weather.
“I made the box,” said Will in his humble way, as if he had merely gathered wood for the fire and not made a masterpiece. “Robin, Much and Little John were able to get what I needed to make it. Marian was able to obtain what was inside. It’s a gift from all of us,” he finished with a small nod, urging her to open it.
Inside the small box, lined with dark velvet, was a set of fine surgical instruments. One glance was all it took for Djaq to see that these little scalpels, the pair of tweezers and the probes, all in their own cases and gleaming against the dark velvet, were indeed of finest quality. Perhaps from her homeland, maybe even beyond.
Something burst inside of Djaq’s chest. Her spirits had already been lifted by the baking and preparation of Eid. Finding out that the gang had known, understood and thought of her had warmed even further. This gift, however, in its intricate thoughtfulness, was more than she had ever been able to imagine from them. The time and effort to make this small, valuable and elaborate gift; the meaning was not lost on her. She was loved. Loved for who she was.
Djaq was relieved when Robin began to talk, because she feared that emotion would get the better of her.
“We know how much it has bothered you that you couldn’t help the sick the way you wanted and ought to do,” he said.
“But now you can!” said Much enthusiastically.
“Really...” she said, her voice was thick. “This is...”
“No more than you deserve,” Marian filled in and put her arm around her shoulder.
Djaq had to look down and shake her head a little. Then she laughed and the tension in the camp broke. They all laughed and hugged Djaq; Will last of all. They broke apart a bit breathlessly, distantly hearing the joyful chatter around them.
“The box,” said Djaq, “is a very fine piece of work.”
“Like Marian said: you deserve that. And more.”
Will said no more but went to sit with Little John. Djaq lifted the box again, opened it and carefully caressed the instruments. No strongbox full of money or shrine full of jewels could have brought a happiness close to what she felt. Marian was by her side again.
“The box will be waterproof, Will says. Well, you might not want to drop it into a river...” The women laughed together. “You need to oil the instruments, but you know that of course.”
“Marian... how on earth did you get hold of these!?” said Djaq in a low, persistent voice.
Marian was silent, looking guilty. Over her shoulder, she saw that the rest of the gang was busy and not listening in on them.
“Will knows,” hissed Marian. “And...” she paused and smiled. Djaq was on tenterhook, feeling that she wanted to know what Marian had to say.
“There is a new physician in the castle,” said Marian. “A real quack!” she giggled. “But he loves the very best there is to obtain. He had these sent for, months ago! Sadly,” said Marian and made a mock-sad face, “they never reached him!”
“Did you...” Djaq began, but the truth started to dawn on her. Yet another joy blossomed in her heart.
“Allan,” whispered Marian. “He sends his regard. By this,” said Marian and pointed into the box. “He knew right away that these should be with you. He was ever so pleased with himself when he managed to secure this treasure for you.” Marian’s smile was conspiratorial and she hugged Djaq again.
Djaq sat down by the fire with the others, they stayed there and kept warm until the sun started to set and it was time for Marian to go back to Nottingham. Djaq basked in the warmth from the love of her new family and and glowed from the inside from the love she felt in return.
They all cared and loved; they knew her and understood her. All of them; Robin and Much. Little John. Marian. Will, of course - always Will. And Allan. Even Allan.
~fin~
A gift for: kegel84
Title: Breaking and Healing
Characters: Djaq, gang, Marian
Rating: G
Words: 2,747
Beta reader: shinysparks Thank you, as always!! ♥
A/N: A bit of research of cookies for muslim celebrations, medieval baking and “physician stuff” during the Middle Ages made me almost certain that this story isn't too anachronistic. Also some Austen speak and even a whole Austen quote - see if you can catch it. (I’d also like to point out that a certain leather-clad Master-at-Arms is not even mentioned in this fic. HA! How’s that for a challenge? ;-) )
BREAKING AND HEALING
Winter came early that year. Djaq was worried; apart from the usual bouts of flu and chest afflictions, there were many hurt and broken limbs. Most were easily enough to set, but when a small child in Clun had an infection in a broken shin that Djaq could not cure and subsequently died, Djaq was not only unhappy. She was exhausted to her very core.
What is the use?
