Drabble: The ABCs of Being Djaq
Title: The ABCs of Being Djaq
Author: roh_wyn
Word Count: 1500 (15 x 100)
Rating: PG
Characters: Djaq, mentions the gang, Marian
Disclaimer: The characters are the property of BBC and Tiger Aspect. The legend belongs to all of us.
Notes: Based on a constrained writing exercise from my creative writing class. The idea is to write drabbles for prompts that start with the letters A through Z, with each of the drabbles beginning with that same letter. There are twenty six of these (naturally), but I'm posting them in small batches for rh_intercomm to avoid spamming!
Summary: Djaq introspects her way through the alphabet.
Fire
For Djaq, fire has been many things. When the invaders put her home to torch, fire was oppression. When she was forced into slavery, fire was the difference between bondage and freedom, a tiny spark that would set the whole ship ablaze.
But the outlaws seek out fire, for its warmth on a cold winter night, for the way it casts light into their shadowy existence. Djaq shuns it at first, as a poor substitute for the sun. But later, much later, as warm hands and heated lips chase across her skin, she knows fire to be something else altogether.
Grain
Giving in to her curiosity, Djaq sniffs the contents of the mug they give her on that first night in the forest, as they toast each other over the day’s victory. It smells vaguely like grain. “What is it?”
Robin laughs. “We don’t have much grape here, Djaq. So instead of wine, we drink ale.”
“Ah.” Ale, then, is as forbidden as wine. But she realizes they’re watching her, testing her. She sips gingerly, casting aside thoughts of sin and heavenly retribution. The liquid is strange, and as she drinks more, it leaves a new taste.
It tastes like freedom.
Heavy
“How are we even carrying these?” Allan’s voice broke out over the clearing. “It’s like there’s a dead man in here,” he exclaimed, making a great show of heaving the sack over his shoulder.
Djaq smirked. Her own sack dragged on the ground as she tried to hoist it up.
“Here, let me help you with that.”
She bristled and slapped Allan’s hand away. “I can do it. You do not have to be help me, just because I’m a girl!”
Allan chuckled, wresting the sack from her, over her loud protests. “It’s not because you’re a girl. Trust me.”
Innocent
In the camp, all is deathly quiet, even though everyone is still awake. Nobody speaks of the events of the day, of how two of them were banished, one only for a while and the other, seemingly forever.
Djaq reflects on the men around her, on herself. They all steal, they lie, they cheat, they connive. But at the end of every day, they tell themselves it is in aid of a good and noble cause. They sleep well every night, and wake each morning to do it all over again.
But everything is different now. The air of invincibility is gone; the spirit of camaraderie is dead. They may still be Robin Hood, but they have lost their innocence.
Justice
“John!” Much’s cry of alarm rent the air as the large man-the one who had not spoken to her-fell into the mine shaft.
Djaq is torn. Her compatriots are eager to leave this place and begin their journey home. The outlaws have already forgotten about her, in their rush to help their fallen comrade.
She thinks they deserve this pain, as payment for their king’s Crusade. But today, they kept their word, helped set her free, and for nothing in return.
They are infidels, filthy and without souls. But they are just, and that is enough for Djaq.
Kin
“Kate. That’s my name.” The new outlaw speaks the words with pride, as if just being is some sort of accomplishment. Djaq is surprised to discover the gang has expanded in her absence.
But this surprise is nothing compared to her shock when Will-her Will-takes a liking to Kate, speaking to her in familiar tones, laughing at her jokes.
Djaq glares angrily at them, but the emotion rolls right off Will. She opts for teasing him instead. “You know her then? An old sweetheart?”
Will shakes his head, appalled at her words. “No, of course not…she’s my cousin!”
Letters
Licking her lips nervously, Djaq put quill to parchment. Her hands shook as she formed the letters, still unfamiliar and crudely shaped in comparison to the flowing script of her native Arabic.
The day’s ambush had revealed a merchant traveling through the forest on his way to the Holy Land. In return for safe passage, he had agreed to carry messages. After a long struggle, Djaq gave up and scratched out whatever she had written. She turned the parchment over and scrawled quickly on it in Arabic. Nobody else could read it, but it said simply “Saffiyah lives. In peace.”
