FIC: The Methos Chronicles: Words (1/3)
Mina-Clare Moseley (clare@DAYMEN.COM)
Wed, 20 Mar 2002 02:25:01 -0500
The Methos Chronicles: Words
By Mina-Clare Moseley
Synopsis: Episode 4 of "The Methos Chronicles". In 1583, Methos has
the deal with a lovesick noblewoman, a jealous Hugh Fitzcairn,
annoyingly sappy poetry, Kit Marlowe and a VERY amused Rosalyn.
Rating: PG-13. Language and sexual situations.
Archive: Seventh Dimension and anyone else who wants it.
Author's Notes: This is Episode 3 in the 13 episode season. For more
information on the Methos Chronicles series check out:
http://straykitty.com/deargirl/methos/chronicles . NOTE! This is an
updated address for "The Methos Chronicles" homepage. This page has
been updated, if any of you are interested. With more in-dept
profiles and information on upcoming episodes
Disclaimer: Highlander belongs to Davis-Panzer Entertainment. This is
non-profit fan fiction.
Note: Wow! This is even later than Episode Three. I shouldn't even
try to aim for a date on these stories. They'll come when they come.
Maybe if I lighten up on myself, it'll be a bit easier.
As usual, thanks to Pablo and Fre. Also big thanks to Lenora
Mackenzie, my favourite Fitzcairn fan.
****
Joseph Dawson sighed, opening up the paper. He picked up his coffee,
wincing as the hot liquid touched his tongue. He muttered under his
breath about the state of the world, scanning the headlines.
The door to the bar swung open. Joe didn't even look up. "We're not
open for a few hours yet."
"Not even for your best friend?" Methos asked. The old immortal
strode in. "Come on, Barkeep....."
"Coffee. You can have coffee. It's ten in the morning." Joe looked
up, gesturing to the pot brewing behind the bar. "Oh, you brought a
friend."
"She just can't go anywhere without me," Methos commented, getting
himself and Rose coffee. "Complete dependence on me."
Rolling her eyes, Rose Marlowe held out her hand. "It's nice to meet
you, Mr. Dawson. Methos has told me a lot about you."
"All good, I hope."
She sat down. "Hope all you want, it's not happening."
"Thanks *buddy*," Joe hissed at Methos.
Rose glanced at the headlines on Joe's paper. She gave a snort. "The
Sanders Portrait is being examined at Oxford? Good thing I'm not
working on it. There would be an unfortunate chemical accident."
Joe was confused. "I thought you did work as a conservationist
currently, Rosalyn. Isn't it against your code to want portraits
destroyed?"
"For the great bore of Stratford, I would make an exception"
"Not a fan of the bard?" Joe asked. "From your profile, I thought
Shakespeare would be one of your friends. Big time poet and all."
"THAT plagiarizing hack? Yeah right!"
Methos chuckled, sitting beside Rose. "Woman scorned, not a good
situation, Dawson." He turned to Rose. "May I remind you that you got
drunk and gave him the idea?"
"The least he could have done was gotten it right!" Rose exclaimed.
"I mean really! 'I am your spaniel'?!?!"
"I'm needing a backstory," Joe said.
"Way back when," Methos started with a sigh, "Mr. Shakespeare wrote a
play called 'A Midsummer Night's Dream'."
Rose snorted. "Wrote? More like butchered!"
"Anyway, Rose claims to have had the original idea. Back in those
days, Rose was QUITE fond of sitting in bars, whoring around with any
man who could write a sonnet. She usually got drunk and told them her
own ideas."
Rose gaped at Methos. "I have NEVER 'whored around'. I inspired
starving writers. I was a muse!"
Methos raised an eyebrow. "So that's what you're calling it these days?"
"You're just bitter about the Rostand matter. Haven't I apologized
enough for that?"
"You got me immortalized!"
"Is that supposed to be a pun?" Rose asked sarcastically.
Joe hushed the two bickering immortals. "Excuse me.... What's the
Rostand matter?"
"Edmond Rostand." Rose explained. "Author of Cyrano de Bergerac."
"You gave him the story?"
"She gave him MY story." Methos muttered. "I lived it! Well, sort of....."
*****
He is immortal.
Born 5,000 years ago, the details of his birth have been lost to the ages.
He will only fall with the strike of a sword and the loss of a head.
He has been a healer....
A scholar....
A killer....
He is Methos.
The Methos Chronicles
Episode 4-- Words
By Mina-Clare Moseley
*****
**The year was 1583. I had been living with a minor nobility in
Durham. They were of little importance, connected to to the Percys.
But they paid well. I was a scribe.....**
**Which was the last thing they needed, as they were the stupidest
family in England.**
**Let me tell my story, Rosalyn.**
Methos had existed at the manour for a year now. He could not
honestly say he lived there. It was simply a rest stop in the endless
journey that was his life.
Lord William was a good enough man. He had recognized Methos'
intelligence and offered him temporary accommodations as a scribe. It
was the smartest thing he had ever done. The old immortal was a
scribe. It was a job that fit him well. He was left alone in his
quarters, rarely visited by anyone. Only two people knew he was here
and they were not big on visiting.
