The Man Least Travelled - Little John
Title: The Man Least Travelled
Author: punkfunkdisco
Characters/Pairings: Little John (mentions of the gang, very slight Will/Djaq)
Spoilers: Very vague 2x12 and 2x13 spoilers
Rating: K
Word Count: 369
Beta: thinkpink20 - big thank you!
Disclaimer: I did not create, nor do I own, any of the characters. Not making anything from them.
A/N: Originally written for a fic challenge community, the prompt being "travelling." Little John's alleged gravesite is at St Michael and All Angels Church in Hathersage, which is thought to date from the 11th Century, although written records go back only so far as 1381. I've decided that there would probably have been some sort of church building on or near the site at the beginning of John's life that became the building that stands in Hathersage today.
Summary: Little John realises he isn't as well travelled as the rest of the gang and recalls his only journeys in life.
Little John was not a man that had ever travelled very far, geographically speaking. In the darkness, he cast an eye over each member of the gang - who were all sleeping spread out in various places in the room - and realised that, despite being the oldest, he was the least well-travelled amongst them. Djaq, sleeping comfortably, but reluctantly, in the only bed at the insistence of the others and despite her protestations, was very obviously a long way from home. Robin and Much, awkwardly asleep side-by-side on the floor, had travelled twice as far. Allan, fitful but snoring in a seat by the door, was a nomadic wanderer by nature. Even Will, on the floor beside the bed and protectively turned towards Djaq, had been to Scarborough and back visiting his Aunt.
John's furthest journey came in the form of a vague memory of him and his family moving to Locksley from the pretty village of Hathersage when he was a little boy. He had sat in the back of the cart, amongst the few possessions his family owned, and watched as St. Michael's church and the carpet of heather surrounding it faded away and disappeared from view as they entered the forest.
The two small villages and the huge expanse of Sherwood Forest had been his only homes and John had never wanted more, had never even thought about what more there could be. The life he had built for himself and Alice was the beginning and the end of his world and he had been very satisfied. When he was outlawed, John eventually came to terms with the fact that the old life with which he had contented himself was gone. Now there was even less reason to travel anywhere or do anything at all.
As he lay awake on the floor of the inn, staring at the moonlight through cracks in the roof, a feeling of dread sat low in his belly and constricted his throat; now that he was about to find out what more there was in the world, he was sure that his original, lifelong ambivalence had been the best course of action. Nothing good would come of this journey.
Author: punkfunkdisco
Characters/Pairings: Little John (mentions of the gang, very slight Will/Djaq)
Spoilers: Very vague 2x12 and 2x13 spoilers
Rating: K
Word Count: 369
Beta: thinkpink20 - big thank you!
Disclaimer: I did not create, nor do I own, any of the characters. Not making anything from them.
A/N: Originally written for a fic challenge community, the prompt being "travelling." Little John's alleged gravesite is at St Michael and All Angels Church in Hathersage, which is thought to date from the 11th Century, although written records go back only so far as 1381. I've decided that there would probably have been some sort of church building on or near the site at the beginning of John's life that became the building that stands in Hathersage today.
Summary: Little John realises he isn't as well travelled as the rest of the gang and recalls his only journeys in life.
Little John was not a man that had ever travelled very far, geographically speaking. In the darkness, he cast an eye over each member of the gang - who were all sleeping spread out in various places in the room - and realised that, despite being the oldest, he was the least well-travelled amongst them. Djaq, sleeping comfortably, but reluctantly, in the only bed at the insistence of the others and despite her protestations, was very obviously a long way from home. Robin and Much, awkwardly asleep side-by-side on the floor, had travelled twice as far. Allan, fitful but snoring in a seat by the door, was a nomadic wanderer by nature. Even Will, on the floor beside the bed and protectively turned towards Djaq, had been to Scarborough and back visiting his Aunt.
John's furthest journey came in the form of a vague memory of him and his family moving to Locksley from the pretty village of Hathersage when he was a little boy. He had sat in the back of the cart, amongst the few possessions his family owned, and watched as St. Michael's church and the carpet of heather surrounding it faded away and disappeared from view as they entered the forest.
The two small villages and the huge expanse of Sherwood Forest had been his only homes and John had never wanted more, had never even thought about what more there could be. The life he had built for himself and Alice was the beginning and the end of his world and he had been very satisfied. When he was outlawed, John eventually came to terms with the fact that the old life with which he had contented himself was gone. Now there was even less reason to travel anywhere or do anything at all.
As he lay awake on the floor of the inn, staring at the moonlight through cracks in the roof, a feeling of dread sat low in his belly and constricted his throat; now that he was about to find out what more there was in the world, he was sure that his original, lifelong ambivalence had been the best course of action. Nothing good would come of this journey.