Author's Notes: Fun fact, writer's block is my arch nemesis and my muse is more often fickle than not. So part of this is an ode to that eternal struggle. Enjoy XD
I have to keep reminding myself that this fic, as opposed to any of my others, is a comfort fic for me. I get stuck in my head sometimes, trying to make it "perfect" which causes me to psych myself out and be unable to write. But I just need to start going, "ya know what? I'm gonna put words on the page and I'll figure out the rest as I go". And if I don't, it's okay. This fic is for me, I just want two old men enjoying each other's company and getting closer. I'm glad that other people are enjoying this story, of course I am, but primarily... this is a self indulgent fic. Life is hard, let me have this X'D
Blocked. Why now, of all times?
After being suddenly thrust into the long awaited embrace of inspiration thanks to Hudson's sudden and bombastic appearance in his life, Robbins felt as if he'd just breached the surface of the suffocating ocean he'd been drowning in. The cobwebs that gathered atop his mind had been cleared, the dust swept away, and everything seemed bright and warm again. The ideas flowed like they had all those years ago and what's more, he was finally tackling a subject he'd never had the courage to before.
Merlin. The most famous wizard in folk history, and his personal favorite Arthurian character. With the Scrolls of Merlin found and currently being translated, he felt like the stars had aligned. The miraculous timing of everything was just too perfect to ignore. And as soon as he'd gotten the juices sufficiently flowing again, the research done and the notes taken, even the first two chapters completed... it happened.
He had finally hit the wall again. The same wall that had dried all his stories up for years. The dreaded curse that plagued all creatives, but apparently had a personal grudge against Robbins in particular.
The writer's block had officially come back to haunt him. Only this time, the block had thrown a curveball. Unlike before, it wasn't so much a drying up of his stories, it was quite the opposite. Robbins had a surging influx of them. It was like he had too many ideas, to make up for the long duration he had positively none at all. Truthfully, it was the same problem, just the other extreme. Where he once couldn't string 3 words together to save his life, he couldn't choose between the dozens of strung together words to save his life.
He just couldn't commit for whatever reason. It was like everything sounded equally wrong and right interchangeably. Every time he thought to write something one way, he'd read it back or think about it for a second and immediately want to rewrite it. Because it sounded awkward, or it was too long winded. Then he'd fix it and it'd become too basic and truncated. His prose had become prosaic, he feared.
Robbins tried to take a break, clear his head, catch up on his exercise, put on some music and just relax. But alas, even this didn't simplify the many decisions that he had to make. Was it simply that he had gone too far with the previous chapters so this current one would inevitably not fit with its predecessors? Or had he just not realized he needed to add a chapter between the in progress one and the recently completed? But that would mess up the flow of the entire story to arbitrarily add a transitionary type chapter between his already planned ones, wouldn't it?
Endless questions clouded his mind, regardless of his efforts to not think about it any longer. There was no two ways about it. Robbins was stuck. And he had no idea how to get unstuck.
Why did he have to have writer's block now, of all times? Sure, the deadline was in a few weeks, but he wasn't a normal writer. Being blind made the process take longer already, even if he wasn't blocked, he needed as much time as possible to check and double check everything before he had to take a trip to the library and feed it all through the xerox machine to make print copies.
One mistake on a page meant he had to complete rewrite that page and possibly every page after it depending on the severity of the mistake. And of course, the process of converting his braille pages into ink printed pages took all damn day, unless of course the xerox machine was running low on any given thing, which was a guarantee. So he would have to ask random people for help who never wanted to help him because they were doing their own thing, but he didn't really have a choice. So it would inevitably take more than the one day trip to get it all done.
The process was horribly inconvenient, even when he was in the zone and cranking out story after story at home, actually getting them ready for publication was a nightmare. Add writer's block and a rapidly approaching deadline to that equation and... well, Robbins couldn't help but hate his life just a little bit right then.
This was just terrific... Perhaps his ex was right. Maybe he was a hack now and all of this was just a fluke. It had to happen sooner or later, right? That woman was almost always right, after all... Robbins sighed deeply as he slumped over in his chair, Gilly stirring softly beside him. He buried his head in his hands as he groaned weakly.
"Fabian is gonna be pissed..." he croaked out, his fingers creasing his loose skin. The motion wasn't exactly soothing, but it made him feel marginally better to take out his frustration in this small, harmless way.
Frankly, he couldn't think of anything else to do, he'd done all he could except sleep, a thought that would have made him laugh if he wasn't so stressed. Even if he wasn't an insomniac, he still wouldn't be able to sleep, not with all the pressure this block was pushing on him. So he continued to sink further into his seat, the leather creaking in response, as he let the sweet tunes of Anita Baker futilely attempt to soothe him.
