Work Text:
"I must inform you that the administrator for your theology exam this semester is professor Faustus."
"Oh no," said Hamlet. "Rosencrantz and Guildenstern are dead."
"I miss Ophelia so much! Can't she just steal some man's clothes and come to Wittenberg?"
Guildenstern sighed over a letter.
"We suggested it to her the last time, have you forgotten that already?".
Ros assumed a defensive position but said nothing.
"She actually writes right here that she did try it."
"Ooooh, and?.."
"And they caught her at the port."
"Damn!" Rosencrantz blurted out, then put his hand to his mouth, looked around and crossed himself. "What else does she write?"
"She says that Laertes got engaged, and now she secretly dates the fiancée."
"Good for them!"
"Then she gives a list of recommended books, bla-bla-bla."
"Typical nerdy Ophelia," Ros winced.
"I bet the list she sent to Horatio is three times longer than ours. Anyway, get off the bed and sit down here, you'll be writing our response."
"Why me again, Guil?" Rosencrantz whined, "You know how bad I am with words."
"I'll dictate the text, don't worry. It's just Ophelia wrote that my handwriting is worse than Hamlet's."
"I love your handwriting. And your hands in general."
"It won't work on me, Ros, and you know it. So get up."
"Okay," mumbled Rosencrantz and leapt off the bed. Guil gave up his seat and started marching across the room, slowly recapping the recent news.
At some point, he glanced over at Ros and lost his thoughts. The fellow was absolutely concentrated on movements of his quill and Guildenstern couldn't help but examine his tense brows and lips and wonder whether he was biting the very tip of his tongue, like he would often do.
It wasn't until Ros finished writing the sentence and gave Guil a questioning look demanding the next one, Guildenstern found himself standing with his mouth half-open and made an attempt to hide it with a cough. But it was quite too late.
Ros caught his hand and pulled him closer.
"Oh, I see, you love my handwriting too?"
"Yes, no use hiding that," and Guil hugged Ros from behind. "I don't remember where I stopped."
"You were telling her about the theology exam."
"Hm. I think she won't be mad if we post the letter tomorrow."
"I wouldn't be, that's for sure. So, if we're not writing the letter, what are we doing?"
"We could spend some time preparing for this exam," Guildenstern hummed into Ros's hair while trying to find the upper button of his doublet.
"I'm not in the mood for thinking about something as deep as theology," Rosencrantz said slyly, then considered, "or for thinking at all, to be fair."
There followed a kiss, a bit awkward due to the position of the participants. Then suddenly, this (still pleasant) activity was rudely interrupted by the slam of the door and Hamlet's anxious exclamation.
"You need to hear this, guys!" the prince shouted and then rolled his eyes. "I knew that! I bet you haven't even opened the books today!"
"I have, actually," Ros answered in an injured voice and with a tint of frustration.
"No, you haven't," denied Guil. "It just fell off the table and landed open."
"Anyway, you are doomed," continued Hamlet. "Faustus will be administering the theology exam."
Both friends gasped. Meanwhile, the sound of quick footsteps reached the room and in a minute Horatio fell through the door.
"Did I miss their reaction?" he asked, catching his breath.
"You can still witness it, Horus. It's beautiful," mocked Hamlet.
Rosencrantz was the first to shake off the shock. He fell on his knees just a tad too theatrically and pleaded with tears in his voice:
"My dearest friend Horatio, please do not deprive us of the blessing of your wisdom!"
"Ros, stop, this is actually important," Guil hushed him with a dead voice.
(The matter was that Ros was quite lazy and didn't have any disposition toward theology, and Guil, on the contrary, had such disposition and was too eager to start debates with professors who in general promoted it. Except for Faustus, who couldn't stand any, however hidden (and often non-existing at all) allegations he might be wrong. Needless to say, the professor despised both of them.)
"Hey! That's my lute!" Horatio shot out all of a sudden.
This night was a dark one. No moon this time, only thick clouds.
“Why would he leave his chambers this late?” whispered a dark figure.
“Maybe because he knows someone like us might stalk him and try doing something to him,” whispered another dark figure, a couple inches shorter and with more attitude.
“Are we gonna do something to him?! Guil, this is not what we...”
“I was speaking hypothetically.”
“Oh, alright. What are we gonna do though?”
“I thought we'd just scare him a bit.”
“Shouldn’t we have discussed it at home?”
“No time for that! Look, he is going to the observatory tower! Go, go!”
Rosencrantz and Guildenstern (for now it is obvious who the two figures were) followed Faustus (for it was him who they were stalking) to the building.
Ros nervously glanced at the deanery tower clock. It was five minutes to twelve.
“Guil, don’t think me a coward but… To hell with it, we both know I’m a coward sometimes,” and the boy crossed himself, “but I feel something bad is going on. Demonic, even.”
“I think this is exactly what your problem with theology is. You take it too personally,” Guil hissed but then they both started as they heard unearthly chanting from the observatory tower windows.
“N-nevermind,” Guildenstern apologized.
“I suggest we run the hell out of here,” Ros whispered very loudly, then made an irritated sound and crossed himself again.
