Fandom: The Hobbit trilogy (2012-2014), Robin Hood (TV series 2006)
Pairing: Guy Gisborne/Thranduil
Characters: Guy Gisborne, Thranduil, Legolas
Rating: PG-13
Genre: Slash, Romance, Crossover
Lost in Your Eyes
In the usual cold morning, set off with a report to Sheriff, Guy Gisborne was on the way to the Nottingham castle. Idly gazing into the forest horizon, Guy lazily lashed the horse, followed by a dozen of his men. But then suddenly the silence was broken by the strange crackle that sounded like arrow whistle. Gisborne held up his horse, lifting his hand to give his men a sign to pause.
“What was that?” Guy Gisborne stared suspiciously into the woods “Did you hear that?”
The others bandied looks as one of them went to check around but found nothing.
He returned, bowing down. “Maybe that was just a deer, Sir”
“No, I’ve heard the arrow’s whistle” Gisborne protested.
“Maybe that was Robin Hood’s men?” his man assumed, “they always prowl this forest…”
“I’m not sure…” Guy mumbled, glaring down at the autumn leaves wafted by the breeze as he resumed the ride.
One young lad humbly approached his lord: “May I bother you with a question my Lord?”
“You have my permission”, Guy shortly replied “speak.”
“Do you believe in the elves, Sir?”
Guy gave him a wondering glance, but the lad was too suave and naive to consider his question as baiting.
“The legends tell that they dwell in the woods…” he continued, “And whatever you can hear but cannot see might be a sign that they’re around”.
“Well…” Gisborne raised his eyebrow and tilted his head, his face looking like that of a man who had outgrown believing in fairy tales.
The eldest among the other men laughed, “By the way. Sherwood forest believed to be haunted”.
Guy Gisborne shrugged “Funny enough but we’re here, however, and I don’t see any spirits or banshees.” he was more amused than annoyed with the subject.
His men laughed. The lad blushed, but curiously didn’t give in: “The heathens say that elves are the spirits of nature which is under their control; they wield the storms and rule the wild.”
“If I’d have a chance to meet them, I’d capture one and make him obey me” Guy scoffed, enjoying his own jest.
“But, Sir it’s almost impossible to see them because they hide in the darkness of the woods; their steps are light as the air and they run as fast as wind”. The Lad was too sincere; it was getting cutely ridiculous to them all.
“Who told you that?” The others seemed to take interest in the conversation.
“I’ve read in the legends… the legends my grandmother once told me when I was little.”
“She might have been having parties with elves, didn’t she?” the men laughed, “Was she a witch?”
“Enough. Leave the boy alone”, Guy lifted his hand to ease the situation before it turned from jokes to bullying.
“Elves, elves…” he snickered, rolling his eyes “please, what a topical subject”.
They went on and on. It’d been more than three hours as they rode by the road, and very unexpectedly came the wind that webbed the sky with clouds. The horses pawed and neighed in unexplainable anxiety.
“It’s getting stormy!” the men were all looking at the sky, heavy with the dark clouds.
“We should hurry!” Gisborne ordered, fearing that they might be late and wet if they got caught by the storm. Wind blew into Guy’s face, throwing back his raven black hair. The weather grew stormier and colder. He tried to concentrate on not missing the road, but his horse was turning wild. It ran so crazily, he would have fallen from the saddle if he didn’t clutch firmer. Others tried to hush their animals but those were champing in the panic. It was already raining, and with every minute the rain got heavier. Then the road disappeared from under their feet as the horses stumbled down in a rockslide. Everyone wallowed down the water that tided them along the flow. This time, Gisborne lost his hold on his horse and floundered in the stream as his men got lost from his sight under the water. He was terrified as the realization that the waterfall was ahead struck him, the loud roar of it letting him know how huge it was. He cried out in fear, unable to get out of stream that sucked him down. A painful thud and nothing more he remembered after he saw the water abyss in the end of the waterfall.
Guy didn’t know how long he was unconscious until he opened his eyes, hearing the bird’s tweet and feeling his whole body wet—oh, it was next day’s morning. The first thing he saw was pale sky above him, which was colorless and dreary. He winced from burning cold and pain in his bones after he tried to get up: it appeared that he slept one day and entire night on the rocky riverbanks; half body dipped in water – no wonder he was freezing and awfully hurt. Gisborne turned around, searching for his men and horses, but he was surrounded by nothing but a dense forest with strangely giant trees. Ignoring the pain, he stood on his feet, surprised rather than scared, wondering how far the river carried him away, because he never been to such places in his land. The forest looked nothing like England’s woods, or even any woods he’d heard about. Guy didn’t bother to continue guessing where he was. He thought it better to move on to find somebody to ask for help.
