Thanks for all the encouragement, everyone! I have finally come up with an ending. I hope it's not too much cheese. :-) Happy reading!
The need to cough woke him and Much rolled onto his side and curled in on himself, body shaking at the force.
"Oi," a voice said and fingers grasped his shoulder, "Here, mate, drink. Drink."
A metal cup was pressed into his fingers and although he choked on the first two swallows, he managed to sip some of the cold water. It did ease the ache in his chest and he blinked, seeing his haggard reflection staring back him from the liquid.
"That's better, ain't it?"
Much recognized that smug tone and groaned quietly.
"Thank you, Allan," he rasped.
The lean thief raised his eye-brows and grinned.
"Hey, you know who I am. That's good. Will tol' me you were callin' him some other name. Sir Thomas...somebody. Robin said it was some friend o' yers in the Holy Land that..uh..."
"Died," Much finished and he rubbed his hand over his eyes. "Did I? Call Will Thomas? I don't remember doing that..."
"'Course you wouldn't. You're sick," Allan responded. "But you must gettin' better if you know where you are and who I am. Djaq'll be glad to hear that."
He made to get up and Much scooted up on his elbows, wincing at the sudden motion.
"N-no. Please, don't wake her." He closed his eyes and remembered, in a vision marred by haze and fear, that he had tried to strike her...their Djaq. Ashamed, he murmured, "Just...just let her sleep. Robin, too. They've done enough for me for one night."
"You sure?"
"Yes."
"Alright." Allan settled back down, long legs stretched out in front of him. "Whatever you say, mate. Just don't go attackin' anybody."
The instant those words had left his mouth, Allan knew he shouldn't have said them. Much blinked, hurt. Then turned over on his side, facing the crackling fire.
"I didn't mean to," he said, very quietly. He looked into the flickering orange flames and tried not think about the gritty sands, the amber sky, or when a Saracen face hovering in the dark meant his life might be about to end.
"Hey, well, what's done is done, right?"
"I hate sayings," Much mumbled, lacking his usual vehemence.
Allan brightened. "Not all sayin's are bad, mate. How about 'what's lost is found'?" He asked and with a flourish, pulled Much's hat from his shirt pocket. He dangled the beige piece of fabric over Much's shoulder and smiled with the other man snatched it from his hand.
"What...my...where did you...My cap!" Much cried and happily tugged it on over his unruly blond hair.
"Sorry I didn't give it back to you sooner. You were sleepin' when I got back...Ol' John said you'd thrown a fit when you thought you'd lost it.."
"It was a gift," Much repeated, with a touch of his old indignity. Thrown a fit, indeed.
"Oh? Who would give you a smelly old hat as a gift?" Allan asked. He would never admit it, but it was good to hear Much talking again and Allan hoped it meant his fever had broken for good.
Much sighed, wondering if he should bother telling Allan the story. Allan could be creul to him and he didn't know if he wanted add fodder to the other man's already brimming cache of embarrassing remarks. He was tired, and his chest hurt...but he also found he wanted to cling to being awake and out of his horrible hot dreams of fighting in the King's Guard. He glanced at Allan's face, searching for sarcasm and finding none, he drew a deep breath and started his tale....
"Much! Much, where are you?"
Much listened as Thorton's foot-steps thudded down the hall-way before peering around the edge of the door. One blond curl flopped into his eye and he blew it out of his vision. It would be hard to evade Thorton all day, especially without Robin around.
Robin was always supremely clever at finding places to hide, and usually, Much found this troublesome...particularly when he was sent to fetch the young lord and couldn't find him. Or when Robin decided it would be fun to first hide and then jump out at him in such a way that would make Much shriek or drop something.
But Robin was away with his father, to sit on the council at Nottingham and Sir Robert had ordered Much to stay behind.. Robin being his responsibility, he was hard-pressed to know what to do when his lord was gone. Robin could be a menace, it was true. And spoiled, he was certainly that. But he also filled Much's days with things to care about...
and, well... it was somewhat boring without Robin around.
"There you are!"
Much jerked startled. Thorton had back-tracked and was now headed straight for him. Stumbling over his own two feet, Much came spilling from his hiding place and dashed down the corridor. He knew he shouldn't enter the main house at a run, but with Robin (and more importantly, stern Sir Robert) out for the day, he hardly thought he would be punished. He darted into the open sitting room and ducked beneath the wooden table.
"What is this?"
That voice. Much froze, seeing the mistress of the house perched in a chair across the room, her sewing strewn out on her lap.
"Lady Anne!"
He was surprised to see her outside of her bed-chamber, to be honest. The lady was so often ill now that he had simply assumed that she would be safely upstairs, sleeping peacefully while he eluded Thorton. Ah! Thorton!
The man himself burst into the room, flustered, then he spotted Anne and gave a slight bow.
"Thorton," she asked. Her gaze flickered to Much, who was looking up at her with one wide blue eye beneath a mess of hair.
"I am afraid I am looking for lord Robin's man-servant. He's seemed to have slipped through my fingers...yet again."
Her pretty mouth slid up into a slight smile.
"I haven't seen him at all today, Thorton. I did, however, hear the main door open and close. Perhaps he is outside?"
