Myths and Legends (7/?)
Title - Myths and Legends (7/?)
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
Chapter Six
CHAPTER SEVEN
Rose found herself standing in the TARDIS kitchen feeling like she’d been knocked for the proverbial six. Her whole body was buzzing with electricity, yet she barely knew what to do with herself; the simple task of putting the kettle on to boil was almost beyond her. For a long moment she stood wondering if she’d imagined the last fifteen minutes, but the tingle lingering on her lips confirmed to her that it had happened: the Doctor had indeed kissed her.
Reaching out a slightly shaking hand, she took out two mugs from the cupboard above her head, the Winnie-the-Pooh one she liked and the huge blue soup cup he preferred. She set them down on the worktop, then added the hot water to the teapot and covered it with the cosy. But the tea took time to brew and the time allowed her mind to wander again.
Would she go back into the console room and find him regretful of what he’d done? Did she regret what she’d done? She stared at the two mugs set out on the sideboard, contemplating what was to come. Would he act like nothing had happened, as he was often wont to do? Or was this some kind of major turning point in their relationship?
A bang drew her attention. She looked towards the door of the kitchen and stared. It had been the sound of the TARDIS door slamming closed. Leaving the tea unfinished on the sideboard, Rose darted out into the console room. The Doctor had gone. The gadget he’d been making was gone too, although the detritus of his working was still scattered across the floor.
She ran for the door, grabbing up her jacket from the railing. As she stepped outside, a shout echoed out, “Rose! Come on!” He was standing about a dozen paces ahead of her, bouncing slightly on his tip-toes in eagerness.
“What?” she questioned. “Wha’s the matter? I thought we were going to have tea?”
“Tea?” he exclaimed, his hand drifting up to run impatiently through his hair, so that it stuck up in a sort of cockerel’s comb. “No time for tea. Look at it!”
He pointed towards the sky and Rose looked. Sure enough, the sun was beginning to set along the horizon, burning the sort of deep golden red that brought to mind the inside of a blood orange. Rose frowned. “It… We just went inside…” she said. “It was daylight. Middle of the day. What happened?”
“Oh, time in the TARDIS isn’t linear,” the Doctor explained casually, and began to walk at pace towards Heorot. Rose stared after him a second, then ran to catch up with him.
He glanced down at her as she fell into step beside her. “So how long have we been away?”
The Doctor shrugged. “About four or five hours, I suppose,” he said, then angled his head down at the gadget he held in his hand. “I was working on this for a while.” He looked around at the sun. “It’s maybe five-thirty or so.”
“Five-thirty?”
“Yup. So, we need to get a move on. There’s a feast waiting for us!” He grinned at her and offered his hand. She looked down at the fingers wiggling and decided that he was in the process of pretending nothing had happened between them. But it was quite clearly not the time to talk about it. She slipped her hand into his and he squeezed gently. His head lifted and he smelt the air. “Mmm…” he moaned. “I can smell the chicken from here!”
****
The short walk back to Heorot passed in relative silence, or at least, relative as far as the Doctor was concerned. He chattered briefly about the gadget he’d come up with, informing Rose in scientific detail way beyond her understanding of what exactly it was going to do. From what he was saying, she gathered that it was some kind of charge generator and when he turned it on it would disrupt the Wraith’s ionic charge long enough for the setting he’d used on the sonic screwdriver the last time to be more successful. He was childishly excited about his invention, but gradually, that excitement waned and he fell quiet.
Rose tried several times to fill the silence with idle discussion, but it seemed that the Doctor’s mind was elsewhere. Finally, as they approached the village, he squeezed her hand and looked down at her. “I’m not ignoring what happened earlier,” he informed her. His voice was low and confidential. “It’s just that at the moment, I’d rather get this spot of bother out of the way. The last thing I need right now is emotional baggage.”
Rose was about to object to his words, but then she remembered the Wraith and his explanation about how it had been confused by his ability to control his emotions the night before. She nodded. “It’s okay,” she said, quietly. “I understand.”
He looked right into her eyes, his gaze almost boring into her soul, then changed the grip between their hands, threading his fingers through hers.
