Fic - Myths and Legends (5/?)
Title - Myths and Legends (5/?)
Author - joely_jo
Characters - Ten/Rose, OCs (well…, not totally, I suppose)
Rating - PG for early chapters, smut later… ;)
Summary - The TARDIS lands in Denmark, right in the middle of a famous poem from English literary heritage. The Doctor knows they’re not here for a sneak preview, but the hapless Danes are convinced they have their saviour. Will the Doctor solve the mystery in time or will one of history’s most famous texts have a different story to tell?
Author’s Notes - A mammoth undertaking. This story follows an episodic/BBC books format, and is hopefully reasonably historically accurate - goodness knows I’ve done enough research! I’ve made one or two essential changes to the actual plotline of the Beowulf story but then, that’s authorial licence for you! Hopefully there are no Anglo-Saxon professors lurking around here who will eat me alive for doing so. ;)
Many thanks to my fabulous beta readers aibhinn and sensiblecat .
Chapter One
Chapter Two
Chapter Three
Chapter Four
CHAPTER FIVE
Sometime later, the women and children had settled to bed and the only people left awake were the men, who were taking turns to stand guard themselves. The main doors had been double bolted and criss-crossed with thick wooden planks and outside, the fire-pits and flares lit the ever-darkening sky. Rose, full and ever so slightly drunk, sat falling steadily asleep at the table, while the Doctor, glasses perched on his nose, fiddled distractedly with the sonic screwdriver. “You should try to get some rest,” he said in a low voice.
She sighed, “I’m fine.”
“It’s all right, Rose, you don’t have to stay awake for me.” He offered her a comforting smile.
Nodding, she agreed, “Yeah, I know… I just don’t know whether I’d be able to sleep anyway. It’s a bit like waiting for something awful to happen. You know it’s going to happen, but there’s no way of knowing when it’s going to happen.”
The Doctor’s face was sympathetic. He reached out across the table and picked up her hand, turning it over in his. “When time isn’t at your beck and call, hm?” he noted with a hint of sarcasm.
Carefully, so as not to disturb her make-up, Rose rubbed at her eyes, then yawned and stretched. The Doctor released a slow breath. “Come on,” he said. “Let’s go and lie down.”
He took her hand and stepped around the table, moving to a space amongst the sleeping bodies, whereupon he dropped himself down and stretched out on his back, hands behind his head. Rose stood looking at him for a moment. This was something new, she thought as she stared. She’d fallen asleep in the console room before and he’d put her to bed, or she’d ended up drifting off with her head resting on his shoulder or lap when they’d watched a film or sat up talking, but he’d never actually initiated anything like this before. He fixed her with a questioning gaze. “What’s the matter, Rose?” he asked. “Are you going to stand there all night?”
She snapped out of her brief contemplation and lay down beside him. Stretching herself out, she realised that she was feeling oddly uncomfortable. The Doctor sighed loudly next to her and she rolled to face him, resting her head on the back of her hand. He didn’t move. For a moment, she focused in on his face, picking out the patterns of freckles across his cheekbones and nose, the individual hairs that made up his sideburns. “Have you worked any of this out yet?”
He sighed again, this time letting the air puff out his cheeks contemplatively. His eyes were still fixed on the ceiling as he replied, “There’s something that just doesn’t quite make sense. If the legends from my home planet are correct, then the Wraith is just a manifestation of emotions, and therefore not material. Theoretically speaking, it could just pass through anything solid if it chose to - walls, doors, you name it. So…” He screwed his face up, then flipped over to face her, mirroring her position exactly. “Does that make it real? Or, is it just a hotchpotch of energy particles that can be manipulated if we just know how?” His lips pursed thoughtfully. “If only I could work it out.”
Rose smiled. “It’ll come to you.”