It was a treacherous thought, a thought a healer could never allow oneself. If there was no use... No, the thought could not be completed. Not regarding healing, not regarding anything.
She had spent many months in England by now. This England; cold, damp and green. Djaq loved the greenery, the protection and beauty. The shade. The healing properties of many plants she had never encountered before. New, exciting knowledge.
Her new friends; nay, her new family, was here. Robin Hood and his gang. They were all dear to her - some more than others - and they had all, in different ways, been forced to do things that was wrong, but making things right - if properly fought for.
All but Allan. On days like these, Djaq wondered if not Allan’s betrayal could have been forgiven after all. He had been part of the gang that was now her family and she had seen him lose his brother. Djaq did not like it that he was no longer a part of the gang. They did well, but there was a missing limb, a wound that would not heal.
On days like these, Djaq walked without her usual energy and slumped under the cloak, looking down on the frosty ground and speaking very little. The others said nothing, but noticed. They all felt uneasy, but Will would look almost forlorn. He missed Allan as well, more than he dared to voice in his own mind, and there was a fear deep within of losing Djaq too. What if she wanted to return to her homeland? Losing her as well was too much to think about.
Robin saw and was thoughtful. He did not like to think back of what had happened any more. Forward was the only way, new plans was the solution. They had all lost so much, but they must not lose England. They all had their part to play. Djaq had to see the point in helping the way she did best. Robin smiled, he had a plan.
Christmas was soon upon them. Djaq smiled and shook her head. These English with their love of pork and ale. Heathens all of them, but endearing heathens. This year, Eid-al-Fitr would be just four days before Christmas Eve, on the winter solstice. A good omen, one would think, were it not for the fact that Djaq could never be sure if her calculations were right, sure that she observed what ought to be observed in her worship, sure that her new family could be anything more than heathens, sure that it would end well, sure that it was any use -
It is of no use.
There was the treacherous thought again, the thought that broke something within her. If they could not save England, if they could not save their souls, if her home was lost, if her own soul was in beyond hope, if every life she managed to save was doomed anyway - how could they go on? How could she go on?
Well, it was almost Eid and winter solstice. Days would be longer again. Winter would pass eventually. Djaq tried to take heart from that knowledge. The end of Eid would mean the end of fast as well. It had not been hard to observe it during winter, since it was dark early and food was scarce. The gang was planning some sort of Christmas celebration. Much spoke longingly about meat but also cakes, sweet, sweet cakes.
Djaq’s mouth watered. Unbeknownst of the others, she had managed to stash away some treasures; fine semolina flour, white sugar from the east and walnuts found in the garden of the razed Knighton Hall. She would surprise Much and the others with some real cookies for Eid. They would be surprised, getting such fine cakes so many days before Christmas. Djaq contemplated whether she should mention that it was Eid, an important celebration for her. Or should she stay silent, keeping it to herself and not importune it on them? She was not sure. But the idea of making cookies in secret was a thought that kept her going.
It was not hard to keep anything secret at the moment; the whole gang seemed intent on sneaking away on their own pursuits this time of the year. Djaq fleetingly wondered if they avoided her because of her low spirits, but decided not to ask anyone. If she wanted them to seek her company, it was her own responsibility to make herself agreeable company. As it was, she did not have much energy to be agreeable company, but she did her chores and saw to the sick with non-failing duty.
Just as Djaq was hiding her womanly status, she was also hiding her womanly overtones. Her past, both before being held captive and after, had taught her that a woman especially, if she have the misfortune of knowing anything, should conceal it as well as she can. Posing as a man made it easier to go out in the villages and use her knowledge of healing. Even if she did not hide her curves anymore, the villagers accepted her for what she was. She helped them; a dark-skinned woman with baffling skills. She was with Robin Hood’s gang. She was accepted. She was already an outlaw, she could not be expected to be a natural part of the community. She never would in any case. Always an outsider; here and at home. Knowing too much. Being too much. Always alone.
Two days before Eid, she was able to borrow the baking oven from a grateful baker in Nottingham, whose son she had cured. The baker had saved her some butter and procured some fine rose water; a real treasure. Djaq had brought the semolina, sugar and the walnuts, glad she would not use the baker’s stores. Who knew how closely the flour was accounted for?