Blocked. Now, of all times. Fantastic. Just fan-tastic...
He sat there sulking for what felt like an hour before Gilly perked up and trotted over to the sliding doors. No sooner than she'd gotten there, a polite rapping of knuckles peaked just above the calming rhythm and blues. Gilly barked playfully as the expected voice called out.
"Tis only me, Robbins" Hudson greeted in that old timey way of his. "Is... now a bad time?" he ventured, a quiet gulp following his unnecessary question.
Robbins slid the door open effortlessly, "Not at all, come in". He turned around to let Hudson in and return to his seat. "It's good you're here" he added as he made his way to the kitchen. Hudson was right behind him, footfalls heavy and confident.
As they got to the kitchen and gathered the material for tea, Hudson remained silent throughout, despite their usual rapport during this part of his visits. Robbins didn't pay it much attention though, he was just happy Hudson was here. He had no success in getting his mind off of his writer's block by himself, but working with his peculiar student would surely do the trick. As always, he was a welcomed distraction.
They made their way back to the study and settled into their respective places, Robbins insisted on fixing Hudson's tea as they sat in front of the crackling fire. When Hudson tried to protest then eventually relented, his voice sounded a bit stilted. As Robbins systematically plopped the sugar cubes into the drink, (he took it with 6, which was quite surprising) he could hear the Scotsman inhale, then stop short once or twice before he finally spoke.
"Robbins, are... are ye doin' alright?"
"Um, yeah, why do you ask?"
"I saw ye sittin' and ye looked a bit... perturbed"
Oh, he saw that, huh?
" 'Perturbed' is puttin' it lightly, buddy" Robbins answered while tapping the spoon against the rim of the teacup. That all too encompassing pressure seeming to increase in that moment.
Hudson's seat squeaked as he leaned forward and took the offered cup. "What ails ye?" he asked in a slightly softer tone.
"It's..." Robbins stopped himself. What was he doing? They had business to take care of, Hudson didn't have time for Robbins' pity party.
"It's not important. Let's pick up where we left off last time" Robbins replied after a moment, putting on his best relaxed face. Judging by Hudson's total silence, it wasn't very convincing.
Finally, the clack of porcelain against wood signified his friend was ready to reply. "The night is long, there is plenty of time for our lessons later", Hudson said just before Gilly hopped up on his lap. "I don't mind settin' that aside for a moment".
"I mean, I don't want to monopolize your time or anything. I know you're busy" Robbins explained as he raised his hands as he leaned back against the cushion.
"I'm curious to know what has you, of all people, frustrated". A chuckle hung on his words and Robbins could imagine the little grin on his face.
"Oh hush" Robbins giggled back as he tilted his head at him. Hudson's amusement only increased.
The sound of Hudson combing through Gilly's fur, gentle but firm, blended comfortably into the sudden quiet of the room as Robbins contemplated what he'd say. On the one hand, he was looking forward to finally getting his mind off of the whole thing. He was tired of going in circles and it was Hudson's time now.
Besides, there was nothing he could do about it anyway, he'd just be unloading on Hudson for no reason. Robbins wasn't going to make them both be unproductive tonight. No, it would probably be better to just focus on Hudson's reading lessons, leave the Merlin book for tomorrow.
But on the other hand, Robbins was deeply frustrated with his sudden lack of decisiveness and creative overload. He had a deadline rapidly approaching and no way to get back on track as he desperately wanted to do. This was all he could think about because it was just so important to him and it killed him that he couldn't make any progress on it. He'd exhausted all of his options by himself... but Hudson could be of help.
Robbins had viewed him as a muse of sorts before, maybe he ought to put that to the test now. He certainly couldn't make it worse, nothing could. Bouncing ideas off of someone else was a good way to narrow down options, see things from a different perspective, gain some kind of insight into where he should take the story. The more Robbins thought on it, the more appealing it was, until he didn't have any excuse not to request Hudson's help.
Ah, what the heck? May as well give it a shot.
"It's this damn writer's block. I can't finish this story I'm workin' on cuz I've hit a wall and I got no idea how to get past it".
"Writer's block?" Hudson repeated quizzically. Robbins shouldn't have been surprised that a long time illiterate was unfamiliar with the concept, but he had to admit that he was.
"Yeah, like when ya wanna do somethin' creative or-or familiar; somethin' you're good at and you've done it before, but for whatever reason you just can't. Like you're runnin' on a treadmill goin' full speed in the opposite direction" Robbins explained, talking rigorously with his hands the longer he thought about the injustice of it all.