He gazed at her then and there was something powerful behind his eyes, something determined and unfamiliar. “Yes,” he said firmly. “I will.” He offered her a small smile, then reached up with his free hand and gently tucked a straying strand of her hair behind her ear. Rose shivered at the vague touch of his fingers against her cheek. “Go to sleep, Rose,” he told her in a soft voice, then, abruptly, flipped onto his back again and returned to staring at the ceiling.
After a moment, Rose gave up watching him and closed her eyes. Tiredness had crept up on her, and now she was lying down, she realised that she really was exhausted. She listened to his breathing, low and steady beside her, and found some comfort in its regularity.
****
It was the middle of the night when Rose was woken by a scream, then the feeling of the Doctor’s hands grabbing at her and hauling her upright. Immediately alert, she blinked into the darkness to see the women and children gathering petrified into the corners of the hall and the men forming a semi-circle around the main doors. “Doctor!” she called as her heart began to beat a journey out of her chest by way of her throat. “What is it? Is it Grendel?”
“It’s the Wraith,” he confirmed. His hand closed around hers and he pushed her backwards with his body.
Through the still night, a screeching sound echoed like the cry of a tortured animal. It was high-pitched and screaming and Rose felt her blood turn to ice in its wake. “Oh my God…” she murmured. “It’s close, isn’t it?”
The Doctor nodded, but didn’t reply. Across the room, a young baby began to cry and a woman hurried to quiet it. At the door, the men charged their weapons and stood ready, though it was clear to Rose that none of them were particularly filled with confidence. Nonetheless, they seemed determined. Another inhuman howl echoed through the air and Rose instinctively grasped the Doctor’s hand tighter.
“All right, Rose, listen to me.” He turned to her, suddenly quite desperate. “I want you to go and find a shady spot. With Aeswulf or something, but stay out of this… please…”
“I want to help, though!” she objected, refusing to let go of him.
“You can’t. That creature feeds on emotions. I can control mine to some degree, but you can’t. If it lays its eyes on you…” His voice trailed off and his eyes flicked from her face to the doors then down to his clothing. “Uh, this is ridiculous,” he complained and in one smooth movement, shed the skins and scratchy clothing. Back in just his familiar suit, he rolled his shoulders and announced, “That’s better!”
Further screams punctuated the night, each one seemingly closer than the last. Rose fell back, her eyes fixed on the main doors as the Doctor leapt forwards to stand just behind Hrothgar’s warriors. For a second, the doors seemed to shake, and the warriors stepped back as one. “Oh God…” she murmured under her breath. She saw the Doctor reaching into his pocket for the sonic screwdriver and wondered whether he’d managed to think of anything while she’d slept.
But that thought was banished as a howl filled her ears and then, like a spectre, through still-closed doors, the Wraith appeared. Aeswulf had been right, she realised, as she stared at the hideous beast. Red eyes flashed like fiery coals from out of a smoky, indistinct form and the Wraith moved forwards. It seemed to shimmer with evil, the edges of its dragon-like body shifting as it moved. Snapping, reptilian jaws turned on the men, parting them like toy soldiers being swept aside by an angry child. Several of the men fell away; others who dared to brandish their weapons were grasped up in the creature’s thick bony claws, their bodies seemingly absorbed into the gaseous shape of the monster.
The Doctor backed up along with the remaining men. Rose saw Aeswulf moving to stand alongside the Doctor, his face white but his sword held up with as much courage as he could clearly muster. The Wraith swept further into the hall, swiping another warrior from the ever-diminishing force of men and howled with what sounded like triumph. Its eyes switched this way and that.
Suddenly, the Doctor let out a shout of his own triumph. He held up the sonic screwdriver and laughed wildly. “I’ve got it, Rose!” he yelled. “I’ve got it!”
Grendel’s eyes fixed on the Doctor. Its form began to shimmer and change, twisting as if it couldn’t quite determine what shape to take. It roared and its grasping hand reached out.
