See? I didn't entirely forget about this story. For a while I nearly gave up on it, but I realized that if for my own sanity alone, I had to finish it. XD That and the impending return of S3 has spurred me into action once again!

Anyway, do enjoy!


X

A Most Unassuming Friend

Allan had been running for over an hour. His legs felt like leaden bolts and he could feel every bone within them creak and shake as he placed his weight onto them. He ran lightly over the rocky fields. He avoided the small hills and logs, he had not the strength to trudge over them. He panted like a dog, tongue almost lolling from his mouth; which was dry as a bone.

Still; however, he could hear the pounding of the sailors turned mercenaries. They must have the will of a demon to have followed him without rest for this long. He thought he should have lost them ages ago, yet onward he continued to run. So exhausted was he he was no longer certain of what direction he was headed, all that mattered was his escape. He had to get to Nottingham, he had to survive. So strong was this conviction it left no room for fear of death. He would not die. Allan firmly believed this to be an impossibility and therefore it lent an urgency to his tired limbs.

In a moment of conceited weakness, Allan turned his head about ever so cautiously to catch a glimpse of his pursuers. The action cost him his tedious footing and he fell, stumbling over his own legs, which had become about as useful as kindle for the fire. He lay sprawled out on the forest ground. He began to crawl his way back onto his feet, but his every muscle screamed in protest to this action.

Allan turned his head, he could see the men gaining ground on him. Uttering a curse he kicked out and half crawled, half wriggled through the forest undergrowth. He felt someone latch onto his arm and heave him upright, Allan swung his arm up and caught the man full force in the jaw. He was dropped back down onto his knees. He was outnumbered and completely defenseless. After swinging two more successive punches his arms grew tired and he could hardly lift them, let alone hit with them. They were tugged behind his back by one of the mercenaries and by the time Allan had no more fight left in him.

Suddenly, Allan heard a cry from somewhere in the trees; then the rustling of leaves which announced the presence of unknown help. A man burst forth from the adjacent thicket, swinging a rather heavy leather bound book. He knocked the first man over the head with it, swiftly bringing him down. The other two mercenaries exchanged stunned looks with one another, but they were quickly put out of their confusion by a few well timed raps upon the head with same book.

Allan covered his head with his hand as the strange knelt down beside him. He blinked open his eyes in surprise as he found that the man was offering to help him up, not knock him out. Allan took the offered hand in thankful silence, save for the groan as he placed his full weight back upon his tired legs. "Thanks very much." Allan sighed, shaking the man's hand whilst he still held it, "Thought I was a goner there."

"You don't have much faith then do you?" The stranger asked crossing his arms over the weaponized book.

"Don't see how that 'as anything t' do with it." Allan shrugged, "What the hell did ya brain them anyway?"

The stranger tilted the book for closer inspection and upon seeing it Allan burst into raucous laughter, "That's using the ol' good book the charitable way!" His laughter gave way to a fit of coughing and the stranger placed a hand upon his back as if to still him. Allan shrugged him off, "Nah, don't worry there. Just tired is all. What's your name anyway?"

"Tuck." The stranger said simply.

"Just that? Ain't got no home or something?"

"If you feel obligated you could always call me Friar Tuck."

"A man o' the cloth? That's just who I need on my side." Allan groaned sarcastically, "Tell me something, what's a man like you doing out here in the middle o' the night...an' knocking about mercenaries at that. Ain't you folk supposed to preach peace and all that rubbish?"

"If you are all for asking questions I might ask you why you were being chased by three mercenaries in the middle of the night." Tuck remarked casually, "You might be a thief or a murderer for all I very well know."

"You'd only be right on one count there, Tuck."

"Which is it?" Tuck asked, hefting about his Bible from one arm to the other.

"Guess you'll just have to find out on yer own now won't you?" Allan grinned, although it went unseen in the relatively pitch black forest.

One of the mercenaries gave a thin groan from beneath them as if trying to rise back to his feet. Tuck brought his Bible crashing back down onto the man's head without another thought. "Right, I've enjoyed standing 'round talkn' t' ya, Tuck, but I've got a job still t' do an' I'm sure you've got...souls t' save, an such. Thanks for saving my life, I ain't likely t' forget it." Allan cleared his throat as he began backing away further into the forest.

"What is your job?" Tuck called out.

"You know for a friar you ask a lot o' questions." Allan whined in annoyance.

"And for a thief you make a poor fighter." Tuck retorted.

"How did you guess?" Allan could not resist a cheeky grin at Tuck's assumption of his vocation.

"It wasn't hard." Tuck snorted, "Where are you going?"

"Nottingham."

"Seems that is a far distance away."

"Aye, but it's where I need to go." Allan nodded, "I promised a friend."

"So, not just a thief, but an honorable thief." Tuck chuckled.

"An' you would be too if ya were led by Robin Hood." The hooting of an owl brought silence reigning for only a minute. Allan nudge his head in the direction of the path, signaling for Tuck to follow if he dared to. The stranger turned ally seemed to oblige him and the two began to turn away from the danger of the unconscious mercenaries.

"I have heard of this man, it seems news travels almost as fast and as far as I do." Tuck said quietly as he fell into step alongside Allan.