The baker’s wife came out, smilingly, as Djaq prepared the dough. She took interest in the proceedings, said little, walked back and forth humming a little and Djaq found herself humming along after a while. It was good company. Setting a dough was nice, not so different from mixing a medicine, after all. For once, womanly pursuits did Djaq good. Indeed, working with the hands in this concentrated manner felt very good. She could understand Will’s need to go away and work with wood. His hands were so capable, strong and fine. His concentration when he worked with a fine piece of wood was a true delight to behold. He would look up at her, blushing, and she would look away, guiltily.
Djaq paused, her cheeks were hot and her breath short. Probably the heat from the oven. Working with her hands and thinking of Will’s proficiency brought back the memory of her father’s skills in surgery. He had owned a set of excellent surgery tools and taught her to use them. How Djaq missed those tools, as so many other things! Skill, concentration and proficiency was expected by a good surgeon. The English did their blood-letting and sawed off limbs. There was so much more to surgery than that! Had she been able to perform surgery as her father had taught her, she could have saved several lives and...
She had to shake off that feeling. There was a meaning in doing what she and all of them did, there had to be.
The next day was Sunday. After having left the dough over night in the bakery, Djaq came back to make the cookies. The family was in church, so Djaq was all alone. She got to work: mixing walnuts with rosewater and sugar, shaping cookies, trying to make them a bit fanciful, the way her mother had made them. Putting her heart into it, Djaq could almost feel satisfied with the result. She walked around in the bakery, from chore to chore, a spring in her step again. Taking out plate after plate from the oven, she sprinkled sugar that she had grinded into fine dust over them; a generous amount. Well, it was a large amount of cookies. Some for the gang, some for the baker family and enough to hand out in the villages. Lots and lots of cookies.
Pausing, Djaq looked up and saw cookies on every surface. Extravagant! There was a feeling very similar to joy in Djaq’s heart at that moment. Enough to indulge on, even for Much. Sweetness to share, for each and all. It felt good: giving something by her and from her to the others was probably what their Christmas was all about. She might never get what she fully needed in this country, but she still had much to give and she would keep on giving of herself.
The baker family came home and stood there gaping. Djaq started to laugh and the others joined her. After giving them a cookie each and gathering the other cookies carefully in a large basket, she was ready to go back home... to Sherwood. Will had promised to help her and turned up just in time to carry the other handle of the big basket.
“What is this, Djaq?” he asked and sniffed curiously. There was a delightful scent from the basket.
“You will see tomorrow, Will!” said Djaq and smiled warmly. Will smiled back and accepted, knowing she would tell him if she said so.
~*~
It was almost mid-day. Djaq had greeted the day early, said her prayers and then allowed herself to go back to bed for a sleep-in. Waking up much later, she snuggled under the warm covers while a bleak midwinter sun lit up the camp. She rose for a late breakfast while the others came back for lunch. They were surprised by her tardiness, but there were no comments or remarks, only smiles.
“Having a good day, Djaq?” Robin said with a smile.
“Oh, yes!” Djaq said while enjoying her breakfast. “I have a surprise for you all later!”
“Surprise!” said Much. “What sort of surprise?”
“Ah, if she tells us, Much, it won’t be a surprise!” Robin laughed.
“Is it food?” Much said hopefully.
There was a sound indicating that someone was coming.
“That would be Marian!” said Robin and the others did not seem surprised, though Djaq was.
Marian entered the camp smilingly and carrying a parcel that she handed to Little John. She greeted them all and went over to Djaq, engaging her in friendly conversation. The young noblewoman looked happy and had a mischievous gleam in her eyes; Djaq did not know what to make of it. Marian kept her occupied with an unusual amount of chatter, while the gang finished their meal, save Will, who went away for a while.
When everyone had finished eating and Will returned, Djaq decided it was time for the treat. She and Marian carried the basket to the middle of the camp and there was a lot of cheering from the gang when Djaq started handing out cookies. Much was not the only one to be ecstatic. Everyone ate with great gusto, praising her baking skills until she begged them to stop.
“So, Djaq! Cookies!” said Robin.