Marriage
Marian worries the ring on her finger, drawing Djaq’s attention to it. It is very large, very green and not very pretty.
“Robin gave it to me,” Marian explains. “Just before I went back to the castle.”
“Are you betrothed then?”
Marian hesitates, but after a moment, she smiles brightly. “Yes. But we’re not marrying right away, thank goodness.” Her relief is obvious, and Djaq’s eyebrow arches in surprise.
“You are not…happy?”
Marian shrugs and looks lost. Djaq clucks her tongue in disapproval.
“You should be happy. You and Robin are the only ones here who will ever be married.”
Needle
Neat stitches line the sleeve of the shirt where it has been mended with care. Djaq admires the work even as she wonders at the incongruity of an outlaw being able to sew.
Djaq smiles sheepishly. “I did not mean-”
“I know, I know. Big man, small needle.” Djaq watches in fascination as the needle moves smoothly through the fabric. “Do you want me to mend something?”
She shakes her head. But the next day, she comes to him with a needle and teaches him how to sew up wounds, and this time, there is nothing incongruous about it.
Obedience
Over the course of the first few weeks, she learns their names, the way each of them fights, the sounds they make when they sleep at night. She is fascinated by all of them, each for vastly different reasons.
But it is Robin who interests her the most. He is a true leader, his every word demanding attention from the others. They are often insubordinate, talking back to him, laughing at him. But at the beginning of every ambush, she can see it in their faces. They are utterly loyal, and completely obedient,
They are not outlaws. They are soldiers.
Prayer
“Please, could you tell me where you found this?” Dan Scarlett asks in a quiet voice, holding Djaq’s prayer scarf in his hands. It is old but made of silk and it must have been expensive at one time.
“Will gave it to me. For when I pray.” She frowns, realization dawning as she watches Dan finger it reverently. “I’m sorry. I did not know…you can have it back.”
Dan laughed. “No, there’s no need. I don’t think Will’s mother needs it anymore.” He squeezes her hand gently. “Now I see why my son doesn’t want to leave this place.”
Queen
Quiet descends on the gang as they bid farewell to Queen Eleanor. They bow in deep reverence and admiration, all except Djaq.
The queen holds a hand out to her in a friendly way. “I do not expect you to bow. But will you not tell me about yourself?”
“What would you like to know?”
“Ah, you’re so direct. I like that about you. Indeed, I should like to reward you. Ask me for anything.”
“Anything?” Djaq smirks, a rare victory in sight. “Then ask your son to return to his country, so I may return to mine. In peace.”
Rest
Resisting the urge to laugh, Djaq refuses to put on a dress to help the gang into the castle. It is Allan’s idea, of course, one of many he has had in the past hour. He is persistent, and before long and with help from Robin, Allan somehow convinces her to try the dress on.
As she holds the dress and her fingers glide over the gossamer fabric, she feels a sharp ache for the person she used to be.
Being defiant and stubborn is tiring, and she welcomes the respite of wearing a dress and pretending to be helpless.
Science
She watches as the vapors waft off the bowl in thick, white clouds. The others stand back, well away from Djaq’s latest experiment. She notes with dismay that they are more frightened than curious.
Allan, John and Much are awed by it, and even Robin seems a little wary. But Will is unbothered, watching with his eyes narrowed in concentration. There is no sign of any fear on his face, and Djaq is relieved when he decides to take a closer look.
She smiles gratefully, and he laughs. “Don’t mind the others. They don’t know it’s just science, not magic.”
Truth
The flames flickered briefly and reflected in Robin’s face, animating his usual stony expression. Djaq watched him and wondered at everything Robin has endured in his short life.
In his face, she could see the pain of war, destruction and death. This, at least, she could understand, because that is a sorrow they share. His feelings for Marian are a different matter altogether. Their love is eternal but damned to futility. She feels both envy and pity for them.
Her reflections are interrupted by Robin clearing his throat. “Tell me the truth, Djaq. Is Gisborne better looking than I am?”