"You keep pushin' and pumpin' your legs and givin' it all you've got, but you get absolutely nowhere for all that effort. It's just an exercise in futility and no matter what you do to take your mind off of it for just a second, it refuses to leave you alone. It's all you can think about, the fact that you should be writing, but paradoxically, you just... can't seem to write! And every second you're not writing is a wasted second that you'll never get back", Robbins head returned to his hands as he mushed his face.
"And now you're just thinkin' what if you can never write again, what if you've used up all your creativity and there's nothin' left? You're just empty and useless and you've got nothin' left to offer anybody. So for the rest of your life, all you can do is not write and think about how much of a waste you are", Robbins sighed, ending his diatribe. He didn't intend to say all that, but apparently he needed to get all that out.
"That sounds frustratin' all right..." Hudson finally replied sympathetically. Robbins admired the way he could succinctly put forth a thought.
"Yeah, it really is" Robbins huffed. "Sorry for spewing all this out at ya"
Hudson snorted a laugh, "No apologies necessary. It appears to be a fascinatin' problem to have".
"I guess so"
"Is writing stories always like this?" Hudson asked innocently.
Robbins shook his head. "Nah, I'm just in a rut"
"But ye've gotten through this sort'o thing before, aye?" Robbins nodded in response. "So why is this time any different?"
Robbins hummed in thought before he answered. "I don't know... maybe because this time feels..." he bit his lip, trying to find the right words. "It's just that this story I'm trying to write? I think it's my magnum opus"
"Um—?" Hudson began, before Robbins shook his head, a rueful chuckle escaping him.
"My life's greatest work. The single most important thing I will ever make. And so any little mistake or problem that pops up seems... bigger than ever..."
"I see..." Hudson thought aloud, through the faint sound of his fingers stroking his beard. "Perhaps... ye shouldn't put so much pressure on yourself?" he started unsure. "You are one man trying to do a great thing, that will always take some time. Dunnot be too hard on yerself, my friend" he suggested in a confident tone.
Robbins folded his lips in for a beat before venturing. "Well... funny you should mention that"
"Hm?" Hudson quirked.
"It is just me workin' on this, but I'm at the end of my rope" Robbins cleared his throat to dispel the curious lump that almost formed. "And at the risk of makin' it seem like I'm holdin' ya captive... I could use your help on this" he pointed his open hand in Hudson's direction, causing the Scotsman to shuffle uncomfortably. "I-if you'd be willing to weigh in on it"
"Me? What can I do?" he asked a bit incredulous. As if he was incapable of such a thing. The man was far too modest.
Robbins rose to his feet as he explained. "Uh, okay. So, I'm nowhere near done with this thing, but I did manage to write 2 chapters before I got blocked. The-uh problem is, I'm not sure where to go exactly after these 2 chapters, because there's a slew of directions I could go in and I can't decide which is the best", he got to his desk and picked up the woefully unfinished manuscript.
"So what I need is someone else's opinion" he said, turning to face Hudson again. "Just to help me narrow my options down so I can move forward".
Hudson sighed dejected as his callous hand rubbed the back of his neck. "I'm no writer, Robbins, I can barely read".
"No no, that's okay!" Robbins waved his concerns off. "I'm not lookin' for a writer's help, I need your opinion as a reader. I can read out what I've already got and all you have to do is tell me what you naturally think should follow". He felt the lump return as his thoughts started to jumble.
"That is, if you don't mind hearin' what I wrote. I know it's frustrating to have someone else read their junk to you and I guess I shouldn't have just assumed you'd want to hear. But I feel like this is the best shot I have at gettin' past this stupid block and I really just—"
"Robbins" Hudson spoke up, stopping his rambling dead in its tracks.
"Y-yeah?" he croaked out awkwardly. Hudson got up and walked over to him, placing a large, warm hand on his shoulder.
"I would be honored to hear what ye've written," he said with incredible sincerity. "I am quite interested in yer story. I only worry I won't be of any help", he assured, a smile clear in his voice. And just like that, the anxiousness Robbins was suddenly feeling melted away.
"Trust me, you'll be a big help, I'm sure" Robbins tapped his stack of papers on his desk as he continued."I promise I'll read fast and I won't ask you too many questions afterwards". And as soon as Hudson hummed in response, he cleared his throat laid his manuscript flat, and began.
As far as read throughs go, Robbins had done better than he was doing tonight. His desire to speed through it all to stave off the nagging sense of failure gnawing at the back of his mind, caused him to stumble over his words once or twice. Lose his place for several embarrassing moments. Plus he'd awkwardly switch up his voice to match the different characters, a decision that struck him mid sentence, but once he'd done it, he felt weird dropping it.
