jadey36: (Default)
jadey36 ([personal profile] jadey36) wrote in [community profile] bbc_robinhood2013-08-15 03:01 pm

No Need to Shout

Title: No Need to Shout
Author: [personal profile] jadey36
Prompt: bellows
Rating: pg
Characters: Guy of Gisborne, Sheriff Vaisey
Summary: Guy is feeling a little worse for wear
Word Count: 412
Disclaimer: Robin Hood belongs to Tiger Aspect and the BBC. No copyright infringement intended. All rights reserved.

No Need to Shout


Guy blocks his ears. If the sheriff bellows his name just one more time he’ll...he’ll... He gets no further with the thought. His head feels like a wooden door, a much-splintered wooden door, with a humongous battering ram constantly pounding into it. His throat is drier than the River Trent, drained to its sandy bottom in the worst drought Nottingham has ever faced. In short, Guy of Gisborne is terribly hung over.

He’s been drunk before and many times, but never like this. One small movement, even something as infinitesimal as blinking, makes him feel as if his head is about to split open like a watermelon succumbing to an executioner’s axe. Guy wonders whether he’s about to die.


That’s it, Guy thinks, lurching to his feet and immediately crashing onto the hard stone floor, adding an external bash to the internal ones in his head. After a few dazed moments, he lifts his head and wipes his face with a gloveless hand. What had prompted such madness? he asks himself.

He brings his hand in front of his face, intending to count his fingers to see whether he can face the sheriff with anything resembling coherency. There is blood on his hand. He touches his face and remembers. Marian had taken the large-stoned wedding ring off her left hand, put it on her right hand and punched him. Guy can’t yet recall what he’d said or done to elicit such a response but he is sure, sadly, that it will come back to him eventually.

He crawls a few feet along the floor and, with the aid of a chair, regains his feet. Thankfully, he reaches the near-full pail in time to catch the contents of his stomach. Red wine, he sees, possibly mixed with carrots. He retches again.

“Gisborne!” the sheriff again bellows, his booted footfalls echoing down the castle corridor. “If you’re still abed you useless piece of leather-bound flesh, I’ll have your guts for garters.”

Guy unlatches the bedchamber door with shaky hands.

“Ah, the blushing bridegroom is alive and well and...arrrgh!” The sheriff staggers backwards, swiping at his face, gagging and choking.

“There’s no need to shout,” Guy grins, the now empty pail in his hands.

The sheriff spits and splutters, his face puce, too enraged to utter a word.

For the first time since his disastrous non-wedding, Guy of Gisborne thinks that maybe it was worth getting drunk after all.

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