There was only one problem....
"Oh Andreewwwwwwwwwww....." The Lord's daughter, Elizabeth, drew out
his alias into what was supposed to be an alluring hiss.
Methos felt a stabbing pain in his temples. "My lady, how may I assist you?"
"I require your assistance on a sonnet I am composing."
Lady Elizabeth had expressed her interest in Methos the day of his
arrival. She was fond of saying she appreciated men with minds.
**As she didn't have one of her own.**
**ROSALYN!**
**You've said it yourself, Old Man.**
**Yes, I have, but I'd like to continue my story.**
"What may I help you with?" Methos asked, giving the lady a tight,
forced smile.
"I need a word which rhymes with pale." She clutched her parchment to
her bosom, sighing deeply. "How can I compose a sonnet expressing my
love if I can find nothing that rhymes with pale!"
"If you would read me the sonnet and I could understand the context
it must be in, I'm sure I can assist you." Methos inwardly reminded
himself of the number of pounds he was paid a week, so not to be
tempted to toss Lady Elizabeth out on her ass.
Elizabeth cheeks flushed pink. "Oh now, Andrew.... I couldn't!"
"Fine." Methos turned back to his work. "Sorry I couldn't help."
"Well, if you insist...." Elizabeth twittered, clearing her throat.
"Beautiful eyes the colour of gold,
Skin very, very pale
Compared to me, you're very old."
Methos rolled his 'colour of gold' eyes. This was the fifth sonnet in
as many weeks Lady Elizabeth had written praising his virtues.
"How about 'to love me, you'll need to be drunk on ale," He muttered
under his breath.
"What did you say?" Elizabeth asked.
"I said," Methos searched through his mental dictionary. "Male. Male
rhymes perfectly with pale."
"Of COURSE!" Elizabeth shrieked. "'You're a perfect male'! It's brilliant!"
"I'm glad I could assist. Now, if you please, I'm quite busy right now."
"But I must thank you for your help."
"It was my pleasure, my Lady," he forced the words out, "I love to
help budding poets." And you leaving will be thanks enough, he added
mentally.
*****
"So you're working for a Lord and his daughter has a crush on you.
So?" Joe yawned. "Are you just trying to show off? Prove how
desirable you are? I think it's enough just bringing the charming Ms.
Marlowe in here."
"Do you know nothing about story telling, Dawson? I'm trying to set
the mood! Illustrate how loathesome I found Elizabeth."
"Okay, you couldn't stand her."
"It was more than that. She was absolutely repellant! Pretentious,
spoiled, dumb as a post....." He sighed, remembering the noble. "She
did have a nice body, though."
Joe rolled his eyes. "Is that really a necessary detail, Methos?"
"Actually, it is. She was gorgeous. Dark brown hair, green eyes....
Killer body. Of course, I've never been one to go for just the
esthetics. Unfortunately, there was someone who did....."
*****
With a sweep of his arm, Hugh Fitzcairn bowed deeply. "Lord William,
I am honoured you have agreed to meet with me."
"Think nothing of it, my boy," Lord William said, waving his hand so
Fitzcairn would rise. "I understand to wish to court my daughter
Elizabeth."
"Yes. I noticed her radiance at the wedding of my second cousin. My
Lord, she is the most stunning creature I have ever met. It would be
an honour to be wed to such a goddess." He sighed. "I don't have much
to offer, much of my fortune was lost when my family died. All I can
really offer is my name and my sword. I will protect the lady with my
life's blood."
"You are friends with Robert Dudley, are you not, Fitzcairn?" Lord
William eyed the blond haired gentleman.
"Oh yes, quite good friends. I visit him often. Should Lady Elizabeth
accept my proposal, Robert will be my groomsman, I am sure!" He
laughed.
"If the girl wants you, Fitzcairn, I no objections!" Lord William
laughed. "I must warn you. Her head is filled with such romantic
twaddle, you will have your work cut out for you."
"I am quite sure Lady Elizabeth will accept."
"The best of luck to you, Fitzcairn. As my wife's cousin's nephew, I
will allow you to stay at the manour while you pursue her."
"I am in your debt, my Lord." Fitzcairn bowed again.
*****
Joe shook his head. "Fitzcairn. HUGH Fitzcairn? As in, Mac's friend?"
"The very same. Of course, back then he wasn't Mac's friend. Hell,
Mac hadn't even been born!" Methos stretched out. "Back then, his was
a 393-year-old pissant vagabond. Of course, he was just a
447-year-old pissant vagabond when MacLeod met him, and a
804-year-old pissant vagabond when he died."
"Fitzcairn was never big on variety, was he?" Rose commented. "Except
when it came to women."
"Elizabeth was just beautiful enough that Fitzcairn wanted to bed
her, she was also rich enough that he wanted to marry her. Of course,
he was going to have his work cut out for him...."
****
TO BE CONTINUED.......