Much's wide eye grew even wider.
"Ah." Thorton sighed and stormed away. Once he had gone, Much scuttled out of his hiding place, his face flushed red.
"My lady," he said, giving her a clumsy little bow, "I am sorry! I didn't see you in here when I...I mean, I never would've...I know I'm not supposed to-"
"I am not cross with you," she said and watched with some amusement as he relaxed, lean shoulders sagging with relief.
"In fact, when I heard you scrambling about the house, I thought for certain that Robert had returned early and Robin was up to some mischief."
Much shifted from foot to foot and looked down at the floor.
"Much, is it?"
He nodded.
"Or, Robin's Shadow, as you should be called. I can tell you take your duties very seriously."
"Oh, yes, my Lady! My lord Robert told me never to let Robin out of my sight, and I haven't since the minute I first arrived. Well...except now, of course. Because he's away. But you know that...because you are his mother..."
She smiled at his rambling and leaned over her work, looking him up and down. Her eyes were green, like Robin's, Much thought.
"How old are you, Much?" She asked.
"My lady, I am sixteen," he answered.
"Well, you are certainly old enough to no longer be running away from Thorton. What have you done that you so fear the punishment?"
"Oh, it's nothing I've done! I promise. I haven't broken anything in weeks, my lady. It's..." He flushed again, and nervously scuffed his toe against the floor.
"It's...?"
"It's my hair, my lady," Much blurted. "He wants to cut my hair."
Lady Anne's eyes shone and she placed one long-fingered hand over her lips to stifle a laugh. She cleared her throat instead.
"That doesn't seem to be an...unreasonable...request, Much. Your hair is quite long."
Long and unruly, tufts of it pointing in every direction. And hanging in his eyes. Even as she spoke, he was using his fingers to push it out of his line of vision.
"Why do you not wish Thorton to cut it for you?"
Much sighed.
"A girl," he said.
"A girl?" Lady Anne thought of her own young son and the sheriff's daughter. One could easily read the love in their eyes. In her heart, she knew that she would not be around long enough to watch them marry and prosper, but she felt strongly that her son would end with no other by his side. Young love was to be taken quite seriously, she believed. After all, hadn't she fallen for Robert at an early age?
Giving Much another warm smile, she gestured to the seat beside her.
"Tell me," she said, "It's alright."
"Well, she's...she's beautiful, my lady! She lives in the village with her mother and father and I met her a week ago when Robin and I went to Market Day. And...she...she told me she liked the way my hair fell on my shoulders."
Much sighed again.
"I suppose that's foolish of me," he admitted, "I should let Thorton cut it. It gets in my way."
Lady Anne looked at him directly and he lowered his gaze respectfully. She lifted his chin with a finger, green eyes bright in her pale face. How remarkably her son resembled her...Much had never noticed before.
"I do not think that is foolish at all, Much, my Robin's Shadow...but you must know, if this girl truly loves you, it will not matter if you cut your hair. If it is truly love, then hair, wealth, even sickness does not matter. But, fret not, my child, I have an idea."
"And she made you the cap," Robin's voice, low and full of sleep, finished the tale for Much, who had started coughing again. "Which you've worn ever since."
"Good to hear your voice again, Much." That was Will Scarlett, peering brown eyes over the edge of his bunk. "Good to have you back."
Dawn was just beginning to gray through the slats in the roof, leaving glowing slashes of light across the floor.
Allan offered Much another drink from the cup, which he gratefully accepted.
"Sounds like a fine lady," Little John put in.
"She was," Robin answered and stretched as he rose up from his bunk.
"Did...Did I wake you all?" Much asked. His voice held a note of apology. He struggled to sit up and Allan put a hand on his back to help him.
"I, for one, was not sleeping," Djaq said, sliding out of her bed. There was a murmur of agreement from the others. She padded across the floor and laid her palm against his brow.
"Your fever is broken," she said and gave him a bright smile. "How are you feeling?"
Much paused.
"Hungry," he said. "I'm hungry."
Allan laughed out loud.
"That sounds just about right," he added, giving Much a little pat on the shoulder.
"Let's see what I can do about the morning meal," John said, getting to his feet.
Much bit his lip, blue eyes searching the faces of his friends.
"Thank you..." he said, suddenly. "Everyone."
"We're a gang, mate," Allan offered and shrugged.
"You'd do it for any of us," Djaq replied, as if it explained everything.
And, of course, it did.
"I'll help you, John," Much said, and tried to get to his feet.
"No. Let us take care of you for a while, lad," John answered.
"If we've learned anything from this, it's that we can pass the burden around a bit more," Djaq added.
"Oh?" Much glanced around at his friends, unable to contain the surprise on his face.
"Seems we were taking a little too much for granted, eh?" Allan said and nudged him. The thief chuckled at his own pun.
Much straightened his cap with some pride. As he watched his companions start their chores in the bright morning light, he leaned back and dozed.
When they had first come to Sherwood, newly out-lawed, Much had thought it was a night-mare. But now...
"Much, you alright?"
Much blinked up at Robin's face and gave him a small smile.
"Better," Much said.
END.
