Moonridge fic - Sleeping Sentinel
Aug. 31st, 2007 05:20 pm![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
dimity_blueI finally finished another story. It's an AU fic (very, very, very AU), but not a bonding fic, and it's exclusive to Lorraine Brevig for 30 days. However, as Lorraine's such a nice person, she said I can post it.
So, if you're interested, click on the cut.
Sleeping Sentinel
by Arnie
Dedicated to Lorraine Brevig and her endless patience. :oD
Once upon a time, in a kingdom a long way away, there lived a grouchy old king called William. He and his wife, Grace, had recently had a son, James, and today was James' Christening day.
All the nobles in the land were invited, including all the good fairies who lived in the Kingdom of Cascade. However, one fairy had not been invited. And she was fuming. It made no difference that she was considered to be the most evil fairy that ever stalked through Cascade frightening the locals; so far as she was concerned, she should have been invited to the Christening.
Donning her robes of deepest black, which were highly appropriate for a baby's Christening ceremony, she preened in the mirror and talked to her black raven, um...Raven. She didn't have a very good imagination when it came to naming things.
"Well, Raven?" Maleficent tilted her collar and glared at the mirror which promptly cracked. "Whaddya think?"
Raven, being a bird, didn't say much. But the gleam in his eyes spoke volumes.
"I think Billy will be sorry he didn't invite me to the Prince's Christening, don't you?" She turned her head to gaze at her pet, then wondered why she bothered asking him questions. Did she honestly expect him to answer her? "Well, it's time we were going. C'mon, bird." She led the way to where her footman, dressed in black, waited to help her into her black carriage which was pulled by four black horses. As you can tell, black was a major colour scheme in Maleficent's life. As the black-clad driver cracked his black whip, the black gates were opened and the horses set off eagerly towards the white palace of King William and Queen Grace. They got to live in a white palace because they were (technically, anyway) the good guys.
~'~
Meanwhile, at the palace, the fairies were giving Prince James their Christening day gifts. Now, unlike most people, they weren't handing over small silver moneyboxes, silver-plated hair brushes or silver photo frames with cutesy little bears on them. Oh no; they were, after all, fairies and they had standards to live up to.
The first fairy, Flora, flew forward and raised her little gold wand. "To thee, Prince James, I give the gift of exceptional eyesight."
William frowned, then nodded slightly. Eyesight was good - just think of the money he'd save by never needing to get the kid glasses.
The second fairy, Fauna, took Flora's place by the cradle. "To thee, Prince James, I give the gift of exceptional hearing."
He frowned again, then nodded, slowly. James would never need a hearing aid. Another saving in his old age.
The third fairy, Merryweather, flew forward. "To thee, Prince James, I give the gift of an exceptional sense of taste."
Another frown settled down on William's brow. This one took longer to clear. Finally, he decided that James would be an asset when it came to redecorating the palace and Grace wouldn't need to employ any of those interior decorators she kept insisting upon. That would save him an absolute fortune! He was so deep in his thoughts that he almost missed the fourth fairy's benediction.
"...of an exceptional sense of smell," Calliope declared.
William stared at the fairy as she swooped gracefully back to the others. What on earth would an exceptional sense of smell be good for?!
Still staring, he heard her ask, "What's up with the King?"
"He probably tried some of Merryweather's cheesecake," Flora replied. "I told her not to bake it but she never listens to me."
William was about to refute that when he was distracted by the fifth fairy giving her gift.
"To thee, Prince James, I give the gift of an exceptional sense of touch."
His jaw dropped. Erato must have lost her mind.
Erato, obviously feeling that he needed some kind of explanation, hissed, "That's mean he's extra touchy-feely."
He stalked towards the cradle. "What happened to traditional gifts? Where's his beautiful voice, his sunny nature, his exceptional good temper?"
"He's got no chance if he inherits the King's," Calliope muttered, snidely.
Fortunately for Calliope, William was interrupted by the sudden appearance of Maleficent.
The gathered nobles cringed in terror.
"Oh, grow up," Maleficent snapped at them.
William sighed. He guessed it was going to be one of those days. "Hello, Maleficent."
"Hello, Billy," Maleficent grinned at him. "Guess my invite got lost in the post?"
He looked at her, stunned. "I never sent you one! You said you'd never attend another one of my parties!"
"No, I didn't!"
"Yes, you did!"
"No, I didn't. Oh, wait a minute, was it your party where I got absolutely plastered and ended up head down in the fountain?"
"That's the one. Everyone saw your kni -"
"I changed my mind. I wanted an invite."
"Oh." William scratched his head, moving his heavy crown out of the way to do so. "Well, if I'd known, I'd've sent you one."
