Hello, ModernDayBard here! Welcome to the third chapter of Upon this Blasted Heath, my Macbeth fanfic. Pretty much this entire chapter is a direct transcription of the second opening fight scene of Regent University's production of Macbeth.
Remember: I don't own Macbeth (plot, dialogue, or characters), and anything in bold and italics are words that are either Shakespeare's or part of the prologue of Regent University's production of this show. However, the words with which I narrate and the new direction this story takes are completely my own.
Macdonwald heard the clamor of renewed battle, and focused her attention on the figure stalking towards her, greatsword in hand. Yes, she recognized Macbeth, but that didn't mean she feared him. The two paced closer together, eyes locked.
Macbeth made the first move, bringing his sword down in a shining arc, but Macdonwald employed her usual parry-and-knock-away technique, this time following it up with a kick to the shoulder that threw her opponent off-balance.
He recovered quickly, however, and the two began to trade a furious set of blows, some dodged, some parried, but none connecting until after one parry, Macdonwald rammed the other Thane in the midriff with the hilt of her sword, then slashing at his neck—a blow he miraculously managed to dodge.
A few blows later she grabbed his wrist and both attempted one-handed slashes that were all too easily avoided—both were slowing down with weariness after the day's long fighting. But using the nearer proximity to her advantage, Macdonwald again drove her pommel into Macbeth's stomach, following it up with an equally savage pommel-blow to the back of the neck, driving the other Thane to his hands and knees.
She seized the back of his shirt with one hand, her other already swinging her sword towards his neck, but Macbeth began to recover, interposing his own blade to block the kill-blow. Grabbing to end of her blade with her other gloved hand, the rebel tried to force the locked swords onto her opponent's throat, but he laid a palm on the flat of his own sword and resisted the push with equal force. Finally, he managed to break her grip, then drove his elbow backward into her midriff.
Macbeth saw her swing in an over-head blow from the corner of his eye and brought his own sword up to block it while he was still kneeling. While the jolt of that parry was still ringing down his arms, he felt a knee drive into his back, knocking him flat on his face. Desperately he rolled over, flipping onto his back just in time to again parry Macdonwald's blade, kicking her in the legs to make her stumble and buy him time to regain his footing.
Both once more on their feet, they again traded a fury of blows, but both were beginning to tire—this couldn't last. They were bound to make a mistake soon, and the first one to do so would die. Such was the truth of battle.
In a confusing moment made possible only by their equal weariness, they managed to trade swords. Macdonwald, knowing the straighter blade did not suit her as well as her own, leaf-shaped sword, was fueled by desperation enough to disarm Macbeth by a slash to his wrist. It bought her enough time to retrieve her secret weapon and press it to her opponent, but he seemed less affected by the box's strange magic, able to stay on his feet and (from the look in his eye) maintain his wits.
Still, he no longer had a sword, which she ensured by kicking the fallen blade far from his reach before approaching him again, both weapons poised.
But as she attacked, the other Thane stood ready, grabbing one wrist, forcing her to drop his sword, then the other, turning the strange black box onto its wielder. With a scream, Macdonwald felt the agony coursing through her, the loss of control, and she dropped to the ground, for once feeling completely helpless.
As the rebel wearily rose to her knees, Macbeth picked up the odd black box that had skittered to one side, tucking it into his belt to examine later at more leisure, then retrieved the nearest sword—the one he'd forced Macdonwald to drop. He seized the cursed rebel by her black hair, forcing her to stand and ignoring her cries of pain. He plunged the weapon deep into her abdomen and forced it slowly upwards, almost to her shoulder-height, before wrenching it free.
The wounded and dying Macdonwald stumbled, then fell, dragging herself painfully behind a nearby wooden ruin, as if trying to hide from the end that was now undeniably coming...
The weird sisters rose to their knees as Macbeth followed Macdonwald, carrying him temporarily out of their sight. Their gazes remained fixed on the screen until the bald, bloody general came back from behind the wall, holding the severed head that once belonged to Macdonwald, the rebel Thane.
They seethed with hatred at the man who dared disrupt their master's plan, and as one, shouted the name of their new adversary with utter loathing:
"MACBETH!"
And there goes Macdonwald...enter Macbeth! If you had trouble picturing the fight scene and want to see it actually unfold, here's the link to a YouTube video of the fight, just take out the spaces and watch away: www. youtube watch?v= Fm0rTg1w6_E (As a reminder, this is the video that inspired both this and the last chapter, so either sit through the first fight scene again, or skip it).
Oh, and if the titles of the chapters look or sound weird, all of them are lines or phrases from the actual play (with the exception of 'Prologue,' of course).
If you like it, or if you see something that I can improve on, don't hesitate to leave a review and let me know!