He didn’t choose which way to go, because the forest was everywhere around and the only path was a river. He walked along down the stream, searching for any remains from the last night’s flood, but no trace was left, like he was the only one left alive. It was kind of eerie. Then he heard a dreadful growl ahead, before he turned and saw a giant wolf; bigger than the biggest bear. It looked more like a monster than wolf. There was more than one of these creatures, and monstrous riders saddled them. Gisborne’s heart almost jumped out of his chest with fear: he sprang in the woods and ran for his life. Then the one who seemed to be the leader of wolf riders ordered in their language “Catch this man!” and the rest went out to pursue the man in dark clothes.
Gisborne ran as fast as his feet could carry him, delving in the thorny forest to hide. The chase seemed to give up. The monster laughed, halting his riders “Fool.” He mocked, calling the man, “If you choose to get lost in this wood rather than be killed by orcs - then you’re unlucky”.
Guy was partly glad that they were gone, but the thought that he might be dreaming now alarmed him, as he never before seen a dream so real as this. Only then he noticed how huge and tall the trees grew in the depths of the forest, bigger than those on the banks. These had monstrous black trunks, twisting up their curvy branches. Under these enormous trees Guy felt small as an ant. Where would he go now he absolutely didn’t know—perhaps wherever just not to see these wolves and monster riders again. Cautiously he observed the woods as he walked along less thorny path. Until then Gisborne had been driven by fear and shock so he didn’t feel his stomach squeezed by hunger. He found a bunch of mushrooms growing on the tree trunk. Not only was he unsure if they were edible, but he doubted if he ever seen such before: glowing blue and bleeding red, glassy yellow and glittering purple; some smelt like poisonous flowers; some like rotten meat. Guy coughed, choking as the acid smell prickled his nostrils, so strong it hurt. He tried not to breathe and keep out of these cursed mushrooms, but he was already stumbling among the roots, struggling with the delirious dizziness.
“What’s this plague? God! Where… am I…dreaming?” He thought he was, and when he remembered that the best way to wake up from a dream is to die or get killed, he tried to ‘wake himself’ by clashing his own head against the tree trunk. Though it didn’t help—he was still there, in the godforsaken forest environed by these goddamned mushrooms.
“Bloody hell…” he muttered, rubbing his forehead hoping to get rid of the stars flickering before his eyes. It scared him as much as it puzzled him; everything was beyond his understanding. It seemed like the motionless air was envenomed by some kind of narcotic dust produced by anything dead or living in that forest. Guy was on the verge of fainting, but then, even in such condition he could still feel how something oozy stuck to his hand. It was white, slightly transparent and glossy – disgusting thing, which was difficult to recognize as a cobweb. There through his blurry and darkening vision he saw a creature, the most terrifying he ever seen: that was a giant spider. The fear that he’s going to be eaten by this monster got him up on his feet to try and escape. Though it was hard to walk, he clumsily crawled and rolled upon the ground to hide between the roots but the spider could find and get him anywhere. No knife or any weapon to protect him: Gisorne was already cursing his ill luck. There, under the forest-roof, it was very still and dark. All he remembered was silent noises like whispers and the rustle of leaves and branches. He closed his eyes. Despite his intense efforts not to give up, he was defeated by the poison’s intoxication. Perhaps it was better for him that the spider didn’t have to sting him dead, just muffle in the web and let the cocoon hang on the tree. Guy was lost in the delirium of dreams and in his last moment awake he saw his hand reach into his boot to retrieve a small incurved knife, the one that he always had with himself.
He woke up, still wrapped in spider web, however his hand was touching something small but sharp – his claw-knife. “Oh… Am I not dreaming?” He thought, extremely happy for the chance to escape alive. Guy quickly slashed the layer of sticky web wrapping him and as he broke out of it he fell to the ground. It was painful, but better than being eaten by spiders. It seemed like he was heard as the hordes of spiders, small and giant, scurried after him. Gisborne was attacked by the biggest, but he blinded the monster by stabbing his knife right in its eyes. It was not the right time to fight, so he only tried to run for his life. Spiders chased him with terrifying hissing and gnashing sounds. There was nowhere to hide: the dreadful creatures were everywhere. The night had come and their hungry eyes could be seen in the darkness in every corner of the hellish forest. Surprisingly he heard the whistle of an arrow, similar to that one he heard in Sherwood Forest last morning. More whistles followed and one by one the spiders fell, struck down by shining arrows. Gisborne lifted his head to look around and saw bright beautiful archers, in green and brown clothes and with long silky hair. They jumped from branch to branch with amazing lightness and agility, killing the spiders with incredible speed and force. Finishing the spiders they captured Gisborne. They tied his arms behind his back and made him kneel. Their leader approached the man and told his warriors in their language, seemingly to search the stranger over. Guy noticed that woodland people had pointy ears, like of those fairies and other creatures from myth. The frown on their leader’s face didn’t promise anything good. Guy was all gone-over but they found nothing but his only small knife, stained with spider blood.
