Alright-y! Chapter 3 is up and running! Sorry for the wait. I had to revise this one quite a bit and get it going exactly where I wanted it to. I said last chapter that this one would deal with the family as a whole, and I wasn't lying, I fully intended it that way. But, again, I had to cut it down for being too long and make them 2 separate chapters. So this one deals with Elinor/Fergus, and the NEXT one deals with the whole family - particularly Merida/Fergus. So be prepared, it will be updated shortly! :D Read and enjoy!
(I also want to thank gabthebomb for recommending this fanfiction on her tumblr! Thanks so much girl, it really means a lot to me!) And everyone else who likes this little story, you all are fantastic people - I truly mean it! *hugs for you all*
"Fergus!"
"Fergus, it's me! I'm here…"
The king's light blue eyes slowly fluttered open. Everything was a hazy blur for a moment before his vision finally came into focus. The light of the fading sunset glowed behind the figure of his wife. His queen. It gave her a heavenly aura.
"E…Elinor?" he managed.
Her hazel eyes widened and anxiously beamed down at him, "Oh, Fergus! There you are; that's it, stay with me, now!"
The king let out a sigh and a grunt at the same time. With his eyes still heavy, he pulled his lips into a boyish grin underneath his whiskered mustache. "Is…is this an angel I see afore* me?"
She chuckled lightly and reapplied a freshly damped rag on his forehead, dabbing it gently. "Flattery will not help you recover any faster, dear. Don't strain now; just relax…"
The king groaned deeply as he obeyed his queen. Instead, he merely let his sore pupils briefly scan his surroundings. He was laying down in what he recognized to be the familiar clearing; his wife was kneeling over him on his left side. It was their campsite. Shattered and fragmented weapons lay strewn about him – spears snapped in twos and threes, daggers and swords stabbed into the ground. The tables that once supported all their platters of food and drinks were now upturned and splintered in sections. Their tents, which had once proudly displayed the Clan DunBroch symbol, were now shredded, sliced fiercely by aggressive paws. Bear paws.
The grip Elinor had on one of his mighty fingers, squeezed tighter. For reassurance, he returned the gesture, grasping a light fist in her entire palm. He could now keep his gaze fully open and he stared up at her beautiful visage.
"Elinor…darlin'. What are you doin' here? I thought you had – I told you to flee!"
She sighed in relief and gave him a smile, "Aye, you did. But I came back. I couldn't leave you behind..."
The king smirked too, but soon twisted his head around an a slight panic, "Wha – Where's our Merida? Is she – "
"Hush, darling," the queen soothed as she placed a light hand on the side of his whiskered chin. "She's just fine. Not so much as a scratch on her. She's back at the castle; I made sure of that. She's probably giving Maudie a hard time and wanting to make sure her daddy's alright."
At this, both the king and queen froze, but Fergus more seriously. Unbearable tension lay thickly in the air. Elinor felt the serious sting of her last words plague her body, and she sunk her head low for a minute in turmoil and sympathy.
"Oh, Fergus, I…"
He, on the other hand, simply stared wide-eyed into the open sky with aqua eyes glistening. His mouth hung open and he lifted up his right arm and clenched his fingers. Before long, he balled his beefy hand into a fist, straining the muscles in his arm. His agape mouth closed and he bit his lower lip as his eyes squinted, all as if he were in terrible pain. And in a way, he was…
"Elinor…" he addressed her, in a tone of voice she never knew he was capable of. There was a slight crack in it. Tears welled, yet again, in her eyes. She knew what he was about to say. It brought back a rush of emotions towards her.
"The best healers in DunBroch are preparing a medicine for you and a horse-drawn cart is being fetched as we speak, dear!" Choking back a sob, Elinor slowly trailed her gaze down from her husband's face, along his abdomen, torso…and eventually, his left leg. His missing left leg.
There lay the rest of it. The stump barely passed the hem of his kilt; wrapped crudely in another piece of discarded yellow tent linen. A deep, scarlet stain soiled the base of it. She winced painfully as she noticed how the remnants of his leg twitched ever so slightly, as if wondering where the rest of it had gone.
She could not hold back her tears any longer, and so they gently trailed down her cheeks as she turned to face her husband again. She had never seen the king look at her like this before. It made her heart pound harder; now dealing with emotions and experiences she was completely new to. Fergus was staring up at her, his heavy, bristly brows folding over his eyes and transforming his visage into a tortured squint. He clenched his teeth and his lips quivered.
"He…He took mah leg."
