Chapter 2

Marco has spent the morning working on an antique rocking chair that was brought in by Mr. Gold for restoration like practically all of his more unique jobs. He had no idea where Gold got his merchandise, but he surely acquired many beautiful pieces. Marco was always happy to work on them and this chair was no exception, because it was a piece of art. He was so immersed in his work failed to notice that someone had entered his shop, until the person cleared his throat.

Marco actually jumped at the noise, turned too quickly, and swept a bunch of tools from the working bench, behind him, on to the floor.

"I'm sorry, I didn't mean to startle you." said Graham (because he was the visitor), as he quickly stepped closer to help pick up the fallen tools.

"Never mind. It was my fault, I wasn't paying attention." said Marco pleasantly.

Between Marco and Graham, the tools were back in place quickly.

"Thanks for your assistance. Now, how can I help you? Are the drawers of the file cabinet stuck again?"

Marco had been the Storybrooke caretaker as long as he could remember. Other than in his official capacity as the town handyman, Marco rarely talked to the young sheriff. The carpenter had always had the impression that the Sheriff wasn't a very sociable person. Sometimes, Marco thought that the young man seemed to be very lonely. He rarely saw him with people his own age and if he were dating someone, the whole town would know. He had sometimes considered inviting him to join Archie and himself for their weekly dinner at Granny's, but he never had. Somehow it always escaped his mind but next time he would surely remember to do that.

"No, Sir. It's nothing like that. I just need to ask you a few questions." the sheriff said.

"Oh." That surprised Marco.

Marco knew that Storybrooke had its fair share of criminals. He had often seen suspects in the cells at the sheriff's office, and he was even aware that a judge held court in town once a month. What he didn't know was how anything he might know would be of any interest to law enforcement.

"You built a desk for the mayor's office, didn't you?"

"Yes, years ago." he answered still not knowing what this could be about.

"And the desk has a secret compartment?"

"Yes, Madam Mayor asked for it." he answered truthfully.

"Has anyone asked about that desk, lately?" came the next question.

"As a matter of fact, yes. What is this about, Sheriff?"

The younger man looked uncomfortable at the question.

"I'm sorry, but I'm not able to tell you that right now." he said after some hesitation. "Who asked you about the desk, Marco?"

"Mr. Gold. He came by a few days ago and brought in this beauty." he pointed at the rocking chair. "He told me that he wanted to renovate his study and that he would like to have a bigger desk. He said that he really liked the one I made for the mayor's office. Then he mentioned that he was hoping to find a desk that could hold the more precious pieces of his collection of unique letters and other important documents securely. He asked whether I could build something like that for him. I showed him some plans I had."

"Was the design for the mayor's desk among those?"

"Yes, I'm quite sure it was. Am I in some kind of trouble because of that?" he asked, really worried now.

"No, not at all, but can I see exactly what you showed him?"

"Of course, I'll bring them out, just let me find them."

He went to the office and found the plans quickly. There was order in the shop even if it didn't seem like that to an outsider. When he walked back out, the sheriff was pacing, obviously deep in thoughts.

"Here they are." Marco said. The younger man turned towards him immediately.

Marco spread the plans out on the working bench and Graham bent over them and studied the drawings silently.

"I guess it wasn't hard to figure out which one belonged to the mayor." he said after a few moments.

"I guess not. It's quite distinctive" Marco admitted. "What are you looking for?"

"I've seen everything I needed to see" Graham said. "Thank you for your help, Marco."

"You're welcome, though I don't see how I was any help."

Graham smiled slightly, but it didn't really reach his eyes and he seemed preoccupied.

"Believe me, you did. Bye, Marco."

