The Teller of Tales' Heart
Title: The Teller of Tales’ Heart
Author: omteddy2006
Word Count: 2,491
Rating: G
Characters: Allan, Guy, Sheriff, Marian, with mentions of the gang
Summary: Allan listens to his heart. Takes place in 2x13.
Disclaimer: Robin Hood 2006 belongs to the BBC and Tiger Aspect. No copyright infringement is intended. No money is being made.
A/N: Written for rh_intercomm based on the prompt “heartbeat” and inspired by an author whose work I had no right to even attempt to emulate, Edgar Allan Poe.
TRUE! I have always been lacking in the trust department. Call me untrustworthy. It’s probably the truth, most of the time. I am, by trade, a thief and a con. At one point, I was promoted to being a known outlaw with a price on my head. But, disloyal? No, I was never disloyal to the gang. Ever.
My trials-the pain, the torture, the anguish-all these things strengthened my loyalty to them, not weakened it. No, I was not weak. As long as my heart beat in my chest, I would never betray them.
It had started in the dungeon-the certainty, the definition. I had been tortured, beaten. My body burned as surely as the smoldering fires that they stoked regularly-the smoke of which choked me, blinding me by my own tears, my own sweat. I was broken, bruised, and scared. After a time, as I hung there-arms bound, tied to a pole, left alone-I became aware.
My senses were heightened-everything was sharper, more in focus. At first, this included the pain. Actually, it was mostly the pain at first. I had never endured so much pain in my life. First, it was sharp and piercing, and then dull and aching, and then sharp and piercing again. The intensity varied, but the sensation was constant. The men in the dungeons-they knew the most efficient ways to make a man break, but they did not use them. No, they liked to draw it out, to make sure you felt every single action taken to cut, maim, or mangle your corporeal self.
After a while, though…after a while, your body just goes numb-like. That’s when the real torture begins. My mind went haywire. It was racing, picking up every little thing around me. I heard every crackle of the fire, felt the smallest draft, and saw things, movements out of the corner of my eye. A single strand of straw moved. Was it a small animal? A draft from between the stones? The ghosts of prisoners past?
My brain-it was like a caged animal desperate to get out! I needed to get out of that dungeon, that confinement, that Hell, and to go home. I just wanted to go home! To get back to the gang! I wanted it so desperately, I could think of nothing else. I knew that if I was not quickly freed from my confinement in the dungeon cell that soon, quite soon, I would go completely mad.
My body was still-nearly broken and tightly bound-but my mind was racing like a tiger chasing its own tail. I feared that I would lose myself forever if I did not turn my thoughts to something else. Anything else. I had to find something to focus my sharp senses onto, other than the blood rushing through my head and my rapidly beating heart!
My heart. My still beating, undefeated heart. I could hear it drumming in my ears. Tha-thump. Tha-thump. Tha-thump. I could feel it beating in my chest. Tha-thump. Tha-thump. Tha-thump.
I stopped everything else and listened to what my heart was telling me.
Tha-thump. Tha-thump.
I am alive. I am alive.
Tha-thump. Tha-thump.
The gang. The camp.
Over and over again, I heard it beating in perfect rhythm, never missing. The very heart beating in my chest defied my tormentors. As long as it kept beating-Tha-thump Tha-thump-I was alive. As long as it kept beating, I was determined to get back to the camp and rejoin the gang.
I do not know how many hours I stood, affixed to that pole in that rank and dismal place just listening to my heart.
Tha-thump. Tha-thump.
I am alive. I am alive.
Tha-thump. Tha-thump.
The gang. The camp.
Eventually, I became aware of a presence, of Guy leering over me, talking to me. A deal, he wanted. Just a little conversation, he said. I saw a chance to get out of that dungeon and back to the gang and I took it.
Was I untrustworthy? I would break the gang’s trust many times by selling ideas, thoughts and plans. All words, no substance. I sold information, gave Guy an unfair advantage possibly, but I never sold out the gang. I never gave him anyone.
In the months to follow, during my time with Gisbourne, I would use this technique many times. I would listen to my heartbeat. Whenever the fine leather clothes felt so constricting that I thought I would suffocate, I would listen to its beating. Whenever the rich castle food lodged itself in my throat as if it was trying to choke me, I would listen to its beating. Whenever I woke, tangled up in linens which felt like ropes binding my body, I would listen to my own heartbeat-strong, constant, never wavering, never stopping.
