Title:Timing is Everything
Author: GreenHenge
Summary: Robin returns Marian's hair stick from and the encounter leads them both to memories, conversation & reflection. Ficlet begins at the end of the escape in Episode 102 and Robin's reaction to the near miss. Oneshot. Reflective.
Spoilers: Up to Episode 104
Disclaimer: I own nothing to do BBC's Robin Hood, but I have been to the Major Oak. .
Author Notes: As far as I know, the show's canon has not established ages for M+R. For the purpose of this ficlet, assume Marian is 3 years Robin's junior.
TIMING IS EVERYTHING
By Greenhenge
"What the …?"
Robin watched in utter disbelief as the arrow loosed by the sheriff's archer missed him completely from point blank range. He jerked around to look at the man when his eye caught something sparkling highlighted against the black leather of his uniform.
Quickly scanning the castle walk, Robin hoped to learn the identity of his guardian angel. As their eyes met, Marian cocked her brow in that way she has of making him feel like he's twelve. He was sure her ladyship was cursing him under her breath and calling him a fool or insisting he grow up. Grinning widely Robin was delighted Marian saved him, and then the earlier attempt at the jail, those were reasons to persevere. Ever the optimist, he was sure he'd seen a glimpse of the young girl that loved him once, the one who still played the lead in his best dreams.
A chance – that was all – just a chance to redeem the past and regain her trust. Robin believed it was possible, that was the hope he clung to now. He returned from the Holy Land with few expectations regarding Marian. Certain he had fallen from her good favor; Robin just didn't know how far, but she was still unmarried - another sign in his favour. The newly outlawed Earl expected a cool reception and Marian did not disappoint, holding him with a nocked arrow. That red dress, she looked stunning … His thoughts collapsed as a recognizable voice bellowed his name; Robin quickly snatched the lady's trinket then ran to Geoffrey and the safety of the greenwood.
The fugitives split up at the tree line, each disappearing into the forest. The sheriff's men would never catch them; the outlaws were running for their lives and the guards were merely following orders. Dusk was rapidly approaching and the sheriff would not risk a second humiliation letting his soldiers fumble around in the dark forest. No, Robin reasoned, the sheriff would take his frustration out on Gisborne, and then put his mind to plotting revenge. Retaliation was definitely coming; Robin made no mistake about that. He had known men like Vasey, they wanted no blood on their hands, but had no problem ordering others to inflict their perverse tortures, unsustainable taxes, and psychological terror on their countrymen. Vasey was worse than most; he was depraved, exhilarated by this grotesque theatre, Nottingham Town's very own sadistic voyeur.
There would be time to deal with the Sheriff of Nottingham; all Robin wanted to think about now was Marian. He wanted to talk to her, have a conversation that didn't end in an argument. Surely it would please her to have the hair stick back and safely in her jewelry box. Returning it was an opportunity he could not miss because he feared re-winning the hand of the fair Marian could compare to the Twelve Labors of Hercules.
The newly anointed outlaw decided to rest briefly when he came to the River Trent. There used to be a rickety, old footbridge just ahead, if he remembered correctly, and then Knighton. After taking a long drink at the river's edge, he sat with his back against an ancient stump that had been there forever, as long as he'd been alive any way. Stretching his legs in front of him and linking his fingers behind his head, Robin watched the insect nightlife flitter in and out of moonlight shimmering across the dark surface of the river.
This particular stretch of the river was the scene for some of Robin's favorite summer days when he and Marian played along the banks. He delighted in chasing her with handfuls of wriggling earthworms, threatening to put them in her hair. Marian would climb the oak tree ... just there he confirmned, looking over his left shoulder. Positioned in crotch of the tree she pelted him with pebbles to keep him at bay until they got tired of the game, or cook's bell called them back to Knighton. One especially fond recollection is vividly etched in his mind.
Robin and Marian were walking along the river on an uncommonly warm Sunday afternoon, warm for early autumn in Nottinghamshire. To avoid more walking, Robin decided the noon meal had made him sleepy and he plopped down on the ground and leaned back against the same old stump. Marian called him a lay-about in that condescending way she has, turned on her heel and continued upriver to the meadow and it's expanse of blooming lilac-colored crocus. When she returned, Robin was skipping stones across the river, oblivious to all around him. The whole incident was entirely Marian's fault, he remembered that. He was innocently minding his own business, when she snuck up behind him.