After all, Hudson couldn't read along, he needed every indication that different characters were talking, but... well, his face heated up every time Merlin's mother, the Lady of the Lake or Morgana la Fae had a line. The falsetto he choice felt more like a practical joke than a practical decision to keep his one audience member focused on the flow of the story. The whole thing just made him stammer and sweat far more than he was expecting, by the time he got past the first 10 pages, his sweater was soaked at the armpits.
Robbins would've been mortified if he wasn't so desperate to get out of this rut. As embarrassing as this was, as completely ridiculous as he felt running through his silly wizard story, it was far preferable to sitting there lamenting his existence as a writer with no talent. A car with no gas and a long stretch of road ahead of him. He'd endure this strange aside in his process if it can jumpstart his creativity and get him chugging along.
And to Hudson's credit, he didn't interrupt not one time. He was perfectly silent, perfectly still based on the lack of squeaking leather cushions. He was giving Robbins his full attention evident by how consistent Robbins felt his gaze on him, which was weird but it was definitely a phenomena he was familiar with. Humans apparently had some 6th sense that let them feel when someone else was staring at them, and being blind only enhanced that sense. He could feel the Scotsman's eyes stuck to him, like a soaked shirt against his torso. Not exactly comfortable, but not uncomfortable either.
So onward he read, the palpable self-consciousness simmering a little with each passing page. Stuttering fell away, he stopped losing his place, and he just fell into a flow. By the time he got to the last page, he was somewhat confident that he'd done his story justice. The story so far, at least.
Robbins restructured the stack of pages to maintain the page order and chuckled nervously. "To be continued, ha ha". Hudson remained quiet, causing him to clear his throat. "Alright so, what'd ya think? Please be brutally honest, I can take it" Robbins said, placing a hand on his chest.
Hudson opened his mouth and struggled to speak for a moment. "You... wrote all of that?" he asked, almost disbelieving.
"Well, I did a lot of research and borrowed some quotes here and there from a few different sources—"
"Can you read it again?" Hudson requested, leaning closer to Robbins, based on the slight change in direction of his voice.
Robbins smacked his lips in disappointment. "Did I go too fast? What was confusing or unclear?" he went about flipping through the pages as he shook his head. "I knew I shouldn't have gone so long on the descriptions, not to mention the falsetto—"
"It's not that" Hudson said, interrupting Robbins' mumbling. "It's just... I got distracted by yer voice". Yup. Definitely not a good decision.
Robbins sighed through a laugh as he combed a hand through his hair. "Yeah, sorry about that, I know I went too far with the female chara—"
"Yer voice is just so beautiful, I stopped focusin' on the words"
Robbin froze on the spot, his eyes shot wide open as his mouth went ajar. His entire train of thought just derailed as he struggled to come up with a response.
But all that came out was "Oh..." he felt his eyes dart around, as if he was looking for the words to say. "Uh... wow", he blurted out as he grabbed his cheeks to ground himself. "Beau-beautiful?" he repeated, still shocked at the completely unexpected and even nonsensical compliment.
Hudson shuffled in his chair as his palms softly clasped together. "Please read it again, I promise I won't get distracted this time" he assured earnestly.
"Umm... sure-sure, yeah" Robbins cleared his throat and shifted his hands back to the first page. "I'll uh, I'll take it from the top" he cleared his throat again and started reading.
On his second go, he assumed he would be less self-conscious than before. But thanks to Hudson completely blindsiding him, he couldn't think of a time he felt more self-conscious. The stammering, the sweating, the losing of his place, it all came back in full force, worse than the first time. As soon as he reached the first female character's dialogue, he nearly read it normally to stave off further embarrassment. But Hudson's compliment just wouldn't let him go, so he went ahead and raised the pitch of his voice just as before.
After he read the line of dialogue in his horrendous imitation of a female voice, Robbins waited for Hudson to show one sign, one hint of amusement, laughter, mockery, something. But it never came. The Scotsman's gaze was firmly affixed to Robbins the entire time, he again made no noise, no movement, and was apparently paying close attention to every word Robbins spoke.
So as unbelievably awkward as it was, Robbins continued on, slower than before, to help give Hudson ample opportunity to take in the story. Hopefully Robbins voice wouldn't distract Hudson this time, which was still baffling to hear. Beautiful voice? Robbins? Sure, he was an okay vocalist, when he had to sing he could. But beautiful? Nah, Hudson must be mistaken.
