The Nightwatchman's Dilemma
One shot
Summary: Will is out working one night, and the Nightwatchman comes by. Pre-series. Any mistakes are my own, because I have bad grammar and no beta.
Disclaimer: Never never never never NEVER owned Robin Hood. Happy?
Author's Note: The bad news, I have no idea where this came from. The good news, it's supposed to be funny. Will is probably… thirteen.
Will was working late for the fourth time that week, trying fruitlessly to keep up with the new sheriff's heavy demands. He chopped hard on the wood, trying to drown out the sounds of his mother's slow and painful death, trying to ignore his brother's whimpers of fear and his father trying to calm them both. He hated the bloody, stinking Sheriff.
He had to work day and night to finish his workload, and was working steadily by moonlight. A shadow passed in the corner of his eye, and he jerked his head toward it, gripping his axe tightly. A startling white horse was appearing out of the forest, its rider sitting tall and strong in the saddle, and slowly made its rounds around the village. Will relaxed his grip on his axe slightly, watching the rider dismount and pull bundles from its saddle bags. Of course, the Nightwatchman.
Will focused in on the Nightwatchman, and then realized with a start that he was injured. He hurried over to the Nightwatchman, careful not to be too conspicuous. Yes, the Nightwatchman was most definitely injured, and he was going to help him.
"Er… excuse?" The Nightwatchman whirled and focused in on Will, eyes narrowing.
"Yes?" The Nightwatchman asked, in a voice slightly higher than Will had expected.
"You're injured," Will said, and began to rip his shirt into strips. The Nightwatchman looked at him, surprised.
"Where?" He asked, evaluating his body for any pains. Will turned the Nightwatchman's shoulders and hunkered down, squinting to try and distinguish the extent of the injury in the moonlight.
"Here," said Will poking gently at the Nightwatchman's bum. The Nightwatchman gave a high-pitched 'whoop!' and scurried away. "Sir!" Will said, startled, holding out the strips of his shirt awkwardly. Will watched as drops of blood bloomed on the seat of his trousers, and the Nightwatchman snatched the strips from Will, pulling them to his chest self consciously. "Do you need me to bind it for you?" Will looked at him thoughtfully. "I don't think you should ride on your injury, you might aggravate it."
"Is that so," the Nightwatchman murmured sarcastically, and then said louder, "I think I'll be all right. You should go back to your home and sleep." The Nightwatchman nudged Will's shoulder gently, and Will frowned.
"I cannot, I still have work to do,"
The Nightwatchman turned and dug through his saddlebags before pulling out two loaves of bread and handing them to Will. "For you and your family,"
"Thank you, sir!" Will said breathlessly, looking down at the bread. He looked up in time to see the Nightwatchman had mounted and was now shifting awkwardly in his saddle. "Are you sure you can ride?"
"Yes, I'm sure!" The Nightwatchman snapped, and Will stepped back, alarmed. The Nightwatchman tried to calm down. "Thank you for these," he said, nodding at the remnants of Will's shirt, "they will be most helpful."
"You are most welcome," Will said, graciously. The Nightwatchman nodded to him turned his horse and spurred him off, vanishing into the gloom almost immediately. Will smiled, bit into one of the loaves, and walked back over to his work, finishing it with a hint of glee.
Well, that was awkward, Marion thought. She muttered "Bugger," furiously. She tried never to go out when she was bleeding, but today it had caught her by surprise.
She groaned, a new thought coming to mind suddenly. How was she going to explain the blood stains in her saddle to her groom?
The End.