Myths and Legends (8/?)
Title - Myths and Legends (8/?)
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
CHAPTER EIGHT
Several hours later, Rose found herself sitting leaning up against the far wall of the hall, feet drawn up so her heels were almost touching her bottom. The Doctor was busy talking with Aeswulf and Hrothgar by the main doors, which were now closed and bolted, ready for the night. She kept her eye on him as he talked, watching the exaggerated movements he made as he became animated by something, the wild sweeps of his arms, the bobbing up and down on the spot, the fidgeting, the drags through his hair. She could just about make out the mutter of his voice above the ambient sounds within the hall, but it was not loud enough for her to discern exactly what he was saying.
After a time, he seemed to finish whatever he was talking about and Hrothgar moved away towards his wife, Wealtheow, and their children. The Doctor snooped around the doors for a moment, then turned and surveyed the villagers. His eyes fell on her. In half a dozen strides he was standing in front of her, looking down at her.
“What time is it?” she asked.
He shrugged. “I’m not sure. It’s completely dark outside now.” He swung himself down so he was sitting next to her, crossed his legs and picked at his shoelaces for a moment. He took the sonic screwdriver from his inside pocket and toyed with it, turning it over and over in his hands. “It’s only a matter of time,” he added.
A glance into his eyes confirmed to Rose that he was doing his level best to stay detached from everything that was going on. They were fathomless and dark, as if he’d parcelled up every emotion in his head and hidden it away. Seconds ticked by, gathering potency.
“Everything’s ready, yeah?” she questioned. There was a tremor in her voice that she sought to master but didn’t quite succeed.
“Everything’s ready,” he confirmed.
She watched him fiddle with the end of the sonic screwdriver, changing the settings, then cleared her throat, “Can the Wraith hurt you?”
“Hm. It could kill me, but it wouldn’t be easy.” His eyes leaped up to hers. “It’s more likely to just make me regenerate.”
A shadow of panic flickered in her expression and, instantly, it was obvious what she was thinking: she didn’t want to go through that again, didn’t want him to. He swallowed and offered her a sympathetic smile. “But that probably won’t happen.”
Rose nodded but her eyes fell away from his to the dusty straw that covered the floor. Her trainer scuffed through the dirt. “Are you scared?”
The skin around his eyes crinkled like rice paper. “I’m doing my best not to be.”
“Me too,” she replied.
He reached out and laid his hand gently along her cheek, fingers brushing her hairline. Drawn back to his gaze, Rose felt a wave of something otherworldly ripple through her, and a sense of calm filled her bones, like a boat in the middle of a millpond sea. “Is that you?” she asked with a frown of amazement. He drew in a deep breath and nodded and then let his hand drop back into his lap.
In the background, a child began to whimper and a mother shushed the sound in comforting tones. The Doctor hitched himself around so he was leaning back up against the wall in the same manner as Rose and wrapped his arm around her shoulder, tugging her into his body. He said nothing.
****
Rose had always understood that time passed fluidly whenever the Doctor was involved, but never had she realised it more acutely than the moment when she felt him shift against her and tension pass from his body to hers like a Chinese whisper. Her eyes had fallen closed, but she was not asleep and she heard the screaming howl of the Wraith almost before he’d sat fully upright.
“Oh, God,” she said aloud as he snapped to standing and faced the main doors. There was another scream and she felt her body withdrawing into itself. The bravery she’d always prided herself on retreated faster than a soldier deserting his ranks.
The Doctor glanced back at her and with a flicker of desperation, gestured for her to get herself out of the way as quickly as possible. Rose stumbled to her feet and did as she was told, backing up towards the crowd of villagers whose eyes were fixed as one on the doors.
Sounds of disturbance grew louder outside. Another scream punctuated the night, as sharp and shocking as an ice-pick in the brain. The Doctor dropped into a crouch, readying himself. When the Wraith burst through the doors, there was a collective squeal of fear from everyone gathered in the hall, and the creature roared in triumph, turning this way and that, its malevolent eyes scanning and searching, its claws curling like wisps of deadly smoke.
