The Best Day
Title: The Best Day
Character(s): Little John, Alice, Allan, Much
Word Count: 923
Rating: G
Spoilers: none
Disclaimer: I own nothing, Tiger Aspect, BBC do.
A/N: Pure fluff with a bit of sadness, but I promise it's not too bad.
"So what was the best day of your life, John?" Much asked. He was in one of those moods he slipped into now and again, when no amount of shouting would get him to shut up. Sometimes the questions he asked were innocuous, like what someone's favorite color was and why. Or the best meal they had ever had.
This time Much wanted more. He had gone around the circle of outlaws, posing the question to each of them. The answers he got were generally happy, if slightly wistful for good times now passed. Allan of course, was the exception. That one had felt the need to indulge himself in a reminiscence about a particularly accommodating novice in a convent outside Rochdale.
John tried to ignore Much the first time he asked, glaring at him from beneath his bushy brows. But of course Much would not be deterred by a glare. Not in this mood.
"Well? The best day of your life." John shook his head. The best day of his life was not something he wanted to share. It was his. If he kept it hidden away, the memory would never lose its power, never fade.
Today. It was today. Everything was arranged, the whole village was attending to wish them well. The priest bustled about, lighting the candles on either end of the altar.
John Little sat quietly on a small stool in the corner. He was waiting for a signal from Father Michael that Alice was coming. Then he would take his place in front of the small altar. There he would wait for her father to lead her to him.
He was dressed in his best clothes for this occasion. These were even better than his church clothes. His tunic was edged in gold embroidery, fancier than he was comfortable with, but it pleased Alice, and that was enough. The buckle of his belt and his new boots were polished until they gleamed.
Alice's mother had taken after his overgrown hair and beard yesterday.
"You'll look presentable for my daughter tomorrow, John Little!" Mary Foster declared. "I'll not have you looking like a vagabond!" Alice had looked on, her eyes shining with her love for him.
The priest waved to him. John approached the altar as villagers swarmed into the tiny church. Everyone was happy, laughing and joking with each other and calling out congratulations to him. John Little and Alice Foster were well-liked. Father Michael allowed the rambunctious behavior for a few moments.
Suddenly the doors swung open and a hush fell over the congregation. Slowly John turned. Alice was there, framed in the doorway, the sun shining behind her, its rays touching her nut brown hair, burnishing it amber. Her face was in shadow for a moment. Then she stepped forward, and the radiance of her smile put the sun to shame.
Every detail of her impressed itself into his memory. Her apple-green dress trimmed with the same embroidered pattern as his tunic, the blush on her cheeks, her bright eyes, the wildflowers in her hair. The sight of her at that moment would light his dreams for the rest of his days.
John was not nervous. No sweat slicked his palms. His heart beat strongly, calm in his chest. Alice was the woman he loved, the woman he would always love. Being joined with her in holy matrimony was right, the most right thing in the world.
Finally she reached him, and her father placed her small hand in his big paw. Arthur gave him a wink and a smile. Alice squeezed his hand gently. They knelt before Father Michael.
John never remembered the exact words of the ceremony. He only knew enough Latin to get by in church, to give the proper responses where required. What he remembered was her voice, calmly pledging herself to him, promising to love him forever. He remembered his own voice speaking the same words to her.
Faster than he would have thought, the ceremony was over. He was exhorted loudly to kiss the bride, this beautiful girl who was now his wife. He did, savoring the first brush of a husband's lips to a wife's.
They exited the church to cheers and loud applause. The feasting that followed went on for hours, villagers toasting the couple one after the other, some solemn, some ribald jests that brought hearty laughter from both the newlyweds and everyone else. The celebration went on for hours, the setting of the sun finally ending it.
He and Alice -his wife, Alice Little-a shiver went through him to say the words in his head- retreated to his small cottage at the edge of the village. It was there that they proved the promises they made today. Pledged with bodies, with urgent sighs and melting heat, what they had only pledged with words before now. She fell asleep curved into him, her head resting on his shoulder. Nothing in the world had ever been quite so perfect to him as that moment. He held her close, whispering his love for her as she slept.
"Come on John," Allan needled. "We all went. "It's your turn." Allan winked at John over the fire. "How else is Much ever going to shut up?"
"Hey!" An indignant cry came from Much. "You know, Allan a Dale, you are one of the most obnoxious-"
"My wedding day," John said quietly. He raised his head to pin Much with his eyes. "That was my best day, Much. The day I married Alice."
