Nocturne, Chapter 8
Original Post
Summary: Robin's confrontation with the other Night Watchman doesn't exactly go to plan.
Characters/Pairings: The Night Watchmen; Robin/Marian
Rating: PG
Spoilers/Warnings: Picks up the morning after 1x13 ends; AU from there. Serious, big-time butt-kicking within. ;)
Disclaimer: Some of this belongs to legend, much of it belongs to the show Robin Hood and its producers; none of it belongs to me in an official or profitable capacity.
Notes: This chapter was what the entire story grew from, and it was inspired by this ballad-- but, don't read it until you've read the chapter!! ;D
Previous Chapter
~8~
Robin crouched in the brush, counting on the night and his costume to conceal him from the view of the other masked figure, who was making their way through Locksley. At this distance and in the dim light, Robin could still not ascertain the gender of the third Night Watchman, but considering that a week had passed without the gang being able to learn anything about who it was, he was suspicious. Everyone knew by now that the Night Watchman was at least associated with the outlaws, after the escape from Locksley Manor before Marian's subverted wedding; therefore, the fact that this new person had made no move to contact him made Robin wary of their identity and motives. While it could be a good-hearted merchant, or even a particularly enterprising peasant, it could equally be a person in Vaizey's employ, lulling the villagers into a sense of trust before poisoning them, or another such vile plan.
So, as the hooded figure made its way from house to house, Robin watched. And then, when they ducked back onto the path leading to the Great North Road, he followed a safe distance behind.
The distance was not safe enough, however; they had only been walking a couple of minutes before the Night Watchman suddenly turned, drawing a sword-- and emitting a slight gasp when he or she saw another version of themselves facing them. Robin had not initially armed himself beyond a dagger in his boot when going out, but had taken to wearing a sword since learning of this Night Watchman (whom, despite Djaq's accurate correction, he still thought of as "The Impostor"). He did not dare to wear his own sword, which was easily recognized, but was nearly as comfortable with a weapon the gang had long ago stolen from the castle. It was inferior in craft and balance to the Saracen blade, but was similar to the sword with which he had spent many years training, so he drew it with ease.
Disguising his voice, he grumbled, "Who are you?"
"I ask the same of you," came the reply, in tones which indicated that the speaker also did not wish to be identified. The action worked; Robin was hard-pressed to decide if he was facing a woman or a young man.
"You are not the true Night Watchman," he stated. "Why do you pretend to be?"
The Impostor snorted. "Again, I ask the same of you."
Giving his sword a casual swing, Robin said, "This will go easier if you stop repeating yourself, and tell me what I wish to know."
With a shrug which did nothing to detract from The Impostor's obvious alertness, they replied, "You have no idea how badly this will go for you, if you threaten me."
"I know how badly it will go for you," Robin retorted. "But, I would rather we have a civil conversation."
"I have no desire to speak with you. Leave now, and you will go unharmed."
He had to give The Impostor points for boldness. Still, he was not about to debate which of them would win in a fight, since he was fairly confident as to the answer. While The Impostor clearly was not unfamiliar with how to wield a sword, their stance was unusual and not entirely strategic, and Robin doubted they had much in the way of formal training. Perhaps, they had practiced on their own and developed their own style, but it was just as possible that they were bluffing; in fact, he was willing to bet on it. "Are you working for the sheriff?" He did not expect an honest reply, but hoped the sudden question might catch his opponent off-guard.
Indeed, The Impostor hesitated, in what seemed to be surprise. "Not anymore," they finally growled, right before lunging at him.
Robin easily parried the attack, as well as two more which were made in quick succession. It was as he thought; the movements were amateurish, although they would likely repel a less experienced fighter than himself. He had knocked The Impostor back after the third attack, and as his adversary regained their footing, Robin considered the answer to his question. Not anymore meant that this person had, indeed, once worked on behalf of Vaizey. "When did you work for the sheriff? Was this originally a scheme of his?" He really wanted to end this standoff without a full-out fight, because he would rather not do The Impostor an injury; and he hoped that getting the person talking would accomplish that.
