Disclaimer: I own nothing. Everything belongs to Nancy Springer.
A/N: Hello, everyone. This story is based on the Tales of Rowan Hood, a series I enjoyed reading several years ago. I thought the books were cool and interesting, but always wonthered in the novels told from the point of view of other characters what was going on in Rowan's head. So, this is my take on what was happening with Rowan during Lionclaw. I am hoping to make this a three part series, all from Rowan's POV. I wrote the stories awhile ago, but this is the first time I ever thought of doing anything with them. Please read and enjoy!
CHAPTER ONE
Sherwood Forest was utterly quiet and still. The only noises to be heard were the rustling of branches in the breeze and the soft, scuttling sounds of nearby forest creatures.
Sitting in a hollow surrounded by rowan trees and located halfway up the side of a craggy hill, Rowan leaned back against the rocks and watched the spring in the hollow bubble merrily. She was enjoying the calm tranquility of her surroundings; this peace was rare for an outlaw such as herself. Absently, she ran her hand along the wolf-dog who lay sprawled at her side. Big, thickly furred and silver-gray with a rift of golden brown across his shoulders and a bib of white on his broad chest, he looked somewhat like a shepherd's collie.
The wolf-dog, Tykell, turned his head to lick Rowan's hand, making her smile slightly.
Rowan turned her eyes from Tykell to glance across the fire, meeting the gaze of the girl who sat opposite her.
"What are you thinking?" Ettarde asked, raising a slim, elegant hand to push some loose strands of long brown hair behind her ear.
"I was thinking," Rowan answered slowly, "How peaceful things have been of late."
"Yes, you're right," Etty agreed. "It's been months since we encountered any serious threats."
Rowan frowned slightly at Etty's comment; the remark had reminded her of something that had been bothering her all day.
"What is it?" Etty queried, raising a perfectly arched eyebrow. How, Rowan wondered absently, could Etty look so perfect all the time? It must be a natural part of being raised as a princess.
"Father," Rowan answered, rolling her eyes in an uncharacteristically aggravated manner.
Etty sighed, quickly understanding Rowan's annoyance. "Oh, honestly, what has the fool done now?"
Rowan shook her head, torn between amusement and vexation. "Lionel and I encountered Will Scathelock this afternoon. Apparently, Father captured some lord and his retainers earlier today, and is hosting them at his camp tonight. You know, the usual affair. All the merry men are very excited about the event."
Etty gave her a confused look. "But why is that bothering you? Robin always likes to waylay noblemen."
"I know, I just wish he was more careful. From what Will said, this lord sounds quite dangerous."
"Robin will be fine. He knows how to take care of himself," Etty reassured her.
Rowan wished she could be as confident as her friend, but she couldn't help worrying about her father, the father who, just a few short months ago, hadn't even known he had a daughter. Rowan was still amazed at the swiftness with which they had connected and the strength and depth of their bond. She could not imagine a better, more caring father than Robin Hood.
"Where is Lionel?" Etty wondered, effectively changing the subject.
"I don't know." Rowan was surprised that Lionel had not returned yet. He had disappeared about an hour ago, mumbling that he would be back soon before hurrying away. Rowan had to smile at the thought of big, babyish, blundering Lionel. Even after all these months, he just could not master the art of moving through Sherwood with any semblance of silence.
Rowan and Etty's conversation was interrupted by the appearance of the wild boy, the final member of their band. He materialized out of the shadows so quietly that it took Rowan a few moments to notice his presence. She gave him a warm smile, which he returned with a nod.
Etty opened her mouth to speak, but stopped abruptly. Simultaneously, they all turned in the direction of Robin Hood's camp, from which a sound was emanating. The sweetest, most lovely sound they had ever heard.
"Music," breathed Etty.
Rowan kept her gaze turned toward the noise as she spoke, although her heart was racing and her blood was singing in her veins. She knew of only one sound that could effect her so. She spoke merely one word: "Lionel."
Automatically, all three of them got to their feet and moved silently out of the hollow and down the hill. Rowan felt irresistibly compelled to move closer to Lionel and hear the sweet, golden ringing notes of his harp and the beautiful, captivating sound of his voice as he sang. As they drew nearer, the words of Lionel's song reached their ears. Warmth filled Rowan as she listened, and she felt a small, rare smile form on her lips.
"In a hollow hill of wild Sherwood
There lives a maiden fair and free.
An archer with a healer's hand
A shining strand in an outlaw band.
This maiden outlaw bold and good
With a wolf who gives her fealty,
Daughter of fitting fatherhood:
Rowan Hood of the rowan wood."
This song was one of Rowan's favorites, and her heart warmed at how highly Lionel must think of her, highly enough to compose a song about her, forsooth!
The trio had almost reached Robin's camp, and Lionel was singing again. "Alas, my love, you do me wrong
To cast me off discourteously."
Suddenly, Lionel's singing broke off and the sound of his harp faded into silence as a lion's roar of rage shattered the spell the music had cast upon the forest and its inhabitants. Rowan was shocked and dismayed by the wordless, angry bellows she could hear coming from her father's camp, and felt fear fill her, chilling her blood and making her heart race. She was immediately on the alert. What was happening? Was Lionel or Robin Hood in danger? Her hand went to her yew bow, and she kept her eyes peeled for any sign of movement. She knew that whatever was happening, it was not good, and she had to be ready to protect her friends at any moment.
Etty was so startled by the noise that she started and almost fell, but the wild boy caught her by the arm and steadied her. "Thank you," Ettarde said to him, and Rowan marveled at the swift return of serenity to both the princess's tone and bearing.