The smell of cooking meat was overwhelming as they entered the village and headed towards the hall. Rose’s stomach gave an involuntary gurgle and the Doctor chuckled. “Hungry, are you?” he asked.
“Starving.”
“Me, too.”
She shook her head and smiled. “You’re always hungry. I bet you’d be the type of person who’d eat dry cereal out of the box given half a chance…”
“Wellll…” he replied, drawing out the ‘el’ sound on the word. “Never let it be said that I’m a fussy guest.”
He released her hand and practically bounded towards the open doors. As he strode inside, Rose just a few paces behind him, singing began and he jammed to a halt. The hall was filled with villagers, many of the men already in a state of considerable drunkenness, and they were singing… singing for him, singing about him, singing of his broad sword and monster-slaying reach and courageous spirit. He looked around, mildly perplexed by the greeting, then turned to Rose and grinned. “Who’d’ve thought it?” he crowed. “Famed in story and song!”
She laughed too and the Doctor turned back to the villagers, a smug grin still pasted on his face. “Now, now, now,” he said after a moment in a carrying voice. The crowd slowly quietened. The Doctor clapped enthusiastically then cleared his throat. “That was brilliant, and yes, so was I, but more to the point, there’s a fantastic smell in here.”
Hrothgar appeared from the wings, dressed in what was quite clearly his best pelts and clothes, and greeted the Doctor with a clap on the back so hard that his right heart did a double beat. “You have come!” he exclaimed.
The Doctor coughed and slapped his chest a couple of times. “We’ve come,” he said, finally. Hrothgar smiled through his thick beard and took the Doctor by the forearm, leading him companionably further into the hall, towards a raised centre platform. “Please, sit,” he instructed, and pointed to two throne-like wooden chairs. The Doctor glanced back at Rose and raised one eyebrow. She giggled.
“Oh. Right. I see… well, this is nice.” The Doctor eased himself down onto the seat and then looked at Hrothgar, who was regarding him expectantly. He placed both hands on the carved arms of the chair and patted the wood. “Good solid wood; oak if I’m not much mistaken…” He smiled broadly at Hrothgar. “Brilliant.”
“Aeswulf tells me your name is ‘Doctor’…” Hrothgar stated. “That cannot really be your name.”
“It is,” the Doctor replied. He glanced sideways at Rose. “Like I said, we’re from far, far away.”
Hrothgar nodded at that, seemingly accepting the explanation. He turned and addressed the villagers, “Our courageous Doctor!” he announced and a cheer went up.
Rose blushed and hid an amused smile behind her hand. Usually, they ended up being chased out of places, run down by mobs or rampant aliens and occasionally even gunfire. But never had they been hailed as heroes with such vocal enthusiasm. She allowed herself to half-turn to the Doctor and saw that he was sitting very upright, but had a smug smile on his face, as if inside, he was rather enjoying it all.
With a wave of his hand, Hrothgar quieted the crowd. “And now, Doctor, we present you with gifts, as a sign of our gratitude.”
“Gifts?” He winked at Rose. “Oh, you shouldn’t have!”
Several men stepped forward from the gathered crowd. One was carrying a helmet, another a sword, and they laid both at the Doctor’s feet reverentially. He nodded in response, then there was the sound of hooves and the crowd parted slightly as another man led in a tall, black horse, bedecked with the finest tack. “A horse!” Hrothgar announced proudly. “A horse to bear you to further successes!”
The crowd fell silent except for the horse, which whinnied as if on cue. Rose shook her head and poked the Doctor in the ribs. “What is it with you and horses, hm?” she teased. He said nothing, though it was clear he was trying not to frown.
He stepped forward. Tossing its head, the horse seemed to stare the Doctor down. There was a brief but silent battle of wills, then the horse backed up and the Doctor spun away and grinned at the crowd. Another cheer went up. “And now for the feast!” Hrothgar announced. He passed the Doctor a deep-sided pottery dish and directed him to help himself first. “The chickens and boar were killed fresh this morning,” he explained.
“Just how I like them,” the Doctor enthused. He jumped down from the platform and headed straight for the food.
