Title: Deluge

Genre: Romance/Drama/Angst

Rating: M

Summary: Restricted to England's green countryside, Azeem laments the loss of his kin and homeland when an unexpected boon literally comes crawling from the woodwork.

Disclaimer: The immediately recognizable belongs to Pen Densham and Morgan Creek Productions; the base story of Robin Hood is public domain. I'm not making a penny from this, and it is here for entertainment purposes only.

Note: It's a mess loaded with far too many colloquialisms…but if you still want to read it, I can't say I didn't warn you.

xxxx

Azeem twisted uncomfortably in the wool blankets, twitching as the homespun cloth chaffed his skin. It was unbearably cold tonight, and the fire didn't even cast a hint of warmth, despite his having tended to it every hour on the hour. It was raining again, and not even the soft sound of the raindrops on the roof could lull him to sleep. He mused that he should be grateful for the small things in life, but somehow couldn't bring himself to feel anything but bitter. He wasn't a young man by any means, and he felt he deserved a good night's sleep. But something else was gnawing at him. Some shadow of a thing lurking in the back of his mind. He had a terrible feeling that something awful was about to happen, and he couldn't shake it. He'd always trusted his instincts in the past, and the hair standing straight on the back of his neck were telling him to stay awake.

Someone was in danger.

His first thoughts of course were of Marian, so when he heard a harsh pounding at his chamber door, followed by the heavy oak being abruptly thrown open by a distraught looking Will Scarlet, his heart froze in his chest. She'd gone into labor prematurely. She was dying. "Marian?" he asked, his words choked. He was dreading the answer.

Will heaved as he leaned into the wall, his words coming out in sharp gaps. "No, Marian's fine. It's someone from the village. They ripped down the gate and are making a hell of a racket downstairs. Robin asked for you. They need your help."

Azeem rose, and hurriedly dressed, adjusting his robes and trying to make himself as decent as possible. However, the urgency of the situation was palpable in the air. "What is it?" he asked, his wide eyes desperate for more information.

Will shook his head. "I'm not sure. There's a woman. God damn. I don't know. It's bad though. She's been beaten I think. Or it was a wolf of something. Whatever it is, she looks dead." Will shook his head again, as though trying to get the image out of his mind. He found himself pushed from the doorway as Azeem stormed past, and tried in vain to keep up with the older man's long strides.

"Someone from the village needs a healer?" Azeem asked, looking back over his shoulder for a response, just to clarify. Will nodded hastily, still gasping for breath. They reached the entrance hall in record time, but when Azeem looked back again to see if Will was still there, he paused at seeing the young man frozen at the threshold of the large room. He gestured questioningly.

"I'd rather not see it again." He said simply, leaning against the wall for support.

Azeem turned on his heel and wadded though the crowd of people lingering in the doorway. He could hear shouting from down below, where he could vaguely make out several figures, two of which were hunched over the obvious patient, who lay still as stone on the cold floor in a heap of rags. Another was bellowing at the Lord Loxley, demanding that they be taken to the "coloured witch doctor." The Muslim man snorted at the description of himself, but pushed through the last wave on onlookers until he found himself face to face with his summoner. "Oh thank ye sir, thank the Lord!" The man shouted again. Azeem than recognized him as one of the townsfolk from the village below. This man sat on the council and often came up to Loxley Castle to assist the other council members in their advisement and requests of Lord Loxley himself. That would explain why he had prior knowledge of Azeem and his healing skills. Not that it wasn't well known, in fact, Loxley was quiet famous for their harboring of the Moor.

"Quiet yourself," Azeem advised the man. He knelt down to examine the heap on the floor, flinching as the smell of dried blood and death crept up into his nostrils. Beneath the heap of smelly rags he could make out pale features. Yes, it was a woman, if the size and shape of the hands and wrists were anything to go by, but the person was otherwise unrecognizable beneath the web of bruises and cuts that marred her body. Azeem stretched one pale finger to the place at the woman's throat where her life force may be recognized and heaved a sigh of relief when he felt the tell tale throbbing of her heartbeat, weak though it was. She was still alive.

"What has happened?" He asked, pulling the shroud of cloth away from the woman's body, eager to see the extent of the damage, but maintain the stranger's modesty at the same time.

"I'm not certain, sir. She lives in the woods, ye see? The young one's, they think she be a witch of some sort. She came a staggerin' up the way 'bout an hour ago. My wife is frantic. She made me bring her up here, and I'm oh so sorry for disturbin' ye peace my Lord," he gestured at Robin, who stood over the scene with a furrowed brow. "-but we hadn't any choice. She's the healer the women go to. Will she live, do ye think?" The councilman looked Azeem in the eye then, flinching at whatever it was he thought he saw in the dark man's eyes.