"It is no business of yours what I do," The Impostor snapped. After a beat, they added, "But I do it for a man so different from the sheriff, there is no comparison." Robin wished that answer had given him any clue to even the gender of the figure opposite him, but neither the darkness of the road nor the words helped. It could be a son or daughter speaking of his or her father; it could be a woman, or even a young man, speaking of a lost lover. Evidently uncomfortable with revealing anything, even something that revealed nothing, The Impostor said, "Now, leave me be! I have another village to see to, and you are impeding my work."
With a shrug of his own, Robin replied, "If you explain what you are about, I will be more than happy to let you on your way. In fact, this could be easier, if we work together. It appears we are both after the same goal: helping those in need."
The Impostor shook their head. "I know nothing of the sort; you have told me nothing of yourself."
Exasperated, Robin nonetheless laughed at that. "I asked you first!" he exclaimed, more than a little frustrated at The Impostor's unwillingness to concede.
With a noise of annoyance, The Impostor apparently decided that they would get nowhere verbally, and flew at him once again. They were unschooled, but quick and desperate, and Robin found that he had to pay close attention to keep from being hit. Blocking a series of opportunistic blows, he finally saw an opening to go on the offensive, aiming to disarm The Impostor.
He was just about to accomplish that, when a third blade suddenly knocked his back. A shoulder to his own knocked him aside, and he hastily swung around, sword out, as he stepped into a defensive stance.
And then, he blinked.
How many Night Watchmen were there?
Counting himself, three of them now faced off on the Great North Road. Counting Marian, that made four of them... unless, of course, there were even more who had yet to happen along. Robin had a brief, darkly amusing picture of an army of Night Watchmen, all fighting one another in the middle of Sherwood. As entertaining as the thought was, reality was three, razor-sharp swords ready for melee, and he would prefer to avoid that. There was some comfort to be found in a quick glance at The Impostor, who seemed to be as startled as he. "Who are you, now?" he demanded of this new person, still keeping his voice disguised. Regardless of whom the others turned out to be, he would rather keep his own identity a secret.
In contrast to The Impostor, it was obvious that this Night Watchman was trained to fight, and was not inclined to respond to his query at all. Mentally cursing the cloudy night for offering both of the others the level of concealment he had personally sought earlier, Robin nonetheless found himself impressed with the newcomer already. They radiated confidence and competence, whereas he had definitely picked up uncertainty from The Impostor.
This Night Watchman also radiated annoyance. Recognizing that attitude for the danger that it was, Robin tried to reason with them. "If you are also of a charitable mind, there is no reason for the three of us to fight one another."
"We do not know that he is of a charitable mind," The Impostor muttered. "Nor am I sure that you are. For all I know, you are working for the sheriff, in an effort to entrap me.
"Or maybe he is." The Impostor gestured toward the third person on the road.
Robin had kept his attention on the latest Night Watchman whilst The Impostor spoke, and was glad of it; at her suggestion that he might be a tool of the sheriff's, the silent Night Watchman's demeanor toward him became decidedly hostile. "I do not work for the sheriff!" Robin declared. "I work against him, as, I suspect, do we all."
"What's happening here?" The Impostor murmured frantically, to what was, at that moment, clearly herself.
Realizing that The Impostor was at least admitting to herself that she was outmatched, Robin started to move between her and the silent Night Watchman. She was so intent on the new arrival that she did not even react to him. When he got to where he could defend her, he ordered, "Run!"
To her credit, she held her ground for a moment. However, when Robin's command caused the silent Night Watchman to move into action, she did as she was told, running south along the road. In the back of his mind, Robin noted that it likely meant she was not familiar with the forest; the knowledge may or may not prove to be a clue, but he did not have the time to ponder it, as a flurry of attacks came at him. Whereas with The Impostor, he had been holding back due to her lack of skill, it was this opponent's possession of skill which kept him from reversing their positions. It was a tense several seconds, each of which seemed to slow to hours, before he saw an opening for a riposte; his adversary managed to dodge it, but he finally had the tactical advantage.