Considering how long Marian had known Robin, her advance was a tactical mistake. The very fit Robin possessed the reflexes of a cat; you ambushed him at your peril. Just as she was about to push her companion into the water, Marian's clandestine approach was detected. Robin spun around grabbing her wrists as fast as he can loose an arrow. Marian's forward motion took the wrestling duo toward the river as the slippery soil gave way. The teenagers ended up sitting in the water laughing hysterically.
When the childish splashing stopped the pair was panting heavily from the exertion, and what started as innocent fun was now something completely different. Marian suddenly realized Robin was no longer looking her in the eye, then she noticed how wet her clothes were. Her muslin dress was soaked through to her undergarments, and all clung enticingly to her recently appearing womanly curves; her woven overdress lay forgotten by the old stump where she discarded it before hiking to the meadow.
Maybe Marian responded to the look on his face, Robin didn't know, but he was at an embarrassing time in a young man's life when the slightest breeze could arouse him. And right before his eyes, Marian transformed from a best mate to a vision of desire.
Robin smiled remembering how quickly Marian scrambled out of the water, threw the overdress around her and ran for home. The poor boy was left alone to finish what the maiden had unknowingly started before he could walk back to Knighton Hall. It certainly made Marian's upcoming birthday celebration interesting.
As Robin remembered it, about two months passed before he and the Earl went Knighton for Marian's fete. The reunion was uncomfortable at first, but in a day or so they were openly holding hands, enjoying the first blush of newly-realized love.
Deciding it was time to go Robin stood and dusted the dried leaves and twigs from the seat of his pants. As he followed the familiar path, assorted memories of times past continued to randomly infiltrate his consciousness.
Unlike many soldiers in his regimen, the young officer rarely sought comfort in the brothels during those five years in the desert. The Eastern women intrigued him hidden under veils, except for dark, almond-shaped eyes. They had an exotic beauty all their own, but to Robin no one could compare to his wild English rose.
"His." How he wanted that to be true again. Thoughts of Marian followed Robin throughout the Holy Land; apparently the same was not true for Marian. The hardship brought upon Nottinghamshire by the malevolent sheriff and his cruel enforcer toughened her. How could it not? If Gisborne had been running his estates for four winters, Marian, her father – everyone - had already endured years of brutality at his hand and Vasey's direction.
The bile rose in his throat as Robin realized what Marian faced while he was gone. All the male nobles of her generation followed the king into war; she was left alone to cope with a brutal, authoritarian regime after her father was replaced by Vasey. None of the other ladies at court would dare speak in council, preferring to fill their days with fashion and gossip, if they showed their faces at all. But Robin knew Marian would demand her voice be heard, much to Edward's chagrin. Caring for her father was probably all that kept his outspoken friend from being jailed or worse.
Robin took a deep breath, realizing his mission was probably closer to the task of Sisyphus, eternally rolling a rock uphill. He grinned thinking that by comparison the Twelve Labors seemed easier than wooing Marian! Robin always did love a challenge.
X-X-X-X-X-X-X-X-X-X
The Lady of Knighton Hall strolled over to the aged, wooden swing hanging under the leafy crown of the gigantic oak tree behind the main house. She liked to sit here and think – look at the stars and remember happier days.
Marian ran her hand fondly over the wooden surface. The seat was a birthday present from Robin, his first and last wood working project. Marian smiled at the remembrance. Even with Dan Scarlett's instruction and considerable help, Robin really didn't have the patience for fine detail work like carving her name in wood, and yet he also insisted a rose had to be carved with 'Marian.' So good-natured Dan added a few flourishes with two rose flowers bordering a beautifully carved printing of Marian's name. Some time later the carpenter sought Marian out privately and told her how hard Robin worked on her present, sanding it smooth so she wouldn't get a splinter or tear her dress.
The striking brunette smiled remembering Robin's explanation for the gift. He had decided Marian should have a proper swing so she would stop climbing trees and behave more lady-like. That was a short visit she recalled, sitting down on the familiar swing, and the only time Robin left Knighton with a black eye.
