Ugh, cannot be bothered to say much. Too tired. Only thing I will say is I will not be able to update the Darker Side for awhile cos the gay laptop broke and has gone away to be fixed WITH the next chapter. Ha! I did manage to write something. Night Night!

When Milo came round he frowned in confusion, his head aching and tears threatening to fall from his eyes. There was a nasty bump on the side of his head from where the guard had hit him and it had caused his vision to go slightly blurry and unfocused.

As he looked around the area where he had ended up he realised he was somewhere dark but he didn't recognise it. The young boy guessed it was somewhere underground as it was very gloomy and there were no windows. The only dull light in the room was the feeble glow issuing from a candle mounted in a bracket on the rough stone wall.

But where? Was the question whizzing round his battered brain. Why on earth had his own father, who he had gradually grown to trust even through his cold phases and mostly uncaring attitude, allowed two guards to manhandle him from his own bed to here. Wherever here was.

Suddenly, a door a little to the left of his crashed open and in strode the tall, imposing silhouette that Milo recognised his father and three guards.

"Has he been fed? Watered?" Gisborne addressed his guards gruffly, trying not to show he cared for the prisoner's well being.

"Yes, my Lord, the Sheriff ordered him to be alive otherwise the plan would not succeed," the soldier nodded.

"Good," Gisborne nodded.

"Father!" When Milo spoke he barely recognised his own voice, it was raspy and quiet, and it seemed his father didn't either considering he didn't even register when the child's weak plea sounded through the dank dungeon, "Father! Please! What's going on?" He was ignored again, blatantly, and the child slumped back down, defeated.

"Make sure he is ready for midday when we will announce the proposition." Were Guy's departing words as he left the dungeon.

"Yes, sir."


And yet again, the four year old was left alone in the scary, ominous prison, his only company a couple of filthy rats that were scavenging for what seemed like left over body parts from previous occupants. He swallowed and hoped that somehow that this was all a big mistake and that this another of his father's ludicrous though usually rather cruel challenges.

As he moved his hand down to his side he felt something cold and hard through the material of his tunic. The sword. They hadn't even bothered to search him to see if he was armed but he supposed it wasn't usual for a boy of his age to carry a weapon.

Feeling the cool, smooth metal against his skin was comforting. It made Milo feel safer, more protected for whatever he was about to endure.


Robin was in Nottingham with the rest of the outlaws doing the usual money drops for the poor people on the streets begging for pittance. He had just handed a bag of silver to a young woman, a wailing babe on her hip and a little girl clinging to her hand a sore looking rash spreading from her neck and up her cheeks. The look of joy he received from her made him remember why he had given up his home and nobility to live in a forest. It was to help bring happiness and hope back into the lives of the desperate. To fight against injustice.

"Oh, thank you, Robin, thank you," she clutched his hand, her eyes wide and expressive, thankful.

"That's ok, look after yourself," with that he disappeared into the crowds to spread more delight.

The group met back together after handing out all the money and food they had brought with them and ended up in the middle of Nottingham marketplace. Their hoods were up concealing their identities from the watchful guards and their heads bent low and close.

"Are we ready to go? I'm a bit unnerved by all the guards. Why are there so many?" Allan stated, looking warily around them.

"Yeah, I noticed that," Will nodded in agreement, he was already on edge considering Milo had never turned up this morning for their first practice and when he saw Isak he hadn't seen him either. Everything seemed wrong.

"PEOPLE OF NOTTINGHAM!" a voice spoke up over the steady noise of the busy market place and all heads turned to look.

The Sheriff was standing on a pillar of wood, his arms spread wide and flanked by a few guards. Beside him stood a glowering Gisborne, arms folded in a defiant stance.

"Ah, glad I've got your attention. Now, I can begin properly. Robin Hood! If you are out there or if anyone who can contact him is, tell him this: I want my gold back! Now you may be thinking in your smug arrogant mind, why would I give you the money? Well, this is why!"

Everyone craned their necks to see over the throng of people that had gathered to listen to the Sheriff's speech. Vaisey motioned with his arm.

"Come on! You lazy load of oafs, move it!" the man stamped his foot impatiently as he waited for his guards to wheel forward a cart covered in a black rug, "Look, at this…"

With a flourish, Vaisey grabbed the material and unveiled a wooden cage. Inside this cage was the more awful thing though. To everyone in the square it was just a small boy with a mop of black; blood matted hair and tattered clothes who was cowering as far away from all the spectators as physically possible with the wood barring his way.

But to Will, it was different; it made his heart clench in fear when he caught sight of the petrified child backing away like a cornered animal with no way of escape. His huge, emerald green eyes watered with unshed tears and a scarlet liquid trail dribbling down his temple.

"Milo," he breathed in horror.

"Yes, this is indeed a child and Robin Hood, if you do not return my gold by sunrise tomorrow then that will be it for this little fella…" The Sheriff made a cutting movement with his hand across his neck, "Yes, well, that's all I have to say for today! Goodbye!"

"We have to save him – now!" Will hissed immediately.

"Why? Well, I know why but I mean why is it so important to you?" Djaq asked.

"Because that, Djaq, is Milo, the little boy that owns Arthur," Will replied impatiently.

"Really?" Djaq's eyes widened.

"Well, we can't just go rushing in there," Robin came in with the voice of reason, "We have to come up with a plan. It's back to camp now."
"Hey, do you realise this is so unfair. Whatever we do the Sheriff will just pick on innocent little kids, plucking them off the street and away from their families just so he can use them against us to get what we've nicked back. It's so unfair," Allan pointed out.

"Yeah, you said it's so unfair twice, we get the picture," Much replied.

"Well it is!" the liar retorted.

"We'll just have to think of a way to get both the boy to safety and the money to the peasants," Robin shrugged unfazed, "Piece of cake."

"Did someone just mention cake?" Much asked eagerly which got him a hard shove between the shoulder blades from Will.

"Was it just me or did anyone notice how Gisborne was looking rather sullen and moody about the whole thing?" John's gruff voice butted in, breaking the impending fight.

"Gisborne's always a moody old grouch," Allan answered.

"Yes but he looked more surly and brooding than normal," the big man retorted, "But maybe that's just me."

"Yeah, John, you're seeing things in your old age!" the younger man joked.

"Watch it or you'll get my staff where it hurts most," John swung his weapon threateningly and Allan jumped out the way narrowly missing not being able to have children in the future.

Hehe, stupid Allan! Review! Me soo tired. No coherant words. Ergh!