“You’re a man; a human” The blonde leader said scornfully. “What land are you from and what are you doing in this forest?” he asked, peering down at the claw-knife.
Guy swallowed feeling totally disarrayed, “I’m from England… help me. I’m lost” The others narrowed their eyes, unable to understand have they ever heard of such a place before.
The archers’ leader hummed pointing the knife at Guy, “Let’s see if you’re lying enough to be a spy”
They bound and blindfolded him so that he couldn’t remember the path they’d taken. Guy wasn’t sure he’d be capable of that, as his mind was still muddled by the poison, and hunger and thirst had weakened his body so he only cared about getting out of this devilish forest. He heard the speech of unknown language—that was so melodic like bird’s singing, and it was mixed with the sound of falling waterfalls and deep echo. He sighed with a little relief that he could normally breathe the air that was fresher and smelled like flowers, moisture and leaves. Guy wondered why the woodland people called him ‘a human.’ Who were they? That thought was almost scary. He felt his feet stepping up the stairs. Moments later he was being put down on his knees again. The voices again: hypnotizing like a lullaby but still sharp and cold.
“A man?” a clear low voice sounded through the echo “Speak his language, son. Let him behold us”
The blindfold was taken off and Guy was struck speechless as the beauty of the person sitting on the throne in front of him struck his senses with its indescribable grace and perfection. He was dressed in long green silvery silk cloth, a pointy crown of leaves and sprigs decorated long argent hair that, like waterfalls, descended down to the waist. His face was bright and flawless like a flower, dark eyebrows like black sables, and the eyes… those eyes were too much gorgeous to bear; their gaze was dominating and forceful. Gisborne thought the fair beauty was a lady, but when Guy heard the voice it appeared to be a man. The leader of archers was standing there, staring down at him with distrust.
“Name yourself!”
“I am Guy of Gisborne, Lord of Locklsey”
“What is this ‘Locksley’?” The archer’s leader asked from behind him.
“A manor in England” Guy sneered slightly.
“Why are you lying? Do you think we are fools who would believe these lands exist?” said the impatient leader, putting the blade of sword to Guy’s throat.
“Easy, Legolas!” The strict voice of the crowned man on throne commanded.
“Leave me alone with the man, son” he said softly and stood up.
The fair archer did as his father asked.
“If you don’t believe me, that is your problem” Guy sighed, “I was lost and I need to go back to the Nottingham castle, that’s all”.
“It makes me wonder: how lost are you? Because the places you name, you will not find anywhere on the map of Middle Earth” The blonde beauty elegantly stepped down the stairway towards the kneeling Gisborne.
“It makes me wonder how wild you are, being so ignorant as to not know what England is” Guy scoffed.
“Do you know who you dealing with, human?” Thranduil came so suddenly near that Guy staggered back from the wave of startling beauty that blazed up before him, “You’re speaking to the King of Mirkwood! And we are the Elven race, ancient Silvans who traveled everywhere to fight with evil forces. Thousands years the elves have lived in Middle Earth and you dare to say you are ignorant of us?” He hissed and his glittering eyes reminded Guy of a predator: sharp and full of rage, but still so mesmerizing.
Guy swallowed, taken aback by the flow of information that was indigestible to his brains. “Where am I? Who are they? What is happening?” so many questions filled his mind as he was deeply confused by this all.
“Someone, wake me up…” he voiced his thoughts in a whisper, not caring who he was asking this or. He squinted, clenching his fists. Suddenly a ginger haired elf came up and by the high pitch of voice Guy could judge this one was a girl.
“Sorry to interrupt you, my King…” she kneeled on one knee and Gisborne wondered why she didn’t speak ‘elvish’.
“Yes?” coldly replied the King, without any emotions on his pretty face.
“The orcs found by the river, we’ve got one of them”
The King paused, and then ordered:
“Take this one here to the dungeons” King pointed at Guy.
