Authors Note:
Ok, so here's the deal. I have these spectacularly important exams in a few weeks, (actually closer than that, ARGH), and have therefore been studying. Yay. I wasn't going to post anything until they were over, which is mid-August, but the received a poke, and realised I had written this much, which I suppose is better than nothing.
So, this is a semi-update, which I think has a nasty cliffie, my bad. This will be the last update until mid-August. Sorry, SORRY! (I suppose at least you're being warned.)
Thankyou for all your marvellous reviews! You are all wonderful! I hope that this chapter is ok, the whump vote was basically a draw so I think I'm just going to wing this chapter, and see how we go.
Sorry it isn't much… Hope you enjoy, I have been ill, so, ergh, at least its something…
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Allan was standing gripping the bars of his cell so tightly his hands were going white. The jailer was standing nearby to his cell, close enough that he could taunt Allan with his words, but not close enough that he could be grabbed by the man glaring like a caged tiger from within the cell. That would certainly not be an enjoyable experience.
Allan knew that the jailer was talking, and assumed from the smug expression on his ugly face that he was saying something that he thought would be getting a rise out of his prisoner, but his words were washing over the outlaw like water.
All that he could hear through the roaring inside his head that he was attributing to his rather numerous head injuries, were the muted sounds of pain that were coming from the room at the front of the jail. He knew who was making them, and his mind had spent the last 15 minutes or so since he woke up torturing him with what could actually be happening in there, all of his worst fears combining together.
He kept going over the last minutes with Gisbourne in the cell with them trying to think if he could have done anything differently, could he have knocked Gisbourne back and they make a break for freedom?
He had no idea how long he'd been unconscious, and therefore had no clue how long whatever was happening to Will had been going on, and hated himself for that. It seemed like he was even more helpless in supporting his friend because he didn't even know the details of what had been happening.
The jailer, realising that his taunting was being systematically ignored tried a different tactic. He kicked the bars Allan was leaning on, startling him out of hie reverie.
"Are you listening to me outlaw? Or are you to focused on your little pal spending some time with Gisbourne?"
Allan gave him a non-committal glare, and went to turn his back on the man.
"Just jealous that you haven't had your turn yet? Never mind, tomorrows the day for it. Gisbourne and the Sheriff have got it all organised. A nice little public flogging for two naughty boys who got just a little bit big for their boots."
Allan had been honing his ears, trying to hear if Will was making anymore sound, there had been silence from that room for long enough that he was worried, but the jailer's words made him stop in his tracks.
"Not being funny but did you just say flogging?"
The jailer smiled, pleased that his words were finally hitting the mark. He had been instructed by Gisbourne to work at weakening this outlaw emotionally while his friend was otherwise engaged. Gisbourne wanted them both as broken down as possible, so that after the flogging they would be ready to spill everything they had. So the jailer, obedient as ever, had been pacing around inside the jail waiting for the man to wake up for sometime. Of course as soon as the blasted peasant had woken up he had ambled dazedly to his feet, speaking only to demand to know where his friend was, before becoming completely focused on the sounds of Gisbourne's work.
The jailer had spoken for a good ten or so minutes to little effect before taking matters into his own hands. After all, he had to carry out his orders somehow.
And the man was playing right into his hands. He sighed almost gleefully, sometimes he loved his job.
"Are you deaf now too? Good to see Hood doesn't have very high standards for his men. And yes, I did say flogging. The sheriff has organised a nice public exhibition of you and you're friend. Not only so that he can enjoy breaking you in front of representatives from every village, but so he can bring your little leader out into the open. They're declaring that tomorrow will be the end of your little band…I mean Hood can't lead you if he's dead now can he?"
Allan glared again leaving the jailer to ponder if that was the only expression his face was capable of making.
"Robin's cleverer than all of you idiots put together. Of course he knows it will be a trap. He won't come just to be caught, he's just too good." There was a mocking tone in his voice, strengthened with false confidence. He berated himself for wishing that Robin would come and save them tomorrow when it was so clearly a trap. How could he expect Robin to be able to get around all of the security to help them?
Looks like we're on our own then. Just have to get ourselves out of this then.
Easier said than done of course.
The jailer could tell he was losing his captive audience once more.
"Your friends being very quiet, isn't he? He was shouting and crying out like nothing else earlier. Wonder what's happened? Hope Gisbourne didn't get too excited, be a shame to lose him before tomorrow's festivities." His voice lingered over the word festivities in a way that made Allan's skin crawl.
He leapt back, frightened, as the outlaw suddenly howled with rage and launched himself at the bars. A resounding clang echoed through the dungeons.
"We will get out of here. And you mark my words; I will find you and make you pay for this when that happens." The jailer, thoroughly ruffled managed an unconvincing laugh at the outlaw's bravado before turning and moving swiftly away from the cell, feeling very much like he had just dug his own grave. He was however determined to have the last word.
"Just you wait outlaw, we don't have long to wait now till tomorrow, its almost evening now. Enjoy your last pain-free night." His confidence returning with every step he took away from the furious outlaw he even managed a smirking chuckle before leaving the dungeons in search of a strong drink.
Allan cursed, swinging one arm out and hitting the bars again, ignoring the fact that the clanging made his head throb.
Further cursing, (for Allan was quite prepared to continue on indefinitely) was interrupted by the opening of the door that all of Will's noise had been coming out of, and he stepped as close as he could to the front of the bars to see what was happening.
Whereas before Will had been walking between two soldiers now he hung limp between them as they carried him out of the room…
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Sorry people, that's all I had time to write. This is all I got at the moment. Hope you don't hate me cowers under desk…
REVIEW PLEASE.
See you in August…
