Me again! Back so soon! I have a renewed energy for fanfiction suddenly, probably due to the lack of interest once again in my life. Not entirely sure where this story is leading, but I have a few ideas up my sleave.

The Sheriff is yet again welcoming a new guest into Nottingham, but what for? Who will pay for this new guest's proposition to the Sheriff and what will it do to the gang? Robin/Marian Will/Djaq - A fair amount of.

Enjoy and please review! :)

'What is that smell?' Much grumbled from his perch outside the camp. The scent of burning was wafting its way up to ledge he occupied, slowly past his nose and it worried him, as most daily occurrences did.

'It smells absolutely dis…'

'Djaq's cooking,' Will, who was walking past to collect more firewood, butted in before Much began to dig himself into a very big hole.

'Oh, it smells delicious Djaq, just delicious.' The last two words were a mumble accompanied by a role of the eyes. It was Much's job to cook and as much as he moaned and fretted about it, he had decided long ago he was the only man up for the job. Djaq had told them she could not cook and on a few occasions the gang had experienced exactly what she meant when she said she did not do cooking. However, none of the friendly gang could muster up the courage to tell the 'poor lass,' as John called her in those types of situations, and no one had the heart to see her hard work go to waste.

'Thank you, Much!' She replied, excited about finally cooking a decent meal. Much's 'chicken' was often filling enough, but the goose Robin had managed to attract earlier was really going to go down a treat.

The outlaws thought they had got away with the cringed looks and secret tossing of their food into the fire last time, but Djaq being Djaq had noticed. She looked a little hurt at first and felt what she assumed Much had, on many evenings after their relentless teasing and banter against him. On the other hand, she was grateful that they did not voice their opinions on her disastrous cooking and was pleased she did not have to face being humiliated a great deal in front of men.

Ten minutes later, Djaq was dishing up her masterpiece and handing out wooden plates full of meat and the occasional leafy salad to the outlaws' anxiously awaiting palms. As she presented them with the evening's dinner, they stared upon their food with wonder. Apart from the occasional burnt patch it looked rather good. Will, looked up to see Djaq eagerly awaiting them to take their first bite. Hmm? Couldn't be that bad, could it? He mused awhile, watching her face light up when Robin took a fair sized bite, before he himself felt like going for the normal piece of looking vegetation on the side.

Little John spent the good part of 5 minutes pushing the lumps of goose around mindlessly and Robin was enjoying the twist Djaq had added to the mix. During the time before she had reinvented herself as a boy, she had received lessons on the basics of cooking. How to flavour a meal was about the only thing she cared to remember. Her food was obviously reminding Robin that the Holy Land did have a good side and that, was the food.

Suddenly, Much was choking and spluttering in the corner of the kitchen searching for the first jug of water he could lay his hands on.

'What is in that?' He shrieked, sipping back the water quickly, not feeling the benefits he thought he would.

'A pinch of spice,' Djaq replied, a matter-of-factly.

'Much, calm down,' Robin sighed, handing his almost finished plate back to Djaq and going over to take the cup of water away from Much's rough hands.

'Water will only make it worse,' Djaq explained to the look of bewilderment on the servants face as his source of hopeful relief was snatched from him.

'Here, try this.' Robin handed him his wooden cup refilled with ale and Much's fluster soon became a few heavy breathes.

'Where did you find Spice, that strong, in Sherwood?'

'Remember that exotic Lord we robbed on the North Road last week,' Djaq explained, 'him.'

'Yes…well, warn me next time,' Much muttered as the replay of events sunk in, 'a pinch of spice, unbelievable!' Just a few days ago, they had been taking supplies to one of the villages, encountering a rather finely made cart, according to Will, on the North Road. They had robbed the rich man of most of his jewels for not cooperating with the gang and Djaq had sniffed out a rare spice, she guessed was a present for the Sheriff. Knowing they'd enjoy it a lot more than he would, she slipped the small pouch into one of her trouser pockets, ready for later use.

'Clearly, Much, I will never make as good a housewife as you,' Djaq laughed, much to his annoyance, 'My husband's stomach will never be full.'

'I think you're perfect as you are,' Will blurted out, missing the first half of the conversation and realising, after it was too late, what he had just let slip.

'I… I meant, you'd make a good housewife the way you are,' he tried to recover, unsuccessfully no doubt.

Little John rolled his eyes at the young carpenter's deep blush and Robin smirked subtly as Much mumbled something about the truth. Djaq just shrugged Will's comment off with a quick kiss on his cheek, in gratitude, and the comment that it would be many years before she would succumb to that kind of lifestyle. This made Will a little disappointed for reasons he was not sure of yet, but he smiled lightly anyway, enjoying the sensation Djaq's soft lips had left behind.

As Djaq, had begun to gather the plates for washing, quite pleased with herself, a tall, female figure appeared, seemingly out of no where, at the entrance to the camp.

'Marian?' Robin questioned as he stumbled up and over to the brown haired woman.

'What is it?'

The woman had clearly run most of the way through the dense forest, in search of the outlaws. She panted in between her words, trying to catch her breath.

'The Sheriff, has a guest on his way to the castle,' she stated, 'I don't know what for, but it cannot be good.'

Robin's faced tensed in thought as he led his betrothed towards a stool and carefully nudged her to sit down. Throughout the scene the rest of the outlaws remained in their positions listening intently to the short conversation. The Sheriff seemed to have guests often and, as Marian had declared; this was never a good sign.

'Gang,' Robin put forward, staring intensely into the bright, orange flames of the fire, a thoughtful look upon his face, 'we need to find out what the Sheriff's up to.'

'Then, we need a plan,' the usually quiet John, spoke up.