Tha-thump. Tha-thump.
I am alive. I am alive.
Tha-thump. Tha-thump.
The gang. The camp.
There were numerous times that I tried to come back, to prove to them that I had never betrayed them. I let Will escape with the Fool. I warned Marian time and time again. I asked, begged, to come back when I could, but was told that I was with Gisbourne now. I was told that there was no coming back. But still, my heart beat.
Tha-thump. Tha-thump.
John. Much.
Tha-thump. Tha-thump.
Robin. Will.
Tha-thump. Tha-thump.
Djaq. Djaq. Djaq.
Eventually, I stopped listening to my heart as much. I never got comfortable while serving the sheriff and Guy, but I accepted that I was not going back to Sherwood Forest. I accepted that they would never take me back and that I was not welcome there. While I would still never give any of them up, I could no longer feel our mutual hearts beating anymore.
I started giving Guy more than just information. I took him to caches in the forest containing the gang’s winter stores. They could and would get more, of that I was sure. I always took the guards and Guy to the hidden places that were away from the camp, though. I never let Guy get too close just in case he saw them. Or, they saw me.
I came to believe it when people called me “Guy’s man.” It was my place, I suppose. So, when he promised me a position, wealth, and that it would all be different when we returned from the mission in the Holy Land…
I thought they were mad to try to kill the King, but I believed Guy when he said that he would see that I was taken care of. That’s all I ever wanted from anyone really, someone to watch my back. As I told Marian, I had learned which side my bread was buttered on.
Dragging Marian along was wrong. I tried to tell her not to get involved, that she was out of her depth, that it was not the King at Portsmouth. Well, I was wrong on that last bit as it did turn out to be about the King. She should not have tried to kill the sheriff by herself, though, especially with my sword.
It was my mouth that sealed her Fate, not my heart. Perhaps, if I had still been listening to my heart, or in fact, had stopped to listen to my head, I would not have misspoken and gotten her into a bigger mess. And, so it was that we headed to Portsmouth, en route to the Holy Land, both of us virtual prisoners of the sheriff even though only one of us was bound. Guy found himself in only a slightly better position after his forced revelation that he knew about the Nightwatchman.
I was shocked to hear about Robin and the gang being surrounded by the mercenaries, but what could I do? I was still thinking. I was still listening with my head, reasoning. Robin Hood was finished. But then, he had been finished with me for quite some time.
I had come too far. I was with Gisbourne and the sheriff now. I had come all the way to Portsmouth and tomorrow would board a boat for the Holy Land. They were going to give me land and a title when we got back.
Robin and the gang were back in Nottinghamshire. Tha-thump. In the village of Nettlestone. Tha-thump. In a barn, surrounded by a hundred or more mercenaries. Tha-thump. Tha-thump. What could I do?
I went to bed that night, fully Gisbourne’s man. He had asked me point-blank if he could trust me. Yeah, sure, I answered. He just wanted information about Robin and Marian. Just a little conversation, right? I did not lie to him when I answered that Robin was finished and implied that he had nothing to worry about.
I went to bed that night, but I did not go to sleep. I was kept awake by a noise that I had not heard in a long time. It was a deafening noise that I could not escape. It came from deep inside of me and reverberated in my head.
Tha-thump. Tha-thump.
I am alive. I am alive.
Tha-thump. Tha-thump.
The gang. The gang.
Tha-thump. Tha-thump.
Much. Robin.
Tha-thump. Tha-thump.
John. Djaq.
Tha-thump. Tha-thump.
Will. Will. Will.
The sheriff slept peacefully, dreams of grandeur no doubt filling his head. Gisbourne slept, too. No dreams meant no nightmares, I suppose. I sat upright in bed, listening. Just listening to the sound of my own heartbeat filling the room.
Tha-thump. Tha-thump.
I am alive. I am alive.
Tha-thump. Tha-thump.
I marveled that the sheriff and Guy did not hear it. It beat so strongly and so loudly. I had forgotten how powerful the sound of my own heart beating could be, amplified as it was by my heightened awareness. By the thought of Death.
Tha-thump. Tha-thump.
The gang. The gang.
