Go Fish 2012 - part five
Aug. 11th, 2012 01:17 pm![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
dicreasy2Title: Go Fish 2012: Part Five
Prompt: High Fantasy
Rating: PG
Summary: In which Boris and Cedric go back to the village.
Notes: Again, I'm not too sure about this part. I feel I need to edit it more and get it more straight in my head, but I also want to see if I can finish this this weekend (or at least get a rough draft of the final part done), so I'm going to post it as it is. I might go back and revisit these pieces once the challenge is over anyway, and make a more complete story out of them.
Word Count: 1,342.
Cumulative Word Count: 9,135.
Esmond adjusted the stirrup and looked up at his wife. “How’s that?”
“Fine,” Irene replied. “I wish you were coming with me.”
“As do I,” said Esmond, holding onto her ankle, “but I cannot leave the smithy at such short notice.”
Irene sighed and reached down to caress his face. “I know my love.” Word had reached them of an ailing aunt of Irene’s in another village that morning, and they had decided that Irene should visit as soon as she could. Esmond would have to stay in Freendon for the time being, until he could pay a visit to the smith in the nearest village of Wealwynne and ask if he wouldn’t mind looking after the needs of the people of Freendon as well as his own village. He was heartsick at the idea of being parted from his wife, especially at what would be a very trying time for her, but at the same time, he was greatly relieved. The feeling of impending danger had been increasing over the weeks, and for the past hour or so, all he had been thinking about, was getting his precious wife as far away from Freendon as possible.
Irene, on her part, wished desperately that Esmond could go with her. Not only was she sure she’d need his emotional support with her aunt, but the frequency of her nightmares had increased and only an hour before, she had had a funny turn, waking from a faint to find herself on the floor by the window. She had never fainted before, and although she could put it down to a combination of stress and tiredness, the thought of riding so many miles on her own, having passed out, did worry her, and she knew that she would feel more comfortable with her husband accompanying her.
“You will send word as soon as you arrive?” said Esmond looking up at her.
“Of course I will. You will follow as soon as you are able?”
“I will. I’m going to go and see Edgar on the morrow, and I will leave as soon as I can after that.”
Irene was about to reply when there was a commotion from across the village square. Boris had run into the square and up to Bert, the butcher. Both Esmond and Irene looked on in shock as he grabbed hold of the butcher’s shirt and pulled it so that he was face to face with him. “You have to help me! He’s gorne mad!”
From where they were, they could see that Boris’s face was red with exertion and they could hear his frantic tone as he pleaded with Bert.
“Who’s gone mad, what are you talking about?” asked Bert, as he tried to free his shirt from the woodcutter’s grasp.
“Cedric! He’s trying to kill me!”
Bert chuckled, as did the few people that had started to gather to see what all the noise was about. “Cedric? I doubt it.”
“It’s true I tell you! We were in the woods and there was this young woman who appeared out of thin air and…”
Bert roared with laughter. “A woman appeared out of thin air you say? In the woods?” He clasped the other man’s shoulder. “Boris, I think you’ve been out in the sun too long. Go have a drink of water and a lie down…”
“I don’t need a drink, I’m serious. We were by the ironwood trees and…” He didn’t get to finish, because at that moment, Cedric entered the village square. Unlike Boris’s entrance, which had been frantic, Cedric was unnaturally calm as he slid into the space at the centre of the village. One of the small crowd was the first to spot him. “Oi, Cedric, you’ll never guess what Boris here is saying, ‘e reckons that you’re trying to kill … him,” he stopped speaking when he realised that Cedric was holding an axe. Not unusual for a woodcutter, but what was unusual was the way in which he was holding it; rather than wearing it slung on his back, or holding it by the shaft, up near the head, he was holding it with two hands, relaxed but ready to swing it if necessary.
“I am,” he said quietly. “Milady requires his heart, and his heart she shall have.”
Bert gave an uncomfortable chuckle as Boris tried to hide behind him. “Come now Cedric, don’t be daft.”
Cedric turned his attention to him, and Bert recoiled at the blank, calm, beatific expression on it. “I am far from daft. I am Milady’s servant. I will do her bidding so that we can be together. And I see you there Boris.”
Boris nipped into the butcher’s shop as Cedric lunged at him, and slammed the big doors shut behind him, before lowering the beam.
“Come out Boris. You know this is the only way,” called Cedric as he raised his axe to start attacking the doors.
“What is going on here?” The voice of the guardsman cut across the square as he hurried onto the scene.
“It’s Cedric,” said one of the onlookers. “’E’s gorne mad. Rantin’ an’ ravin’ and trying to kill Boris.”