It advanced towards the Doctor. With one hand gripping the sonic screwdriver, he faced the Wraith and stared it down. The complicated device he’d built lay between them and he aimed the screwdriver at it, turning it on. It began to make a low-pitched hum, then crackled and sparked as if charged with electricity. Fronds of bluish charge shot out randomly, and when one connected with the Wraith, it howled in objection. The outer edges of its form shifted and it randomly changed shape as if desperately trying to out-battle the assault. From dragon to demon to glowering beast, it twisted and contorted in rage. “It’s working, Rose!” he yelled in elation.
Rose was just about to shout back encouragement when, abruptly, the Wraith’s form regained more corporeal constancy and those red eyes filtered back into life. The Doctor uttered an exclamation of shock and toggled the setting on the sonic screwdriver.
Standing behind him, Rose felt a strange chill run through her body. The Doctor raised the sonic screwdriver and aimed it at the Wraith. It flickered and howled, then became more solid again. Rose took an involuntary step backwards. There was something different about this one, she realised. It wasn’t the same as before. Something was not right.
Just as she realised that fact, the Doctor started to question the effectiveness of the gadget he’d built. His eyes fell to it and then he fumbled to raise the power output on the screwdriver; but Rose could tell that panic had invaded his confident expression. The Wraith had sensed it too and was closing down on him, its eyes turning more solid with every second that went past.
She yelled out his name, and he responded without turning away from the Wraith. “It’s not the same one, Rose. It’s got a different energy signature!”
In desperation, he changed the setting again on the sonic screwdriver and for a moment, the Wraith paused and screamed in indignation. Then, it appeared to gather itself and, as if sensing something unseen, fixed its gaze on Rose. It plunged forwards.
Rose froze on the spot as she beheld its hideous beady red eyes. Something stirred within her; something primitive and powerful, and suddenly her limbs were primed for running. The Doctor half-turned to look at her, sonic screwdriver held aloft, and called for her to blank her mind.
With every ounce of strength in her body, Rose tried to obey. She sought a happy place, a warm room, a sunny beach, but each time she tried to centre herself she was distracted by the boiling fear inside her and the image turned cold and empty. The Wraith moved away from the Doctor and now it was closer to her than it was to anything else. She imagined she could feel its breath, hot and sticky, on her skin and the hairs prickled on the back of her neck.
It raised its clawed hand. She heard the Doctor’s hurried footsteps as he rushed towards her. “Here, Wraith, take me! Have me!” he cried. He flailed his limbs, trying desperately to grab its attention, but the Wraith afforded him nothing more than a glance; it was fixed on its target and its target was thrumming with emotional energy.
The Doctor aimed another burst from the sonic screwdriver at the Wraith and it twisted and screamed, flickering again, clearly traumatised by the onslaught. But, even in its weakened state, Rose’s emotions were too strong, too tempting, and it swept forwards and grasped out for her.
“Nooooo!” the Doctor yelled.
Rose felt her life force begin to leave her body like wax dribbling from a candle, but as the Wraith began to withdraw with its prize, she had enough left in her to turn her eyes towards the Doctor and plead him to do something.
His face was like nothing she’d ever seen before, contorted into a mask of sheer horror and he screamed, “Rooooossse!” He dived after her, but Aeswulf, appearing from the shadows, grabbed him by the sleeve and held him back. He fought against the restriction, shouting for him to let him go, but failed to break free. She tried to call out his name, but as she did, the world began to fade and then she saw nothing more.
****
The Doctor grappled at Aeswulf’s restraining hands, but the teenager’s grip belied his skinny frame. “Let go of me!” he roared, but Aeswulf maintained his hold.
The Wraith was retreating, Rose’s limp and failing body held in its claws and her eyes fixed on his, boring into his soul like a meteor carving out a crater in the desert. He fought a little longer, but as the Wraith disappeared over the brow of the hill, relented. Aeswulf loosened his grip and the Doctor snapped his shoulder free, turning and aiming an acidic look at him.
“Doctor…” Aeswulf began, but the Doctor ignored him and bent to pick up the gadget he’d made from the floor of the hall. He swept it under his arm and sniffed, biting down on a flood of angry emotions.