At last, they were coming to the clearing with the massive oak tree where Robin made his camp. As they reached the outskirts of the clearing, they stopped to watch, wide-eyed and open-mouthed. Rowan was repelled, yet, at the same time, somehow intrigued at the sight before her.
A man was on his feet, lunging toward the darkness of the forest, his face, blood red in the firelight, twisted into a mask of outrage. The man was enormous, almost as big as Lionel. His furious countenance glared out over his jutting beard. His broad-shouldered body looked powerful and deadly. His hands, curled as hard as claws, were stretched out in front of him as if he were preparing to throttle someone. Perhaps he is, Rowan thought wryly. On his tunic gleamed a device, a rampaging golden lion wielding a clawed mace.
And then Rowan saw what the man was staring at with such terrific loathing: Lionel, huddled against a tree, his eyes full of fear, his lips turned down in distress. He looked as if he were trying to hide, an impossible feat with his size, broad shoulders, and dress; the minstrel wore a primrose-yellow jerkin, sky-blue hose, red leather shoes with long tips that curled up like fern fronds, a short red cape, and a red pointed hat with a tuft of quail feathers on the side. Rowan felt a surge of protectiveness for this huge yet timid boy who had done so much for her in the past. She prepared to set an arrow to the string of her bow, ready to incapacitate this stranger who was threatening Lionel if need be.
"How dare you, sirrah!" cried the man, his words distorted by his fury. "Churl!" The man was choking with rage. "Shameless! No son of mine! I will kill you!"
Son? Rowan, along with Etty, gasped in shock. This was Lionel's father? No, it was impossible. How could such a brute father gentle, kind Lionel? Lionel, who was terrified of fighting and hated any form of violence. This could not be. It made no sense!
Half a dozen of Robin's men leapt to grasp Lionel's father by the arms. Ablaze with fury, he threw two of them off and surged forward as if the other four were no more than fleas clinging to his hide. Outlaws cried out and seized their quarterstaffs. Linnets and thrushes shrieked and flew up from their nests. Rowan tightened her grip on her bow, pulling the string back to her ear. Both Ettarde and the wild boy drew knives. Etty was pale yet determined, while the wild boy just appeared stoic. Lady, help me, Rowan prayed silently. She had never fired an arrow at a person before, and she hoped fervently she would be able to do what needed to be done.
Three outlaws with quarterstaffs at the ready stood before Lionel's father, warning him back, but he glared past them at the night, seeming not to see the cudgels. "Disgrace to my name!" he bellowed. "Show yourself!"
Out of the corner of her eye, Rowan saw Lionel shift slightly. No, she prayed, just stay where you are.
"Dare to show yourself, sirrah!" Throwing off the outlaws who held his massive warrior arm, Lionel's father shook his fist as if swinging a weapon. "I—will—kill—you!"
Rowan breathed in sharply. Kill. Lionel's own father had just threatened to take his son's life. Rowan was astounded and horrified at the sentiment.
Then, Rowan heard crashing sounds as Lionel finally broke and fled. "Come, we must follow him," Rowan urged, hurrying forward after Lionel. Etty and the wild boy were right behind her, not hesitating as they sped past the clearing, following the trail of trampled leaves and broken twigs left by the massive minstrel.
Behind them, Rowan heard a familiar voice shout, "Restrain our lord! He can be sent on his way in the morning." Then footsteps pounded after them. In less than a minute, a tall outlaw with a curly cap of golden hair caught up to the trio. He wore his customary Lincoln green and his jaunty cap with a tuft of feathers. His handsome, weather-tanned face was grim, and his normally merry blue eyes were gray with worry. "Rowan, lass," he greeted her, placing a hand on her shoulder and squeezing gently as they jogged through the trees.
"Father, I am glad you joined us," Rowan replied, smiling up at Robin Hood.
"My men can handle Lord Roderick Lionclaw," Robin told her, his jaw and the skin around his eyes tightening in barely contained anger.
Before anyone could respond, they burst into a grove of wild cherries. Their sweet scent hung heavy in the air.
And there was Lionel, curled up on the ground, his harp at his side. As they drew nearer, Rowan heard him sobbing and saw his shoulders shaking, his body wracked with grief.
Pity filled Rowan at the sight of him so distraught. In a swift, silent motion, she knelt down at his side, placing a healing hand on his hair. Since she had taken up residence in the rowan hollow, Ro had discovered certain powers within herself, one being that she could heal and comfort with the touch of a hand. At the moment, she could not think of anyone else who required such gifts more than Lionel. Her heart went out to him as she felt his pain and loss. Gently, she stroked his fawn-colored tresses, feeling his trembling ease slightly under her hand. Softly, she spoke to him, trying to reassure him. "You're safe, Lionel. Everything is all right now. You're safe with us."
Slowly, she could feel him drifting into sleep, exhausted from his exertions and calmed by her touch. His sobs eased to shaking, hiccuping breaths, and his tense muscles began to relax.
Rowan straightened and turned to the others, who had remained at a respectful distance. "We should light a fire," she suggested.
Silently, the wild boy began to gather kindling and struck flint to tinder to get a spark going.
Robin Hood shrugged out of his mantle and laid it carefully over Lionel, wrapping it warmly around him. Etty knelt to wrap Lionel's harp in a blanket that Robin handed to her.
Rowan folded another blanket into a pillow and settled it beneath Lionel's head.
"We should all try to sleep," Robin told them. "It's late, and we're all tired. We can talk in the morning."
Everyone was too exhausted to protest, and soon, they were all stretched out on the ground, eyes closed as they drifted into sleep.
A/N: So, what did you all think of my attempt? Please review and let me know! Since the story is already pretty much written and just needs minor edits and tweaks, I think that updates will be pretty regular. Thanks, everyone!