Other reminiscences flooded her thoughts as she swayed lazily under the sheltering branches of the sturdy oak. After a while Marian selected her favorite moment, the one when Robin kissed her for the first time or maybe she kissed him; it just happened. Although it seemed a lifetime ago, that kiss was as memorable as if it happened today.
Robin was full of himself, as usual, and he had to do something clever, well at least original, to impress her. After pushing her higher and higher in the swing he decided it would be fun to grab the knots on the underside of the seat and drag along with her until the swing slowed and stopped. However, there was one problem with his ill-conceived plan, as soon as he grabbed the knots and dug in his heels, Robin's weight acted like anchor promptly pulling the swing out from under a very startled Marian who landed unceremoniously on his lap.
Struggling to get up, Marian screamed at Robin, calling him a silly fool and several other more colorful names. Robin wrapped his arms tightly around her waist hoping to still her squirming. It so surprised her Marian stopped struggling and in the next instant they were kissing. Neither knew who initiated it, but a sudden affliction of teenage self-consciousness consumed them both. They jumped up, mumbled their goodbyes, and ran off in opposite directions. It was two weeks later when she discovered a roughly etched 'M+R' on the bottom of the swing seat.
As so often happened, the happy memory faded as darker thoughts crept in. All their hopes for the future were put in jeopardy when Robin left for the Third Crusade. If she lived one hundred years, she would never understand why the man was so willing to risk their future to make war on the other side of the world. Marian saw no logic in it, none at all.
The night sky looked like a blanket of black velvet scattered with tiny shimmering lights. Marian sighed resignedly; she liked sitting here. It became her habit while Robin was away, staring into the heavens wondering if he could see the same stars. And now the prodigal returned only to find all is not well in the shire.
Damn the timing. It was the couple's greatest enemy. At present there was no certainty about tomorrow, the future was not even on the horizon. Already Marian was greatly distressed by the conditions in Nottinghamshire, and with Robin's return, her emotions were even more turbulent, ragged edges ripping open old wounds. Right now alone in the dark, she felt justified indulging her anger in private.
X-X-X-X-X-X-X-X-X-X
Robin stopped to watch Marian rocking slowly in the old swing, her head resting against the rope as she stared up at the sky. She looked especially beautiful, long hair the color of the richest Turkish coffee hung in great curls almost to her waist. Her porcelain skin looked flawless in the light of the half moon. As he approached, Robin fixated on her shining hair, how long it was … how the curls cascaded in loose waves down her back … how he wanted ….
SNAP! In his intense analysis of Marian's hair Robin failed to notice the little newt scurrying under the dry leaves. He leapt to avoid the camouflaged interloper, but as he landed a small branch crackled loudly beneath his foot. Marian jumped up spinning around to face him, armed with what looked like a small dagger. Even without a physical touch, the electricity between them was palpable.
"Is that how you greet all your guests?" Robin asked grinning brightly.
"…only the ones that sneak up in the night unannounced." She shot back.
Robin looked away, took a breath and asked hopefully, "can we start again?"
"I don't know, can we?" Her response was quick and razor-sharp. Robin's sudden intrusion into her private rage was unwelcome. Timing. Always timing. Traitorous tears threatened to betray deeper feelings, and she turned her back to him.
"I know you are angry with me…"
"The king of understatement," Marian muttered between clenched teeth.
Undaunted Robin continued, eying her intently, "… probably for lots of things …." The lady was not softening so he decided to provoke her before she exploded. Robin could still detect the telltale signs, precursors to the eruption of Mount Marian's temper. He was helping her he reasoned, she would feel much better if she just got it all out.
Fortunately for Robin, she couldn't see the grin creeping slowly across his roguish face as he cheerfully added, "… and that's all right because I do love that flinty, sparkle in your eyes. So could you please turn around so I can enjoy it?"
If he were standing closer, Robin Hood would have a broken nose.
"You are insufferable," she snarled facing him once more. "I think five years in the sun has addled your brain!" Marian cursed under her breath for sheathing her dagger earlier.
"Marian, please … I … ah … I actually came to return something to you," he said, quickly changing tactics. Robin reached into his tunic pocket for his peace offering.
Before he could even show her the hair ornament, Marian pounced again. "… return something? I have given you nothing but a hard time since you returned. And I do not see that changing…." She tried to temper her voice without much success. Angry and anxious, Marian was unwilling to expose her scarred heart to more abuse. She was being impossible, but right now that protected her.