"Too late for apologies now, Billy, my boy. I'm gonna curse your son."
The nobles cringed again and did absolutely nothing to help.
"But...he's only a baby! Can't you curse the wife instead?"
Maleficent and William looked at Queen Grace, who was too busy drinking wine to notice the goings on around her son's cradle. "William, considering the man she's married to, even I don't have the heart to make her life worse. Not that I could."
William frowned again and considered her words. Had she just insulted him?
"Well, James...looks like it's you and me, kid."
There was a flicker of pride in William as his son looked calmly at the evil fairy. He didn't even stop to consider that as James was used to him, Maleficent wasn't that big of a deal.
"My gift to thee, Prince James, is that you will die on your thirtieth birthday." She cackled with glee then disappeared in a puff of black smoke.
William cursed. James was his heir. If he died on his thirtieth birthday, Cascade would be left without a king, well, unless James had married and had children by then, which was always possible....
His matchmaking plans were interrupted by the smallest fairy, as she rushed forward, waving her wand determinedly. "Never fear, King William! I have not yet given Prince James my gift."
He brightened up. Maybe today wouldn't be such a bad day after all.
Clio fluttered delicately over to the cradle and gazed into the baby's face. "Fear not, Prince James, for you will not die upon your thirtieth birthday. Instead you will fall into a zone-out and your one true Guide will awaken you from it." Smiling proudly, she drifted back to her fairy friends, who all agreed she'd put a spoke in Maleficent's wheel all right.
"What the hell kind of a gift is that?" William demanded once his indignation had subsided enough to allow him to speak. "Zone-out? Guide? Couldn't you just have said that he wouldn't die after all and leave it at that?"
Clio looked upset. "I never thought of that."
"Well, change it!"
"Oh, I can't!"
The other fairies hastily agreed. Once the gift had been given, it couldn't be altered.
"Oh for crying out loud!" William stalked back to his throne, muttering various imprecations about fairies and how bloody useless they were in a crisis. Slumping down on his throne, he waved a hand to the musicians. "You might as well play," he shouted at them. "I'm not paying you to sit around doing nothing."
The musicians struck up a moderately lively tune, and conversation gradually returned to the great hall.
And so the years passed....
~'~
Prince James grew up in his father's court and, after a while, became very tired of his father's bad temper, despite the fact that his own temper was nothing to write home about. In fact, if we're going to mention it, we might as well point out that one of the fairies could have done him the favour of giving him a sunny nature and cheerful disposition, but none of them did. So we'll let it go and console ourselves with the thought that no matter how bad his temper was (and it wasn't really that bad), he was far nicer a person than his father, to say nothing of being honourable and honest and an all-round good guy. And he had a sense of humour. Take that, William!
Needless to say, this grated on William. His son was supposed to take after him and be a grouchy old sod and, instead, James was wildly popular with the people, who all preferred him to the King. Finally, driven demented by his father's endless marriage plans and his insistence that James could not have seen, heard or smelt whatever it was that he had seen, heard or smelt, James left. He sneaked away in the middle of the night and joined an elite army platoon called the Rangers who never once suspected that their tall, good-looking, honourable Jim was the tall, good-looking, honourable Prince James who was mysteriously missing. This shows why 'Army Intelligence' is such an oxymoron.
~'~
After many adventures and battles, Jim decided to return home for his thirtieth birthday celebrations, not one bit the worse for wear. Of course, he had no idea why his thirtieth birthday was so important, but his father had always been exceptionally grouchy when the subject came up, so Jim decided that he might as well go and annoy his father as a thirtieth birthday present to himself.
Accordingly, he saddled up his horse, Sentinel, and headed back towards Cascade. He'd allowed plenty of time for the journey as he planned on camping in the woods and probably doing a bit of fishing too. Of course, he'd have to sleep on the ground but he'd worked as a Ranger for quite a few years, and sleeping on the ground and catching his own dinner really didn't bother him at all. He was a very practical kind of man despite being a prince by birth.
The woods were vast and it was rare to come across anyone else at all in them, so Jim was looking forward to a lot of solitude which would only be interrupted when he got up close and personal with a fish. And fish don't talk much.
On his second day riding through the woods, he found a rather large pool that was presently home to a rather large trout. Making camp not far from the edges of the pool, he got out his rod and bait and set about catching his dinner. He baited his hook and spent quite a while patiently persuading the fish that this large tasty worm was irresistible despite the shiny hook the worm was attached to. Just as the trout was about to take the bait (and the shiny hook) there was an enormous splash as someone fell out of an over-hanging tree and landed in the middle of the pool. Naturally, the fish decided to dine elsewhere and left.
