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Chapter Two: Hidden Away

Morning brought a new day, with streams of sunlight peering through the trees and bringing what little warmth it could offer to the group below. Broken logs had been added to the flames and the fire had been brought back to life, flickering in the cold winter morning. Edging closer to its warmth, Much wrapped a blanket around his shoulders, picking up a handful of berries from a nearby bowl. They had long ago been picked, and dried in the sun during the last summer, and made a nearly perfect morning snack.

He held out the bowl towards another member of the small group, a Saracen who sat not too far away. Djaq slowly shook her head, glancing through the clearing at the edge of the trees. Much followed her gaze, catching the glimpse of the covered figures that made their way towards them. There was no reason for alarm, as he recognized Little John's sturdy frame, followed by two other men, Will and Alan.

Much looked on hopefully, but was met with disappointment as Little John shook his head, sitting down on a fallen log. Will came to a stop as well, one leg resting on the stump that was nearby, letting out a sigh. "No sign of him."

Though Robin had taken off more than once without the group, they had always tracked him down, staying out of sight, but taking care to make sure he came to no harm. Whether Robin knew about it or not was a mystery to them still. If he did know, he had not taken the opportunity to inform them. They didn't always find him, and some times Robin would return without their knowledge as well.

Much knew his Master well, but lately the man had changed. With Marian's departure he seemed to be more withdrawn, and his humor fading. Then again it could be the cold of the winter that sapped his energy. That was what Alan had suggested a few weeks back.

It was something Much couldn't deny; he too could feel the pull of the cold tapping into his soul, and there hadn't been as much laughter between any of them. Times were changing, things were becoming more confusing, and it was harder to stay ahead of the Sheriff and his men when you could barely take care of yourself. Hunting was scarce, and the bountiful fruit they had during the warm months were now gone. They would go, sometimes for days, on nothing but dried meat and berries, a meal, but not filling one.

If they ever had to take a stand against any of the Sheriff's men they would more in likely lose. Weakened by the cold, and weighed down by constant hunger, they would stand no chance against an army that was well rested, and well fed. That was why Robin had chosen to move their camps more often. They stayed only in open clearings, such as they were now. The last thing Robin had wanted was to be trapped in a cave, or at the base of a hill. Though the geography of the land could sometimes save them, Robin had been confident that it would only hurt them now.

The men stayed there for sometime, regaining some of their strength, and eating some stale bread and dried fruit before heading out again. This would continue for the better part of the day until they found Robin, or until his Master returned. Much stayed at the came, along with Djaq and tended the fire, finishing up the bowl of berries much to his own dismay in realizing that he was still hungry.

Reluctantly Much shrugged out of the blanket that was providing him the meager warmth, and grabbed his bow, heading out of the clearing. He assumed it would be some time before Robin did return, and in the meanwhile, he wasn't going to let himself go hungry.

The bitter cold and the looming darkness were the first things to greet him when he opened his eyes. Next was the sharp pain in his side. Flinching he tried to pulled back, surprised to find that he was bound; his hands were tied together around his wrists with a thick rope that coursed around his waist, securing his arms to his body in front of him. A hand returned to rest on his forearm, grasping him gently but firmly. The situation caused him hiss as another sharp pain raced through his side.

"It is going to hurt, but it needs to be cleaned."

It was as though Robin had just realized he was not alone. An older woman knelt by his side, still holding his arm with one hand, a bloody cloth in another. Taking a breath he was able to force himself to stay still as she pressed it against his bleeding wound. His side felt as though it was on fire, and his mind raced to fill in the gaps that were residing his mind.

"Where am I?"

"Its best if you do not know," the strange woman answered, dipping the dirtied rag back into the bucket at her feet.

Robin held a looming suspicion, for he had been here more than once. The musty odor hung in the air like a thick fog, and torches in the distance barely lit the darkened hallways. He was in the dungeons, presumably back at Nottingham. It gave him minimal hope…once his men discovered his disappearance it was here that they would head in search of him.

Still was the fear and worry of what lie ahead. Gisborne had seemed unusually cold when he had spoken earlier. There was no love lost between the two; Robin knew that Gisborne would be ecstatic to learn of his death; so the question remained, why had Gisborne allowed him to live?

His mind was drawn away from his thoughts as the woman began to bind his wound. It was apparent she had already stitched it up some time ago for he could feel the bandages scratching against them. It was this that first got him to thinking.

"How long have I been here?"

"Since the night before," she answered quietly, securing the last of the bandages around his chest. "You've been touch and go since then. You must be important; they really wanted to keep you alive."

"They?" Robin echoed. So, someone other than Gisborne wanted him here. His first thought was of the Sherriff, but Robin couldn't think of much reason to why that would be so. There was little Vaysey could gain from him being alive; as far as Robin was concerned, the Sherriff just wanted him dead.

