Editing DbS (section)

== TWENTY-TWO ==
⚇乂⚇

'''DEEPEST APOLOGIES, THORIN OAKENSHIELD'''

“HAMLET,” HE SAID IN A small, quiet, voice. “May I have a minute?” Correct grammar- always a sign to leave someone be. I could imagine the periods and the commas in the simple request- and so I obliged.

I stood from afar, watching him as he stared down at his beloved. He seemed to be doing a monologue- pulling a Hamlet on me.

Haha. So funny. Wow. My brain. Just like, wow.

The shadowy form of Romeo crouched beside Juliet, shoulders shaking. ''He’s finally broke,'' my mind whispered as I watched. I took in my surroundings once more.

Dear reader, there was nothing more eerie than the trees that night. They crowded around the well-kempt graveyard, almost as if they were whispering to each other. I could imagine it now: three witches gathering, standing over Juliet’s grave.

They would look to one another, noses gnarled with age, eyes bright with the anticipation of a new spell casting, faces twisted into grins.

The first would throw in four or five ingredients before stooping down to grab a frog, cackling as it squirms in her hand, before throwing it into the cauldron.

Fire would catch their faces, illuminating their much-too-large noses and venomous grins. “Double, double, toil and trouble, fire burn and cauldron bubble!” Cackles would fill the night sky. They dance around the fire, wicked grins on their faces, adding in ingredients, cackling their harsh laughs… but then their image disappeared from my mind, and all was as it was.

''Well,'' my mind thought, and I could imagine it frowning at itself. ''That was an experience.''

''Yes, but not a good one!'' Another part of my mind spoke, its Scottish accent thick.

Romeo sat beside Juliet’s grave, possibly lamenting his sorrows, before he got up to grab something. When he came back, he had a letter in hand and started looking around, finally spotting me and beckoning me forward.

''Am I thou servant!?'' my brain thought angrily, and I nearly stopped in my tracks.

''My speech…'' ''tis… Shakespeare.'' This was not a good sign.

“Hamlet!” Romeo called as I came out of the shadows. I idly wondered if Benvolio were watching us from some hiding spot.

“Romeo,” I called back, giving him an even look.

“Early in the morning, see thou deliver it to my lord and father,” he squinted up at the sky where a cloud was lazily starting to hide the moon. “Tis no good omen…” he murmured before turning his attention back to me.

“Upon thy life I charge thee, what’er thou hear’st or see’st, stand all aloof, and do not interrupt me in my course.” I nodded. Of course, he wouldn’t want me interfering. I knew what he was doing.

“Romeo,” I started, a little surprised by how my voice was accented. ''Oookay,'' I thought, before continuing. “Truly, thou hast no need to kill thineself. Your beloved art not the only thing in existence in this cruel, cruel world.”

“Cruel world indeed!” exclaimed Romeo, pacing now. “Tis nobler to ne’er to have liv’d at all! ‘Truly’, Hamlet, as I live before thee, mine life is’t worth nought if—” his eyes grew large and he seemed to be having trouble swallowing- “my love, O beautiful Juliet, walks not upon the earth.” He looked to me, eyes teary, begging me not to go against what he was saying. ''I must.''

But he would not let me speak, although I needed to, badly. ''Tis not indeed nobler to suffer the blows of death, rather than living a… noble… life!'' My mind exploded, trying to supply my wordless mouth with things to say.

His eyes grew large. “Someone approaches!” he hissed, diving into the bushes. I dashed to another bush, hiding behind it.

My mind raced with the possibilities and my legs shook with a rude sort of excitement, ready to start a fight or run or something. ''Calm,'' I tried to think to myself, although myself would not listen.

Out from the shadows stepped a man. His tunic was expensive looking and green with little hints of red in it, but he was different than the prince.

Like I assumed most love interests were back in Shakespeare’s era, he had blonde hair in a short man ponytail and he carried his plumed hat at his side. His eyes, when they caught the light of the moon, turned silvery, although it was hard to see their actual color from so far away.

His servant carried a torch- or was he a page?- and followed him dutifully, holding it level with Juliet’s body which rested on a cushioned table. I wasn’t sure if the cushioned-looking table was actually a thing that they used back then or whether it was a part of the author’s imagination, but either way, it enhanced the scene quite a bit.

I gripped Romeo’s letter tightly in my hand, determined not to let it slip. I caught sight of Romeo’s hair peeking out from behind his bush, but hoped- and was pretty sure- it was invisible to the man who had just come in, at least from the angle he was at.

“Put the torch out, boy, for I would not be seen. Under yon yew trees lay thee all along, holding thine ear close to the hollow ground- so shall no foot upon the churchyard tread, being loose but unfirm, with digging up of graves, but thou shalt hear it. Whistle then to me, as a signal that thou hear’st something approach. Give me those flowers. Do as I bid thee, go,” he commanded his servant, taking the flowers from him quickly. The boy frowned, but did as he asked, putting out his torch, the silvery moonlight filling the quiet graveyard once again.

''Their eyes hath not adjusted! Quick, I say, Nathan, attack the mongrels of royalty! Burn them at the stake, I say!''

It took me a minute to decipher what my quickly-turning-Shakespeare brain was saying. And another to realize that we- ''I-'' had no stake to burn them at. So, I crouched still.

''T’would be of most help if he would speak’th of his name…'' my thoughts trailed off as he spoke, a soliloquy. ''Egad! Another one!? Shakespeare’s story-men truly hath losteth their marbles… eth.'' My brain was struggling with Shakespeare grammar.

“Flowers on flowers, O sweet Juliet! Once seeing sweet sunlight now see darker moon! Wedding roses hath turned darkened with black, trickling laughter now hath perished and gone…” he trailed off, carefully tossing flowers over Juliet, making sure they were placed properly before he continued. I watched, enamored with this ceremony before I was tackled to the ground.

''Tis not the time!'' My brain screeched, Scottish as could be, as I tussled with my attacker.

Finally knocking him off, I got a good look at him. He was built like a dwarf. His shoulders were wide but his stature was short and he gave me a glare full of anger, breathing heavily.

“Peasant! Why doth thou look upon Sir Paris with such contempt! If thou weren’t the murderer of my master’s to-be wife, I would kill thee mineself!”

I paused a minute. This was a twelve-year-old speaking. Obviously he had never seen Romeo in his life, or at least he had never caught sight of him. I glanced behind me at where Romeo had been hiding. He was gone.

When I looked back at the child, his lips were slightly puckered, a fierce look upon his face, before he made a shrill noise. A whistle.