Tha-thump. Tha-thump.
Still, my companions slept, not noticing that the walls of the room vibrated with the sound. My mind was racing again; pacing like a wild animal caught in a trap. The beating of my heart was not calming me as it once had, but rather calling me to action.
Get up, it said. You are still alive. They are still alive. Get up! Get up!
I knew that if I stayed in that bed, in that inn, in Portsmouth, that I would die that night. That even if my heart continued to beat, it would be a dull murmur, merely an echo of my former self. I had to act.
Though my heart was forcefully yanking me out of the room and into action, my body reacted with a stealth I had heretofore been incapable of. I slipped out from under the blanket without a rustle or sound of any kind. So slowly did I move that I arose without even stirring the air around me. It was as if my very soul was transporting my body out of the room toward another destiny.
My feet seemed almost to hover. No creaking accompanied my movement over the floorboards. Had I looked back, I probably would not have seen any sign that someone had passed. There were no footprints left in the dust or other markings on the floor. I was careful. My success, their very lives, depended on my stealth, my cunning, and my ability to betray.
I opened the door silently as if I were a ghost passing through something solid. It closed again without a hitch.
Once outside the room, in the night air, I ran. I wanted to take Marian with me, but she bade me to leave her there. I honestly thought that Gisbourne would protect her. My heart was telling me to leave now! So was Marian. So I left, riding as fast as I could, exchanging horses several times along the way. I never slowed or stopped, except for a fresh mount. My heart pounded in rhythm to the horse’s hooves.
Tha-thump. Tha-thump.
Will. John.
Tha-thump. Tha-thump.
Djaq. Much.
Tha-thump. Tha-thump.
Robin. Robin. Robin.
I had no plan, not even one of Robin’s “half a” plans. I just knew that I had to listen to my heart. As long as it beat, I was alive. I had to try.
All the way to Nettlestone.
Tha-thump. Tha-thump.
The gang. The gang.
Tha-thump. Tha-thump.
They are alive.
As the sun rose and I made my final push toward the barn where the gang waited to meet their Fate, the plan was laid before me. I would use the very thing that had brought my downfall with Robin and the others, for it was also my greatest gift. I would lie. I would spin a tale. I would con the hundred or so mercenaries into letting the six of us ride away together unscathed.
It was not a very good plan, but I was but one man with a sword. I had gotten better with the sword since becoming an outlaw, and then one of the sheriff’s entourage, but I was no mercenary. I would use my greatest strength, however, to defeat an army. I would persuade them to trust me, and then break that trust.
Tha-thump. Tha-thump.
I am alive.
Tha-thump. Tha-thump.
This will work.
Tha-thump. Tha-thump.
The gang. The gang. The gang…
It was difficult speaking to their leader, Ellingham was his name, what with the banging of my heart in my ears. I had to force myself not to yell over the drumming, drumming, drumming!
Tha-thump! Tha-thump! Tha-thump!
How could they not hear it? It threatened to split the skies and shake the earth so loud it beat in my ears! At one time, I thought Ellingham had heard it as he looked at me askance. He paused and I knew that he had heard it. The beating-so rhythmic, so incessant. Perhaps, he thought that the beating sound came from his own assembled men as it sounded like a war drum pounding in my chest!
Tha-thump! Tha-thump!
The gang. The gang.
Tha-thump! Tha-Thump!
This has to work!
I had spun him my best yarn, played on his weakness, greed, and even threw in a line about the Black Knights to make it sound official and very hush-hush.
My heart skipped only once, when he said, “Aye,” for I knew that I had won his trust. Then, the beating continued.
Tha-thump. Tha-thump.
I’m nearly there.
Tha-thump. Tha-thump.
Excuse me, gents.
Tha-thump. Tha-thump.
I am alive.
Tha-thump. Tha-thump.
They are alive.
Tha-thump. Tha-thump.
This will work!
I stopped at the barn door. If this did not prove my loyalty, if this did not show them that I never betrayed them-never betrayed my family-then nothing would.
Tha-thump! Tha-thump!
Knock. Knock.
Tha-thump! Tha-thump!
Open up! I’m here on behalf of the sheriff!
Tha-thump! Tha-thump! Tha-thump! Tha-thump!
The door opened. They trusted me. My heart would beat in unison with the gang forevermore.