"Stop! Please!" Robin pleaded loudly, interrupting her.
Marian shushed him, fearing the night breeze would carry their voices to Edward's window. Robin dropped his arms to his sides in frustration, resignation, exhaustion; he wasn't sure – probably all three. All he wanted now was thank Marian for saving his life and return her property. This impromptu visit was turning into a disaster Robin mused; timing is everything.
"Here," he whispered, handing her the hair stick. "That archer you disabled was pocketing it, but I could not take the chance it might be recognized."
Marian remained silent, her posture relaxed just a little. Robin clasped her offered hand in both of his and held it to his heart.
"Thank you, Marian," he said earnestly, his eyes searching hers. "That was quite a throw, and left-handed, too." Robin smiled at her genuinely, and he would swear Marian almost did, too, almost. "I would surely be dead if not for you." Robin released her hand leaving the hair adornment in her palm.
"Thank you." Marian's voice was husky, barely above a whisper, and she refused to look at him. She had stayed at the castle until the courtyard cleared, ostensibly to help the wounded, but also to retrieve her bejeweled weapon. But she hadn't found it and neither the Sheriff nor Gisborne had questioned her about it. Marian was glad to have it. The hair stick was part of a set, but more importantly it was jewelry her mother especially loved as Edward had presented the pair to her on their wedding day.
"No," Robin shook his head, "the gratitude is all mine m'lady," he said oozing charm and bowing gallantly before her.
Marian felt her resolve slipping; this man could charm the spots from a leopard if he put his mind to it. Part of her wanted to fall into his arms and tell him how much she missed him, how much she needed him, and then smack him in the head for leaving her! She was not the same young dreamy-eyed girl he left behind those years ago. And she was sure Robin had changed, too – war changes everyone, not just the men who go to battle. Marian wondered if the two of them could ever be as comfortable with each other as they once were. She wanted the security of knowing Robin was hers. But she'd thought that before, and he left her.
An uncomfortable silence settled between the young couple. Lost in thought, neither was aware of the sultry sounds of the rustling leaves nor the white barn owl hunting overhead. Separately each came to the conclusion they needed time to reflect and sort through their complicated relationship. Old wounds lay bare again and the uncertain future of the shire was not in their favor, neither was the crowning of Nottingham's newest outlaw. Damn the timing!
Robin was the first to speak, "I guess I should go." He looked at the ground and fiddled with the laces of his tunic.
"It's late." Marian wrapped her arms around her in an effort to ward off the evening chill. "G'night," she added. She had never been able to say goodbye to Robin, not even when he left with King Richard.
Robin nodded backing away from her. When her face was no longer visible, he waved and turned toward the trees; Marian watched until he was swallowed by the dark forest.
X-X-X-X-X-X-X-X-X-X
The reflection started immediately for Robin. He had a good mile walk back to camp and the solitude would give him time to contemplate what just happened. Robin knew long ago he had made a colossal mistake forsaking his promises to Marian and following his king to the Holy Land. He and the other young nobles of the shire were full of youthful bravado, certain their Crusade would dispatch the Saracens with alacrity and they would all return home heroes.
In his youthful restlessness Robin didn't truly comprehend or appreciate the importance of his ancestral position, how many people would depend on him for the quality of their lives, their very existence? His father schooled him in the earl's general duties: running the estate, resolving disputes in the village, dealing with other nobles and politics at court. To his mind, Robin felt he had plenty of time to be the earl later, now he wanted to make his mark on the world. He remembered telling Marian, "Anyone can be called the arl of Huntingdon. I want to earn the respect that goes with such a title." This goal, he rationalized, could best be reached by serving his King. Marian was never convinced.
There was another reason Robin wanted to leave Nottingham that he did not share with Marian, and it was the most important to him. When he left, Marian was just blossoming from a pretty adolescent into a beautiful, capable young woman. Robin feared she would always see him as the tall skinny boy from childhood, not an accomplished man who could provide for her and their family. To achieve this he felt he had to leave her for a while, prove himself, but in his wildest dreams the young warrior never anticipated a five year absence.