“No way. We have to investigate this. Perhaps, it will give us some leverage, if you know what I mean.”
“Ooooh. Are we going to blackmail him with black magic?”
Guil’s face turned really disappointed for not thinking of this wording himself.
“Yes, we are.”
They joined hands and crept through the door and up to the top floor of the tower.
“Orientis princeps Beelzebub, inferni ardentis monarcha, et Demogorgon, propitiamus vos, ut appareat et surgat Mephistopheles, quod tumeraris!..” the voice that could only belong to Faustus echoed off the walls.
Two young men behind a perhaps too thin wooden door shivered with growing discomfort.
“I don’t know Latin that well,” Guil winced. “What is he saying?”
“His grammar kinda sucks… But he’s summoning a demon.”
“What a hypocritical jerk! Well, I think it’s enough for blackmail, let’s go…”
They set out downstairs but at that very moment the tower started shaking as if an earthquake began. Ros grabbed his friend by the arm and hissed:
“You’re not going anywhere, the stairs will definitely fall through!”
Guil obeyed and just as well, because the entire building, except only the top floor, instantly became filled with eerie blue fire. The boys glanced up to the windows, hoping they would find an escape route there, however high the tower was, but the flame seemed to surround them on the outside as well.
Guildenstern clutched Rosencrantz's hand and looked at him with eyes full of fear.
"So this is how we die, isn't it?"
"We are going to die together then. I would never wish for something better than this."
Trembling, they embraced each other as close and as tight as they could, buried their faces in each other's shoulders and tried their best to pretend neither of them was crying.
They could still hear the voices of Faustus and, apparently, the summoned devil. Their conversation wasn't long, however, and at some point Faustus sent the devil away.
Just as the devil made his bow, the fire disappeared, the shaking stopped, and the boys separated, looking around with shock. It took them only a couple of seconds to realize that they were safe and sound now, so they darted downstairs even before Faustus finished his monologue.
Outside (i.e. quite far from the damned observatory), they stopped, gasping, still not quite themselves. In a while, Guil regained his breath and mumbled:
"If there's still the exam tomorrow, I think I'll just blow up."
Ros gave a forced short laugh but said nothing. In a moment, he also stopped wheezing, and they took it as their cue to go home.
The next morning found them sleeping uneasily, clinging to each other as if they were again in mortal danger. Fortunately, the sunshine was bright enough to wake them up just in time for the exam.
Hamlet and Horatio were already waiting for them in the lecture hall. They weren't exactly surprised to see the friends pale and exhausted, but both chose not to ask for the details of their adventure just yet.
Finally, the deanery tower clock struck eleven and everyone froze in anticipation for the exam administrator to walk in. Obviously, Rosencrantz and Guildenstern were intrigued much more than anyone else in the room. Through the deafening silence, the anxious students clearly heard the familiar irregular footsteps. The door creaked and opened.
"Do not be afraid, young fellows!" Faustus exclaimed on his way in. "In the light of the recent events (of which you know nothing yet, but soon will definitely hear), I find it beneath me to waste on you any second more. Begone, you pathetic adolescence! There is no chance you are clever enough to pass this examination anyway!"
And he went out and away.
Nobody moved. Silence became even more painful. It wasn't until a few minutes later the students started to whisper and hustle. They held a little council and decided to send a boy to the staffroom to notify the teachers and ask for instructions.
The ambassador soon returned with the considerably confused Dean.
"I was informed that your professor refused to administer the exam," he cleared his throat. "It was… erm… just as much of a surprise for us as for you. Unfortunately, we do not have an alternative… erm… candidate at the moment, so we can only dismiss you for now. Please stay at the campus until further notice."
He gave a small bow and left. In the mere second all the students followed him in a hurry, delighted to be free at least for a day. The four friends stayed, however, but only because Rosencrantz and Guildenstern had no energy to get up that quickly.
Hamlet was bubbling with curiosity. Horatio seemed calmer, but it was just his signature polite mask. The other two sighed and started their tale.
"So, now we don't have to worry about failing the exam," said Ros, munching on a pie, when they all were sitting in Hamlet's chambers later.
"I would still recommend you open the textbooks," Horatio gently pointed out.
"Oh, they can open them, don't worry. The question is whether they will read a word," mocked Hamlet.
Guil made the last sip of his wine and put the goblet down with dignity.
"I would like to ask you not to doubt our knowledge of theology," he said strongly.
"Speak for yourself, Guil, I don't know a damn thing!" Ros objected with his mouth full, then rolled his eyes and crossed himself.
"God, will you stop doing that? We're all going to Hell anyway because of the reasons," Hamlet snapped.
Rosencrantz looked at him with significant disapproval but said nothing.
"Erm, guys?.. What's going on outside?" Horatio asked suddenly and hurried towards the window. Others joined him in a second and saw (and heard) two young men shouting something in the general direction of the dormitory windows. They weren't Wittenberg students, as far the friends could remember, but one of them still looked very familiar.
"Oh my!" Ros cried suddenly. "It's Ophelia! She made it!"
"And she brought Laertes's fiancée. That's my girl!" Guil added with warm pride.