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 4 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. **** Elizabeth twittered, latching onto Fitzcairn's arm. "I never realized how sensitive you are! Come live with me, and be my love, And we will all the pleasures prove, That Valleys, groves, hills and fields, Woods, or steep mountain yields." She swooned. "I didn't think you even knew how to read!" Fitzcairn smiled, wrapping his arm around Elizabeth's waist. "Ah, my dear, all I had to do was think of your beauty and the words poured out!" Methos overheard the pair of lovers cooing to each other. He rolled his eyes. Maybe it's time I move on, he thought to himself, the last thing I want is to be employed by Hugh Fitzcairn. The preparations had been made. Elizabeth and Fitzcairn would be married in a day. All thanks to that poem. One thing didn't sit right with Methos though, the writing was not Rosalyn's style. He had known her for over five hundred years. He knew what her writing was like. This was not it. Oh well, it wasn't his problem. They were a couple now and Methos had a policy not to involve himself in the matter of couples. Giving Fitzcairn the poem was involvement enough. "Oh, Hugh...." Elizabeth cooed, "Would you possibly write me another poem?" "A-Another poem? But wasn't the first one good enough?" Panic filled Fitzcairn's voice. "You cannot waste a talent like yours, my love!" "I-I will write you another one. It will be ready for the wedding." Elizabeth clapped her hands. "Oooh!" She smiled. "Now, I must take my leave of you. I must make sure my dress fits." "I will be counting the minutes until your return," Fitzcairn replied, kissing her hand. He watched her leave. Methos buried his nose in his book as Fitzcairn approached him. "Not on your immortal life." "But I didn't even ask you!" "I'm not going to get you another poem." Methos turned the page casually. "I tired myself out getting that one." "It can't be that hard to write!" "That's easy for your to say!" Methos poked his finger into Fitzcairn's chest. "You don't even know how to read!" Rising to his feet, Methos collected his possessions. "I helped you once, I'm not going to do it again. Now please.... Leave me alone!" He strode out of the room, leaving Fitzcairn alone with his problem. ** I'm guessing Lady Elizabeth got mad when Fitzcairn turned up without his new poem.** **He didn't get that far.** **** Elizabeth felt anger well within her as she replayed the conversation. She had left her gloves in the study with Fitzcairn and Andrew. She had heard the heated argument. That poem..... That beautiful poem, written for her, was from Andrew. It should have been obvious. Fitzcairn did not have the silver tongue, the beguiling artistry with words Andrew possessed. But what of the words that had been written? Had they truly been for her? Could Andrew have been harbouring a desire for her? Of course he had. It had been in his eyes since the moment he arrived at the castle. Those beautiful hazel eyes, soulful..... And his handsome features..... His sexy bod-- **METHOS! You can't possibly know what Elizabeth was thinking. Just get on with the story.** **Geez, Dawson, you have no respect for good storytelling. I was setting the mood. Anyway, Elizabeth was on her way to see me to confront me about the poem. But the entertainment for the wedding was arriving that night....** **** "So will you be disappearing, dear Rosalyn?" Christopher asked, smiling at the costume mistress. They were following close behind the rest of the theater troupe. "This is where your precious scribe resides, right?" Rosalyn nodded, smiling. "Yes, Kit.... Andrew does live with Lord William. But this is not a social visit. Do you have something prepare for the wedding celebration tomorrow?" "Oh yes, a wonderful poem. Highly romantic." "Who is it about this time, Kit?" "I draw inspiration from many places," Christopher said, laughing. "Stop writing poems about my boyfriend, Kit." **WHAT?!?!?** **I thought I told you, Old Man. Kit had a big old yen for you.** **Not THAT. I knew that. You called me your boyfriend?** **Will you two clowns just continue with the story?** **Fine, fine.... As committed to her work as Rose was, she couldn't resist seeing me.** **Are you two a couple of bunnies or something?** **** Methos laughed, chasing Rosalyn around his room. She clutched tightly to the bedcoverings which shielded her body. "Come back here," he growled, "I'm not finished with you." "I need to get back to work!" Rosalyn replied, holding her hand out to keep him at bay. "I have several costumes that need mending before the celebration tomorrow." "Don't leave me wanting, Rosalyn," Methos begged, "Just once more, then work." He pulled her into his arms, kissing her gently. She gave into his advances, running her fingers through his hair. The two were so involved with each other, they did not hear the door open. They weren't aware of the door opening. "ANDREW!!!!" Came a shrill scream. Methos tore away from Rosalyn. He stared at Lady Elizabeth. "My- my lady.... It is customary to knock." "Who is this?" She demanded, pointing at Rosalyn. "A whore?" "It is not really any of your business," he replied sharply. "You wrote me that beautiful poetry!" Elizabeth picked up a vase, throwing it at Methos' head. He dodged it, racing for the door, forgetting his was stark naked. "Poetry? Fitzcairn wrote you poetry!" Methos scampered to the exit, avoiding a dangerously aimed book. "I know you were the one who wrote it! You wrote it for ME! You love me!" "You're insane!" Another book flew through the air, hitting Methos in the temple. He stumbled into the corridor, where Fitzcairn was walking. "Andrew? What in the world