With a wink of his eye at Aeswulf, the Doctor pointed the screwdriver at the Wraith and pressed down. A high-pitched whine emitted from it and, immediately, the Wraith twisted and contorted, as if its hand had been gripped in a vice. There was no contact whatsoever from the Doctor, just the incessant sound of the screwdriver. It screamed in rage. Fighting back, it tried to grab at the Doctor, but it seemed blinded by the sound from the screwdriver and he was able to shift easily out of the way.
A final howl pierced through the hall and the Wraith backed away, its grasping hand ripping clear from its smoky body to fall away in a dissolving cloud of sparkling energy. The beast retreated back through the closed doors, its pained howls disappearing like echoes on the wind.
Everything fell silent. For a moment, the Doctor stood perfectly still, position held, then slowly, he lowered his arm and looked around him. What greeted him was a scene of utter carnage. Men lay injured and dying on the ground by the main doors and then their cries for help broke the silence. Children began to weep and suddenly, there was manic activity as the women and those who were uninjured rushed to help. Aeswulf dropped his sword and ran into the crowd.
Rose ran towards the Doctor. “You did it!” she cried and hugged him. He wrapped his arms around her and returned the gesture, holding her so tight she could hear his hearts beating madly in his chest. She felt him sigh.
“No, I didn’t,” he replied, his voice defeated. “I only chased it away. I thought I’d got the right frequency, but it wasn’t quite enough.” He let go of her and pulled her gently away.
“But it was nearly there,” she told him with a joyful smile. “It must’ve been, yeah, ‘cause that beast didn’t half run when its arm tore off!”
His head tilted slightly and he smiled back and this time, there was a hint of pride in his dark eyes. He sucked in a breath. “Well, at least it tells us one thing,” he said. “I was right. That Wraith is as insubstantial as the Heart of the TARDIS. It’s made of energy; nothing more, nothing less. And that’s what we can use to contain it.” He grinned at Rose. “I feel all heroic,” he teased and she giggled as he straightened his shoulder and stuck his chin in the air. “Sir Doctor of TARDIS, indeed!”
Above the din of shouting people and hurried orders being issued, a cry rang out. “Doctor! Help me!”
It was Aeswulf. Rose’s eyes met the Doctor’s and they jumped towards the direction of the shout. “Aeswulf?” shouted the Doctor and there was another answering cry. In the middle of the carnage, Rose caught sight of Aeswulf kneeling in front of a body lying prostrate on the ground.
“Oh God… oh no…” Rose cried out. She rushed to Aeswulf’s side and looked down at the body. It was Aeschere, his face paler than death and his eyes glassy and unseeing. “Doctor!” she exclaimed. “Do something!”
The Doctor dropped to his knees beside Aeschere and immediately ran his hands over the warrior’s body but jumped backwards as sparks of blue static leapt out at him. There were no discernible marks on his skin, but it was as if he’d been run through with a bolt of electricity. His mouth opened and he tried to mumble something, but it was unintelligible. “He’s been touched by the Wraith, by Grendel.” The Doctor turned to Aeswulf. “There’s nothing we can do.”
The boy stared at his father’s body. “No…” he murmured. “There… there must be something… anything…”
The Doctor shook his head. “I’m sorry,” he said. “I’m so sorry.”
Tears spilled from Aeswulf’s eyes and he leaned upwards, trying to look into his father’s eyes. “I’m sorry, father. I’m sorry I wasn’t the warrior you wanted for a son… I’m sorry…”
Aeschere’s eyes flickered. A shallow breath rattled in his chest. He turned his head towards where he thought his son should be and opened his mouth to speak, “Son…” he managed, then a second later, “My son.” Eyes flickered again, then they closed and his head fell to the side.
For a moment, Aeswulf stared hollowly at his father, then he let out a cry of grief, his head thrown back to the ceiling. Images of her own father’s death filling her mind, Rose felt tears prick at her eyes and with no prompting, the Doctor reached for her and pulled her into his arms. She buried her face in his chest and tried not to listen to Aeswulf’s cries.