Character(s): Little John, Alice, Allan, Much
Word Count: 923
Rating: G
Spoilers: none
Disclaimer: I own nothing, Tiger Aspect, BBC do.
A/N: Pure fluff with a bit of sadness, but I promise it's not too bad.
"So what was the best day of your life, John?" Much asked. He was in one of those moods he slipped into now and again, when no amount of shouting would get him to shut up. Sometimes the questions he asked were innocuous, like what someone's favorite color was and why. Or the best meal they had ever had.
This time Much wanted more. He had gone around the circle of outlaws, posing the question to each of them. The answers he got were generally happy, if slightly wistful for good times now passed. Allan of course, was the exception. That one had felt the need to indulge himself in a reminiscence about a particularly accommodating novice in a convent outside Rochdale.
John tried to ignore Much the first time he asked, glaring at him from beneath his bushy brows. But of course Much would not be deterred by a glare. Not in this mood.
"Well? The best day of your life." John shook his head. The best day of his life was not something he wanted to share. It was his. If he kept it hidden away, the memory would never lose its power, never fade.
Today. It was today. Everything was arranged, the whole village was attending to wish them well. The priest bustled about, lighting the candles on either end of the altar.
John Little sat quietly on a small stool in the corner. He was waiting for a signal from Father Michael that Alice was coming. Then he would take his place in front of the small altar. There he would wait for her father to lead her to him.
He was dressed in his best clothes for this occasion. These were even better than his church clothes. His tunic was edged in gold embroidery, fancier than he was comfortable with, but it pleased Alice, and that was enough. The buckle of his belt and his new boots were polished until they gleamed.
Alice's mother had taken after his overgrown hair and beard yesterday.
"You'll look presentable for my daughter tomorrow, John Little!" Mary Foster declared. "I'll not have you looking like a vagabond!" Alice had looked on, her eyes shining with her love for him.
The priest waved to him. John approached the altar as villagers swarmed into the tiny church. Everyone was happy, laughing and joking with each other and calling out congratulations to him. John Little and Alice Foster were well-liked. Father Michael allowed the rambunctious behavior for a few moments.
Suddenly the doors swung open and a hush fell over the congregation. Slowly John turned. Alice was there, framed in the doorway, the sun shining behind her, its rays touching her nut brown hair, burnishing it amber. Her face was in shadow for a moment. Then she stepped forward, and the radiance of her smile put the sun to shame.
Every detail of her impressed itself into his memory. Her apple-green dress trimmed with the same embroidered pattern as his tunic, the blush on her cheeks, her bright eyes, the wildflowers in her hair. The sight of her at that moment would light his dreams for the rest of his days.
John was not nervous. No sweat slicked his palms. His heart beat strongly, calm in his chest. Alice was the woman he loved, the woman he would always love. Being joined with her in holy matrimony was right, the most right thing in the world.
Finally she reached him, and her father placed her small hand in his big paw. Arthur gave him a wink and a smile. Alice squeezed his hand gently. They knelt before Father Michael.
John never remembered the exact words of the ceremony. He only knew enough Latin to get by in church, to give the proper responses where required. What he remembered was her voice, calmly pledging herself to him, promising to love him forever. He remembered his own voice speaking the same words to her.
Faster than he would have thought, the ceremony was over. He was exhorted loudly to kiss the bride, this beautiful girl who was now his wife. He did, savoring the first brush of a husband's lips to a wife's.
They exited the church to cheers and loud applause. The feasting that followed went on for hours, villagers toasting the couple one after the other, some solemn, some ribald jests that brought hearty laughter from both the newlyweds and everyone else. The celebration went on for hours, the setting of the sun finally ending it.
He and Alice -his wife, Alice Little-a shiver went through him to say the words in his head- retreated to his small cottage at the edge of the village. It was there that they proved the promises they made today. Pledged with bodies, with urgent sighs and melting heat, what they had only pledged with words before now. She fell asleep curved into him, her head resting on his shoulder. Nothing in the world had ever been quite so perfect to him as that moment. He held her close, whispering his love for her as she slept.
"Come on John," Allan needled. "We all went. "It's your turn." Allan winked at John over the fire. "How else is Much ever going to shut up?"
"Hey!" An indignant cry came from Much. "You know, Allan a Dale, you are one of the most obnoxious-"
"My wedding day," John said quietly. He raised his head to pin Much with his eyes. "That was my best day, Much. The day I married Alice."