Guardsman Verric stopped off to one side of Cedric. He was young, and originally from the capital, but he had proved to be a capable and just lawman. Now he assessed the situation and the possible repercussions. “Cedric,” he said, not raising his voice, “put the axe down.”
Cedric made no move that he had heard as he raised the axe before bringing it down on the doors to the butchery.
“Cedric,” repeated the guard, only slightly louder.
“I can’t,” said Cedric. “I must do my lady’s bidding so that we can be together forever.”
Verric watched as Cedric struck the doors, once, twice more. On the third blow, Verric caught Cedric’s right arm as he brought it back. He squeezed it, and twisted it as Cedric fought to free himself. Woodcutting may have made Cedric strong, but Verric was stronger, and a trained soldier, he managed to disarm him easily and when he did so, Cedric let out a howl like an animal in pain. “I think that you had better spend some time in the gaol, for you own good,” hissed Verric as he fought to control the struggling man.
“You don’ understand!” screamed Cedric, his previously calm tone now replaced with desperation. “I must do this for Milady! ‘Tis Milady’s bidding. I must do as she wishes!”
“You would kill your friend on some woman’s say so? Are you a moron?”
“I would do anything she requires of me, anything to prove my love for her, so that she will by my side for all eternity. You do not understand!” wailed Cedric.
“You are right, I do not understand, but you are going to gaol,” said Verric as he manhandled Cedric across the square and towards the guard house and gaol.
“I wonder what brought that on,” muttered Esmond as they watched Verric and his prisoner leave the square.
“I have no idea,” replied Irene. She had been physically repulsed by the entire display. “They have always been friends, why would Cedric turn on Boris so suddenly?”
Esmond shook his head, nonplussed. “He was screaming about a woman, but that makes no sense. What sort of woman could compel a man to try to murder his best friend?”
Irene had no answer. “I should get going, if I am to reach River’s Meet by nightfall,” she said at last, as common sense reasserted itself through her shock.
Esmond looked up at her. “Take care, send word when you arrive and I will be with you in a few days, I promise.” Irene bent down from her borrowed mount and kissed him.
“I will see you in a few days.” She sat back up and with one final look at her husband, clicked her tongue and shook the reins before setting off for River’s Meet. Esmond watched her go, his feelings a mixture of sorrow and relief.
Prompt: High Fantasy
Rating: PG
Summary: In which Boris and Cedric go back to the village.
Notes: Again, I'm not too sure about this part. I feel I need to edit it more and get it more straight in my head, but I also want to see if I can finish this this weekend (or at least get a rough draft of the final part done), so I'm going to post it as it is. I might go back and revisit these pieces once the challenge is over anyway, and make a more complete story out of them.
Word Count: 1,342.
Cumulative Word Count: 9,135.
Esmond adjusted the stirrup and looked up at his wife. “How’s that?”
“Fine,” Irene replied. “I wish you were coming with me.”
“As do I,” said Esmond, holding onto her ankle, “but I cannot leave the smithy at such short notice.”
Irene sighed and reached down to caress his face. “I know my love.” Word had reached them of an ailing aunt of Irene’s in another village that morning, and they had decided that Irene should visit as soon as she could. Esmond would have to stay in Freendon for the time being, until he could pay a visit to the smith in the nearest village of Wealwynne and ask if he wouldn’t mind looking after the needs of the people of Freendon as well as his own village. He was heartsick at the idea of being parted from his wife, especially at what would be a very trying time for her, but at the same time, he was greatly relieved. The feeling of impending danger had been increasing over the weeks, and for the past hour or so, all he had been thinking about, was getting his precious wife as far away from Freendon as possible.
Irene, on her part, wished desperately that Esmond could go with her. Not only was she sure she’d need his emotional support with her aunt, but the frequency of her nightmares had increased and only an hour before, she had had a funny turn, waking from a faint to find herself on the floor by the window. She had never fainted before, and although she could put it down to a combination of stress and tiredness, the thought of riding so many miles on her own, having passed out, did worry her, and she knew that she would feel more comfortable with her husband accompanying her.
“You will send word as soon as you arrive?” said Esmond looking up at her.
“Of course I will. You will follow as soon as you are able?”
“I will. I’m going to go and see Edgar on the morrow, and I will leave as soon as I can after that.”
Irene was about to reply when there was a commotion from across the village square. Boris had run into the square and up to Bert, the butcher. Both Esmond and Irene looked on in shock as he grabbed hold of the butcher’s shirt and pulled it so that he was face to face with him. “You have to help me! He’s gorne mad!”