To be continued...
Author - joely_jo
Characters - Ten/Rose, OCs (well…, not totally, I suppose)
Rating - PG for early chapters, smut later… ;)
Summary - The TARDIS lands in Denmark, right in the middle of a famous poem from English literary heritage. The Doctor knows they’re not here for a sneak preview, but the hapless Danes are convinced they have their saviour. Will the Doctor solve the mystery in time or will one of history’s most famous texts have a different story to tell?
Author’s Notes - A mammoth undertaking. This story follows an episodic/BBC books format, and is hopefully reasonably historically accurate - goodness knows I’ve done enough research! I’ve made one or two essential changes to the actual plotline of the Beowulf story but then, that’s authorial licence for you! Hopefully there are no Anglo-Saxon professors lurking around here who will eat me alive for doing so. ;)
Many thanks to my fabulous beta readers aibhinn and sensiblecat .
Chapter One
Chapter Two
Chapter Three
Chapter Four
CHAPTER FIVE
Sometime later, the women and children had settled to bed and the only people left awake were the men, who were taking turns to stand guard themselves. The main doors had been double bolted and criss-crossed with thick wooden planks and outside, the fire-pits and flares lit the ever-darkening sky. Rose, full and ever so slightly drunk, sat falling steadily asleep at the table, while the Doctor, glasses perched on his nose, fiddled distractedly with the sonic screwdriver. “You should try to get some rest,” he said in a low voice.
She sighed, “I’m fine.”
“It’s all right, Rose, you don’t have to stay awake for me.” He offered her a comforting smile.
Nodding, she agreed, “Yeah, I know… I just don’t know whether I’d be able to sleep anyway. It’s a bit like waiting for something awful to happen. You know it’s going to happen, but there’s no way of knowing when it’s going to happen.”
The Doctor’s face was sympathetic. He reached out across the table and picked up her hand, turning it over in his. “When time isn’t at your beck and call, hm?” he noted with a hint of sarcasm.
Carefully, so as not to disturb her make-up, Rose rubbed at her eyes, then yawned and stretched. The Doctor released a slow breath. “Come on,” he said. “Let’s go and lie down.”
He took her hand and stepped around the table, moving to a space amongst the sleeping bodies, whereupon he dropped himself down and stretched out on his back, hands behind his head. Rose stood looking at him for a moment. This was something new, she thought as she stared. She’d fallen asleep in the console room before and he’d put her to bed, or she’d ended up drifting off with her head resting on his shoulder or lap when they’d watched a film or sat up talking, but he’d never actually initiated anything like this before. He fixed her with a questioning gaze. “What’s the matter, Rose?” he asked. “Are you going to stand there all night?”
She snapped out of her brief contemplation and lay down beside him. Stretching herself out, she realised that she was feeling oddly uncomfortable. The Doctor sighed loudly next to her and she rolled to face him, resting her head on the back of her hand. He didn’t move. For a moment, she focused in on his face, picking out the patterns of freckles across his cheekbones and nose, the individual hairs that made up his sideburns. “Have you worked any of this out yet?”
He sighed again, this time letting the air puff out his cheeks contemplatively. His eyes were still fixed on the ceiling as he replied, “There’s something that just doesn’t quite make sense. If the legends from my home planet are correct, then the Wraith is just a manifestation of emotions, and therefore not material. Theoretically speaking, it could just pass through anything solid if it chose to - walls, doors, you name it. So…” He screwed his face up, then flipped over to face her, mirroring her position exactly. “Does that make it real? Or, is it just a hotchpotch of energy particles that can be manipulated if we just know how?” His lips pursed thoughtfully. “If only I could work it out.”
Rose smiled. “It’ll come to you.”