“Oh yes. Enough for at least the kids in the villages too!” said Djaq, wiping powdered sugar from her cheek.
“A good way to celebrate Eid!” said Little John and the others murmured in agreement while munching.
Djaq turned to stone; “How did you know!?” she exclaimed.
Robin laughed; “We heard a merchant in Nottingham speaking of Saracens visiting in London and refusing to eat during daylight, until it was time for our midwinter solstice.”
“It wasn’t hard to figure out why!” said Much happily. “In the Holy Land, I remember well how they observed the fast during Ramadan!”
“I noticed that you did not eat,” said Little John. “That, I did not like.”
“But then Much and Robin put two and two together and explained it to us,” said Will seriously.
“So we decided to make your Eid-al-Fitr special, Djaq!” Marian concluded.
Djaq was already dumbfounded, but when Will went forward with a small box - the wood was dark and looked distinctly foreign - Djaq felt herself go warm in the skin, despite the cold weather.
“I made the box,” said Will in his humble way, as if he had merely gathered wood for the fire and not made a masterpiece. “Robin, Much and Little John were able to get what I needed to make it. Marian was able to obtain what was inside. It’s a gift from all of us,” he finished with a small nod, urging her to open it.
Inside the small box, lined with dark velvet, was a set of fine surgical instruments. One glance was all it took for Djaq to see that these little scalpels, the pair of tweezers and the probes, all in their own cases and gleaming against the dark velvet, were indeed of finest quality. Perhaps from her homeland, maybe even beyond.
Something burst inside of Djaq’s chest. Her spirits had already been lifted by the baking and preparation of Eid. Finding out that the gang had known, understood and thought of her had warmed even further. This gift, however, in its intricate thoughtfulness, was more than she had ever been able to imagine from them. The time and effort to make this small, valuable and elaborate gift; the meaning was not lost on her. She was loved. Loved for who she was.
Djaq was relieved when Robin began to talk, because she feared that emotion would get the better of her.
“We know how much it has bothered you that you couldn’t help the sick the way you wanted and ought to do,” he said.
“But now you can!” said Much enthusiastically.
“Really...” she said, her voice was thick. “This is...”
“No more than you deserve,” Marian filled in and put her arm around her shoulder.
Djaq had to look down and shake her head a little. Then she laughed and the tension in the camp broke. They all laughed and hugged Djaq; Will last of all. They broke apart a bit breathlessly, distantly hearing the joyful chatter around them.
“The box,” said Djaq, “is a very fine piece of work.”
“Like Marian said: you deserve that. And more.”
Will said no more but went to sit with Little John. Djaq lifted the box again, opened it and carefully caressed the instruments. No strongbox full of money or shrine full of jewels could have brought a happiness close to what she felt. Marian was by her side again.
“The box will be waterproof, Will says. Well, you might not want to drop it into a river...” The women laughed together. “You need to oil the instruments, but you know that of course.”
“Marian... how on earth did you get hold of these!?” said Djaq in a low, persistent voice.
Marian was silent, looking guilty. Over her shoulder, she saw that the rest of the gang was busy and not listening in on them.
“Will knows,” hissed Marian. “And...” she paused and smiled. Djaq was on tenterhook, feeling that she wanted to know what Marian had to say.
“There is a new physician in the castle,” said Marian. “A real quack!” she giggled. “But he loves the very best there is to obtain. He had these sent for, months ago! Sadly,” said Marian and made a mock-sad face, “they never reached him!”
“Did you...” Djaq began, but the truth started to dawn on her. Yet another joy blossomed in her heart.
“Allan,” whispered Marian. “He sends his regard. By this,” said Marian and pointed into the box. “He knew right away that these should be with you. He was ever so pleased with himself when he managed to secure this treasure for you.” Marian’s smile was conspiratorial and she hugged Djaq again.
Djaq sat down by the fire with the others, they stayed there and kept warm until the sun started to set and it was time for Marian to go back to Nottingham. Djaq basked in the warmth from the love of her new family and and glowed from the inside from the love she felt in return.
They all cared and loved; they knew her and understood her. All of them; Robin and Much. Little John. Marian. Will, of course - always Will. And Allan. Even Allan.
~fin~