Robin intervened when Azeem failed to answer. "I'm sure our trusted friend will do everything in his power to assist the woman." He looked at Azeem for reassurance, but the other man had returned to ascertaining the woman's condition. "Friend," He pulled the distraught, nameless villager aside. "You say this woman is a witch? Does she have a name?"

"Yessir. I'm not sure what her given name is, but my wife calls her Ana. She'll respond to it, I know." The man looked helplessly at the woman's prone form. "We wouldn't mean her any harm. She's not ever done nothin' wrong, per say. The Lord Almighty may not like some of the things she does, but-" He paused, looking at the men assembled wearily. "She helped my children with a horrible rash, and spared my wife from illness that took her off her feet for nigh on a week. I dunna know who did this, but when I find out-" he let the threat sit unspoken, crackling silently in the tense air.

"Can you help her Azeem?" Robin asked softly, bending down to eyelevel with his friend.

"Yes, but I cannot do it here. I'll need help to get her upstairs, and I'll need fresh linen and hot water." Azeem smoothed the tangled, matted hair off the strange woman's brow. "It will be alright, little one." He sighed softly, moving to gather the small bundle off the floor. Robin stepped in to help in, and together, they maneuvered their burden upstairs. Marion met them at the top of the landing.

"Gracious- what's happened to her?" The fair lady asked tiredly, her eyes wide with alarm.

"Go back to rest, milady. Robin, go with her." Azeem ordered, stalking into his own chambers and sliding his bundle unto the unmade bed. Without needing to ask, someone threw another log on the fire and lit the candlesticks, flooding the room with a hearty orange glow.

"I'd rather you didn't order me about in my own house-" Robin began.

"Enough! There's little that can be done at this point, and I can do it by myself. Christian, you have entertained guests all this past day, and will need to be refreshed so you can continue to entertain them on the sunrise. I will tend to this young one myself, and you will retire. That is all." The moor's eyes begged for confrontation, and Robin decided it was a moot point to argue with the other man. The gentle tugging of his wife on his arm decided the issue then an there.

"You will call if you need any assistance, Azeem?" Marian pressed.

Azeem nodded absently, absorbed in tearing cloth into small strips to bandage the woman's considerable wounds. "Of course, milady. Rest well, and may Allah watch over you." He sighed as the couple left the room, and readied his mind for work.

A servant arrived shortly with hot water, which she set timidly on the drawing table beside the dark man. She scurried from the room when Azeem assured her he was well enough alone, and he set about his work at cleaning the young woman's face from the dried matter that clung to it like a life form in and of itself. He'd never seen one of the fairer sex in such a condition, and it turned his insides around to look at it. Strangely, the woman never moved a muscle as he attended to the worst of her wounds, lying eerily still as a fresh corpse. He shivered, despite the fair temperature in the room, ever conscious of the flooding of the heavens outside the window at his back, and the new cold that was steeping in his bones like harsh eastern tea.

It was going to be a long night.

xxxx

Will Scarlet loitered in the corridor for three quarters of an hour before deciding to enter the Muslim man's inner sanctum. He'd been in Azeem's chambers before, briefly, but never when a near corpse was in residence. Azeem looked up briefly as Will came into the room before returning his attention to whatever it was he was doing. He'd cleaned most of the blood away, Will saw, and was now mixing something in a small bowl.

"I thought you could use some company." While there was no audible response, Will knew by the sudden relaxing of the older man's shoulders that his presence was appreciated, and thus seated himself. He watched in silence as the time passed, making note of certain things, and watching the gentle rise and fall of the woman's breast.

"You're a good companion, Will Scarlet. Thank you." Will was startled by the sudden breaking of the ever long silence, but he managed to nod in reply.

"Anytime old man." He smiled sleepily. After a small pause, he gestured to the body occupying his friend's bed. "Is she going to be alright?"

Azeem nodded. "I believe so, though her fate lies with Allah now. I've done all that I can. We'll have to wait until morning to be sure." He frowned.

Will's sleepy grin widened. "At least you can tell Tuck to leave off now." He swept his arms over the bed elaborately. "After all, you've now had a woman in your bed, and it's fairly warm in here now, I dare say."

Azeem managed a smile at the weak joke, though he thought it best not to mention the cold that had taken hold of his soul the moment he'd awoken in fear earlier that evening. "Ah yes. Ever the positive one, aren't you Christian?"

Will laughed softly and greatfully rose from the seat he'd occupied for the last several hours. "I'm off to get whatever rest I can," he announced. "I suggest you do the same."

Azeem nodded, not taking his eyes from the prone form of his new patient. "I will try."

Will seemed content with that answer. "Good night then, my friend."

"Goodnight."

Xxxx

To be Continued…