This Night Watchman fended off his strikes, but at the expense of falling back several paces. There was a fallen log just a few steps behind them, and if Robin could only drive them back a bit further, he could have the fight.
Whether or not the silent Night Watchman was aware of that, they avoided such a fate by suddenly stepping to the side and kicking out at Robin's knee. The move was a risky one, as it could have resulted in an injury if Robin had attacked from the side the Night Watchman moved to, since it left them undefended. However, luck was on their side, as his sword thrust met empty air.
Luck was also on Robin's side; or, rather, instinct borne of surviving five years on the battlefield came to his aid. He sensed the kick a fraction of a second before it connected, stepping away as the Night Watchman's foot swooshed harmlessly by his leg.
Unfortunately, annoyance and apparently a sharp mind meant that the attacker would not simply fall back into a stance and take a moment to figure out what to do next. In the same moment that their foot reconnected with the ground, so too did their blade swing, and Robin was not quite quick enough to stop it. While he caught the opposing sword with his own, the keen edge of the Night Watchman's steel kissed his cheek before he shoved it away.
It was now evident that this was to be a fight to the death, or at least something incredibly close to it, and Robin had every intention of leaving with nothing more than the line he now had across his cheek, which was merrily seeping into the fabric at the side of his mask.
Determined to be the one to walk away, he threw everything he had into his attack. He would rather not kill his adversary, but if that became his only option, he would take it. This Night Watchman might be trained, but unlike Robin, they had evidently not been fit enough to defend the king, himself; they had obviously not faced scores of enemies bent on cutting them down if they did not cut those enemies down first. Robin had the upper hand and he used it, getting a nick in here, a shallow slice in there, all the while hoping that the Night Watchman would surrender before any real damage was done.
Instead, the fighter surprisingly left their leg unguarded for an instant. It was not a move Robin wished to make, since it would be a severely damaging blow, if not a fatal one. Instead, he decided to fall back a step; while it could put him on the defensive, it might confuse the Night Watchman enough for him to find a preferable means of attack.
Or, it could prove to be an opportunity for his opponent. The Night Watchman brought their sword up in a sudden move which Robin barely ducked away from, but which glanced the side of his jaw.
That had been too close. And unless this was a hireling of Vaizey's-- which Robin doubted, given the level of skill displayed in their fight,-- the whole thing was pointless. "Wait!" he called, stepping back and keeping his sword at the ready, but hoping to halt the battle. "Just, wait. Unless you are working against the people of Nottingham, which I doubt, I think we have much to discuss." Too late, he realized that he had forgotten to disguise his voice, and found himself counting on adrenaline from the fight to keep the Night Watchman from noticing.
It might have worked, had his opponent turned out to be anyone else. "Robin?"
His heart stopped as she started to pull off her mask. "Marian?" Oh, my God. He had cut her. He could have killed her-- "Are you all right?"
She nodded brusquely. "I'm fine. You?"
He waved away the question. "Of course."
Then, she was in his arms. When the twinge of panic receded, he asked, "What are you doing here?"
With a short laugh against his neck, she asked, "Would you rather I was back in Cornwall?"
His arms tightened at that. "No. Absolutely not."
"Good." They held each other for another minute, before she moved back and asked, "What are you doing, anyway? And who was that you were fighting?"
Robin shook his head in bafflement. "I have no idea. As to what I'm doing... it is something of a long story. Let's go back to camp; if you have not eaten, we can get you some supper, and then we can either talk or sleep, whichever seems more appealing."
Returning his smile, Marian gave him a nod before stepping aside and taking his hand. "That sounds wonderful. And, whenever we do talk, I can explain how I came to be here."
He was very curious to know that, but following the fight, he needed to unwind; a quiet walk back to camp, Marian's fingers laced through his, would be an excellent way to accomplish that. "Sounds like a fair trade, to me." They grinned at one another, and he could not help but lean over for a short, yet thorough kiss before heading off into the forest, Marian at his side.
