Bit of a short chapter, I'm sorry. I've got the general gist of it figured, just need to iron out the details. Please review and let me know what you think. I'm not quite sure if I've got the gang's characterization right, but it's an ongoing learning process...hopefully with the help of some insightful input from those of you who read my story.


Chapter 2

This is an Ambush

"This…is an ambush!"

The statement came out of the apparent blue for the driver of the cart who'd stopped to relieve himself against a tree by the side of the road.

He'd been told not to take the route through Sherwood.

"Too risky," the innkeeper at Nettlestone had explained, "Robin Hood's back. There haven't been any raids over the past few weeks, but I've got a feeling he's gearing up for something big."

"Well, if it's big he's after, he'll most likely leave me alone then, won't he? Unless he's judging by the size of my belly!" The portly man had chuckled, patting his stomach and cleaning his plate with the piece of bread he'd been saving for just that purpose.

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"Should've listened…" he hummed to himself in a singsong voice, "always listen."

"What was that?" A rather ordinary looking man stepped out of the woods, sword in hand.

Somehow, Tuck had imagined the infamous Robin Hood being slightly taller, broad-shouldered, impressive. Not so the man peering at him with a quizzically raised eyebrow as he went about straightening his habit.

Only now did the intruder seem to realize the rather religious nature of this encounter.

"Ah."

He tentatively lowered his sword.

"Robin!" He yelled over his shoulder.

"Well, well. What have we here? On your way to Nottingham? Brother?"

A slightly taller man stepped out from behind the first. Still rather plain looking for the self-proclaimed defender of the poor, Tuck mused.

The door of his wagon swung open. A girl in a tatty dress clambered out over the piled-up belongings stacked in the back.

"You about done? I'm getting dead tired of sitting back here, don't you think it's my-," she paused, midway between patting the dust off her dress and balancing on one leg as she simultaneously tried to pick something out of the bottom of her boot with her free hand.

She flushed red and Tuck noticed her breathing quicken.

"It's alright, Anne." He held out his hand to her. "Come meet Robin Hood."

She moved forward, eying the two strangers, as well as the tree-line, as she came over and stood, half sheltered, behind the portly clergyman.

"Tuck."

He decided it would be best to ignore the earlier threat yelled at him from the bushes, and approach the situation afresh, reaching out a hand in friendship.

The second man looked him over, apparently judging the twosome as posing no real danger, and took the friars hand.

"Robin of Locksley."

"You don't say." The broad, pink face broke into a smile.

Not letting go of his hand the Lord of Locksley yelled: "Allan, John. Check the wagon!"

Two others made their way out of the forest, which both Tuck and Anne had been scanning suspiciously since the interruption.

One was reddish blond. Still not very tall, to Tuck's taste.

The other, however, now he was impressive; the huge man lumbered out of the forest, grizzly black hair covering most of his face, carrying a wooden staff, wrapped round the middle with what looked like a piece of leather.

"Mostly food, ale, clothing…some spices. Blankets," he said, peering into the back of the wagon.

"Doesn't look like the friar will be setting up shop anytime soon," the shorter man added.

"Well then, next question is…who are you, and why are you here?" Robin let go of Tucks hand, freeing up his own so he could swing his bow over his shoulder.

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After the fresh sense of purpose he'd felt, finally using the sentence so familiar to him again, Robin wasn't sure whether he hadn't fallen too quickly for the friar's natural air of trustworthiness.

The words trick, fraud and trap flicked through his mind as he eyed the two strangers.

Their boots and the bottom of their cloaks were caked with mud and tattered round the edges. The rope that secured the large man's habit frayed at the ends. All implied a traveling existence.

"We're not looking for trouble. Take what you want and let us be on our way," the girl spoke up as she grabbed the friar's arm in an attempt to pull him a few steps back.

He didn't budge.

Instead, he turned to her and said softly, "It's alright Too-Short. I want to hear what he has to say. It's not as though we have anywhere else we need to be-"

"No destination?" Much interjected. "Nottingham, perhaps? Off to see the Sheriff?"

The girl glanced nervously back and forth between the two men.

"I go where I'm needed," Tuck declared, rather pompously. "Or wherever I can find a warm bed, a mug of ale, and a friendly face."

With that last statement, he wrapped his arm around the girl's shoulders and pulled her up next to him. "Not that I don't have one with me already," he beamed down at her.

She seemed to stiffen in his embrace for a second, after which she pushed him off and shot him a glare, tingeing red at the ears.

"Aw, cheers," she grumbled, positioning herself to the friar's left, folding her arms, scowling.

"Yeah," Allan mumbled, "friendly." He cocked an eyebrow at Robin.

"You still haven't answered my question."

"Ah, yes, well. Thing is, you see. I tend to do the better part of my talking on the receiving end of a hot plate of food and-"

"-Wait. No, no. Let me guess," Much waived his hand at the friar, stopping him mid-sentence, "A mug of ale?"

"You're catching on," the big man grinned.

"Yes, well. I've been listening. Long enough to my liking." He turned toward Robin.

"Master, really. Can we either let them go, or do something? We're going to sprout roots just standing here talking." He glanced at the pair, lowering his voice and leaning in. "He is a clergyman. No matter what his appearance, or behavior, might suggest. Maybe we should just let them go."

"John?"

"Hmm?"

"Grab the cart. I will lead the way back to camp."

"What?!" Much and Allan chorused.

"Master, I really don't think-"

"Much." Robin grabbed his shoulders. "I want to hear what he has to say," and added, glancing at the two, "they look like they've been on the road long enough to be able to tell us exactly what has been happening in England, what the general sentiment amongst the populace is. If we are going to follow through on the King's wishes, restoring his country to him, not completely overrun by Prince John, the Black Knights and the Sheriff, we need to know."

"No. No, we don't!" He shook his head violently. "We already know everything. The people are poor and unhappy; the nobles are rich and, well, happy. It's not that complicated!"

"They are coming with us."

Robin headed off into the woods.

Much stood, wide-mouthed, as he watched the friar hike up his habit and head off after his Master.

The girl, displaying a similar expression of surprise, stuttered; "I…I'll ride with you."

She joined John on the cart, scooting as far away from him as she could.

John wasn't sure whether she just posessed the frail constitution he attributed to most women, or whether she was genuinely afraid that he'd ride off with their belongings.

Allan caught up with Robin as he made his way through the trees, trying to pick a trail he thought the wagon would be able to manage.

"Look. Not to put you out or anything, and I can be back before nightfall, but uhm…well…there's someplace I need to be."

Robin raised his eyebrows, not slowing his pace, as he looked at Allan.

"Okay, maybe not need to be, but I promised."

"If you need to go, then go." Stressing the word, just as Allan had. Although his version came off more as a reproach than a plea.

"Right. I'll be back before you know it."

"I think I know exactly when you'll be back, Allan," Robin grinned, his tone playful.


If I'm being too slow in the progression of events, let me know. I've been accused of that once or twice before. Aside from that, hope to update soon.