He afforded the stunned villagers a brief glance. “Is anyone else hurt?” he asked.
Aeswulf, standing a few nervous paces away, shook his head then spoke again, “Doctor, Rose was not killed. You weakened the Wraith and it was injured. She was still alive as it was retreating. Maybe you can get her back.” He swallowed, as if expecting a tirade of indignant abuse to come his way.
The Doctor scowled, then looked up at Aeswulf. Suddenly, a glimmer of hope had lit in his eyes. “I’ve got to get her back,” he said, to no-one in particular. His face set and determination flashed across his features. “And nothing, absolutely nothing’s going to stop me from doing that!”
Wheeling towards the door, he yelled out, “Aeswulf, I’m going to need some help. Get your sword and come on!”
Aeswulf looked at the Doctor. “Wait!” he called out.
“What?” replied the Doctor, with more than a hint of impatience.
“If I’m coming then Hrothgar is coming too.”
“Hrothgar needs to stay with his people. I only need one other pair of hands,” the Doctor dismissed quickly.
“You don’t know how many hands you’re going to need, Doctor. You’ve got no idea of what’s waiting for you out there.” He gestured out of the main doors. “Grendel has grown more powerful than before. It was bigger, more aggressive.”
“That’s because it wasn’t Grendel! That’s why my gadget didn’t work. It was a different Wraith with a different electrical signature…” Aeswulf stared at him, uncomprehending. “Ohhh,” the Doctor lamented, and shook his head, resigning himself to the inevitable analogy. “It was Grendel’s mother, all right?”
The name seemed to sit well with Aeswulf, who nodded in understanding. “Grendel’s mother,” he repeated quietly.
“Yes! Now, are you coming or not?”
Hrothgar had appeared at Aeswulf’s side, carrying a heavy iron sword and a wooden shield. “We are coming,” he said. “Tell us what to do and we will do it.”
The Doctor fixed them both with a reluctant stare. He didn’t particularly want to take two possible victims with him, but every minute he wasted arguing was another minute before he could get to Rose. He sighed and waved his hand in a dismissive gesture. “Fine, but make sure you do exactly what I tell you.”
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
CHAPTER EIGHT
Several hours later, Rose found herself sitting leaning up against the far wall of the hall, feet drawn up so her heels were almost touching her bottom. The Doctor was busy talking with Aeswulf and Hrothgar by the main doors, which were now closed and bolted, ready for the night. She kept her eye on him as he talked, watching the exaggerated movements he made as he became animated by something, the wild sweeps of his arms, the bobbing up and down on the spot, the fidgeting, the drags through his hair. She could just about make out the mutter of his voice above the ambient sounds within the hall, but it was not loud enough for her to discern exactly what he was saying.
After a time, he seemed to finish whatever he was talking about and Hrothgar moved away towards his wife, Wealtheow, and their children. The Doctor snooped around the doors for a moment, then turned and surveyed the villagers. His eyes fell on her. In half a dozen strides he was standing in front of her, looking down at her.
“What time is it?” she asked.
He shrugged. “I’m not sure. It’s completely dark outside now.” He swung himself down so he was sitting next to her, crossed his legs and picked at his shoelaces for a moment. He took the sonic screwdriver from his inside pocket and toyed with it, turning it over and over in his hands. “It’s only a matter of time,” he added.
A glance into his eyes confirmed to Rose that he was doing his level best to stay detached from everything that was going on. They were fathomless and dark, as if he’d parcelled up every emotion in his head and hidden it away. Seconds ticked by, gathering potency.
“Everything’s ready, yeah?” she questioned. There was a tremor in her voice that she sought to master but didn’t quite succeed.
“Everything’s ready,” he confirmed.
She watched him fiddle with the end of the sonic screwdriver, changing the settings, then cleared her throat, “Can the Wraith hurt you?”
“Hm. It could kill me, but it wouldn’t be easy.” His eyes leaped up to hers. “It’s more likely to just make me regenerate.”
A shadow of panic flickered in her expression and, instantly, it was obvious what she was thinking: she didn’t want to go through that again, didn’t want him to. He swallowed and offered her a sympathetic smile. “But that probably won’t happen.”