Gisborne didn’t open his eyes until he was dropped onto the stone floor of the cave dungeon. Guy was still bound; he wouldn’t run away even if the doors were open—he was too weak even to walk, not speaking about running away and were could he run? To meet spiders or other monsters again? He fell asleep thinking last night events: about lad who was telling him legends of elves, and then the storm, the fall, the river, the forest and then this… everything was so unbelievably real it was frightening - it couldn’t be a dream because never his dream felt so real. Gisborne’s was mind blown by the fact that this happened: a fairy tale became true, how ironic. Or was he dead and in hell? The thought sared him, but was not convincing because beautiful creatures like that one on the throne could not be in hell. Guy wasn’t a confident Christian to devoutly believe in angels and demons, but what happened today, despite his skepticism was an omen of their existence. Elves, ghosts, goblins, trolls, witches, all of these were believed by Christians to be demonic side. But Gisborne had heard the Elven king say “fighting with evil forces.” It appeared that the elves were forces of good, he thought, as they were a stark contrast to the spiders and the monster wolf-riders.
“Tired?” the question came from behind the gate.
Guy turned his head to see the she-elf standing by
“Is this a prelude to ask where I am from?” he narrowed eyes in the dim light that broke through the gate bars.
“Look, if you confess that you’re a spy, the King may spare your life”
“What?” Guy burst out, “Rubbish! I told you I WAS LOST because I have no clue where I am!”
“Stop pretending! Nothing good will come of playing games with Thranduil.” The she-elf insisted.
Oh, that’s what the name of the beauteous King was “Thranduil…” Gisborne whispered; he kind of liked the way it sounded on his tongue, soft and elegant, making him think of something regal and noble.
“Then there is no other way I can help you” the she-elf said and walked away.
Women—they always pity. Guy was took a moment to remember Marion. It might have been a little more comforting, but the condition he was in didn’t make him feel any better. ‘May spare your life’ the contrary literally meant ‘may be killed’.
***
After a little ‘rest’ Guy heard ringing keys and grating gates. A pair of elves caught him under his arms and dragged him out of the dungeons. Back the path up the stairways ,he knew he would have to see the King again.
This time he was led, not to the throne hall, but to a smaller room with white columns that reminded him of trees. Guy lifted his head to look around and saw Thranduil standing in front in a red velvet cloak; he looked more peaceful and relaxed. Giborne didn’t care much about humiliation when being forced to kneel because right now he cared about rest more than his hurt pride.
“You were alleged to wander by the river. In due course, I ask you what were you doing there?” Thranduil walked around him like a tiger would his prey.
Guy swallowed taking in a deep breath.
“Don’t be afraid—if you tell me the truth, as Tauriel mentioned, I will spare you” there was a smirk on King’s lips.
“Do I have to tell everything?” Gisborne raised one eyebrow and the look on Thranduil’s face clearly said ‘of course you pitiful human, go on’.
“Last morning, my men and I were on the way to Nottingham castle…” Guy remembered their conversation about elves and legends, how he had sneered at the boy’s beliefs: now he sneered at his own disbelief. “….and then a storm came and horses went mad. We fell down in the river that swept everyone away. I woke up today and found myself on the banks. I was attacked by wolves, I escaped by hiding in the forest, but the spiders caught me… and then your people saved my life” He finished, looking up at the King with beseeching eyes.
Thranduil nodded. “Until I find the place from whence you came, you will be a prisoner here.”
“What if I’m honest?” by this Guy intended to ask ‘will you let me go’.
“Perhaps” Thranduil answered shortly in response to the unasked question.
Guy breathed out, dropping his eyes to the floor, there was nothing more he could say.
Thranduil stepped closer, drawing his long sword “By that, I will need to take—” one hand grabbed Gisborne’s neck, other with sword cut a lock of his black hair “—this” he handed the lock of hair to the pretty looking elf-servant that came to take it. The king gave an order in elvish and the servant was gone.
Meanwhile Guy was recomposing himself from the fright: because he’d thought he was going to be beheaded. The touch of King’s pale hand had felt strangely pleasing. Guy had never been privileged to be touched by a King, let alone an elven King who was astonishingly beautiful.
Then the guards came. Guy looked up at Thranduil with pleading eyes. “I haven’t done anything bad to you, why would you keep me in dungeons?”
“What do you know o trust, human?”
“I have a name elf! I am Guy Gisborne”
“I will see what else you have there, Gisborne” Thranduil smiled mockingly, waving to the guards.
To be continued...
Вангую, у Феанора руки к планшету прилипли от переизбытка сахара в тексте, поэтому ничего делать не получается.
)
я тут совсем мимокрокодил, шапку только прочла, но уже чувствую, куда всё идёт. Трандуил - евнух, да?