In fact, Robbins' fiance—ex-fiance—never liked his singing. Fair enough, she was a much better vocalist than him, he was more of a musician than a performer like her. If anybody had a beautiful voice, it was her, so she would know who sounded good and who didn't. She only ever called Robbins' voice "decent", so that had to be accurate. He was no Luther Vandross, that's for sure. A fact Robbins never felt ashamed of, very few men could hold a candle to Luther Vandross.
Robbins' niece had always likened his singing voice to Nat King Cole, but she had a habit of exaggerating to make him feel better. She was sweet like that. And besides, she's family, she's supposed to lie to spare his feelings.
But Hudson, just coming out of nowhere and telling him he had a beautiful voice? What was he supposed to do with that?! Robbins took note, with a bit of a start, that he felt much more comfortable being blocked than hearing such a compliment. Only because it wasn't accurate and it came out of nowhere and it was incredibly flattering.
What was he doing again? Oh right, finishing the last page. Robbins completed the final sentence again and cleared his throat to center himself.
"Okay, so whadda ya think?" he asked, folding his hands together, an awkward smile on his face.
"It was wonderful" Hudson immediately replied.
"Really...?" Robbins asked, quirking an eyebrow.
"Truly. I enjoyed your story very much, Robbins". Well, that's nice to hear.
"Did you have any corrections or did anything sound strange—?"
"What need could there be to correct that?" Hudson answered back, confused, "It was perfect".
Robbins could feel his cheeks heating up as he replied. "Are... are you sure nothin' was confusin'? Or too long—or short?" wringing his hands as his anxiousness returned unexpectedly.
"Robbins, I didn't find any flaw with it. Your story is just perfect" Hudson admitted, plopping his hand on his lap. "How can something so wonderful come from a few bumps on parchment?" he sighed.
Robbins wheezed an uncomfortable laugh. "Ha ha, well that's the magic of storytelling, my friend" for what felt like the 100th time that night, he cleared his throat to force the lump forming down. "You really don't have any problems with it so far?" he checked, leaning closer to Hudson. Because, there had to be a problem, it couldn't be flawless. It's the first draft, sort of.
Hudson stayed silent for a moment before he answered. "Who would have a problem with such an enchanting tale?" That did it.
"Hudson, you gotta stop!" Robbins groaned, hiding his face in his hands. "You're makin' me blush, man!"
"I... I only meant... to tell the truth" Hudson stammered, clearly struggling to understand.
"I know, but I just..." Robbins caught himself and scoffed. Why was he getting so distracted by this? "Never mind, the only question that matters is where do you think the story should go from here?" he asked as he shook his head.
Hudson hummed in thought before the sound of him slumping forward came out.
"I am sorry Robbins, but I don't know..." he sighed deeply while rubbing his hand against his neck. "I told you I wouldn't be much help to ye".
"No no, don't beat yourself up. I'm just as lost as you and I'm the guy writin' it, remember?" Robbins chuckled. "How about I give you the options and you tell me which one makes the most sense to you?"
"Alright"
"Okay, so from here I could go into Merlin's first prophecy to Vortigern, King of the Britons, foretelling the coming Anglo-Saxons to invade Britain" Robbins brought up a second finger. "Or I could focus more on his childhood, where he first exhibits more of his magical abilities and frightens the other children"
Robbins brought up a third finger, "Or I could go ahead and skip forward a few years to when he creates Stonehenge to bury Aurelius Ambrosius. But then I'd have to dedicate at least a whole chapter to how Merlin meets Aurelius, so maybe I should start with that"
Robbins brought up his fourth finger. "Or it could be while he's traveling to Salisbury Plain to create Stonehenge he's remembering their meeting and friendship and at the burial site he recounts his death" Robbins brought up his thumb. "Or, I could scrap all of that and go with an idea I've always been interested in, does Merlin's incubus father ever resurface in his life? Cuz there's some real good story potential there that nobody has ever touched on, and I think that's such a waste"
His breath got away from him as he petered out and took in a deep breath, his shoulders heaving as he did. Man, he was really going in on the different avenues he could take. And that wasn't even half of the choices available. But Robbins had realized with sudden embarrassment that he'd most likely overwhelmed poor Hudson, who had yet to make a sound. Once he started going, it was hard for him to realize he needed to stop.
Hudson remained completely silent, only the low crackling of the fireplace spoke out. He leaned back in his desk chair and huffed out a chuckle imagining Hudson's face. Shocked, dismayed, confused, eyes as big as dinner plates while he sat there frozen. Maybe even mid sip. It was a funny image, he had to admit.