Next Chapter
*
Summary: Robin's confrontation with the other Night Watchman doesn't exactly go to plan.
Characters/Pairings: The Night Watchmen; Robin/Marian
Rating: PG
Spoilers/Warnings: Picks up the morning after 1x13 ends; AU from there. Serious, big-time butt-kicking within. ;)
Disclaimer: Some of this belongs to legend, much of it belongs to the show Robin Hood and its producers; none of it belongs to me in an official or profitable capacity.
Notes: This chapter was what the entire story grew from, and it was inspired by this ballad-- but, don't read it until you've read the chapter!! ;D
Previous Chapter
~8~
Robin crouched in the brush, counting on the night and his costume to conceal him from the view of the other masked figure, who was making their way through Locksley. At this distance and in the dim light, Robin could still not ascertain the gender of the third Night Watchman, but considering that a week had passed without the gang being able to learn anything about who it was, he was suspicious. Everyone knew by now that the Night Watchman was at least associated with the outlaws, after the escape from Locksley Manor before Marian's subverted wedding; therefore, the fact that this new person had made no move to contact him made Robin wary of their identity and motives. While it could be a good-hearted merchant, or even a particularly enterprising peasant, it could equally be a person in Vaizey's employ, lulling the villagers into a sense of trust before poisoning them, or another such vile plan.
So, as the hooded figure made its way from house to house, Robin watched. And then, when they ducked back onto the path leading to the Great North Road, he followed a safe distance behind.
The distance was not safe enough, however; they had only been walking a couple of minutes before the Night Watchman suddenly turned, drawing a sword-- and emitting a slight gasp when he or she saw another version of themselves facing them. Robin had not initially armed himself beyond a dagger in his boot when going out, but had taken to wearing a sword since learning of this Night Watchman (whom, despite Djaq's accurate correction, he still thought of as "The Impostor"). He did not dare to wear his own sword, which was easily recognized, but was nearly as comfortable with a weapon the gang had long ago stolen from the castle. It was inferior in craft and balance to the Saracen blade, but was similar to the sword with which he had spent many years training, so he drew it with ease.
Disguising his voice, he grumbled, "Who are you?"
"I ask the same of you," came the reply, in tones which indicated that the speaker also did not wish to be identified. The action worked; Robin was hard-pressed to decide if he was facing a woman or a young man.
"You are not the true Night Watchman," he stated. "Why do you pretend to be?"
The Impostor snorted. "Again, I ask the same of you."
Giving his sword a casual swing, Robin said, "This will go easier if you stop repeating yourself, and tell me what I wish to know."
With a shrug which did nothing to detract from The Impostor's obvious alertness, they replied, "You have no idea how badly this will go for you, if you threaten me."
"I know how badly it will go for you," Robin retorted. "But, I would rather we have a civil conversation."
"I have no desire to speak with you. Leave now, and you will go unharmed."
He had to give The Impostor points for boldness. Still, he was not about to debate which of them would win in a fight, since he was fairly confident as to the answer. While The Impostor clearly was not unfamiliar with how to wield a sword, their stance was unusual and not entirely strategic, and Robin doubted they had much in the way of formal training. Perhaps, they had practiced on their own and developed their own style, but it was just as possible that they were bluffing; in fact, he was willing to bet on it. "Are you working for the sheriff?" He did not expect an honest reply, but hoped the sudden question might catch his opponent off-guard.
Indeed, The Impostor hesitated, in what seemed to be surprise. "Not anymore," they finally growled, right before lunging at him.
Robin easily parried the attack, as well as two more which were made in quick succession. It was as he thought; the movements were amateurish, although they would likely repel a less experienced fighter than himself. He had knocked The Impostor back after the third attack, and as his adversary regained their footing, Robin considered the answer to his question. Not anymore meant that this person had, indeed, once worked on behalf of Vaizey. "When did you work for the sheriff? Was this originally a scheme of his?" He really wanted to end this standoff without a full-out fight, because he would rather not do The Impostor an injury; and he hoped that getting the person talking would accomplish that.