He gazed at her then and there was something powerful behind his eyes, something determined and unfamiliar. “Yes,” he said firmly. “I will.” He offered her a small smile, then reached up with his free hand and gently tucked a straying strand of her hair behind her ear. Rose shivered at the vague touch of his fingers against her cheek. “Go to sleep, Rose,” he told her in a soft voice, then, abruptly, flipped onto his back again and returned to staring at the ceiling.
After a moment, Rose gave up watching him and closed her eyes. Tiredness had crept up on her, and now she was lying down, she realised that she really was exhausted. She listened to his breathing, low and steady beside her, and found some comfort in its regularity.
****
It was the middle of the night when Rose was woken by a scream, then the feeling of the Doctor’s hands grabbing at her and hauling her upright. Immediately alert, she blinked into the darkness to see the women and children gathering petrified into the corners of the hall and the men forming a semi-circle around the main doors. “Doctor!” she called as her heart began to beat a journey out of her chest by way of her throat. “What is it? Is it Grendel?”
“It’s the Wraith,” he confirmed. His hand closed around hers and he pushed her backwards with his body.
Through the still night, a screeching sound echoed like the cry of a tortured animal. It was high-pitched and screaming and Rose felt her blood turn to ice in its wake. “Oh my God…” she murmured. “It’s close, isn’t it?”
The Doctor nodded, but didn’t reply. Across the room, a young baby began to cry and a woman hurried to quiet it. At the door, the men charged their weapons and stood ready, though it was clear to Rose that none of them were particularly filled with confidence. Nonetheless, they seemed determined. Another inhuman howl echoed through the air and Rose instinctively grasped the Doctor’s hand tighter.
“All right, Rose, listen to me.” He turned to her, suddenly quite desperate. “I want you to go and find a shady spot. With Aeswulf or something, but stay out of this… please…”
“I want to help, though!” she objected, refusing to let go of him.
“You can’t. That creature feeds on emotions. I can control mine to some degree, but you can’t. If it lays its eyes on you…” His voice trailed off and his eyes flicked from her face to the doors then down to his clothing. “Uh, this is ridiculous,” he complained and in one smooth movement, shed the skins and scratchy clothing. Back in just his familiar suit, he rolled his shoulders and announced, “That’s better!”
Further screams punctuated the night, each one seemingly closer than the last. Rose fell back, her eyes fixed on the main doors as the Doctor leapt forwards to stand just behind Hrothgar’s warriors. For a second, the doors seemed to shake, and the warriors stepped back as one. “Oh God…” she murmured under her breath. She saw the Doctor reaching into his pocket for the sonic screwdriver and wondered whether he’d managed to think of anything while she’d slept.
But that thought was banished as a howl filled her ears and then, like a spectre, through still-closed doors, the Wraith appeared. Aeswulf had been right, she realised, as she stared at the hideous beast. Red eyes flashed like fiery coals from out of a smoky, indistinct form and the Wraith moved forwards. It seemed to shimmer with evil, the edges of its dragon-like body shifting as it moved. Snapping, reptilian jaws turned on the men, parting them like toy soldiers being swept aside by an angry child. Several of the men fell away; others who dared to brandish their weapons were grasped up in the creature’s thick bony claws, their bodies seemingly absorbed into the gaseous shape of the monster.
The Doctor backed up along with the remaining men. Rose saw Aeswulf moving to stand alongside the Doctor, his face white but his sword held up with as much courage as he could clearly muster. The Wraith swept further into the hall, swiping another warrior from the ever-diminishing force of men and howled with what sounded like triumph. Its eyes switched this way and that.
Suddenly, the Doctor let out a shout of his own triumph. He held up the sonic screwdriver and laughed wildly. “I’ve got it, Rose!” he yelled. “I’ve got it!”
Grendel’s eyes fixed on the Doctor. Its form began to shimmer and change, twisting as if it couldn’t quite determine what shape to take. It roared and its grasping hand reached out.