It took far less than five years to reveal Robin's folly. For almost eleven months the young officer and his manservant traveled by land and sea just to reach that desolate place. Much's continuous ranting about what idiots they were for leaving England was second only to his pleas for food. 'Idiots' was one of the more polite nouns he used, but it only reminded Robin how much he missed his home and the fair maiden who still held his heart.
Marian was right, he was a fool. England's greatest treasure fighting other young warriors who were just as passionate in their defense of Jerusalem as the Crusaders were in reclaiming it for God and Rome. The savagery on the battlefields, the gruesome atrocities perpetrated by both sides in the name of religion would forever scar Robin's psyche. For weeks after most battles it was impossible to escape the smell of death, decay, and blood – always the putrid stench of blood lingered in the air over acres of crimson sand.
The night terrors began haunting his dreams after Robin was critically wounded at Acre. Had it not been for the devotion and constant care of his friend Much, Robin's wound would have been mortal. Poor Much seldom thought of those days without tears. He tried to hide them, but Robin always knew because he cried them too. The horrors of war inflicted in the name of God and country convinced the youthful Lord that no building or plot of land was worth the lives of so many.
Robin vowed he would never share all of his war experience with Marian. What would she think knowing he was part of such violence and destruction? The changed warrior felt he could never completely atone for his part in the Crusade, but Robin would spend the rest of his life in the effort. The outlaw hoped Marian would realize much of the man he is today was forged in the scorching heat of that desert world.
X-X-X-X-X-X-X-X-X-X
Marian made it back to her bed chamber without waking her father, knowing just what creaky step to avoid from years of stealth entries. As she started removing her boots Marian pictured Robin in her mind's eye, comparing his physical changes since his departure five years ago. When he appeared at Knighton a couple days ago he looked older, tired, not just physically, but mentally, too. There was much she wanted to know about his travels and adventures.
Protestations to the contrary, she was happy to see a hint of that boyish grin that could so delight or annoy her. What bothered her most was how thin he seemed. She must talk to Much and find out what he'd been feeding Robin all this time, or what he hadn't fed him.
Shaking those thoughts from her mind, Marian was still in shock from Robin's return, and she certainly never expected a visit tonight. No word for five years and he just shows up as if nothing had changed. Audacity thy name is Robin she thought. Relief, anger, apprehension, uncertainty, joy – all her emotions were tittering on the razor's edge. Timing really is everything.
When Robin left for the Holy Land Marian was devastated; she wondered what kind of life she would have without him. Heartbroken, she took ill for months. She was a young teenage girl who entrusted all her dreams and hopes for the future on a callow young man who did not feel ready for the responsibility. Poor Edward worried Marian would never again be his vivacious, spirited daughter.
To Marian it was all so perfect; Robin seemed just as enamored as she. Putting no faith in the rumors at court, she never considered her Robin would leave. In her girlish excitement, Marian began planning the changes she would make at Locksley, touches that would put her style on their home. The two spent hours making up children's names. Most of those conversations ended in arguments over how many boys and how many girls they would have. Robin wanted an even dozen, six boys and six girls, an idea that earned him a punch in the arm and earful from Marian. She explained emphatically she would not be pregnant her entire adult life! And Robin succeeded in riling his lady's temper which of course was the plan.
Disappearing as quickly as a whiff of smoke in the wind, Marian relinquished those dreams long ago. It took less than a year for Prince John to replace most of the sheriffs loyal to King Richard. The king, eager to depart for the Holy Land, turned affairs of state over to his brother John. While Richard was assembling his army, Prince John selected constabulary candidates who could buy their positions and would do his bidding, character qualifications notwithstanding. Enter the sadistic Vasey and his henchman, Guy of Gisborne, to tax the populace of Nottingham beyond reason and terrorize them for entertainment.
In only six months Marian's father was removed from his position as the Sheriff of Nottingham, the shire's young men were away at war leaving the oppressive new regime unchallenged, and she ached every day from missing Robin. The poor girl's entire life changed in what felt like an instant.
Marian's head started to ache, too much information to process in one night. After changing into her chemise and extinguishing the lone candle, she crawled into bed hoping sleep would find her quickly. She wondered how Robin would react to the new Marian, the independent woman who speaks her mind and can fight along side him. Tired of being marginalized and relegated to minor roles because of her gender, she knew it would take a special man to understand, accept and love her.
Marian closed her eyes hoping Robin Hood was that man.
fin