Intercomm: Early in the Morning
Title: Early in the Morning
Author: secretchord
Word Count: 500
Rating: G
Characters/Pairings: Allan
Spoilers/Warnings: None
Summary: Takes place sometime post S2. Allan reflects, and a cow keeps him company.
Disclaimer: I don't own Robin Hood, and I'm not making any money off of this.
The ground was cold and damp. He could feel the cold wet creep through the seat of his pants. A shiver stole across his back. Dawn had come, and that stupid cow hadn't moved.
He didn't know how the animal could stand it. From his perch on the hill, he'd watched that stray cow stand in the muck of a shallow stream-bed for the better part of an hour. It would occasionally drink, but mostly it just stood there, flicking its tail, head low, eyes closed.
Her udder was swollen and pink. He wondered how many times she'd calved.
The predawn mist was quickly burning away as the sun continued its rise, and the sky turned a shade of red Allan had seen once before, on one of Marian's dresses. His eyes wandered up, up, and took in the endlessness.
One last star glimmered, and was lost.
He shifted, and grimaced at the clammy cling of his pants. He didn't know what had made him seek out this field and this solitude, especially at an hour when he was usually snoring through a dream, but once he'd sat down he had found he couldn't convince himself to move. Early morning demanded stillness. The heavy, cool air had quieted his restlessness. The darkness, tinged with blue, then the softest of pinks, had hushed him.
Not too long ago, he would have refused to sit in one place for so long, because it would have made him think, and then his conscience (unstable as it was) would have started playing nasty tricks on him, and he would have had to feel something like shame.
The cow stamped the water - the sound of the little splash stirred Allan from his sky-gazing. Her large round eyes seemed to look straight at him.
“Oi,” he murmured, the smallest of smiles on his mouth. “How come you're still here, eh?”
The cow flicked an ear. Her head turned away in a smooth, ponderous motion. He breathed a laugh. “Alright, then. I wasn' in the mood to talk, anyway.”
She turned slightly, then bent her head to take a drink.
He went back to admiring the sky and had to admit - he'd chosen a good day to catch the sunrise. The sun had broken free of the horizon, and the fierce oranges and reds of her initial ascent had calmed, the clouds warming, rising with her. The light reached just the right angle to glint off the dewdrops, and for a long, breathless moment, the field was awash in the shimmering birth of day.
And Allan realized that he didn't really care that his back end was frozen numb, and he didn't have to know why he'd needed to rise early, why he'd wandered to this field, why that cow was still just standing there half-asleep - it was enough that he was there to see the sun.
And he could enjoy it, because a clean conscience wasn't afraid of the quiet.
Author: secretchord
Word Count: 500
Rating: G
Characters/Pairings: Allan
Spoilers/Warnings: None
Summary: Takes place sometime post S2. Allan reflects, and a cow keeps him company.
Disclaimer: I don't own Robin Hood, and I'm not making any money off of this.
The ground was cold and damp. He could feel the cold wet creep through the seat of his pants. A shiver stole across his back. Dawn had come, and that stupid cow hadn't moved.
He didn't know how the animal could stand it. From his perch on the hill, he'd watched that stray cow stand in the muck of a shallow stream-bed for the better part of an hour. It would occasionally drink, but mostly it just stood there, flicking its tail, head low, eyes closed.
Her udder was swollen and pink. He wondered how many times she'd calved.
The predawn mist was quickly burning away as the sun continued its rise, and the sky turned a shade of red Allan had seen once before, on one of Marian's dresses. His eyes wandered up, up, and took in the endlessness.
One last star glimmered, and was lost.
He shifted, and grimaced at the clammy cling of his pants. He didn't know what had made him seek out this field and this solitude, especially at an hour when he was usually snoring through a dream, but once he'd sat down he had found he couldn't convince himself to move. Early morning demanded stillness. The heavy, cool air had quieted his restlessness. The darkness, tinged with blue, then the softest of pinks, had hushed him.
Not too long ago, he would have refused to sit in one place for so long, because it would have made him think, and then his conscience (unstable as it was) would have started playing nasty tricks on him, and he would have had to feel something like shame.
The cow stamped the water - the sound of the little splash stirred Allan from his sky-gazing. Her large round eyes seemed to look straight at him.
“Oi,” he murmured, the smallest of smiles on his mouth. “How come you're still here, eh?”
The cow flicked an ear. Her head turned away in a smooth, ponderous motion. He breathed a laugh. “Alright, then. I wasn' in the mood to talk, anyway.”
She turned slightly, then bent her head to take a drink.
He went back to admiring the sky and had to admit - he'd chosen a good day to catch the sunrise. The sun had broken free of the horizon, and the fierce oranges and reds of her initial ascent had calmed, the clouds warming, rising with her. The light reached just the right angle to glint off the dewdrops, and for a long, breathless moment, the field was awash in the shimmering birth of day.
And Allan realized that he didn't really care that his back end was frozen numb, and he didn't have to know why he'd needed to rise early, why he'd wandered to this field, why that cow was still just standing there half-asleep - it was enough that he was there to see the sun.
And he could enjoy it, because a clean conscience wasn't afraid of the quiet.