Rose followed the Doctor to where the feast had been set out on the tables and watched him as he set about filling his dish with a mountain of sliced meat, root vegetables, fruit and hunks of dark-coloured rye bread. He handed a plate to Rose and waited whilst she took what she wanted. He headed back to the central platform, plonked himself down in one of the chairs and began to eat with gusto.
“Do you think Grendel will come back tonight?”
“Stop calling it Grendel, Rose,” he chastised briefly. “It’s a Time Wraith, not some kind of half-Norwegian bezerker stroke semi-mythical troll.” He paused to add more to his mouthful, then added, “I suspect it will. It’ll want to finish what I stopped it finishing last night. And it’ll be hungry.”
Rose’s eyebrows flickered upwards. “Rather like you…”
“There’s nothing wrong with a hearty meal,” the Doctor replied. “Like the Klingons say, you always fight better on a full stomach.”
“The Klingons?”
“Yes. Star Trek, you know… the, er, the ones with the ridgey dinosaur heads. Not so dissimilar from our warrior Danes here, actually. Though the ones I took Mr. Roddenberry to see had a more pleasant aroma.” He screwed up his nose distastefully. “Practically puts you off your meal.”
Rose was about to open her mouth and ask what on Earth he was talking about when Aeswulf appeared at their sides, a mug of ale in his hand. He had clearly had more than one, though, as his steps were a little uncoordinated and he offered the Doctor an enthusiastic toast. “Doctor!” he greeted. “We wondered whether you were returning.”
“Ah, well, here I am! Fashionably late, but here nonetheless.” He put the chicken leg he was eating down. “Actually, I was busy.” He glanced at Rose. “We were busy.”
“Did you find the gifts to your taste?”
“Um, unfortunately, I’m not much of a horseman,” he explained with a wry smile. “Have a tendency to get myself into trouble on a horse.”
Aeswulf looked disappointed. “I picked that horse for you,” he said. The illusion of strength and manliness he’d seemed to take on since the death of his father melted away briefly and the Doctor was reminded of the young boy who had looked at him so nervously from out of the shadows of the smithy.
“Oh, right.” The Doctor frowned, then his face brightened. “Well, perhaps you’d like to keep the horse, Aeswulf. I’m sure you could find much better use for it than me.”
A look of surprise froze itself onto Aeswulf’s features and he stared open-mouthed at the Doctor. “You’re… you’re giving me your horse?” he asked.
“Mm,” the Doctor said with a firm nod. He screwed up his nose and then shrugged. “After all, I don’t think Rose would let me have a horse in the, er… where we live.”
“Nope,” said Rose with a definite shake of her head. “No horses allowed.”
Narrowing his eyes, Aeswulf looked from one to the other, trying to judge if the Doctor was being serious. Finally, he seemed to decide that he was and a slow smile spread across his face. “Thank you,” he said quietly. “Nobody has ever… I’ve never had such a gift before.”
“Use it well,” the Doctor told him.
There was a moment’s silence, then Aeswulf spoke again, “Have you worked out a way to defeat Grendel?” He drew himself up and appeared to be gathering his poise again.
“Yup,” said the Doctor cheerily, “and it’s rather brilliant.”
Aeswulf nodded. “You are confident, then?”
“I’m never confident,” chuckled the Doctor wryly, “but that’s never stood in my way before.” He swallowed a mouthful, then added, “I need everyone to keep out of the way tonight. Can you make sure people do that?”
“I can.”
“Good man,” the Doctor praised, sweeping up another slice of meat and hunk of bread. “Off you go, then.”
The food on his plate was almost gone when he finally turned to Rose. She’d just about finished the chicken leg and apple she’d picked up and the grumbling in her stomach had disappeared, leaving her feeling refreshed and eager. “How long do you think we’ll have to wait?” she asked him.
The Doctor tilted his head and made a soft sound in the back of his throat. “I don’t know. Though I can’t imagine it’ll be long after sunset. That thing’ll be hungry.”
With a nervous glance out of the open doors, Rose realised that the sun was already very nearly gone. She fidgeted in her seat and he noticed her unease. “It’s fine, Rose,” he assured her. He set his dish down on the floor by his feet. “Relax.”