From where they were, they could see that Boris’s face was red with exertion and they could hear his frantic tone as he pleaded with Bert.
“Who’s gone mad, what are you talking about?” asked Bert, as he tried to free his shirt from the woodcutter’s grasp.
“Cedric! He’s trying to kill me!”
Bert chuckled, as did the few people that had started to gather to see what all the noise was about. “Cedric? I doubt it.”
“It’s true I tell you! We were in the woods and there was this young woman who appeared out of thin air and…”
Bert roared with laughter. “A woman appeared out of thin air you say? In the woods?” He clasped the other man’s shoulder. “Boris, I think you’ve been out in the sun too long. Go have a drink of water and a lie down…”
“I don’t need a drink, I’m serious. We were by the ironwood trees and…” He didn’t get to finish, because at that moment, Cedric entered the village square. Unlike Boris’s entrance, which had been frantic, Cedric was unnaturally calm as he slid into the space at the centre of the village. One of the small crowd was the first to spot him. “Oi, Cedric, you’ll never guess what Boris here is saying, ‘e reckons that you’re trying to kill … him,” he stopped speaking when he realised that Cedric was holding an axe. Not unusual for a woodcutter, but what was unusual was the way in which he was holding it; rather than wearing it slung on his back, or holding it by the shaft, up near the head, he was holding it with two hands, relaxed but ready to swing it if necessary.
“I am,” he said quietly. “Milady requires his heart, and his heart she shall have.”
Bert gave an uncomfortable chuckle as Boris tried to hide behind him. “Come now Cedric, don’t be daft.”
Cedric turned his attention to him, and Bert recoiled at the blank, calm, beatific expression on it. “I am far from daft. I am Milady’s servant. I will do her bidding so that we can be together. And I see you there Boris.”
Boris nipped into the butcher’s shop as Cedric lunged at him, and slammed the big doors shut behind him, before lowering the beam.
“Come out Boris. You know this is the only way,” called Cedric as he raised his axe to start attacking the doors.
“What is going on here?” The voice of the guardsman cut across the square as he hurried onto the scene.
“It’s Cedric,” said one of the onlookers. “’E’s gorne mad. Rantin’ an’ ravin’ and trying to kill Boris.”
Guardsman Verric stopped off to one side of Cedric. He was young, and originally from the capital, but he had proved to be a capable and just lawman. Now he assessed the situation and the possible repercussions. “Cedric,” he said, not raising his voice, “put the axe down.”
Cedric made no move that he had heard as he raised the axe before bringing it down on the doors to the butchery.
“Cedric,” repeated the guard, only slightly louder.
“I can’t,” said Cedric. “I must do my lady’s bidding so that we can be together forever.”
Verric watched as Cedric struck the doors, once, twice more. On the third blow, Verric caught Cedric’s right arm as he brought it back. He squeezed it, and twisted it as Cedric fought to free himself. Woodcutting may have made Cedric strong, but Verric was stronger, and a trained soldier, he managed to disarm him easily and when he did so, Cedric let out a howl like an animal in pain. “I think that you had better spend some time in the gaol, for you own good,” hissed Verric as he fought to control the struggling man.
“You don’ understand!” screamed Cedric, his previously calm tone now replaced with desperation. “I must do this for Milady! ‘Tis Milady’s bidding. I must do as she wishes!”
“You would kill your friend on some woman’s say so? Are you a moron?”
“I would do anything she requires of me, anything to prove my love for her, so that she will by my side for all eternity. You do not understand!” wailed Cedric.
“You are right, I do not understand, but you are going to gaol,” said Verric as he manhandled Cedric across the square and towards the guard house and gaol.
“I wonder what brought that on,” muttered Esmond as they watched Verric and his prisoner leave the square.
“I have no idea,” replied Irene. She had been physically repulsed by the entire display. “They have always been friends, why would Cedric turn on Boris so suddenly?”
Esmond shook his head, nonplussed. “He was screaming about a woman, but that makes no sense. What sort of woman could compel a man to try to murder his best friend?”
Irene had no answer. “I should get going, if I am to reach River’s Meet by nightfall,” she said at last, as common sense reasserted itself through her shock.
Esmond looked up at her. “Take care, send word when you arrive and I will be with you in a few days, I promise.” Irene bent down from her borrowed mount and kissed him.
“I will see you in a few days.” She sat back up and with one final look at her husband, clicked her tongue and shook the reins before setting off for River’s Meet. Esmond watched her go, his feelings a mixture of sorrow and relief.