Rose nodded but her eyes fell away from his to the dusty straw that covered the floor. Her trainer scuffed through the dirt. “Are you scared?”
The skin around his eyes crinkled like rice paper. “I’m doing my best not to be.”
“Me too,” she replied.
He reached out and laid his hand gently along her cheek, fingers brushing her hairline. Drawn back to his gaze, Rose felt a wave of something otherworldly ripple through her, and a sense of calm filled her bones, like a boat in the middle of a millpond sea. “Is that you?” she asked with a frown of amazement. He drew in a deep breath and nodded and then let his hand drop back into his lap.
In the background, a child began to whimper and a mother shushed the sound in comforting tones. The Doctor hitched himself around so he was leaning back up against the wall in the same manner as Rose and wrapped his arm around her shoulder, tugging her into his body. He said nothing.
****
Rose had always understood that time passed fluidly whenever the Doctor was involved, but never had she realised it more acutely than the moment when she felt him shift against her and tension pass from his body to hers like a Chinese whisper. Her eyes had fallen closed, but she was not asleep and she heard the screaming howl of the Wraith almost before he’d sat fully upright.
“Oh, God,” she said aloud as he snapped to standing and faced the main doors. There was another scream and she felt her body withdrawing into itself. The bravery she’d always prided herself on retreated faster than a soldier deserting his ranks.
The Doctor glanced back at her and with a flicker of desperation, gestured for her to get herself out of the way as quickly as possible. Rose stumbled to her feet and did as she was told, backing up towards the crowd of villagers whose eyes were fixed as one on the doors.
Sounds of disturbance grew louder outside. Another scream punctuated the night, as sharp and shocking as an ice-pick in the brain. The Doctor dropped into a crouch, readying himself. When the Wraith burst through the doors, there was a collective squeal of fear from everyone gathered in the hall, and the creature roared in triumph, turning this way and that, its malevolent eyes scanning and searching, its claws curling like wisps of deadly smoke.
It advanced towards the Doctor. With one hand gripping the sonic screwdriver, he faced the Wraith and stared it down. The complicated device he’d built lay between them and he aimed the screwdriver at it, turning it on. It began to make a low-pitched hum, then crackled and sparked as if charged with electricity. Fronds of bluish charge shot out randomly, and when one connected with the Wraith, it howled in objection. The outer edges of its form shifted and it randomly changed shape as if desperately trying to out-battle the assault. From dragon to demon to glowering beast, it twisted and contorted in rage. “It’s working, Rose!” he yelled in elation.
Rose was just about to shout back encouragement when, abruptly, the Wraith’s form regained more corporeal constancy and those red eyes filtered back into life. The Doctor uttered an exclamation of shock and toggled the setting on the sonic screwdriver.
Standing behind him, Rose felt a strange chill run through her body. The Doctor raised the sonic screwdriver and aimed it at the Wraith. It flickered and howled, then became more solid again. Rose took an involuntary step backwards. There was something different about this one, she realised. It wasn’t the same as before. Something was not right.
Just as she realised that fact, the Doctor started to question the effectiveness of the gadget he’d built. His eyes fell to it and then he fumbled to raise the power output on the screwdriver; but Rose could tell that panic had invaded his confident expression. The Wraith had sensed it too and was closing down on him, its eyes turning more solid with every second that went past.
She yelled out his name, and he responded without turning away from the Wraith. “It’s not the same one, Rose. It’s got a different energy signature!”
In desperation, he changed the setting again on the sonic screwdriver and for a moment, the Wraith paused and screamed in indignation. Then, it appeared to gather itself and, as if sensing something unseen, fixed its gaze on Rose. It plunged forwards.
Rose froze on the spot as she beheld its hideous beady red eyes. Something stirred within her; something primitive and powerful, and suddenly her limbs were primed for running. The Doctor half-turned to look at her, sonic screwdriver held aloft, and called for her to blank her mind.
With every ounce of strength in her body, Rose tried to obey. She sought a happy place, a warm room, a sunny beach, but each time she tried to centre herself she was distracted by the boiling fear inside her and the image turned cold and empty. The Wraith moved away from the Doctor and now it was closer to her than it was to anything else. She imagined she could feel its breath, hot and sticky, on her skin and the hairs prickled on the back of her neck.