“Relax?” exclaimed Rose. “You’re joking right? I won’t relax until this is all done with.”
The Doctor eyed her sceptically. Time Wraiths were notorious for being able to latch on to the most potent emotional force in miles and hone in on it mercilessly - it was the reason it had taken so long for the Time Lords to master them in the first place. The old myths bore testimony to hundreds of deaths and still more regenerations in the battles. “Rose,” he said quietly, layering his voice with undertones of concern. “You’ve got to. That thing will see you like a beacon in the night unless you try to calm yourself down. All that panic and fear bubbling around inside you… it’s going to see it clearer than anything else in the room.” He paused. “Perhaps you should go back to the TARDIS…”
A look of indignant anger crossed Rose’s face like a thundercloud. “You’re not sending me to wait in there,” she told him in no uncertain terms. “No way.”
The Doctor’s jaw worked furiously for a moment. “Look, Rose…”
“No,” she reaffirmed. “Don’t even try to convince me that’s it’s the right thing to do.”
He blew a frustrated breath out and his shoulders sagged, telling her that he’d resigned himself to the fact that she was not going to accept this attempt to keep her out of harm’s way. “You have to learn to control your emotions, then.” His voice was firm.
“Okay. I’ll do it.”
“No, I mean really control them. Not just try to think of something else.”
Her eyebrows lifted and she nodded. She was clearly a little shocked by his tone, so much so that she took a moment to respond. “Well, how do I do that?”
The Doctor looked away. “It’s virtually impossible for humans to master the control necessary, Rose, that’s why I want you to go back to the TARDIS. The only reason I can do it is because I’m a Time Lord.”
Eyes wide, she stared at him. Her eyes drifted to the doors again and to the sun sinking fast into the horizon. “I’m not going back,” she said quietly. “So this thing you’ve got,” she angled her head towards the strange device he’d cobbled together, “better work, all right?”
There was a tense pause as the Doctor met her stare and then dropped his own gaze to the fruits of his labour. “Yes,” he said with a rueful tilt of his head. “It better had.”
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
Chapter Six
CHAPTER SEVEN
Rose found herself standing in the TARDIS kitchen feeling like she’d been knocked for the proverbial six. Her whole body was buzzing with electricity, yet she barely knew what to do with herself; the simple task of putting the kettle on to boil was almost beyond her. For a long moment she stood wondering if she’d imagined the last fifteen minutes, but the tingle lingering on her lips confirmed to her that it had happened: the Doctor had indeed kissed her.
Reaching out a slightly shaking hand, she took out two mugs from the cupboard above her head, the Winnie-the-Pooh one she liked and the huge blue soup cup he preferred. She set them down on the worktop, then added the hot water to the teapot and covered it with the cosy. But the tea took time to brew and the time allowed her mind to wander again.
Would she go back into the console room and find him regretful of what he’d done? Did she regret what she’d done? She stared at the two mugs set out on the sideboard, contemplating what was to come. Would he act like nothing had happened, as he was often wont to do? Or was this some kind of major turning point in their relationship?
A bang drew her attention. She looked towards the door of the kitchen and stared. It had been the sound of the TARDIS door slamming closed. Leaving the tea unfinished on the sideboard, Rose darted out into the console room. The Doctor had gone. The gadget he’d been making was gone too, although the detritus of his working was still scattered across the floor.
She ran for the door, grabbing up her jacket from the railing. As she stepped outside, a shout echoed out, “Rose! Come on!” He was standing about a dozen paces ahead of her, bouncing slightly on his tip-toes in eagerness.
“What?” she questioned. “Wha’s the matter? I thought we were going to have tea?”
“Tea?” he exclaimed, his hand drifting up to run impatiently through his hair, so that it stuck up in a sort of cockerel’s comb. “No time for tea. Look at it!”
He pointed towards the sky and Rose looked. Sure enough, the sun was beginning to set along the horizon, burning the sort of deep golden red that brought to mind the inside of a blood orange. Rose frowned. “It… We just went inside…” she said. “It was daylight. Middle of the day. What happened?”