For a moment, Jim stood open-mouthed as water ran down his face and dripped off his nose. Then, as the miscreant surfaced and started scrabbling to get to the edge of the pool, he gave a roar of anger and surged forward to haul the intruder out of the pond.
As soon as their feet reached dry land, he shook the smaller person sharply. "What did you think you were doing?!"
Blue eyes gazed up through dark, tangled curls. "Watching you fish?"
"How close did you need to be to watch?" Jim demanded. "Couldn't you see from where you were?"
"Well, of course I could. It wasn't my fault I slipped and fell off the branch!" There was a hint of indignation in the boy's tone as he pulled himself free. "I didn't mean to fall in."
Jim looked up at the high over-hanging branch then back down at the pool, measuring the distance. "If that pool hadn't been there, you would have killed yourself falling that far."
"If that pool hadn't been there, I wouldn't have been on the branch watching you fish!" the boy retorted sharply. "You were doing well too."
Jim's anger rose sharply once more. "I was doing well until you fell in, you mean!"
"Like I said, that was an accident." The boy shivered suddenly and sneezed. "Anyway, I'm sorry I ruined your fishing. I'll let you get back to it." He turned to leave.
"Wait a minute!" Jim grabbed hold of the handy tunic again and pulled the boy to a stop. "Where do you live? Where are your parents?" He glanced around. He couldn't remember seeing any cottages nearby, and how many people chose to live in the middle of a wood anyway?
The boy shrugged, trying to pull himself free again. "I live on the outskirts of the wood. I was collecting firewood a couple of days ago and I kind of um...lost my way."
"You've been wandering through the woods for two days?"
The boy's face tightened with his anger. "Well, I lost my way."
"Oh for God's sake." Dragging the boy over to his camp, he pulled out some clean clothing and thrust them into the kid's arms. "Go behind that bush and get changed. I'll make up a fire then try to catch us some dinner."
The boy stayed where he was, glaring at his reluctant rescuer, so Jim spun him around and pushed him in the direction of the bush. "Go!"
Ignoring the mutterings that were coming from the bush, Jim built a fire and returned to his fishing, keeping one ear fixed on the boy's heartbeat. He didn't want the kid running off with his spare clothing.
Finally, the kid emerged, his face flushed, and Jim bit back a smile. It wasn't the kid's fault that he was so much shorter and that the sleeves of his tunic had had to be rolled up several times while his hose had a certain 'very baggy' look around the ankles. And it certainly wasn't his fault that he looked extremely comical in Jim's clothing. Therefore, Jim restrained his mirth and calmly directed the boy to spread out his own clothes to dry on some nearby bushes.
The large trout had disappeared from view so Jim made do with catching two medium sized fish. He had some bread in his saddlebags, plus a bottle of wine, although he'd have to water the kid's wine down a bit. It wasn't until he had the two fish cooking that he returned to questioning the boy.
"What's your name?"
"Blair. What's yours?"
"Jim." He turned the fish over in the pan and glanced at the boy again. He'd assumed that the kid was in his mid-teens, but now he wasn't so sure. If he was only about fifteen, he'd started shaving early as there was a definite hint of a beard. "How old are you?"
"Twenty-two," the boy claimed, his heartbeat increasing.
Jim raised an eyebrow. "Try again."
"Twenty." The boy's eyes met his and he scowled. "Oh, nineteen, okay? I'm nineteen." His heartbeat had calmed.
"So what's a nineteen-year-old doing living on the edge of the woods?"
The boy flushed with embarrassment and remained silent.
"Do you live with your parents?"
Still nothing but the boy's face was getting redder.
"Do you live alone?"
If the boy kept this up, he was going to have a stroke.
"For heaven's sake, just answer the question!"
The boy scowled and muttered, "Ilivewithsixfairies."
Jim stopped and leaned forward. He'd heard it, but he didn't believe it. "Excuse me?"
"Ilivewithsixfairies."
He decided to untangle the words. "You."
"Yes."
"Live."
"Yes."
"With."
"Yes."
"Six."
"Yes."
"Fairies?"
The flush deepened once more as a very small voice admitted, "Yes."
Jim sat back and thought about that. "So why didn't they come looking for you when you went missing two days ago?"
Blair shrugged, his flush fading as Jim let his weird living arrangements pass without comment. "I don't know. Normally, they won't let me go anywhere because I uh...have a tendency to get a bit lost. This time, they were positively shoving me out of the door."
Jim shrugged. Who could fathom the ways of fairies? "Six fairies; they must be hell to live with."
"Oh, they're not too bad. I mean, they do a lot of the housework and if I need a new book they can just magic it up. And as long as Merryweather doesn't do the cooking, everything's fine."
"Merryweather can't cook?"
"She's killed dead people with her cooking."