"It is no business of yours what I do," The Impostor snapped. After a beat, they added, "But I do it for a man so different from the sheriff, there is no comparison." Robin wished that answer had given him any clue to even the gender of the figure opposite him, but neither the darkness of the road nor the words helped. It could be a son or daughter speaking of his or her father; it could be a woman, or even a young man, speaking of a lost lover. Evidently uncomfortable with revealing anything, even something that revealed nothing, The Impostor said, "Now, leave me be! I have another village to see to, and you are impeding my work."
With a shrug of his own, Robin replied, "If you explain what you are about, I will be more than happy to let you on your way. In fact, this could be easier, if we work together. It appears we are both after the same goal: helping those in need."
The Impostor shook their head. "I know nothing of the sort; you have told me nothing of yourself."
Exasperated, Robin nonetheless laughed at that. "I asked you first!" he exclaimed, more than a little frustrated at The Impostor's unwillingness to concede.
With a noise of annoyance, The Impostor apparently decided that they would get nowhere verbally, and flew at him once again. They were unschooled, but quick and desperate, and Robin found that he had to pay close attention to keep from being hit. Blocking a series of opportunistic blows, he finally saw an opening to go on the offensive, aiming to disarm The Impostor.
He was just about to accomplish that, when a third blade suddenly knocked his back. A shoulder to his own knocked him aside, and he hastily swung around, sword out, as he stepped into a defensive stance.
And then, he blinked.
How many Night Watchmen were there?
Counting himself, three of them now faced off on the Great North Road. Counting Marian, that made four of them... unless, of course, there were even more who had yet to happen along. Robin had a brief, darkly amusing picture of an army of Night Watchmen, all fighting one another in the middle of Sherwood. As entertaining as the thought was, reality was three, razor-sharp swords ready for melee, and he would prefer to avoid that. There was some comfort to be found in a quick glance at The Impostor, who seemed to be as startled as he. "Who are you, now?" he demanded of this new person, still keeping his voice disguised. Regardless of whom the others turned out to be, he would rather keep his own identity a secret.
In contrast to The Impostor, it was obvious that this Night Watchman was trained to fight, and was not inclined to respond to his query at all. Mentally cursing the cloudy night for offering both of the others the level of concealment he had personally sought earlier, Robin nonetheless found himself impressed with the newcomer already. They radiated confidence and competence, whereas he had definitely picked up uncertainty from The Impostor.
This Night Watchman also radiated annoyance. Recognizing that attitude for the danger that it was, Robin tried to reason with them. "If you are also of a charitable mind, there is no reason for the three of us to fight one another."
"We do not know that he is of a charitable mind," The Impostor muttered. "Nor am I sure that you are. For all I know, you are working for the sheriff, in an effort to entrap me.
"Or maybe he is." The Impostor gestured toward the third person on the road.
Robin had kept his attention on the latest Night Watchman whilst The Impostor spoke, and was glad of it; at her suggestion that he might be a tool of the sheriff's, the silent Night Watchman's demeanor toward him became decidedly hostile. "I do not work for the sheriff!" Robin declared. "I work against him, as, I suspect, do we all."
"What's happening here?" The Impostor murmured frantically, to what was, at that moment, clearly herself.
Realizing that The Impostor was at least admitting to herself that she was outmatched, Robin started to move between her and the silent Night Watchman. She was so intent on the new arrival that she did not even react to him. When he got to where he could defend her, he ordered, "Run!"
To her credit, she held her ground for a moment. However, when Robin's command caused the silent Night Watchman to move into action, she did as she was told, running south along the road. In the back of his mind, Robin noted that it likely meant she was not familiar with the forest; the knowledge may or may not prove to be a clue, but he did not have the time to ponder it, as a flurry of attacks came at him. Whereas with The Impostor, he had been holding back due to her lack of skill, it was this opponent's possession of skill which kept him from reversing their positions. It was a tense several seconds, each of which seemed to slow to hours, before he saw an opening for a riposte; his adversary managed to dodge it, but he finally had the tactical advantage.