"You see why I'm havin' so much trouble now, right?" he motioned to his manuscript while Hudson found his voice again.
"Aye, ye've got too many decisions to choose from" the sound of fingers combing through his beard filtered in. "And they all sound well and good".
"Exactly, yeah!" Robbins nodded, his smile growing. "So if you could weigh in, that'll help me narrow these down some" he finished, folding his hands together patiently. Hudson stroked his beard a few more times as he hummed low. The gravel in his voice clear and strong.
Until, "What's the eh... title of this tale, again?"
"The Sword and The Staff: A Tale of Merlin" Robbins answered proudly. "The Sword being Excalibur and The Staff being Merlin's staff, that I believe he was gifted by a hemlock tree in Druma Wood. Though I'd have to double check that..." his hand raised to grab his chin lightly. He was pretty sure that was how it went, but you can never be too careful.
"Then forgive me if this is off course, but," Hudson began, "It appears ye've spoken plenty about The Staff for now. Might it be time to focus on The Sword portion of the fable?"
Robbins eyes shot wide open, as big as dinner plates, as he sat there frozen. It was as if a lightning bolt had struck him and his whole being was currently electrified. Like a great gap had suddenly filled in and now his mind instantly went connecting loose threads into something tangible. Something sensible and strong. Something unique and exciting. Something that was so blindingly obvious he felt like kicking himself for not seeing it before now.
"Oh my God" he breathed, his hand raised to his forehead as he struggled to keep up with his own train of thought. From 0 to 100 in a split second.
"Forget I said anythin', just ignore me!" Hudson exclaimed for some reason. "I-I don't know what I'm talkin' abo—"
"It's an Arthurian myth" Robbins said, cutting off whatever the Scotsman was saying. "Of course, of course! That's the problem!" he jumped to his feet, his desk chair rushing behind him at the sudden motion. "I was so focused on Merlin this whole time, I neglected the broader story he fits into! It's not just about him, it's about Arthur too!" he marveled, a wide grin plastered on his face.
"So I can just-just jump to Arthur now, revisit Merlin's history later—no!" he jolted his hands down, overcome with another revelation. "I can use both their individual stories to shed light on the other, creating this really interesting foil dynamic between the two characters that'll—oh my God, that's the answer!" he shouted merrily, frantically shuffling his hands across his desk for his tape recorder.
"Oh, this is gold, Hudson!" he laughed almost maniacally as he popped out the tape and flipped it over to ensure he didn't overwrite anything. He propped his elbows on the desk and hurriedly lined up his thoughts so he wouldn't stumble over his words when taking these godsend ideas.
"Was..." Hudson spoke up, his voice small. "Was what I said... really that helpful to ye?" he asked, closer to the desk than before.
Robbins went rigid at the question's implication, taken aback for a moment. And after a beat, he couldn't help the exuberant laugh he let out in response.
Was Hudson just as blind as him? Did he really not know that he just rescued him from the most devastating writer's block he'd ever faced? And he did it with such innocence and simplicity, it was miraculous! It was absolutely magnificent, the idea is so perfect Robbins could practically see the entire 1st Act in his head already. And if he couldn't see that... then Robbins was right when he first thought it.
Hudson really was his muse.
"Are you kidding me?! You just singlehandedly gave me what I needed to keep going, Hudson! You're a genius!" Robbins cheered, expanding his arms out as if to display how large the man's intellect was.
"But I don't even know how to write..." Hudson protested weakly, his voice had gotten even closer. He had to be standing right in front of the desk.
Robbins barked out another quick laugh as he stood over his desk to reach for Hudson's shoulders. The man stiffened at the sudden contact as Robbins felt Hudson's gaze return to his face.
"You are the most brilliant illiterate in the world, my friend!" he declared with a chuckle on his words. "I knew I could count on you!" Robbins added, giving Hudson's shoulder a light bop with his fist.
With that settled, Robbins plopped back behind his desk and reached back awkwardly for his rolling chair. He had to get this stuff on tape quick, otherwise he might forget some of these more subtle, but incredibly vital details that were rushing through his mind.
"Now, let me get this down..." he thought aloud as he found the record button and pressed it. "Say what you said again!" Robbins pointed the tape recorder in Hudson's direction. But he only shuffled awkwardly.
"But I don't even know how to write?" he croaked in a higher pitch than normal.
Robbins giggled at the silly Scotsman. "No no, not that! The thing that helped me think of what to do! The Sword comment!" he supplied.
"And what is this strange lookin'... thing?" Hudson asked, tilting the tape recorder to the side and likely his head as well. Robbins rolled his eyes.