Marco stepped to the window and watched as the sheriff walked down the street, towards Mr. Gold's pawnshop. At the door he stopped, seemed to hesitate a bit, then went inside.

ooooo

As soon as he left the throne-room, the Huntsman went to Lord Henry's quarters. The Queen's father was the steward at the court, commanding all the servants, his quarters though showed his true position. They were next to the Queen's private chambers and consisted of a waiting room, a reception room, a dining room and six more. He also had a few personal servants. One of those let the Huntsman in and said immediately that Lord Henry was asked to the Queen and led the Huntsman into the waiting room.

"Stay here." he said glaring at the Huntsman with deep suspicion. Before he left he closed the door leading deeper into the quarters with a master-key.

The Huntsman didn't have to wait long, only moments later Lord Henry arrived, carrying a package. The Huntsman bowed his head.

"My Lord."

"I told you to call me simply, Henry." the older man said.

"Her Majesty told me to address you as my lord, so that's what I'm doing. My Lord."

Lord Henry sighed but didn't comment on it any other way.

"Her Highness told me that she gave you task. Here are your clothes and your knife." he said and gave over the package.

"And what about my bow?"

"In Her Majesty's opinion you wouldn't need that." Lord Henry said with an apologetic half-smile. "I'm sorry."

"So am I. Her Majesty's trust in me is incredible" the Huntsman said dryly then he suddenly realized who he was talking to. "I'm sorry, My Lord. I didn't mean to be disrespectful…"

"Don't worry about it." the older man interrupted. "If someone knows how hard it could be to satisfy Her Majesty, it's me. I hope you'll succeed."

"Thank you, My Lord" the Huntsman bowed again and taking his things, he left to his own room.

He changed into his own well-worn leather pants, black shirts and a vest. He attached his hunting knife on his belt. All those things were packed into his cloak but he decided to leave that on his bed.

No one stopped him as he was leaving the castle, most people didn't even look at him. As soon as the walls were behind him, his breathing got easier and when he stepped into the woods it got even better.

He felt alive again as he walked under the canopy of oak trees. It was a wonderful feeling to be in the green instead of the grey stones of the castle. He derived comfort from wearing his own clothes. He almost felt like himself, even if he knew that it was a fantasy that wouldn't last.

He found the trolls' tracks easily enough; the foul creatures didn't pay much attention to cover them. Broken branches and clear footprints showed him the way. He still didn't know what he would do when he caught up with the trolls. He had only a knife as a weapon – the Queen didn't allow him to bring his bow and arrows –and trolls were much stronger than a mere human.

Not that he was too worried about his own safety. Since that fateful day when the Queen took his heart, he was prepared to die at any given moment and with the Queen's frequent mood swings he had come close many times. In all honesty, he often provoked the Queen's anger intentionally, hoping that his nightmare would finally end. He was in a brighter mood today though– thanks to being back in the woods – so he hoped that he would come up with something.

Only half an hour into his tracking he glimpsed a white spot to the left, between the trees. He smiled to himself and whistled. The wolf came through the brushes in a rush, his tail wagging furiously.

"Hey, boy! How are you?" he asked as the wolf danced around his legs.

It took a while for the animal to calm down as they hadn't seen each other in months. When he stopped for a second, the huntsman knelt at his side and petted him affectionately. Seeing his brother almost brought tears to his eyes as the wolf's safety without him was his greatest worry.

"You shouldn't stay so close to the castle, my friend" he said. "There are a lot of hunters around here and the Queen's guards patrol here, too. You could be in danger."

The wolf sat on his hind-legs, letting the man scratch his ears and listening to the words with obvious interest. When the man finished speaking the wolf whined and licked the man's hand.

"I know." he said. "I missed you too."

The wolf pushed his nose against the man's thigh and barked playfully. The Huntsman couldn't resist, and for several gleeful and stress-free minutes, they wrestled around in the smooth grass. They then stretched out next to each other on the cool grass, as the Huntsman scratched the wolf's stomach affectionately.

"Sorry, Brother, but my time is short. I have to get back in..." he looked up at the sun, "...twenty-three hours."

He stood up and looked sadly at his only friend.

"Come on, we have trolls to hunt."

TBC