It raised its clawed hand. She heard the Doctor’s hurried footsteps as he rushed towards her. “Here, Wraith, take me! Have me!” he cried. He flailed his limbs, trying desperately to grab its attention, but the Wraith afforded him nothing more than a glance; it was fixed on its target and its target was thrumming with emotional energy.
The Doctor aimed another burst from the sonic screwdriver at the Wraith and it twisted and screamed, flickering again, clearly traumatised by the onslaught. But, even in its weakened state, Rose’s emotions were too strong, too tempting, and it swept forwards and grasped out for her.
“Nooooo!” the Doctor yelled.
Rose felt her life force begin to leave her body like wax dribbling from a candle, but as the Wraith began to withdraw with its prize, she had enough left in her to turn her eyes towards the Doctor and plead him to do something.
His face was like nothing she’d ever seen before, contorted into a mask of sheer horror and he screamed, “Rooooossse!” He dived after her, but Aeswulf, appearing from the shadows, grabbed him by the sleeve and held him back. He fought against the restriction, shouting for him to let him go, but failed to break free. She tried to call out his name, but as she did, the world began to fade and then she saw nothing more.
****
The Doctor grappled at Aeswulf’s restraining hands, but the teenager’s grip belied his skinny frame. “Let go of me!” he roared, but Aeswulf maintained his hold.
The Wraith was retreating, Rose’s limp and failing body held in its claws and her eyes fixed on his, boring into his soul like a meteor carving out a crater in the desert. He fought a little longer, but as the Wraith disappeared over the brow of the hill, relented. Aeswulf loosened his grip and the Doctor snapped his shoulder free, turning and aiming an acidic look at him.
“Doctor…” Aeswulf began, but the Doctor ignored him and bent to pick up the gadget he’d made from the floor of the hall. He swept it under his arm and sniffed, biting down on a flood of angry emotions.
He afforded the stunned villagers a brief glance. “Is anyone else hurt?” he asked.
Aeswulf, standing a few nervous paces away, shook his head then spoke again, “Doctor, Rose was not killed. You weakened the Wraith and it was injured. She was still alive as it was retreating. Maybe you can get her back.” He swallowed, as if expecting a tirade of indignant abuse to come his way.
The Doctor scowled, then looked up at Aeswulf. Suddenly, a glimmer of hope had lit in his eyes. “I’ve got to get her back,” he said, to no-one in particular. His face set and determination flashed across his features. “And nothing, absolutely nothing’s going to stop me from doing that!”
Wheeling towards the door, he yelled out, “Aeswulf, I’m going to need some help. Get your sword and come on!”
Aeswulf looked at the Doctor. “Wait!” he called out.
“What?” replied the Doctor, with more than a hint of impatience.
“If I’m coming then Hrothgar is coming too.”
“Hrothgar needs to stay with his people. I only need one other pair of hands,” the Doctor dismissed quickly.
“You don’t know how many hands you’re going to need, Doctor. You’ve got no idea of what’s waiting for you out there.” He gestured out of the main doors. “Grendel has grown more powerful than before. It was bigger, more aggressive.”
“That’s because it wasn’t Grendel! That’s why my gadget didn’t work. It was a different Wraith with a different electrical signature…” Aeswulf stared at him, uncomprehending. “Ohhh,” the Doctor lamented, and shook his head, resigning himself to the inevitable analogy. “It was Grendel’s mother, all right?”
The name seemed to sit well with Aeswulf, who nodded in understanding. “Grendel’s mother,” he repeated quietly.
“Yes! Now, are you coming or not?”
Hrothgar had appeared at Aeswulf’s side, carrying a heavy iron sword and a wooden shield. “We are coming,” he said. “Tell us what to do and we will do it.”
The Doctor fixed them both with a reluctant stare. He didn’t particularly want to take two possible victims with him, but every minute he wasted arguing was another minute before he could get to Rose. He sighed and waved his hand in a dismissive gesture. “Fine, but make sure you do exactly what I tell you.”
To be continued...