“Oh, time in the TARDIS isn’t linear,” the Doctor explained casually, and began to walk at pace towards Heorot. Rose stared after him a second, then ran to catch up with him.
He glanced down at her as she fell into step beside her. “So how long have we been away?”
The Doctor shrugged. “About four or five hours, I suppose,” he said, then angled his head down at the gadget he held in his hand. “I was working on this for a while.” He looked around at the sun. “It’s maybe five-thirty or so.”
“Five-thirty?”
“Yup. So, we need to get a move on. There’s a feast waiting for us!” He grinned at her and offered his hand. She looked down at the fingers wiggling and decided that he was in the process of pretending nothing had happened between them. But it was quite clearly not the time to talk about it. She slipped her hand into his and he squeezed gently. His head lifted and he smelt the air. “Mmm…” he moaned. “I can smell the chicken from here!”
****
The short walk back to Heorot passed in relative silence, or at least, relative as far as the Doctor was concerned. He chattered briefly about the gadget he’d come up with, informing Rose in scientific detail way beyond her understanding of what exactly it was going to do. From what he was saying, she gathered that it was some kind of charge generator and when he turned it on it would disrupt the Wraith’s ionic charge long enough for the setting he’d used on the sonic screwdriver the last time to be more successful. He was childishly excited about his invention, but gradually, that excitement waned and he fell quiet.
Rose tried several times to fill the silence with idle discussion, but it seemed that the Doctor’s mind was elsewhere. Finally, as they approached the village, he squeezed her hand and looked down at her. “I’m not ignoring what happened earlier,” he informed her. His voice was low and confidential. “It’s just that at the moment, I’d rather get this spot of bother out of the way. The last thing I need right now is emotional baggage.”
Rose was about to object to his words, but then she remembered the Wraith and his explanation about how it had been confused by his ability to control his emotions the night before. She nodded. “It’s okay,” she said, quietly. “I understand.”
He looked right into her eyes, his gaze almost boring into her soul, then changed the grip between their hands, threading his fingers through hers.
The smell of cooking meat was overwhelming as they entered the village and headed towards the hall. Rose’s stomach gave an involuntary gurgle and the Doctor chuckled. “Hungry, are you?” he asked.
“Starving.”
“Me, too.”
She shook her head and smiled. “You’re always hungry. I bet you’d be the type of person who’d eat dry cereal out of the box given half a chance…”
“Wellll…” he replied, drawing out the ‘el’ sound on the word. “Never let it be said that I’m a fussy guest.”
He released her hand and practically bounded towards the open doors. As he strode inside, Rose just a few paces behind him, singing began and he jammed to a halt. The hall was filled with villagers, many of the men already in a state of considerable drunkenness, and they were singing… singing for him, singing about him, singing of his broad sword and monster-slaying reach and courageous spirit. He looked around, mildly perplexed by the greeting, then turned to Rose and grinned. “Who’d’ve thought it?” he crowed. “Famed in story and song!”
She laughed too and the Doctor turned back to the villagers, a smug grin still pasted on his face. “Now, now, now,” he said after a moment in a carrying voice. The crowd slowly quietened. The Doctor clapped enthusiastically then cleared his throat. “That was brilliant, and yes, so was I, but more to the point, there’s a fantastic smell in here.”
Hrothgar appeared from the wings, dressed in what was quite clearly his best pelts and clothes, and greeted the Doctor with a clap on the back so hard that his right heart did a double beat. “You have come!” he exclaimed.
The Doctor coughed and slapped his chest a couple of times. “We’ve come,” he said, finally. Hrothgar smiled through his thick beard and took the Doctor by the forearm, leading him companionably further into the hall, towards a raised centre platform. “Please, sit,” he instructed, and pointed to two throne-like wooden chairs. The Doctor glanced back at Rose and raised one eyebrow. She giggled.
“Oh. Right. I see… well, this is nice.” The Doctor eased himself down onto the seat and then looked at Hrothgar, who was regarding him expectantly. He placed both hands on the carved arms of the chair and patted the wood. “Good solid wood; oak if I’m not much mistaken…” He smiled broadly at Hrothgar. “Brilliant.”