This Night Watchman fended off his strikes, but at the expense of falling back several paces. There was a fallen log just a few steps behind them, and if Robin could only drive them back a bit further, he could have the fight.
Whether or not the silent Night Watchman was aware of that, they avoided such a fate by suddenly stepping to the side and kicking out at Robin's knee. The move was a risky one, as it could have resulted in an injury if Robin had attacked from the side the Night Watchman moved to, since it left them undefended. However, luck was on their side, as his sword thrust met empty air.
Luck was also on Robin's side; or, rather, instinct borne of surviving five years on the battlefield came to his aid. He sensed the kick a fraction of a second before it connected, stepping away as the Night Watchman's foot swooshed harmlessly by his leg.
Unfortunately, annoyance and apparently a sharp mind meant that the attacker would not simply fall back into a stance and take a moment to figure out what to do next. In the same moment that their foot reconnected with the ground, so too did their blade swing, and Robin was not quite quick enough to stop it. While he caught the opposing sword with his own, the keen edge of the Night Watchman's steel kissed his cheek before he shoved it away.
It was now evident that this was to be a fight to the death, or at least something incredibly close to it, and Robin had every intention of leaving with nothing more than the line he now had across his cheek, which was merrily seeping into the fabric at the side of his mask.
Determined to be the one to walk away, he threw everything he had into his attack. He would rather not kill his adversary, but if that became his only option, he would take it. This Night Watchman might be trained, but unlike Robin, they had evidently not been fit enough to defend the king, himself; they had obviously not faced scores of enemies bent on cutting them down if they did not cut those enemies down first. Robin had the upper hand and he used it, getting a nick in here, a shallow slice in there, all the while hoping that the Night Watchman would surrender before any real damage was done.
Instead, the fighter surprisingly left their leg unguarded for an instant. It was not a move Robin wished to make, since it would be a severely damaging blow, if not a fatal one. Instead, he decided to fall back a step; while it could put him on the defensive, it might confuse the Night Watchman enough for him to find a preferable means of attack.
Or, it could prove to be an opportunity for his opponent. The Night Watchman brought their sword up in a sudden move which Robin barely ducked away from, but which glanced the side of his jaw.
That had been too close. And unless this was a hireling of Vaizey's-- which Robin doubted, given the level of skill displayed in their fight,-- the whole thing was pointless. "Wait!" he called, stepping back and keeping his sword at the ready, but hoping to halt the battle. "Just, wait. Unless you are working against the people of Nottingham, which I doubt, I think we have much to discuss." Too late, he realized that he had forgotten to disguise his voice, and found himself counting on adrenaline from the fight to keep the Night Watchman from noticing.
It might have worked, had his opponent turned out to be anyone else. "Robin?"
His heart stopped as she started to pull off her mask. "Marian?" Oh, my God. He had cut her. He could have killed her-- "Are you all right?"
She nodded brusquely. "I'm fine. You?"
He waved away the question. "Of course."
Then, she was in his arms. When the twinge of panic receded, he asked, "What are you doing here?"
With a short laugh against his neck, she asked, "Would you rather I was back in Cornwall?"
His arms tightened at that. "No. Absolutely not."
"Good." They held each other for another minute, before she moved back and asked, "What are you doing, anyway? And who was that you were fighting?"
Robin shook his head in bafflement. "I have no idea. As to what I'm doing... it is something of a long story. Let's go back to camp; if you have not eaten, we can get you some supper, and then we can either talk or sleep, whichever seems more appealing."
Returning his smile, Marian gave him a nod before stepping aside and taking his hand. "That sounds wonderful. And, whenever we do talk, I can explain how I came to be here."
He was very curious to know that, but following the fight, he needed to unwind; a quiet walk back to camp, Marian's fingers laced through his, would be an excellent way to accomplish that. "Sounds like a fair trade, to me." They grinned at one another, and he could not help but lean over for a short, yet thorough kiss before heading off into the forest, Marian at his side.
Next Chapter
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