is going on?" "You are a horrible man!" Elizabeth shrieked, grabbing everything she could to throw at Methos. She then noticed Fitzcairn. "And YOU! You DARE deceive me by using Andrew's poetry as your own!" "You told her!?!?" Fitzcairn yelled at Methos, drawing his sword. "How could you?" "I didn't!" Methos yelled back. "She just found out! Put that thing away!" "You're one to talk!" Fitzcairn gestured to Methos' state of undress. "Dammit! Rosalyn! Give me something to cover myself!" Methos barked. Rosalyn was too busy laughing to be of much help. She covered her mouth, shaking with controlled mirth. "ROSALYN! It is NOT AMUSING!" "I am terribly sorry.... It is not amusing..." She shook her head. "No.... it really is very amusing. You two are complete asses!" Fitzcairn and Methos gave Rosalyn a withering stare. "Who in the world are you?" Fitzcairn asked. "I am Andrew's companion." "Don't be too sure about that," Methos muttered. Fitzcairn turned to Methos, brow furrowed in confusion. "I thought you preferred boys." "What gave you that idea?" "You DO have a certain quality, Andrew." Rosalyn commented. "You are treading a thin line, Rosalyn!" "All of you BE QUIET!" Elizabeth shouted. "Are you all in a conspiracy against me?" Before any of them could answer, a voice wafted through the corridor. "Come live with me, and be my love, And we will all the pleasures prove, That Valleys, groves, hills and fields, Woods, or steep mountain yields...." Elizabeth picked up her skirts, following the voice. Methos, Rosalyn and Fitzcairn followed behind her. Methos grabbed at the sheet covering Rosalyn, using the corner to shield his own nudity. "WHY are you reading my poem?" Elizabeth demanded the young poet. "Your poem?" Christopher shook his head. "My dear lady, you must be mistaken... This is my poem. I wrote it last month." "WHAT?!?!" Elizabeth turned to Methos and Fitzcairn. "You couldn't even give Fitzcairn a poem you wrote, Andrew?" Methos turned to Rosalyn. "You stole a poem from Kit?" "I BORROWED it. I didn't think it would matter!" "The whore was in on this conspiracy too?" Elizabeth clutched her bosom. "I am NOT a whore!" Rosalyn yelled. The situation was threatening to go to blows when a bellowing yelling pierced their ears. "FITZCAIRN!!!!!!!" The voice was highly recognizable as that of Lord William. The blond immortal became wide-eyed. He looked from Elizabeth, to Methos, to Rosalyn, to Christopher. He turned and ran. Rosalyn and Methos looked at each other. "I think it's time we get out of here," Methos said. "I agree. Let's go." **** "So what had happened?" Dawson asked. "Well, we didn't really stick around to find out, but I heard the story secondhand. Apparently, Fitzcairn had found a lost nobleman with the same name. Anyway, the nobleman reappeared and was QUITE upset ot hear someone had usurped his identity. Our Fitzcairn had to get out of town quickly to avoid a nasty fight." "I don't understand.... How did that little event go from 'A Comedy of Morons' to 'Cyrano De Bergerac'?" Methos cracked his knuckles, turning to Rose. "Mind enlightening him?" "Well, I was a little mad at Methos.... And I knew it would really burn him up to have him turned into a character in a story again. Of course, the REAL story wouldn't have made much drama, so I fudged a few facts and Edmond did take some dramatic license....." "I STILL can't believe you did that to me. I didn't do anything that horrible!" "You tried to bed my daughter," Rose deadpanned, "You got off LIGHT." "How was I to know she was your daughter?" Methos demanded. "She was a 28-year-old Frenchwoman!" "I was in town, you shouldn't have been trying to bed anyone." Joe covered his ears. "All right! I think I've got the idea! Now get out of here! You're giving me a headache!" Methos and Rose got up and left, bickering as they went. Joe shook his head, relishing in the silence. He pulled out his computer, opening his Chronicle. "Cyrano de Methos.... Who wouldn't thunk?" **** Rose licked her lips, looking up at Methos. "You're not really still mad at me over the Cyrano thing, are you, Old Man?" Methos slung his arm over her shoulder. "Well...... I was mad for a long time.... But thanks to my friend Tom, I think I've gotten over it." "I don't get it. Your friend Tom?" "Yeah." Methos smiled smugly. "Tom Stoppard. So, Rose..... Have you seen 'Shakespeare in Love'?" "YOU BASTARD!" she took a swing at him. "I should have known! I was never like that!" He dodged her punch, grin still wide. "Sorrry, did I offend you?" "I would NEVER! You told him-- With Shakespeare! You asshole!" "Rosalyn, don't reach for that sword.... No.... Hey, Rosa.... I was just kidding......" **** May 15, 2001 Dear Em, I'm glad immortality grants us with quick healing. I would hate to explain to my colleagues that I got a black eye from a woman. Rose is overpowering when she wants to be. I shouldn't have told her about the 'Shakespeare in Love' thing. You were aware that I told the writer of our little Rosalyn, right? Of course you did, you're a clever boy. Maybe Rose and I have gotten a little to petty. We've been pulling tricks on each other for nearly a millennia. I'm just glad neither of us can really hold a grudge. I'd hate to get into a real row with her. And for the record, my nose is NOT that big! ~The Old Man **** Words that never were true. Spoken to help nobody but you. Words with lies inside, But small enough to hide 'Til your playin' was through. --Words (Tommy Boyce/Bobby Hart) **** Next time on "The Methos Chronicles": Material Girl Establishing a new identity is troublesome work-- especially when you're wanted in a dozen countries! Our favourite old guy has to aid the Queen of Theives in her newest endevour.