Jim considered that. "That's bad."
"So what do you do?"
Jim flipped the fish over, savouring the smell of them. "I'm a Ranger."
"What do you do as a Ranger?"
"Well, I fight in battles, keep the peace, march a lot. That kind of thing."
The boy thought that over, then, "Huh. I think I prefer living with the fairies."
Jim was rather miffed with that answer. "Hey, at least it's a job."
"Well, yes, but...fighting in battles. You must have to kill people."
"Only people who are trying to kill me."
"Maybe they wouldn't try to kill you if you weren't trying to kill them."
Jim looked at him in exasperation. "That's not how war works, you know."
"I know that but...I could never kill someone."
"You don't need to," Jim retorted as he handed over a plateful of fish and bread, "you can just get 'em with Merryweather's cooking!"
Blair opened his mouth to argue further but Jim held up his fork warningly.
"You're wearing my clothes and you're about to eat the fish I caught. Do you really think you're in a position to argue with me?"
His mouth shut and Blair's eyes dropped to look at his plateful of food. "I guess not."
"Right. Eat your meal."
~'~
Blair glanced over at his recently gained and rather unwanted companion. While he had been quietly panicking about the fact that he was lost in the woods, he thought that he'd been doing fairly all right. He'd found plenty of fruits to keep himself going and, he was sure, sooner or later his six guardians would have come looking for him.
If he was strictly honest, he was extremely surprised they hadn't already come looking for him; they were rather on the over-protective side. However, be that as it may, he would have preferred to still be alone and trying to find his way back than be stuck with Jim. It wasn't that he didn't appreciate the hot meal - fruits and berries had palled on him after a very short time - but the man was so...so...in charge all of the time! He'd insisted on watering down Blair's wine, and now he'd decided, as Blair had sneezed just a couple of times, he should lie down on Jim's blankets and try to sleep.
Blair scowled and checked his clothing one more time to see if it was dry yet. If it was, he planned on getting changed and making his escape while Jim was busy 'making up the bed'. Unfortunately for him, his clothing was still damp.
He glanced uneasily at the bigger man he was going to be sharing the blankets with. Not that Jim seemed the type to...well, who did? But he felt pretty sure of Jim. He didn't know why, he just was. Jim might, and would, order him around but he knew, deep down inside, that Jim would never hurt him.
"They'll be dry by morning. Now lie down and go to sleep."
There it was, that tone of command again. Giving in, Blair silently huddled down under the blankets, his face turned towards the fire. If only he hadn't slipped off that stupid branch. He'd thought he'd had a good perch but, just as Jim was about to catch his fish, it had felt as though the branch had, well, quivered and then chucked him off. Not that he'd told Jim that part. He blinked sleepily and yawned. It didn't even make sense! Trees didn't chuck people off their branches. Well, not unless they were magicked.
For a second, a thought flickered at the edge of his consciousness but the wine and the warmth did the trick and he slipped into sleep before the vague idea could become anything more.
~'~
Sleeping on the ground with only a blanket between you and the earth is never pleasant. While a quick nap on a thick lawn of grass is quite comfortable, a whole night's worth of sleep is guaranteed to leave you feeling stiff and achey.
Fortunately for both of them, Jim was used to sleeping on the ground and knew that the stiffness wouldn't last long, while Blair was normally a fairly happy-go-lucky person who couldn't remain in a bad mood if you paid him to do so. Therefore, breakfast was a fairly amicable affair consisting of fish caught by Jim and slightly burned by Blair.
As soon as breakfast was over, Jim saddled up Sentinel and collected his things together.
Blair stood to one side, watching him, suddenly sorry that their brief meeting was over. Despite the dictatorial attitude that Jim favoured, he liked him. He shrugged slightly. Maybe they'd meet again and, in the meantime, he had to find his way out of these woods. He ran a hand through his hair, wishing he'd been blessed with a good sense of direction. Some people always knew where North was but he definitely wasn't one of them.
"Come on, Chief, let's get going."
He looked up. Jim was on Sentinel's back with one arm stretched down to him. Flushing with pleasure, he realised that Jim had no intention of abandoning him to wander through the woods, and a quick jump, with a yank from Jim, saw him sitting behind Jim, holding on tightly.
"Will Sentinel be all right carrying us both?"
"He'll be fine for a while. We can give him a good rest when we stop for lunch."
Part 2.
So, if you're interested, click on the cut.
Sleeping Sentinel
by Arnie
Dedicated to Lorraine Brevig and her endless patience. :oD
Once upon a time, in a kingdom a long way away, there lived a grouchy old king called William. He and his wife, Grace, had recently had a son, James, and today was James' Christening day.