Author: roh_wyn
Word Count: 1500 (15 x 100)
Rating: PG
Characters: Djaq, mentions the gang, Marian
Disclaimer: The characters are the property of BBC and Tiger Aspect. The legend belongs to all of us.
Notes: Based on a constrained writing exercise from my creative writing class. The idea is to write drabbles for prompts that start with the letters A through Z, with each of the drabbles beginning with that same letter. There are twenty six of these (naturally), but I'm posting them in small batches for rh_intercomm to avoid spamming!
Summary: Djaq introspects her way through the alphabet.
Fire
For Djaq, fire has been many things. When the invaders put her home to torch, fire was oppression. When she was forced into slavery, fire was the difference between bondage and freedom, a tiny spark that would set the whole ship ablaze.
But the outlaws seek out fire, for its warmth on a cold winter night, for the way it casts light into their shadowy existence. Djaq shuns it at first, as a poor substitute for the sun. But later, much later, as warm hands and heated lips chase across her skin, she knows fire to be something else altogether.
Grain
Giving in to her curiosity, Djaq sniffs the contents of the mug they give her on that first night in the forest, as they toast each other over the day’s victory. It smells vaguely like grain. “What is it?”
Robin laughs. “We don’t have much grape here, Djaq. So instead of wine, we drink ale.”
“Ah.” Ale, then, is as forbidden as wine. But she realizes they’re watching her, testing her. She sips gingerly, casting aside thoughts of sin and heavenly retribution. The liquid is strange, and as she drinks more, it leaves a new taste.
It tastes like freedom.
Heavy
“How are we even carrying these?” Allan’s voice broke out over the clearing. “It’s like there’s a dead man in here,” he exclaimed, making a great show of heaving the sack over his shoulder.
Djaq smirked. Her own sack dragged on the ground as she tried to hoist it up.
“Here, let me help you with that.”
She bristled and slapped Allan’s hand away. “I can do it. You do not have to be help me, just because I’m a girl!”
Allan chuckled, wresting the sack from her, over her loud protests. “It’s not because you’re a girl. Trust me.”
Innocent
In the camp, all is deathly quiet, even though everyone is still awake. Nobody speaks of the events of the day, of how two of them were banished, one only for a while and the other, seemingly forever.
Djaq reflects on the men around her, on herself. They all steal, they lie, they cheat, they connive. But at the end of every day, they tell themselves it is in aid of a good and noble cause. They sleep well every night, and wake each morning to do it all over again.
But everything is different now. The air of invincibility is gone; the spirit of camaraderie is dead. They may still be Robin Hood, but they have lost their innocence.
Justice
“John!” Much’s cry of alarm rent the air as the large man-the one who had not spoken to her-fell into the mine shaft.
Djaq is torn. Her compatriots are eager to leave this place and begin their journey home. The outlaws have already forgotten about her, in their rush to help their fallen comrade.
She thinks they deserve this pain, as payment for their king’s Crusade. But today, they kept their word, helped set her free, and for nothing in return.
They are infidels, filthy and without souls. But they are just, and that is enough for Djaq.
Kin
“Kate. That’s my name.” The new outlaw speaks the words with pride, as if just being is some sort of accomplishment. Djaq is surprised to discover the gang has expanded in her absence.
But this surprise is nothing compared to her shock when Will-her Will-takes a liking to Kate, speaking to her in familiar tones, laughing at her jokes.
Djaq glares angrily at them, but the emotion rolls right off Will. She opts for teasing him instead. “You know her then? An old sweetheart?”
Will shakes his head, appalled at her words. “No, of course not…she’s my cousin!”
Letters
Licking her lips nervously, Djaq put quill to parchment. Her hands shook as she formed the letters, still unfamiliar and crudely shaped in comparison to the flowing script of her native Arabic.
The day’s ambush had revealed a merchant traveling through the forest on his way to the Holy Land. In return for safe passage, he had agreed to carry messages. After a long struggle, Djaq gave up and scratched out whatever she had written. She turned the parchment over and scrawled quickly on it in Arabic. Nobody else could read it, but it said simply “Saffiyah lives. In peace.”