"Ha ha, very funny" he droned as he recoiled the device. "I know it's an old tape recorder, but it still works just fine" Robbins shrugged before pointing it back towards Hudson. "Now go ahead, talk into it".
"I really don't think I said anythin' especially smart" Hudson murmured, turning away and rubbing the back of his neck. Robbins couldn't help the scoff he let out immediately.
"Hudson, c'mon man. You're brilliant, ya hear me?" he pointed authoritatively. "Now go on, say what you said before. I need exact wording, it'll help remind me of everything I'm thinkin' of now" he explained as he presented the tape recorder to Hudson a third time.
Hudson huffed an amuse exhale before speaking up. "Alright then... I believe I said, 'ye've already spoken plenty about The Staff . Would it be prudent to focus on The Sword part of the tale?' " he repeated.
"Right, and then that got me thinkin' about switchin' between Arthur's POV and Merlin's POV. Using their individual stories to foil each other and explore the similarities in their characters" Robbins relayed.
"I dunnot know what that all means, but ye did mention somethin' aboot foil" Hudson chuckled a bit, most likely shrugging based on the stretch in his tone.
"Hahaha, it's okay. That part's for me" Robbins clarified. "Now, that means I'll start off with Arthur being raised by Sir Ector. Gonna need to research Sir Ector some more..." he noted, rubbing his chin.
Hudson sighed deeply as he rose to his feet and turned away. "Well, ye seem to be doin' just fine now" he said, his voice getting further way as heavy footfalls went towards the terrace. "I best let ye continue your work—"
"Or you could stay and we can continue workin'..." Robbins offered, facing Hudson's back most likely.
"We?" Hudson asked, a twinge of a smile in his voice. Robbins returned the expression.
"Yeah, as in you and me" he said, pointing between them. "Ya got me this far, I'm sure you've got other ideas that'll help me out even more" he shrugged to mask his building hope.
In truth, he wasn't sure if the block would come back or not. Without his muse, he couldn't be certain he'd be able to tie everything all together. But more importantly, he just didn't want Hudson to leave so soon. He'd never developed a story with someone else before and it was shaping up to be quite stimulating and... rather fun.
But the stretch of silence was starting to convince him Hudson didn't feel the same. "Unless you'd rather not" he added, trying to be understanding.
"No, I..." Hudson stopped short, waiting before continuing. "Am I really helpin' ya with this, Robbins?" he asked, like he didn't believe it. Which was odd, he definitely was helping. He was his muse, after all.
"You really are, buddy" Robbins nodded, smiling.
Hudson shuffled closer. "And... you're sure I'm not just a bother?" Robbins scoffed instinctively as he stood to his feet.
"Nonsense! Poppycock! Balderdash and baloney!" he listed dramatically. "I'd be eternally grateful if you would stay to help me out some more" he finished, bowing lightly to his guest.
Hudson chuckled warmly as his footfalls brought him closer. "Then stay I shall, my friend"
"Good then" Robbins nodded, beckoning Hudson to sit across from him. "Now, Sir Ector from what I vaguely remember, was a harsh father to Arthur. Though that could just be a Disney embellishment" he clarified as he adjusted the tape recorder between them. "It's more likely that he was a stoic man, and so, a more withdrawn father figure, instead of outwardly harsh or critical. Which would be a better parent do you think, for the man Arthur eventually becomes later in life?"
"Well, surely a somewhat kind patriarch would instill in the future king a kinder leadership, aye?" Hudson ventured, Gilly hopping up on his lap.
"My thoughts exactly! But I don't want to make him too nice, that'd be a little too unrealistic for the time period you see" Robbins waved his hand before continuing. "Instead, I was thinking more along the lines of..."
Their conversation continued in earnest, all catalogued by the trusty old tape recorder Robbins had always assumed would hold his voice. Only his thoughts, his ideas. But now, unexpectedly, he was comfortable with another voice being imprinted in its memory. Hudson was a surprisingly insightful conversationalist, his additions to Robbins' well treaded topics were refreshing and thought-provoking.
Everything that was a rough struggle akin to pulling teeth or milking a bull was smooth as butter. The stumbling blocks and stoppage he normally ran into just melted away as they rolled through the process. Hudson just... made the whole thing a breeze. He had some special undefinable quality that was the magic ingredient that Robbins often had to do without.
Sure, he could get into a groove once he dug deep enough and it would last a decent while. But with Hudson it was instant. He was in a constant flow, every element he had to keep juggling with haphazard timing turned into a delicate dance. He had found his rhythm and Hudson was the musician. And as Act 1 of his magnum opus took shape and underwent careful precise refinement, Robbins lost himself in the moment. And judging by how well he was keeping up with the blind writer, so had Hudson.