All the nobles in the land were invited, including all the good fairies who lived in the Kingdom of Cascade. However, one fairy had not been invited. And she was fuming. It made no difference that she was considered to be the most evil fairy that ever stalked through Cascade frightening the locals; so far as she was concerned, she should have been invited to the Christening.
Donning her robes of deepest black, which were highly appropriate for a baby's Christening ceremony, she preened in the mirror and talked to her black raven, um...Raven. She didn't have a very good imagination when it came to naming things.
"Well, Raven?" Maleficent tilted her collar and glared at the mirror which promptly cracked. "Whaddya think?"
Raven, being a bird, didn't say much. But the gleam in his eyes spoke volumes.
"I think Billy will be sorry he didn't invite me to the Prince's Christening, don't you?" She turned her head to gaze at her pet, then wondered why she bothered asking him questions. Did she honestly expect him to answer her? "Well, it's time we were going. C'mon, bird." She led the way to where her footman, dressed in black, waited to help her into her black carriage which was pulled by four black horses. As you can tell, black was a major colour scheme in Maleficent's life. As the black-clad driver cracked his black whip, the black gates were opened and the horses set off eagerly towards the white palace of King William and Queen Grace. They got to live in a white palace because they were (technically, anyway) the good guys.
~'~
Meanwhile, at the palace, the fairies were giving Prince James their Christening day gifts. Now, unlike most people, they weren't handing over small silver moneyboxes, silver-plated hair brushes or silver photo frames with cutesy little bears on them. Oh no; they were, after all, fairies and they had standards to live up to.
The first fairy, Flora, flew forward and raised her little gold wand. "To thee, Prince James, I give the gift of exceptional eyesight."
William frowned, then nodded slightly. Eyesight was good - just think of the money he'd save by never needing to get the kid glasses.
The second fairy, Fauna, took Flora's place by the cradle. "To thee, Prince James, I give the gift of exceptional hearing."
He frowned again, then nodded, slowly. James would never need a hearing aid. Another saving in his old age.
The third fairy, Merryweather, flew forward. "To thee, Prince James, I give the gift of an exceptional sense of taste."
Another frown settled down on William's brow. This one took longer to clear. Finally, he decided that James would be an asset when it came to redecorating the palace and Grace wouldn't need to employ any of those interior decorators she kept insisting upon. That would save him an absolute fortune! He was so deep in his thoughts that he almost missed the fourth fairy's benediction.
"...of an exceptional sense of smell," Calliope declared.
William stared at the fairy as she swooped gracefully back to the others. What on earth would an exceptional sense of smell be good for?!
Still staring, he heard her ask, "What's up with the King?"
"He probably tried some of Merryweather's cheesecake," Flora replied. "I told her not to bake it but she never listens to me."
William was about to refute that when he was distracted by the fifth fairy giving her gift.
"To thee, Prince James, I give the gift of an exceptional sense of touch."
His jaw dropped. Erato must have lost her mind.
Erato, obviously feeling that he needed some kind of explanation, hissed, "That's mean he's extra touchy-feely."
He stalked towards the cradle. "What happened to traditional gifts? Where's his beautiful voice, his sunny nature, his exceptional good temper?"
"He's got no chance if he inherits the King's," Calliope muttered, snidely.
Fortunately for Calliope, William was interrupted by the sudden appearance of Maleficent.
The gathered nobles cringed in terror.
"Oh, grow up," Maleficent snapped at them.
William sighed. He guessed it was going to be one of those days. "Hello, Maleficent."
"Hello, Billy," Maleficent grinned at him. "Guess my invite got lost in the post?"
He looked at her, stunned. "I never sent you one! You said you'd never attend another one of my parties!"
"No, I didn't!"
"Yes, you did!"
"No, I didn't. Oh, wait a minute, was it your party where I got absolutely plastered and ended up head down in the fountain?"
"That's the one. Everyone saw your kni -"
"I changed my mind. I wanted an invite."
"Oh." William scratched his head, moving his heavy crown out of the way to do so. "Well, if I'd known, I'd've sent you one."
"Too late for apologies now, Billy, my boy. I'm gonna curse your son."
The nobles cringed again and did absolutely nothing to help.
"But...he's only a baby! Can't you curse the wife instead?"
Maleficent and William looked at Queen Grace, who was too busy drinking wine to notice the goings on around her son's cradle. "William, considering the man she's married to, even I don't have the heart to make her life worse. Not that I could."
William frowned again and considered her words. Had she just insulted him?
"Well, James...looks like it's you and me, kid."
There was a flicker of pride in William as his son looked calmly at the evil fairy. He didn't even stop to consider that as James was used to him, Maleficent wasn't that big of a deal.