“Aeswulf tells me your name is ‘Doctor’…” Hrothgar stated. “That cannot really be your name.”
“It is,” the Doctor replied. He glanced sideways at Rose. “Like I said, we’re from far, far away.”
Hrothgar nodded at that, seemingly accepting the explanation. He turned and addressed the villagers, “Our courageous Doctor!” he announced and a cheer went up.
Rose blushed and hid an amused smile behind her hand. Usually, they ended up being chased out of places, run down by mobs or rampant aliens and occasionally even gunfire. But never had they been hailed as heroes with such vocal enthusiasm. She allowed herself to half-turn to the Doctor and saw that he was sitting very upright, but had a smug smile on his face, as if inside, he was rather enjoying it all.
With a wave of his hand, Hrothgar quieted the crowd. “And now, Doctor, we present you with gifts, as a sign of our gratitude.”
“Gifts?” He winked at Rose. “Oh, you shouldn’t have!”
Several men stepped forward from the gathered crowd. One was carrying a helmet, another a sword, and they laid both at the Doctor’s feet reverentially. He nodded in response, then there was the sound of hooves and the crowd parted slightly as another man led in a tall, black horse, bedecked with the finest tack. “A horse!” Hrothgar announced proudly. “A horse to bear you to further successes!”
The crowd fell silent except for the horse, which whinnied as if on cue. Rose shook her head and poked the Doctor in the ribs. “What is it with you and horses, hm?” she teased. He said nothing, though it was clear he was trying not to frown.
He stepped forward. Tossing its head, the horse seemed to stare the Doctor down. There was a brief but silent battle of wills, then the horse backed up and the Doctor spun away and grinned at the crowd. Another cheer went up. “And now for the feast!” Hrothgar announced. He passed the Doctor a deep-sided pottery dish and directed him to help himself first. “The chickens and boar were killed fresh this morning,” he explained.
“Just how I like them,” the Doctor enthused. He jumped down from the platform and headed straight for the food.
Rose followed the Doctor to where the feast had been set out on the tables and watched him as he set about filling his dish with a mountain of sliced meat, root vegetables, fruit and hunks of dark-coloured rye bread. He handed a plate to Rose and waited whilst she took what she wanted. He headed back to the central platform, plonked himself down in one of the chairs and began to eat with gusto.
“Do you think Grendel will come back tonight?”
“Stop calling it Grendel, Rose,” he chastised briefly. “It’s a Time Wraith, not some kind of half-Norwegian bezerker stroke semi-mythical troll.” He paused to add more to his mouthful, then added, “I suspect it will. It’ll want to finish what I stopped it finishing last night. And it’ll be hungry.”
Rose’s eyebrows flickered upwards. “Rather like you…”
“There’s nothing wrong with a hearty meal,” the Doctor replied. “Like the Klingons say, you always fight better on a full stomach.”
“The Klingons?”
“Yes. Star Trek, you know… the, er, the ones with the ridgey dinosaur heads. Not so dissimilar from our warrior Danes here, actually. Though the ones I took Mr. Roddenberry to see had a more pleasant aroma.” He screwed up his nose distastefully. “Practically puts you off your meal.”
Rose was about to open her mouth and ask what on Earth he was talking about when Aeswulf appeared at their sides, a mug of ale in his hand. He had clearly had more than one, though, as his steps were a little uncoordinated and he offered the Doctor an enthusiastic toast. “Doctor!” he greeted. “We wondered whether you were returning.”
“Ah, well, here I am! Fashionably late, but here nonetheless.” He put the chicken leg he was eating down. “Actually, I was busy.” He glanced at Rose. “We were busy.”
“Did you find the gifts to your taste?”
“Um, unfortunately, I’m not much of a horseman,” he explained with a wry smile. “Have a tendency to get myself into trouble on a horse.”
Aeswulf looked disappointed. “I picked that horse for you,” he said. The illusion of strength and manliness he’d seemed to take on since the death of his father melted away briefly and the Doctor was reminded of the young boy who had looked at him so nervously from out of the shadows of the smithy.