Their dialogue continued well into the night, as the ideas flowed and Robbins' gratefulness to his peculiar companion grew.
Author's Notes: Interesting tidbit on the Gargoyles to real world timeline. First, the Gargoyles timeline:
In the 5th Century, Oberon fathers Merlin with a human woman in Britain.
485 AD, Arthur Pendragon is born.
500 AD, Arthur pulls Excalibur from the Stone of Destiny.
September 29th, 500 AD, Nimue imprisons Merlin in Crystal Cave, though this is up for debate. This event could've taken place after Arthur goes to Avalon.
542 AD, Arthur is mortally wounded in The Battle of Camlann and is taken away to Avalon in a magically induced coma.
878 AD, Hudson, first given the name Mentor, hatches at Wyvern Hill.
971 AD, humans are introduced to Wyvern Clan and begin an alliance.
October 1st, 994 AD, Wyvern Clan Massacre and Manhattan Clan is cursed with 1000 years stone sleep.
1136 AD, Geoffrey of Monmouth's The History of the Kings of Britain, which tells the tale of King Arthur and Merlin that is the most popular version of the Arthurian lore, is published.
That's the progression of events in the series. Now, the real world timeline, roughly is as follows:
The pseudo-historical author Geoffrey of Monmouth combined the Welsh tales of Myrddin Wyllt and Ambrosius Aurelianus into one character, who we know today as Merlin.
According to Gildas, a 6th Century British monk who is one of the best documented figures of the Christian church in the British Isles during the sub-Roman period. Ambrosius was a war leader of the Romano-British who won an important battle against the Anglo-Saxons in the 5th Century, before the Anglo-Saxon settlement of Britain.
Myrddin is rumored to have been born in 540, though this is up for debate. He was present or aware of The Battle of Arfderydd which happened in 573.
828 AD, Historia Brittonum, a purported history of early Britain was written, detailing the story of Ambrosius.
Circa 1130 AD, Geoffrey of Monmouth's earliest surviving work, Prophetiae Merlini (Prophecies of Merlin) is published. The background of Merlin's character isn't explored, merely his prophecies and position at the time of his prophecies.
Circa 1136 AD, Geoffrey of Monmouth's Historia Regum Britanniae is published. He supplemented his characterization of Merlin by attributing stories of Ambrosius to Merlin. The stories he used were from Historia Brittonum.
So that's the differences between the two. I am of course using the Real World timeline for Robbins' understanding of the events, whereas the Gargoyles' timeline is the true historical account. I know that seems confusing, calling the Real World information "false" and the Gargoyles' fictional timeline "true", but bare with me on that XD
Hudson is using the "true" historical account, though a quite limited understanding of it to match up against Robbins' "false" historical timeline.
For Merlin's Staff, I kinda cheated a little and used a book that doesn't yet exist in the Gargoyles Universe. T.A. Barron's 1996 The Lost Years of Merlin (later renamed Merlin: Book 1 - The Lost Years), depicts the interesting story of Merlin being gifted his staff by a hemlock tree he was admiring in Druma Wood. After accidentally breaking off the branch and falling on top of Shim, another character, the branch began to change as if it was being "shaved by an invisible knife". Until it was done fashioning itself into a proper staff. Then Merlin stood up and bowed to the tree in thanks.
I liked that little detail of Merlin's story so much I just wanted to put it in here. Oddly enough, there are no older stories (that I could find, anyway) which depict Merlin's Staff as a special or magical thing. Which is weird when you think about The Sword Excalibur being equated to Merlin's unnamed staff in the Gargoyles Universe. So I figured it would help bolster the name of Robbins' book if the titular staff had a special story behind it.
I don't know much about Sir Ector, and it appears not much of his time raising Arthur is written about, therefore I had to go off of the most detailed source of that time period in the Arthurian myths. That was, of course, The Sword In The Stone movie. I don't particularly like the movie, mostly because Arthur is treated like crap by his adoptive father and brother, so I poked fun at it with Robbins' comment.
Nurture has a lot to do with how a child grows up, and if Arthur was subjected to a cruel father figure and older brother, I don't think he'd be the King Arthur we meet later in the series. So it makes for more sense for him to have a normal father, if not a very kindly and warm father. Arthur should be shown the value in being a kind and benevolent leader and Sir Ector would be his primary teacher, seeing as he raised him for 15 years before Merlin took over. So yeah, just thought I'd tidy that up and have a little fun at Disney's expense ;P