Benvolio and Mercutio (SLOW UPDATES)

Encounter With Tybalt

Benvolio glanced up from his book to see a swirl of red and blue combined with the all too familiar clashing of swords. He tossed his book aside and rushed towards the fight, drawing his sword.

"Part fools," he cried. "Put up your swords; you know not what you do!" The two parties did not stop. Benvolio kept trying, and was so caught up in trying to stop the fight that he didn't notice someone closing in until he felt a sword barely brushing his neck.

"What, art thou drawn among these heartless hinds? Turn thee, Benvolio, and look upon thy death." Benvolio felt the hairs on the back of his neck stand on end. Tybalt.

"I do but keep the peace." He insisted, "Put up thy sword, or manage it to part these men with me." He knew it was a long shot, but if Tybalt would help him they'd break up the duel in no time. However, he was met with a cruel laugh; Benvolio felt his whole body tense.

"What, drawn, and talk of peace?" Tybalt laughed again. "I hate the word. As I hate hell, all Montagues, and thee!" He snarled, drawing his sword back to make a blow. Benvolio turned and blocked right in time. They continued on like that for some time; Tybalt with his offensive moves and Benvolio on the defense. Over that time others joined into the fray, with their clubs and swords and such.

"Rebellious subjects, enemies to peace, profaners of this neighbor-stainèd steel!" The Prince's voice rang over the turmoil. "Will they not hear?" Benvolio turned towards the voice just as Tybalt went for the crippling blow. Benvolio felt something push him and he tumbled to the ground, sword flying. When he'd regained his senses he looked up to see that smirk. The one he'd seen practically every day since he moved in with Romeo; the smirk he'd become so fond of...maybe too fond.

"Mercutio..." Benvolio smiled. Tybalt has paused in surprise, he was sure he'd best the Montague. Mercutio took this time to make an explicit gesture with his hand and Tybalt's sword. Tybalt snarled, but dropped his sword at the sound of the Prince's voice.

"Throw your mistempered weapons to the ground, and hear the sentence of your movèd prince." He scanned the crowd with disgust. "Three civil brawls, bred of an airy word- by thee, old Capulet, and Montague- have thrice disturbed the quiet of our streets." Both parties had the decency to look embarrassed. "If ever you disturb our streets again, your lives shall pay the forfeit of the peace." He hissed. "Once more, on pain of death, all men depart." The Prince warned, turning on his heel to leave. Capulet followed him and the crowd dispersed. Mercutio swaggered over to Benvolio and pulled him up before swinging an arm around his shoulder.

"I believeth I came a right good time; thee wast almost the cat's prey." Mercutio grinned.

"Aye, brave Mercutio, I thank thee," Benvolio replied.

"Shalt we wend?"

"Alloweth's." The pair started down the road.

"Benvolio!" Lord Montague called, causing the pair to stop. "Who set this ancient quarrel new abroach?" Mercutio sent Benvolio a look. "Speak, nephew! Were you by when it began?" Mercutio motioned towards the road; Benvolio nodded.

Mercutio started down the road as Benvolio explained, "Here were the servants of your adversary, and yours, close fighting ere I did approach. I drew to part them. In the instant came the fiery Tybalt, with his sword prepared, which, as he breathed defiance to my ears, he swung about his head and cut the winds, who, nothing hurt withal, hissed him in scorn. While we were interchanging thrusts and blows, came more and more and fought on part and part, till the Prince came, who parted either part." He turned to follow Mercutio.

"Oh, where is Romeo?" rang his aunt's frantic voice, "Saw you him today? Right glad I am he was not at this fray." Benvolio sighed and turned back around.

"Madam, an hour before the worshipped sun peered forth the golden window of the east, a troubled mind drove me to walk abroad..." This was true; Benvolio's thoughts and feelings involving Mercutio had become more troubling, causing him to wake in the early hours of the morn'. "...where, underneath the grove of sycamore that westward rooteth from this city side, so early walking did I see your son. Towards him I made, but he was 'ware of me and stole into the covert of the wood. I, measuring his affections by my own, which then most sought where most might not be found, being one too many by my weary self, pursued my humor not pursuing his, and gladly shunned who gladly fled from me." Seeing Romeo flee he decided to read near the marketplace, where the fray had occured. Montague nodded at his words.

"Many a morning hath he there been seen, with tears augmenting the fresh morning's dew, adding to clouds more clouds with his deep sighs." He agreed. "But all so soon as the all-cheering sun should in the farthest east begin to draw the shady curtains from Aurora's bed, away from light steals home my heavy son, and private in his chamber pens himself, shuts up his windows, locks fair daylight out, and makes himself an artificial night. Black and portentous must this humor prove unless good counsel may the cause remove." Benvolio could tell he would be catching up with Mercutio anytime soon.

"My noble uncle, do you know the cause?" Montague shook his head.

"I neither know it nor can learn of him." Benvolio thought for a moment.

"Have you importuned him by any means?"

"Both by myself and many other friends. But he, his own affections' counselor, is to himself-I will not say how true, but to himself so secret and so close, so far from sounding and discovery, as is the bud bit with an envious worm, ere he can spread his sweet leaves to the air, or dedicate his beauty to the same. Could we but learn from whence his sorrows grow. We would as willingly give cure as know." Benvolio nodded thoughtfully when out of the corner of his eye he spotted Romeo.

"See, where he comes. So please you, step aside. I'll know his grievance or be much denied." He loved his aunt and uncle, but they could be quite overbearing at times, and with them here he'd never uncover the reason for Romeo's unrest.

"I would thou wert so happy by thy stay to hear true shrift." He turned to his wife, "Come, madam, let's away." And with that they left.