"My gift to thee, Prince James, is that you will die on your thirtieth birthday." She cackled with glee then disappeared in a puff of black smoke.
William cursed. James was his heir. If he died on his thirtieth birthday, Cascade would be left without a king, well, unless James had married and had children by then, which was always possible....
His matchmaking plans were interrupted by the smallest fairy, as she rushed forward, waving her wand determinedly. "Never fear, King William! I have not yet given Prince James my gift."
He brightened up. Maybe today wouldn't be such a bad day after all.
Clio fluttered delicately over to the cradle and gazed into the baby's face. "Fear not, Prince James, for you will not die upon your thirtieth birthday. Instead you will fall into a zone-out and your one true Guide will awaken you from it." Smiling proudly, she drifted back to her fairy friends, who all agreed she'd put a spoke in Maleficent's wheel all right.
"What the hell kind of a gift is that?" William demanded once his indignation had subsided enough to allow him to speak. "Zone-out? Guide? Couldn't you just have said that he wouldn't die after all and leave it at that?"
Clio looked upset. "I never thought of that."
"Well, change it!"
"Oh, I can't!"
The other fairies hastily agreed. Once the gift had been given, it couldn't be altered.
"Oh for crying out loud!" William stalked back to his throne, muttering various imprecations about fairies and how bloody useless they were in a crisis. Slumping down on his throne, he waved a hand to the musicians. "You might as well play," he shouted at them. "I'm not paying you to sit around doing nothing."
The musicians struck up a moderately lively tune, and conversation gradually returned to the great hall.
And so the years passed....
~'~
Prince James grew up in his father's court and, after a while, became very tired of his father's bad temper, despite the fact that his own temper was nothing to write home about. In fact, if we're going to mention it, we might as well point out that one of the fairies could have done him the favour of giving him a sunny nature and cheerful disposition, but none of them did. So we'll let it go and console ourselves with the thought that no matter how bad his temper was (and it wasn't really that bad), he was far nicer a person than his father, to say nothing of being honourable and honest and an all-round good guy. And he had a sense of humour. Take that, William!
Needless to say, this grated on William. His son was supposed to take after him and be a grouchy old sod and, instead, James was wildly popular with the people, who all preferred him to the King. Finally, driven demented by his father's endless marriage plans and his insistence that James could not have seen, heard or smelt whatever it was that he had seen, heard or smelt, James left. He sneaked away in the middle of the night and joined an elite army platoon called the Rangers who never once suspected that their tall, good-looking, honourable Jim was the tall, good-looking, honourable Prince James who was mysteriously missing. This shows why 'Army Intelligence' is such an oxymoron.
~'~
After many adventures and battles, Jim decided to return home for his thirtieth birthday celebrations, not one bit the worse for wear. Of course, he had no idea why his thirtieth birthday was so important, but his father had always been exceptionally grouchy when the subject came up, so Jim decided that he might as well go and annoy his father as a thirtieth birthday present to himself.
Accordingly, he saddled up his horse, Sentinel, and headed back towards Cascade. He'd allowed plenty of time for the journey as he planned on camping in the woods and probably doing a bit of fishing too. Of course, he'd have to sleep on the ground but he'd worked as a Ranger for quite a few years, and sleeping on the ground and catching his own dinner really didn't bother him at all. He was a very practical kind of man despite being a prince by birth.
The woods were vast and it was rare to come across anyone else at all in them, so Jim was looking forward to a lot of solitude which would only be interrupted when he got up close and personal with a fish. And fish don't talk much.
On his second day riding through the woods, he found a rather large pool that was presently home to a rather large trout. Making camp not far from the edges of the pool, he got out his rod and bait and set about catching his dinner. He baited his hook and spent quite a while patiently persuading the fish that this large tasty worm was irresistible despite the shiny hook the worm was attached to. Just as the trout was about to take the bait (and the shiny hook) there was an enormous splash as someone fell out of an over-hanging tree and landed in the middle of the pool. Naturally, the fish decided to dine elsewhere and left.
For a moment, Jim stood open-mouthed as water ran down his face and dripped off his nose. Then, as the miscreant surfaced and started scrabbling to get to the edge of the pool, he gave a roar of anger and surged forward to haul the intruder out of the pond.
As soon as their feet reached dry land, he shook the smaller person sharply. "What did you think you were doing?!"
Blue eyes gazed up through dark, tangled curls. "Watching you fish?"
"How close did you need to be to watch?" Jim demanded. "Couldn't you see from where you were?"
"Well, of course I could. It wasn't my fault I slipped and fell off the branch!" There was a hint of indignation in the boy's tone as he pulled himself free. "I didn't mean to fall in."