Marriage
Marian worries the ring on her finger, drawing Djaq’s attention to it. It is very large, very green and not very pretty.
“Robin gave it to me,” Marian explains. “Just before I went back to the castle.”
“Are you betrothed then?”
Marian hesitates, but after a moment, she smiles brightly. “Yes. But we’re not marrying right away, thank goodness.” Her relief is obvious, and Djaq’s eyebrow arches in surprise.
“You are not…happy?”
Marian shrugs and looks lost. Djaq clucks her tongue in disapproval.
“You should be happy. You and Robin are the only ones here who will ever be married.”
Needle
Neat stitches line the sleeve of the shirt where it has been mended with care. Djaq admires the work even as she wonders at the incongruity of an outlaw being able to sew.
Djaq smiles sheepishly. “I did not mean-”
“I know, I know. Big man, small needle.” Djaq watches in fascination as the needle moves smoothly through the fabric. “Do you want me to mend something?”
She shakes her head. But the next day, she comes to him with a needle and teaches him how to sew up wounds, and this time, there is nothing incongruous about it.
Obedience
Over the course of the first few weeks, she learns their names, the way each of them fights, the sounds they make when they sleep at night. She is fascinated by all of them, each for vastly different reasons.
But it is Robin who interests her the most. He is a true leader, his every word demanding attention from the others. They are often insubordinate, talking back to him, laughing at him. But at the beginning of every ambush, she can see it in their faces. They are utterly loyal, and completely obedient,
They are not outlaws. They are soldiers.
Prayer
“Please, could you tell me where you found this?” Dan Scarlett asks in a quiet voice, holding Djaq’s prayer scarf in his hands. It is old but made of silk and it must have been expensive at one time.
“Will gave it to me. For when I pray.” She frowns, realization dawning as she watches Dan finger it reverently. “I’m sorry. I did not know…you can have it back.”
Dan laughed. “No, there’s no need. I don’t think Will’s mother needs it anymore.” He squeezes her hand gently. “Now I see why my son doesn’t want to leave this place.”
Queen
Quiet descends on the gang as they bid farewell to Queen Eleanor. They bow in deep reverence and admiration, all except Djaq.
The queen holds a hand out to her in a friendly way. “I do not expect you to bow. But will you not tell me about yourself?”
“What would you like to know?”
“Ah, you’re so direct. I like that about you. Indeed, I should like to reward you. Ask me for anything.”
“Anything?” Djaq smirks, a rare victory in sight. “Then ask your son to return to his country, so I may return to mine. In peace.”
Rest
Resisting the urge to laugh, Djaq refuses to put on a dress to help the gang into the castle. It is Allan’s idea, of course, one of many he has had in the past hour. He is persistent, and before long and with help from Robin, Allan somehow convinces her to try the dress on.
As she holds the dress and her fingers glide over the gossamer fabric, she feels a sharp ache for the person she used to be.
Being defiant and stubborn is tiring, and she welcomes the respite of wearing a dress and pretending to be helpless.
Science
She watches as the vapors waft off the bowl in thick, white clouds. The others stand back, well away from Djaq’s latest experiment. She notes with dismay that they are more frightened than curious.
Allan, John and Much are awed by it, and even Robin seems a little wary. But Will is unbothered, watching with his eyes narrowed in concentration. There is no sign of any fear on his face, and Djaq is relieved when he decides to take a closer look.
She smiles gratefully, and he laughs. “Don’t mind the others. They don’t know it’s just science, not magic.”
Truth
The flames flickered briefly and reflected in Robin’s face, animating his usual stony expression. Djaq watched him and wondered at everything Robin has endured in his short life.
In his face, she could see the pain of war, destruction and death. This, at least, she could understand, because that is a sorrow they share. His feelings for Marian are a different matter altogether. Their love is eternal but damned to futility. She feels both envy and pity for them.
Her reflections are interrupted by Robin clearing his throat. “Tell me the truth, Djaq. Is Gisborne better looking than I am?”