::Samhain::
What is Samhain: Samhain (November/Halloween in Gaelic) marked the end of the harvest, the end of the "lighter half" of the year and beginning of the "darker half". Many scholars believe that it was the beginning of the Celtic year. It has some elements of a festival of the dead. The Gaels believed that the border between this world and the otherworld became thin on Samhain.
Authors Notes: Takes place after "For England...!" because after the Sheriff kills Winchester, he needs a new Black Knight to take his place, one that is not going to want Sussex and Surrey and Marian... Well, maybe not the latter. Gisborne might care, though! Robin/Marian all the way baby! ::is a stupid American, sorry::
Any Pairings: Umm… Well yeah, maybe not main pairings because this is focused mostly on Steafán and the goings on in the castle even though it will include the gang, heavily.
If you have any other questions I will be happy to answer them as far as it does not include what the plot is because this is not exactly based on a plot, it's a I write when I get ideas and my ideas contain major plot-bunnies and most likely character death (just not in this story, or so I think for now)…. Enjoy!
::Chapter One - Steafán::
Quickly trotting down the wooden steps, he landed with a slight frown as he straightened the raven-black cloak around his shoulders, fingering the talisman around his neck gingerly as he eyed his host with quiet, smoldering anger.
"Good afternoon, my lord," The teen hissed in his usual concise tone. His flaming, ginger hair was expertly coaxed to spike handsomely and not fall flat over the Irishman's piercing electric, almost translucent, blue eyes. Freckles dotted his snow white face and a narrow scar puckered the tender skin just below his hairline, stretching down and arching towards his ear. He stood tall and erect, hands at his side and a bored expression threatening to break the polite smile that rested on his lips.
The Sheriff smiled broadly, rubbing his hands together in excitement while Gisborne stood at his shoulder, Allan standing a few steps behind, a bored expression on his face, Marian not far behind and on the other sides, carefully dressed in her very best silks. "Ah, yes, Stephen!"
"Steafán" he snapped, quietly but it was easily noticeable that he was not pleased, a sharp accent distorting his speech.
"Steafán, yes, yes. Whatever..."
The Irishman growled madly, mumbling angrily under his breath what sounded like a string of curses.
Vaizey grinned, the fake smile that marred his face making his already old-looking and taunt face look even more so, it was not the greatest sight in the world. "Do you have to be so cynical, Steafán?
"It's not that the Irish are cynical. It's rather that we have a wonderful lack of respect for everything and everybody." The teen explained slowly, his smile falling away.
"Quite like myself," Vaizey mused.
Steafán grimaced, inwardly groaning, "No, not really, my lord, not at all..."
The Sheriff frowned, Gisborne raised an eyebrow questioningly, Allan laugh nervously. Marian smiled softly; eyes alight with the fake joy that she always wore around Gisborne but for a second she felt happier than she did beforehand. The leather-clad man turned to her and flashed an appreciative smile before turning back to the boy as he Steafán shot the Sheriff a beaming, white-toothed smile.
"You know your place, I assume?"
"Of course, Sir Guy..." Steafán agreed, nodding as he met the man's eyes.
Gisborne raised an eyebrow, "And that would be--?"
"Only speak when spoken to, no cursing, no drinking, " he ticked the rules off with his hands, a small smile twisting his lips as he saw the local lords shake with each new rule, "no fighting, no stealing, no bossing the guards around, unfortunately no meaningless killing even if they are dim-witted enough, and no—"
"No--?"
The Irishman tapped his chin thoughtfully. Suddenly smiling, he looked past the man and towards the woman at his back. "No trying to impress the Lady Marian!"
With a slight growl, Gisborne took a step forward, grey eyes almost daring the boy to say something else. Steafán smiled, opened his mouth and laughed sardonically.
"Like I would…" He hissed, "Not too much interested."
Marian almost sniggered into her sleeve as the murderous look on Gisborne's face as the younger man shrugged nonchalantly, shoving a hand into his trouser pockets and the other fingering the talisman.
"And you know your job?" Vaizey questioned, suddenly interested as Steafán nodded absently, clearly not listening. "Then you are dismissed…"
The Irishman growled suddenly, eyeing the Sheriff crossly as he stalked back up the stairs, lingering at the top to spare a few words, "I'm going for a ride if you will give me leave, my Lord." And even thought the words were heard, to their surprise he would not turn to look at any of them and he voice shook slightly.
"Of course, of course," the Sheriff said with a wave of his hand.
Steafán gave and stiff nod and exited the great hall without another word, the doors slamming behind him as he made he way towards the castle stables.
And later that day the guards could see him stalking down the corridors, angrily cursing under his breath and fingering that talisman of his, "Mallaigh daoine…"
Author's Notes: I love Steafán, love, love, love, love, love! And yeah, yeah, I know they didn't have trouser pockets… Doesn't anyone have an imagination anymore? Please read and review… Plz? I gives you cyber cookies!
Translations:
Mallaigh Daoine: Damn People (I think, not perfectly fluent…)