"Here lad, drink some of this."

The flask was pressed to his lips and he drank without question, knowing without doubt that he could trust this strange woman. The warm water was a blessing to his dry throat, and he drank greedily, mournful to see it vanish as she pulled back. He could easily tell that he was beyond thirsty, and hungry as his stomach began to gurgle as the water settled in.

"I've been here for more than a day?" Robin questioned her, sorting out the information as he tried to forget the hunger and pain that raced through his body. Surely by now his men would have realized he was not going to return.

His thoughts turned to Ann, the one person that could possibly save his life. She held the key, the information his men needed. It was a good call on his part to send her, but had she made it? Robin could see in his mind her retreating form disappearing into the forest. Yes…she made it…she had to.

Or was it only hope? Robin shook his head. He was losing himself, his courage. If he lost that, than all else would be lost as well. His men would come; they would not abandon him. More in likely Much was already planning a raid on the castle. The very thought made him smile, but it faded quickly as the pain in side grew. He shifted, groaning as he did so in attempt to relieve some of the pressure.

"Untie me, please," he whispered softly as he heard the strange woman leave. She paused, and Robin opened his eyes to gaze at her, begging with his eyes. He knew he was asking something she could not grant. She was nothing more than a servant doing the work of Master.

"Get some rest; I fear you'll need it soon enough."

Robin knew she was right, but he was fearful of what he was to face when he did wake up. He had no weapons, and with his hands bound as they were, there was little hope in attempting any actually escape, and rescue was not for certain. He needed to wait, needed to think before doing anything. An undeniably difficult task he knew. His head was pounding, and his side throbbing from the recent injury. Though the stitching had saved him, it was as much as curse as a blessing, adding only more pain to the jumbled mixture he was already feeling.

Thinking, was an even harder task, and Robin found himself losing that battle as he succumbed to the darkness around him, fading into a listless sleep.

Business was as usual inside Nottingham. Morning had long passed into afternoon and the village below was bustling as it always did. From inside the castle Vaysey, the sheriff of Nottingham, watched with little interest as the people moved below. He let out a frown, gloved fingers pressing together as turned away to face his companion.

"What is it exactly that you hope to gain from him?"

Gisborne had found a seat on the other side of the room, his arms crossed over his chest as he stared straight ahead. He seemed hardly content, but instead disturbed deeply inside. He was not necessarily a cold-hearted man; some one call him misguided, others would refer to him as barely human. Whatever the title they gave to him, he seemed unconcerned. He had made the choices in his life, and though some he regretted, he felt certain they would wash away in time. It was, after all, better to be on the side that was winning.

But there were things he could not so easily forget. It hadn't taken much to convince the Sheriff to hold Robin captive. It was more difficult to convince Vaysey to keep him alive; however, it had been done. The one thing Gisborne could always count on was the Sheriff's seemingly joy in causing direct pain. At least in this case.

"He will talk; given encouragement, but it will happen. We shall find his men, and hang them all. Then the forest will be free of the threat."

"You are aware that I could very well dispatch an entire army after his men at this very moment. It wouldn't be difficult to find them," Vaysey commented.

Gisborne nodded. He knew this would come about, and so had been prepared to counter it. "To what cost? Robin and his men have always won those meager battles. They are quick on their feet, and can hide far easier than troops on horseback. They know the lay the land, know how and where to move. Then they have support of countless of men who are willing to take them in without any notice. Numbers mean nothing against intelligence."

"Intelligence? Really Gisborne, I have begun to think you rather fancy Robin and his men. Like now; you can have Robin dead at your own hands, and yet, you prefer to keep him alive. Why is that? Or is it because he's managed to wound you in such a way you wish to return the favor? The loss of Marian, perhaps?"

Gisborne said nothing, but his eyes moved to meet the Sheriff's. It stung more than he wanted to admit, and it was the same thing Vaysey had held over his head since the incident. It wasn't Gisborne's fault that the man didn't understand what love was, and what it could do to the heart. Still there was nothing he could do to explain to Vaysey how it truly felt, and any weakness shown was further distaste to the older man.

"Come now," Vaysey cooed quietly, moving over towards him. "Do you really think torturing him will bring Marian running back?"

"This is not for Marian, it is for his men. Eliminating that threat will bring us closer to ultimate control over England. Robin and his men give the people hope; once the hope is gone, so will be the rebellion."

"It is good to see you so concerned for England's welfare, but Robin will not talk. You're just wasting your time, and giving him a chance to be rescued. Then you'll be in the same place you started. No hood…and no wife."

"He will talk," Gisborne defended himself, moving to his feet. "Robin…will talk. I will make sure of that."

TBC