Jim looked up at the high over-hanging branch then back down at the pool, measuring the distance. "If that pool hadn't been there, you would have killed yourself falling that far."
"If that pool hadn't been there, I wouldn't have been on the branch watching you fish!" the boy retorted sharply. "You were doing well too."
Jim's anger rose sharply once more. "I was doing well until you fell in, you mean!"
"Like I said, that was an accident." The boy shivered suddenly and sneezed. "Anyway, I'm sorry I ruined your fishing. I'll let you get back to it." He turned to leave.
"Wait a minute!" Jim grabbed hold of the handy tunic again and pulled the boy to a stop. "Where do you live? Where are your parents?" He glanced around. He couldn't remember seeing any cottages nearby, and how many people chose to live in the middle of a wood anyway?
The boy shrugged, trying to pull himself free again. "I live on the outskirts of the wood. I was collecting firewood a couple of days ago and I kind of um...lost my way."
"You've been wandering through the woods for two days?"
The boy's face tightened with his anger. "Well, I lost my way."
"Oh for God's sake." Dragging the boy over to his camp, he pulled out some clean clothing and thrust them into the kid's arms. "Go behind that bush and get changed. I'll make up a fire then try to catch us some dinner."
The boy stayed where he was, glaring at his reluctant rescuer, so Jim spun him around and pushed him in the direction of the bush. "Go!"
Ignoring the mutterings that were coming from the bush, Jim built a fire and returned to his fishing, keeping one ear fixed on the boy's heartbeat. He didn't want the kid running off with his spare clothing.
Finally, the kid emerged, his face flushed, and Jim bit back a smile. It wasn't the kid's fault that he was so much shorter and that the sleeves of his tunic had had to be rolled up several times while his hose had a certain 'very baggy' look around the ankles. And it certainly wasn't his fault that he looked extremely comical in Jim's clothing. Therefore, Jim restrained his mirth and calmly directed the boy to spread out his own clothes to dry on some nearby bushes.
The large trout had disappeared from view so Jim made do with catching two medium sized fish. He had some bread in his saddlebags, plus a bottle of wine, although he'd have to water the kid's wine down a bit. It wasn't until he had the two fish cooking that he returned to questioning the boy.
"What's your name?"
"Blair. What's yours?"
"Jim." He turned the fish over in the pan and glanced at the boy again. He'd assumed that the kid was in his mid-teens, but now he wasn't so sure. If he was only about fifteen, he'd started shaving early as there was a definite hint of a beard. "How old are you?"
"Twenty-two," the boy claimed, his heartbeat increasing.
Jim raised an eyebrow. "Try again."
"Twenty." The boy's eyes met his and he scowled. "Oh, nineteen, okay? I'm nineteen." His heartbeat had calmed.
"So what's a nineteen-year-old doing living on the edge of the woods?"
The boy flushed with embarrassment and remained silent.
"Do you live with your parents?"
Still nothing but the boy's face was getting redder.
"Do you live alone?"
If the boy kept this up, he was going to have a stroke.
"For heaven's sake, just answer the question!"
The boy scowled and muttered, "Ilivewithsixfairies."
Jim stopped and leaned forward. He'd heard it, but he didn't believe it. "Excuse me?"
"Ilivewithsixfairies."
He decided to untangle the words. "You."
"Yes."
"Live."
"Yes."
"With."
"Yes."
"Six."
"Yes."
"Fairies?"
The flush deepened once more as a very small voice admitted, "Yes."
Jim sat back and thought about that. "So why didn't they come looking for you when you went missing two days ago?"
Blair shrugged, his flush fading as Jim let his weird living arrangements pass without comment. "I don't know. Normally, they won't let me go anywhere because I uh...have a tendency to get a bit lost. This time, they were positively shoving me out of the door."
Jim shrugged. Who could fathom the ways of fairies? "Six fairies; they must be hell to live with."
"Oh, they're not too bad. I mean, they do a lot of the housework and if I need a new book they can just magic it up. And as long as Merryweather doesn't do the cooking, everything's fine."
"Merryweather can't cook?"
"She's killed dead people with her cooking."
Jim considered that. "That's bad."
"So what do you do?"
Jim flipped the fish over, savouring the smell of them. "I'm a Ranger."
"What do you do as a Ranger?"
"Well, I fight in battles, keep the peace, march a lot. That kind of thing."
The boy thought that over, then, "Huh. I think I prefer living with the fairies."
Jim was rather miffed with that answer. "Hey, at least it's a job."
"Well, yes, but...fighting in battles. You must have to kill people."
"Only people who are trying to kill me."
"Maybe they wouldn't try to kill you if you weren't trying to kill them."
Jim looked at him in exasperation. "That's not how war works, you know."