"I…" she hesitated, her eyes still weeping for the fallen king, "I know, darling. I know…"
Moisture leaked from his own eyes as well, but soon evaporated before they even fell. He cussed through clenched teeth, "That hackit basturt!* Th-that loupin* – "
"Fergus!" the queen gasped, trying to keep her panic at bay as another tear ran down her face. She grew stunned as he overpowered her, albeit, light force upon him to keep him grounded, and slightly sat himself upwards.
"You hear me, you manky cack?!*" Fergus bellowed into the open air with unmatched volume, venomous spit flying out of his mouth with each word roared. He shook a fist at the forest ahead of him in a cursing manner. "You'll pay fer this!"
"Dear, please y-you must relax!" pleaded Elinor once more, pressing a firm hand on her husband's shoulder. Fergus was riled up, however. His eyes were mad with lust for revenge. His teeth were bared and his mighty chest rose and fell with deep, ragged breaths. Elinor was growing afraid for her husband, her eyebrows knitting together in worry. And before she was even able to assess the appropriateness of the situation, she lunged herself onto her king, clasping her arms around his thick neck and burying her face into his unkempt, ginger hair.
Fergus' wild gaze immediately softened, his once narrow pupils now dilating from the shock of his queen's action. He felt the smoothness of the pale skinned cheek brush against his own. He relished in the silkiness of her long, beautiful brown hair - how it gently tickled him under his profound jaw. And above all, he was met with the shocking realization that she was crying. Her tears were dropping, with icy coldness, onto the back of his neck; the shaking of her shoulders as she gripped him tighter to herself. It was then that he understood…that he had frightened her. He had become as beastly as Mor'du in that short moment, and he could see what it had done to her!
"Oh, my Elinor! Elinor, lass! Forgive me!" The king instantly collected her sensual frame into his muscular arms. It was then that a few actual tears of his own streamed their way down his face as well, collecting in the prickly jungle that was his beard. And they weren't tears of vengeance or hatred. No. They were tears of sadness, of loss, and regret.
"Shhh…darling. It's alright," the queen managed to soothe through her husband's tight embrace and her own sobs, "I don't blame you fer an instant…"
Then suddenly, Elinor noticed a train of old, wise women appear out of a remaining tent, each plump, short, and little. Their faces round with wrinkled skin, their buns of gray hair encased in a neat bonnet, and each with shining eyes that looked eager to do their work. Every one carried a different object in their grasp –a wooden bowl, a vile of colorful liquid, and a knitted handkerchief. The three crones settled themselves by the king's feet (foot) and carefully unbandaged his bloody stump. Elinor quickly averted her eyes when she caught the glimpse of horrifyingly scarlet stains and the view of ripped knee flesh under his kilt.
Instead, she turned her attention back to her tortured husband, still hugging him fiercely. "Oh, Fergus…when I heard what happened on my escape back to the castle, I…It felt as if I'd lost my breath of life!" She continued to sob into his shoulder, clutching his bear-hide cloak. "If anything, I'm the one who should be apologizing to you! It is because of me and my carelessness that caused this misfortune – I should never have let Merida wander alone in that forest! I am to blame!
Fergus felt hot rage burning in his throat – completely mortified that his wife would even consider such a ludicrous idea! "Elinor – I won't hear another word of this, lass! You know all o' that is a lie!" He squinted and grunted again as he felt a pair of cold hands spreading a poultice over his wounded stump of a leg. It sent violent shivers up his spine, but he was more concerned with the emotional wellbeing of his queen, whom he still held crying in his arms. "My love…" the king spoke in a more hoarse and quiet tone. "I would have willingly sacrificed both my legs a hundred times over…" he removed her head from his shoulder and forced her to glance into his teary, blue eyes. "…Just to make sure you and Merida were safe and sound for even one extra minute!"
Utter adoration sparkled in Elinor's gaze and a loving smile adorned her lips. "Fergus, my dear, you truly are the bravest, most selfless man I've ever known."
The king grinned warmly as he reached up a beefy mitt up to her face and gently cupped the left side of it, letting his fingers comb through her rich, dark hair. "Who will live to see another day with his beautiful queen and darling, wee princess."
Elinor chuckled as she lay her cheek into his palm, and even placed her own hand atop his, savoring his warm touch. She then wiped her tears away with the other.
"Guh!" Fergus suddenly groused with another wince, feeling the old healers go about picking and lancing the dead skin off the king's stump. Elinor held the back of his head and dabbed the still dampened rag back onto his brow. His expression eventually softened to that of a humorous one, a sympathetic grin forming under his mustache.
"Well, thank the spirit's it was only yer leg and not yer head," commented the female monarch with a tiny, amused smirk.
