This was my first attempt at writing with accents. I was going off the accents in the movie, as I was not certain what a real Scottish accent sounded like. I wasn't sure how this fit into the canon of the movie, having not seen all of the movie having not seen the movie at the time, but I liked the idea anyway.
The weed swayed in the wind, it's unsightly figure bending most ungracefully as the breeze tussled it carelessly. With a wild scream, a young boy raced toward the plant, and fiercely swung at it with his wooden sword. The weed fell before the boy's brutal assault. His friend nodded approval.
"Waell doone, Wahliam. But thu' next one ehs mine."
"Aye, i' migh' beh, if ya geht thaer fast enouh."
With these words, both bolted toward the last standing weed. William reached it first, and with a victorious war cry, he struck it down. He whirled to face his approaching friend, the wind rushing wildly through his hair, his blue eyes gleaming savagely. He grinned with a somewhat fiendish air.
"Ya'll 'ave ta larn ta be quicker 'an thaht, Hamish, or I'll get thum all befar ye can."
"Aye, thun, I knehw."
"Perhaps if I gave ya a haed start next time?"
"Why don' I simply knook ya don instead?"
Their conversation was brought to an abrupt halt by the inquisitive voice of a young girl, who was sitting on a low-hanging branch in a nearby tree.
"Are they all gone, thun?"
William turned and looked up at her.
"Aye, they're gohne; we're coomin' ta rehscewh ya nehw."
But the girl, obviously having found her role as the captured princess to be becoming somewhat monotonous, had already jumped from her perch and mounted her illusory steed, and was impatiently waiting for her deliverers to do the same.
"Coome on, thun, huhrry, or thah'll sen' mar sohlders ta kihll us all!"
The boys quickly mounted as well, and the three sprinted across the field to come to stand before another tree, where they dismounted. Murron smiled exuberantly.
"Nohw I can knight ya!"
She ran to the base of the tree, and retrieved two necklaces, which she had earlier made, using the long strips of leather that had formerly been braided into her hair, and thistles for pendants. She approached the boys with as much of an air of royalty as a girl of her age could manage. She turned to Hamish, and placed one of the necklaces about his neck.
"Ah'll need yer sword nohw, Hamish."
He handed her his weapon, and continued to stand and stare at her, clearly uncertain as to what to do next. After a moment, she leaned in to him, and whispered confidentially,
"Yer spossed ta kneel don."
He nodded and knelt and she tapped his shoulder with the sword.
"I know pruhnonce ya Sir Hamish Campbell."
She smiled, delighted with her ability to employ such a large word. Returning Hamish his sword, she then turned to William. He immediately gave to her his sword and knelt. She gently slipped the necklace over his head, and touched his shoulder with the sword.
"I know pruhnonce ya, Sir Wahliam Wallace."
He smiled at her and stood, taking his sword, which she held out to him. She clasped her hands together elatedly.
"Nowh we can go an' figh' a bah'le. An' I get ta 'ave a sword thus time."
She started toward the tree to obtain a weapon, but Hamish detained her by placing his hand on her arm.
"Noh, waiht, we fohrgoot soomthin'. Weh need facepaint, if we're goohna beh knights."
William frowned, and scrunched his face skeptically.
"Nah, we don'. Weh rescuh'd Murron, an' she knighted us foor i'. Facepaint has noothin ta do wuhth i'."
"Wahl, I say i' doos, an' I'm goona 'ave i' wether ya do ohr noh."
"But, Hamish, we don need i'!"
"I don kehre, I wohn i' anywey!"
Murron had been observing this conversation from a distance, and now decided to enter it.
"I think it's a nihce idea, Hamish. An' I have soom blue paint we can use; I can go get i'."
William turned to her, his expression making evident his incredulity. "But, Murron - "
"I like i', Wahliam. Please?"
He sighed, obviously not convinced of the necessity, but after a look at the pleading face of the girl, he sullenly nodded his head.
"Al' righ' thun, go geht i'. But hurry."
Murron smiled jubilantly, and ran to acquire to paint. Hamish smirked at William, pleased at his victory, and then stuck out his tongue. William simply shook his head. Hamish stepped nearer to him, and gave him an amiable shove.
"Ah, coome, nehw, Wahliam, i' canna be thaht bad."
He grinned cheerfully at his morose comrade, and William could not help but to smile in return.
"I don suppose sa..."
Murron returned, paint in hand. She set it on the ground and opened it. Hamish promptly helped himself to it, and began to paint wild patterns across his face. William, still apprehensive, warily dipped the tip of his finger into the paint, then smeared it in a most uncertain manner across the side of his face. He bit his lip and looked to study Hamish's artistically painted visage. He sighed and again dipped his finger in the paint, this time attempting to recreate one of the swirls that Hamish had painted, only to be left with what looked closer in appearance to a smudge. He scowled, and shook his head. Murron noticed this display of displeasure, and rose from where she had been sitting in the grass.
"Here, Wahliam, let meh healp ya."
Without waiting for a reply, she covered the tips of her fingers in the blue stuff, and began to paint the entire right side of his face. He fidgeted, uncertain that he desired any assistance.
"But, Murron, Hamish isn't doin' i' thus wey..."
"Don' worry, ih'ull look fine. Hald still."
She continued to paint; and he, resigned to his fate, took a breath and closed his eyes. Having completely covered the right side, Murron moved on to the left, of which she only painted half, leaving a strip of his face unpainted. She finished with a smile and a nod of her head, and then stood back to examine her work.
"I like i'."
William, looking somewhat ill at ease, turned to Hamish.
"Waell, whaht duh ya think?"
Hamish pursed his lips and tilted his head to the side. This action did nothing to reassure William.
"I' looks alrigh' ta meh..."
Murron had, meanwhile, been examining Hamish's face, and had come to the conclusion that it lacked something. She dipped her finger in the paint, and before he could say otherwise, she had placed a spot squarely in the center of his forehead. He, clearly not expecting this, stood and stared. She laughed, and William joined her; Hamish grinned stupidly, then grabbed William's sword up from where it had been left lying in the grass and tossed it to William; he then picked up his own.
"Coome on, thun. Let's go figh' ah bah'le."