(no subject)
Title:
Fandom: Cadfael (TV)
Pairing: None.
Word count: 219
Synopsis:
Notes: Will Warden sucks. I think most people would agree. This ficlet is on my hard drive entitled "WardenWhomping". I have no idea where I was going with it, but I think I can safely say it was going to involve Will Warden getting his comeuppance.
Hugh Beringar had been a week away in Maesbury when the messenger arrived at his gate. The first he heard of it was a commotion in the courtyard, as his men hastened to relieve the man of his horse and provide him with something warming to ward against the cold.
Hugh closed his ledger and locked it in the heavy oak chest kept for such things, and waited as the clatter on the stairs signalled the imminent arrival of his visitor.
The visitor revealed himself to be barely more than a youth, with tousled brown hair and a crumpled woollen cloak, and declared to be known as Saeric.
“And what, pray, Master Saeric, is the reason for your visit? I trust nothing is amiss in Shrewsbury?”
“Would that I could reassure you, Lord Beringar, but it is not so. Father Abbot dispatched me to you to ask for your swift return. There has been an accident, and Sergeant Warden was injured. There is uproar among the guard, my Lord, and such fighting over who should act as sheriff as to make the townspeople uneasy.”
“Will Warden was injured, you say? Is he unable to speak? To name a proxy?”
“My lord, he lies insensible in the care of Brother Cadfael. He took a fall, and has not yet awoken.”
Fandom: Cadfael (TV)
Pairing: None.
Word count: 219
Synopsis:
Notes: Will Warden sucks. I think most people would agree. This ficlet is on my hard drive entitled "WardenWhomping". I have no idea where I was going with it, but I think I can safely say it was going to involve Will Warden getting his comeuppance.
Hugh Beringar had been a week away in Maesbury when the messenger arrived at his gate. The first he heard of it was a commotion in the courtyard, as his men hastened to relieve the man of his horse and provide him with something warming to ward against the cold.
Hugh closed his ledger and locked it in the heavy oak chest kept for such things, and waited as the clatter on the stairs signalled the imminent arrival of his visitor.
The visitor revealed himself to be barely more than a youth, with tousled brown hair and a crumpled woollen cloak, and declared to be known as Saeric.
“And what, pray, Master Saeric, is the reason for your visit? I trust nothing is amiss in Shrewsbury?”
“Would that I could reassure you, Lord Beringar, but it is not so. Father Abbot dispatched me to you to ask for your swift return. There has been an accident, and Sergeant Warden was injured. There is uproar among the guard, my Lord, and such fighting over who should act as sheriff as to make the townspeople uneasy.”
“Will Warden was injured, you say? Is he unable to speak? To name a proxy?”
“My lord, he lies insensible in the care of Brother Cadfael. He took a fall, and has not yet awoken.”