"Aw, wheesht!*" added the red-haired king with a wave of his hand and a humorous roll of his eyes. "The spirit's had nothin' to do with it! It was sheer luck! I got me-self in trouble, and I got mah-self out – you know that!"
Elinor chortled again, removing the rag aside and staring wholly into her love's friendly, affable eyes, "Well, whatever it was that saved your life, I'll be sure to thank it every day of my life."
Fergus smiled back, glad he was able to make his wife laugh again, like he always could. And before he knew it, they were leaning in closely and they both planted their lips together in a gentle kiss. The queen knew that these sort of open displays of affection where inappropriate during the daytime, and even more so in public, but she hardly cared at the moment. She was too deeply infatuated with her beloved king. Her husband. He was safe and in her care, and that was all she dared concern herself with.
Then quickly, she heard one wise women holler towards her, in a slightly timid voice as if not wanting to interrupt them. "Ahem. Aye, your Ladyship! The king has been well tended to."
One crone nodded satisfyingly as another was wrapping her handkerchief tightly around the stump, and to the queen's surprise, no blood stained its base. "The poultice my sisters and I applied will keep his wound clear of infection…for the time being. Have your servants apply another dose every half-day until the medicine has been used up. And rewrap his wound in fresh linen every time, as well." The speaking crone handed the female monarch a leather pouch, which she assumed was full of the medicine.
She looked towards them all, each standing before her with folded hands over their large bosoms. "Thank you all very much for your services to the king, miss', eh?..."
"Hazel,"
"Helen,"
"and Hilda." The three of them spoke in turn to their respective names. The women each curtsied their respects to the royal pair and were prepared to leave with their tools in hand, when a nearby DunBroch lad stopped them. "Uh, surely you lasses would not leave without yer payment?" He reached a hand into his sporran and rummaged in it for any possible coins, but a corpulent hand merely stopped him.
"That will not be necessary, young lad. My sisters and I are humble maids of DunBroch and, of course, offer our skills to the king, free of charge."
Elinor was taken aback by their unexpected sincerity. She normally would have disregarded an assertion of no payment to any worthy clan mate, but she decided wisely not to sully the honor of the best healers in the kingdom. "As you wish," she finalized with a dip of her head. "You three are very kind. Thank you, again."
"Aye!" groaned Fergus from the ground and reaching up to wave a hand at them. "You have my blessing!"
"Our pleasure, your Majesties. It is not every day that a valiant warrior, and our king no less, protects his Clan mates from an encounter with Mor'du and survives! No doubt your tale will be retold to the farthest ends of the country!"
"I'll be sure of it!" the king winked.
The women nodded and curtsied once more. "We wish you a prosperous future, your Majesties. May that Mor'du be one day slain for his sinful crimes!"
Fergus promptly spit over his right shoulder (or at least did his best in his current position) as a sign for good luck. Although he didn't put any stock into magic and spells, the king was actually quite a superstitious man who would never shake his head at a chance of bettering his fortune. "You and everyone else can be sure o' that, ya hear? That black-hearted basturt can't evade this king forever!"
Dipping their heads in respect one last time, the sisters eventually parted from the picnic clearing and vanished into the thick forest. An unusual three, they were. And each having names starting with the same letter. Elinor found herself oddly intrigued by this. But eventually, both she and her husband cocked their heads in the direction of the forest behind them again, hearing the familiar sound of horses trampling through the Highland grounds and the sound of wooden wheels being hauled behind it.
"Hoy! The cart has arrived, your Majesties!" called another DunBroch man running towards the puller of the cart.
"Oh, praise the spirits," Elinor exhaled, keeping her gaze focused on the oncoming carter for a while longer, before eventually turning downwards towards the red-haired king again. "Are you ready, dear?"
She was surprised to find Fergus' expression strangely stern and contemplative. He wasn't even looking at her. This confused and concerned the queen and she pressed, "Fergus, what else ails you?"
He eventually settled his blue gaze on her, brows still folded grimly to his crooked nose. Finally, he sighed and spoke, in a grave tone as he gently gripped her right shoulder. "Elinor, lass. I owe you the absolute truth. Because I love ya, with all my strength, and I couldn't bear to see you in so much pain over me e'er again."
Elinor's brows furrowed nervously. What could he possibly be getting at? What more could there be to scare her with? His aqua stare was too serious to be pulling one of his many jokes. "Fe-Fergus, w-what are you…?"
"I'm tryin' to tell ya, love…that I plan on hunting that demon again."
The queen's brown eyes widened in utter shock and her jaw dropped open rather unladylike. She dug her prim nails into the fabric of his shirt protectively. "Fergus, are you completely daft?! You wouldn't dare go off after that monster – not after all this! Och, Fergus, darling, you're not well now. Whatever's come over you is surely because of shock, and-and…!"