“Oh, right.” The Doctor frowned, then his face brightened. “Well, perhaps you’d like to keep the horse, Aeswulf. I’m sure you could find much better use for it than me.”
A look of surprise froze itself onto Aeswulf’s features and he stared open-mouthed at the Doctor. “You’re… you’re giving me your horse?” he asked.
“Mm,” the Doctor said with a firm nod. He screwed up his nose and then shrugged. “After all, I don’t think Rose would let me have a horse in the, er… where we live.”
“Nope,” said Rose with a definite shake of her head. “No horses allowed.”
Narrowing his eyes, Aeswulf looked from one to the other, trying to judge if the Doctor was being serious. Finally, he seemed to decide that he was and a slow smile spread across his face. “Thank you,” he said quietly. “Nobody has ever… I’ve never had such a gift before.”
“Use it well,” the Doctor told him.
There was a moment’s silence, then Aeswulf spoke again, “Have you worked out a way to defeat Grendel?” He drew himself up and appeared to be gathering his poise again.
“Yup,” said the Doctor cheerily, “and it’s rather brilliant.”
Aeswulf nodded. “You are confident, then?”
“I’m never confident,” chuckled the Doctor wryly, “but that’s never stood in my way before.” He swallowed a mouthful, then added, “I need everyone to keep out of the way tonight. Can you make sure people do that?”
“I can.”
“Good man,” the Doctor praised, sweeping up another slice of meat and hunk of bread. “Off you go, then.”
The food on his plate was almost gone when he finally turned to Rose. She’d just about finished the chicken leg and apple she’d picked up and the grumbling in her stomach had disappeared, leaving her feeling refreshed and eager. “How long do you think we’ll have to wait?” she asked him.
The Doctor tilted his head and made a soft sound in the back of his throat. “I don’t know. Though I can’t imagine it’ll be long after sunset. That thing’ll be hungry.”
With a nervous glance out of the open doors, Rose realised that the sun was already very nearly gone. She fidgeted in her seat and he noticed her unease. “It’s fine, Rose,” he assured her. He set his dish down on the floor by his feet. “Relax.”
“Relax?” exclaimed Rose. “You’re joking right? I won’t relax until this is all done with.”
The Doctor eyed her sceptically. Time Wraiths were notorious for being able to latch on to the most potent emotional force in miles and hone in on it mercilessly - it was the reason it had taken so long for the Time Lords to master them in the first place. The old myths bore testimony to hundreds of deaths and still more regenerations in the battles. “Rose,” he said quietly, layering his voice with undertones of concern. “You’ve got to. That thing will see you like a beacon in the night unless you try to calm yourself down. All that panic and fear bubbling around inside you… it’s going to see it clearer than anything else in the room.” He paused. “Perhaps you should go back to the TARDIS…”
A look of indignant anger crossed Rose’s face like a thundercloud. “You’re not sending me to wait in there,” she told him in no uncertain terms. “No way.”
The Doctor’s jaw worked furiously for a moment. “Look, Rose…”
“No,” she reaffirmed. “Don’t even try to convince me that’s it’s the right thing to do.”
He blew a frustrated breath out and his shoulders sagged, telling her that he’d resigned himself to the fact that she was not going to accept this attempt to keep her out of harm’s way. “You have to learn to control your emotions, then.” His voice was firm.
“Okay. I’ll do it.”
“No, I mean really control them. Not just try to think of something else.”
Her eyebrows lifted and she nodded. She was clearly a little shocked by his tone, so much so that she took a moment to respond. “Well, how do I do that?”
The Doctor looked away. “It’s virtually impossible for humans to master the control necessary, Rose, that’s why I want you to go back to the TARDIS. The only reason I can do it is because I’m a Time Lord.”
Eyes wide, she stared at him. Her eyes drifted to the doors again and to the sun sinking fast into the horizon. “I’m not going back,” she said quietly. “So this thing you’ve got,” she angled her head towards the strange device he’d cobbled together, “better work, all right?”
There was a tense pause as the Doctor met her stare and then dropped his own gaze to the fruits of his labour. “Yes,” he said with a rueful tilt of his head. “It better had.”
To be continued...