"I know that but...I could never kill someone."
"You don't need to," Jim retorted as he handed over a plateful of fish and bread, "you can just get 'em with Merryweather's cooking!"
Blair opened his mouth to argue further but Jim held up his fork warningly.
"You're wearing my clothes and you're about to eat the fish I caught. Do you really think you're in a position to argue with me?"
His mouth shut and Blair's eyes dropped to look at his plateful of food. "I guess not."
"Right. Eat your meal."
~'~
Blair glanced over at his recently gained and rather unwanted companion. While he had been quietly panicking about the fact that he was lost in the woods, he thought that he'd been doing fairly all right. He'd found plenty of fruits to keep himself going and, he was sure, sooner or later his six guardians would have come looking for him.
If he was strictly honest, he was extremely surprised they hadn't already come looking for him; they were rather on the over-protective side. However, be that as it may, he would have preferred to still be alone and trying to find his way back than be stuck with Jim. It wasn't that he didn't appreciate the hot meal - fruits and berries had palled on him after a very short time - but the man was so...so...in charge all of the time! He'd insisted on watering down Blair's wine, and now he'd decided, as Blair had sneezed just a couple of times, he should lie down on Jim's blankets and try to sleep.
Blair scowled and checked his clothing one more time to see if it was dry yet. If it was, he planned on getting changed and making his escape while Jim was busy 'making up the bed'. Unfortunately for him, his clothing was still damp.
He glanced uneasily at the bigger man he was going to be sharing the blankets with. Not that Jim seemed the type to...well, who did? But he felt pretty sure of Jim. He didn't know why, he just was. Jim might, and would, order him around but he knew, deep down inside, that Jim would never hurt him.
"They'll be dry by morning. Now lie down and go to sleep."
There it was, that tone of command again. Giving in, Blair silently huddled down under the blankets, his face turned towards the fire. If only he hadn't slipped off that stupid branch. He'd thought he'd had a good perch but, just as Jim was about to catch his fish, it had felt as though the branch had, well, quivered and then chucked him off. Not that he'd told Jim that part. He blinked sleepily and yawned. It didn't even make sense! Trees didn't chuck people off their branches. Well, not unless they were magicked.
For a second, a thought flickered at the edge of his consciousness but the wine and the warmth did the trick and he slipped into sleep before the vague idea could become anything more.
~'~
Sleeping on the ground with only a blanket between you and the earth is never pleasant. While a quick nap on a thick lawn of grass is quite comfortable, a whole night's worth of sleep is guaranteed to leave you feeling stiff and achey.
Fortunately for both of them, Jim was used to sleeping on the ground and knew that the stiffness wouldn't last long, while Blair was normally a fairly happy-go-lucky person who couldn't remain in a bad mood if you paid him to do so. Therefore, breakfast was a fairly amicable affair consisting of fish caught by Jim and slightly burned by Blair.
As soon as breakfast was over, Jim saddled up Sentinel and collected his things together.
Blair stood to one side, watching him, suddenly sorry that their brief meeting was over. Despite the dictatorial attitude that Jim favoured, he liked him. He shrugged slightly. Maybe they'd meet again and, in the meantime, he had to find his way out of these woods. He ran a hand through his hair, wishing he'd been blessed with a good sense of direction. Some people always knew where North was but he definitely wasn't one of them.
"Come on, Chief, let's get going."
He looked up. Jim was on Sentinel's back with one arm stretched down to him. Flushing with pleasure, he realised that Jim had no intention of abandoning him to wander through the woods, and a quick jump, with a yank from Jim, saw him sitting behind Jim, holding on tightly.
"Will Sentinel be all right carrying us both?"
"He'll be fine for a while. We can give him a good rest when we stop for lunch."
Part 2.
![[identity profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/openid.png){kind=small}
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Date: 2007-08-31 04:28 pm (UTC)Laurie
(no subject)
Date: 2007-08-31 04:29 pm (UTC)Laurie
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Date: 2007-08-31 05:20 pm (UTC)(no subject)
Date: 2007-08-31 07:26 pm (UTC)(no subject)
Date: 2007-08-31 10:21 pm (UTC)(no subject)
Date: 2007-08-31 10:34 pm (UTC)(no subject)
Date: 2007-09-01 06:21 am (UTC)But before the end of the first paragraph, I was hooked.
This is a fairy story in the best oral tradition (if that makes sense for a story I am busy reading) stark but with added snide little asides from the storyteller.
The references to canon (both Sentinel and Sleeping Beauty) are great fun. And Blair is so funny.
Off to read part two.
(no subject)
Date: 2007-09-01 02:19 pm (UTC)I'm glad you read the story, and enjoyed it in the end! Thanks for the feedback.