"No, darlin', I know what I'm sayin'! What I told those old lasses was the truth! That manky bear's head will soon enough, be mounted on mah wall! I won't rest until he's stuffed like a damned pheasant! I swear it!" Fergus challenged, taking her hands into his own. He could see that she was becoming tearful again. What he had just told her was a nightmare for her. He knew that. But his spirit could not be broken, and he figured the sooner he informed her of his plan, the less pain it would cause her in the future. "Elinor…" he then said more gently, once again placing his palm onto the side of her cheek to catch her attention. "When a man's pride gets as badly sounded as mine has…there's only one way to repair it. He has to conquer the lad that done it to him. You know that…"
Tears still threatening to spill over onto her face, Elinor replied hastily, "But Fergus, there's no tellin' what Mor'du could take from you next time! It could easily be your life – and where will that leave the Kingdom? What about Merida?" She paused, choking back a sob. "What about me?"
"Elinor, my love. I can promise you this: I survived that kerfuffle because I was fightin' with something that Mor'du didn't, could never have!" The female monarch eyed him curiously and intently. Fergus smirked and continued. "I had somethin' worth fightin' fer, dear. I was defendin' mah family. That was all the courage I needed to take on that brute, and make it out alive. And I know, that the next time – or the next hundred times – I face 'im, that I'll not only be avenging mah missin' leg," he gestured to his stump. "But to make sure that my two precious lasses never have to fleg* that monster ever again."
Elinor found her heart swelling with warm compassion at his last words. She let out one last sob before smiling lovingly down at him again, brown eyes still trying to cease their overflow of tears. Fergus was a true man, containing each of the various attributes that made one. She knew that the hunger for upholding his honor was one, and probably one of is strongest. But she also knew that Fergus understood well that a man had the responsibility of being both a husband and a father. It rang through him like the mighty roar of a lion. And that it always would…
"This…I promise you, lass," Fergus repeated, running his fingers through her glossy, brown hair. He gave her one of his own charming grins, seeing that he had, at least, managed to make her smile, despite all that she had been told and experienced today.
The queen then immediately embraced her husband, clinging to him with fierce protectiveness. "I…I understand, Fergus," she finally admitted, sniffling in the process.
The king merely expressed his infinite gratitude by collecting her frame in his beefy arms and giving a tight squeeze back to her. He then quickly pecked her forehead before Elinor eventually released herself from him and briefly wiped her eyes with her sleeve. "Just promise me that you'll at least heal first before you go and do anything foolish, you thrawn loun*!"
Fergus roared with laughter, excited to see his beloved wife back to her normal, disciplined self. "It's s deal, mah darlin'! I won't so much as roll over in mah sleep unless you decide whether or not I'm fit enough!"
Elinor chuckled at this and lightly swatted the ginger-haired king's massive shoulder. Even with a missing leg, it wasn't enough to dampen his good humor and sense of fun. A wooden cart was wheeled up towards the couple, still huddling and conversing with another on the clearing ground. Fergus shifted his gaze towards the cart behind him, grinning his trademark smile, "I guess that's our ride then, aye? Thank the ancient kings! I'm itchin' to see my wee princess, already!"
Fergus brightened significantly at the thought of seeing his little daughter again, as he accepted the hands of a couple of his men to help stand him up on his one leg so he could get himself into the cart. Elinor merely cautiously observed him by his side, and when he finally rested himself and his aching stump inside the transport, Elinor rested her hands on his large shoulders from behind, and whispered into his ear, "That reminds me, dear. Errol told me that before you blacked out, there was a rather important message you wanted Lennox to give to Merida and I. What was that?"
Fergus scrunched his furry brows in concentration, trying to remember back. But he soon lifted them up again when it hit him, a light blush tinting his cheeks in the process. Elinor merely giggled, as Fergus chortled. "Aye, I wanted you and Merida to know that…that I was sorry I wouldn't be comin' home with bearskin coats for ya, fer the winter time…"
The queen merely hovered a hand in front of her lips and stifled another heartfelt chuckle. "Oh, my darling Fergus…" she sung as she leaned in closer to him from behind and planted an additional kiss on his rosy cheek. Words could not fully describe how she adored him so.
Scottish terms/phrases translation:
"hackit" = ugly, "basturt" = bastard, "loupin" = stinking/foul , "manky" = nasty, "cack" = shit, "wheesht" = shush up, "fleg" = fear, "thrawn" = stubborn, "loun" = boy/child
So anyway, keep a look out for Chapter 4, it has some real parent/child goodness for you all! Reviews are always appreciated! :D