With a wink of his eye at Aeswulf, the Doctor pointed the screwdriver at the Wraith and pressed down. A high-pitched whine emitted from it and, immediately, the Wraith twisted and contorted, as if its hand had been gripped in a vice. There was no contact whatsoever from the Doctor, just the incessant sound of the screwdriver. It screamed in rage. Fighting back, it tried to grab at the Doctor, but it seemed blinded by the sound from the screwdriver and he was able to shift easily out of the way.
A final howl pierced through the hall and the Wraith backed away, its grasping hand ripping clear from its smoky body to fall away in a dissolving cloud of sparkling energy. The beast retreated back through the closed doors, its pained howls disappearing like echoes on the wind.
Everything fell silent. For a moment, the Doctor stood perfectly still, position held, then slowly, he lowered his arm and looked around him. What greeted him was a scene of utter carnage. Men lay injured and dying on the ground by the main doors and then their cries for help broke the silence. Children began to weep and suddenly, there was manic activity as the women and those who were uninjured rushed to help. Aeswulf dropped his sword and ran into the crowd.
Rose ran towards the Doctor. “You did it!” she cried and hugged him. He wrapped his arms around her and returned the gesture, holding her so tight she could hear his hearts beating madly in his chest. She felt him sigh.
“No, I didn’t,” he replied, his voice defeated. “I only chased it away. I thought I’d got the right frequency, but it wasn’t quite enough.” He let go of her and pulled her gently away.
“But it was nearly there,” she told him with a joyful smile. “It must’ve been, yeah, ‘cause that beast didn’t half run when its arm tore off!”
His head tilted slightly and he smiled back and this time, there was a hint of pride in his dark eyes. He sucked in a breath. “Well, at least it tells us one thing,” he said. “I was right. That Wraith is as insubstantial as the Heart of the TARDIS. It’s made of energy; nothing more, nothing less. And that’s what we can use to contain it.” He grinned at Rose. “I feel all heroic,” he teased and she giggled as he straightened his shoulder and stuck his chin in the air. “Sir Doctor of TARDIS, indeed!”
Above the din of shouting people and hurried orders being issued, a cry rang out. “Doctor! Help me!”
It was Aeswulf. Rose’s eyes met the Doctor’s and they jumped towards the direction of the shout. “Aeswulf?” shouted the Doctor and there was another answering cry. In the middle of the carnage, Rose caught sight of Aeswulf kneeling in front of a body lying prostrate on the ground.
“Oh God… oh no…” Rose cried out. She rushed to Aeswulf’s side and looked down at the body. It was Aeschere, his face paler than death and his eyes glassy and unseeing. “Doctor!” she exclaimed. “Do something!”
The Doctor dropped to his knees beside Aeschere and immediately ran his hands over the warrior’s body but jumped backwards as sparks of blue static leapt out at him. There were no discernible marks on his skin, but it was as if he’d been run through with a bolt of electricity. His mouth opened and he tried to mumble something, but it was unintelligible. “He’s been touched by the Wraith, by Grendel.” The Doctor turned to Aeswulf. “There’s nothing we can do.”
The boy stared at his father’s body. “No…” he murmured. “There… there must be something… anything…”
The Doctor shook his head. “I’m sorry,” he said. “I’m so sorry.”
Tears spilled from Aeswulf’s eyes and he leaned upwards, trying to look into his father’s eyes. “I’m sorry, father. I’m sorry I wasn’t the warrior you wanted for a son… I’m sorry…”
Aeschere’s eyes flickered. A shallow breath rattled in his chest. He turned his head towards where he thought his son should be and opened his mouth to speak, “Son…” he managed, then a second later, “My son.” Eyes flickered again, then they closed and his head fell to the side.
For a moment, Aeswulf stared hollowly at his father, then he let out a cry of grief, his head thrown back to the ceiling. Images of her own father’s death filling her mind, Rose felt tears prick at her eyes and with no prompting, the Doctor reached for her and pulled her into his arms. She buried her face in his chest and tried not to listen to Aeswulf’s cries.
To be continued...