Allan chuckled quietly, while still regaining his balance, his gait was awkward and his previous collapse had done nothing to rest already weary limbs. Tuck cut into Allan's sudden laughter, "Where is Robin Hood?"

Allan frowned, "Captured." He said bluntly.

"Were you running from his captors?" Tuck asked gravely.

"I'd 'ave rather died!" Allan snapped he sighed upon seeing the surprised look upon his companion's face, "I managed to free myself, but before I could get t' him those mercenaries," he gestured behind him, "broke in on us. Robin told me to make a run for it an' I did. I'm t' go back to Nottingham an' warn the people to take arms up against the Sheriff."

"Forgive me for doubting your sense of courage...."

"Allan." He stated his name with an odd twinge of laughter as he realized that he had not introduced himself properly yet, "Allan A'Dale."

"Allan." Tuck assured, "It sounds you are in need of an army."

"Aye, but I'll take whatever help comes my way."

"Then accept mine." Tuck offered.

"Yours?" Allan seemed flabbergasted by the offer, "Look, not being funny, but...you're a friar, what do you know about fighting...aside from that little trick ya did with your book, but it ain't always gonna be that easy."

"You should not judge a stranger's presence merely by how he seems." Tuck remarked.

"Are ye preachin' t' me? I warn ya, I don't fall for that mess of gobbledegook." Allan crossed his arms.

"Then merely accept my help. I could prove useful."

"Don't ya got a church t' take care of?" Allan snorted.

"I'm a traveller. I go where I am needed...and you seem to need all the help you can get." Tuck said in much the way one would address a stubborn child.

"Fine then." Allan relented, giving Tuck his hand to shake, which he did so gladly and firmly, "You're now a member of Robin Hood's gang. How's it feel t' be an outlaw, Friar?"

"It should prove interesting." Tuck mused.

"Oh, that it will, mate, ye can take my word for it."

***

Robin was laughing, and it was unnerving the remaining sailors who were no paying close attention to their prisoners. Robin, with a black eye beginning to form and a bleeding split lip and numerous bruises received from the sailors, was laughing like a man without a care in the world. The sound was harsh and grating on the ears, it was nearing the insane pitch of a man gone mad with the idea of freedom leaving suddenly.

One of the sailors let out a groan of annoyance and lashed out at Robin, beating him across the face with his fist. "Shut it! I'm warning ya!"

Robin silence himself, but continued to chuckle only to himself, his body shaking with the nervous energy. Only Much managed to nudge himself against his leader to find out what the matter was. "What's so funny?" he asked lightly, hoping that Robin would talk to him.

"You don't get it do you?" Robin gasped in between bouts of hysterical snickering.

Much bit his lip, Robin could not have gone mad. There was certainly no sign of madness in his leader's eyes. They were of the same stoic nature, if no longer without their former boyish cheerfulness, then with a newfound sense of maturity. "Don't get what?" Much prompted, hoping against hope that a reasonable answer would emerge from Robin's lips.

"Allan is free. We're one step ahead of the Sheriff again." Robin quickly explained, leaning his head back against the wooden wall with all the air of a well rested man.

"You actually trust Allan to get to Nottingham?"

"I have no choice." Robin's laughter seemed to die, along with the eerie light of a ghostly smile.

"What if he abandons us?" Much warned.

"While I am a prisoner and he is free, I have no choice but to place my faith in him, Much. I can not think of him as a traitor anymore." Robin heaved a sigh, folding his chained hands over his knees, letting a few of the links swing at his feet, "I'll go mad, Much, if I'm helpless."

"We have no plan for another escape?" Much was not used to his leader's hopeless attitude. If he did not have a plan then what hope did any of them have?

Robin let out a breath of laughter. He let his head loll to one side, coming eye to eye with his best friend, "You think I planned Allan's escape? No, he came up with that himself and he got lucky he could. I have no more plans, Much, I find myself unable to think at all."

"Master what about--"

"Stop calling me that." Robin snapped, his mood souring. "I'm no one's master now."

"You are mine." Much seemed hurt that Robin should say otherwise, "You are our leader."

"What? Chained and bound as I am? I've lead you on a fine road haven't I?"

"I'd follow you into hell, Master, and you know it."

Robin became very quiet, tilting his head away from Much. He sighed, not the one borne from frustration, or from shame, but from daydreaming. Much huffed, he had not been listening had he? "Fine, fine, if you want to give up, give up. I plan on thinking of way to get us out of here."

"Do that Much, tell me how far you get in thinking."

Much turned away from Robin, red in the face. "I can think of a way to escape same as anyone, right?" He turned to ask of Little John who merely shrugged in response. "Right..." sighed Much, answering his own questions. He leaned his head back against the wooden beam, his chains clinking and shifting about him. His head was already beginning to hurt and he had barely begun to formulate an idea. So it was harder than he thought, he turned to look at Robin, who was plucking at the chains around his wrist. He would receive no help from him. With Allan gone and Will and Djaq still back in the Holy Land, it would seem it would be up to him for a while to hold up the gang. He just wasn't certain if he was able to do it.

***

Guy was dreaming, of that he was certain. At first it was of the familiar blackness he so often walked in in his sleep. It was peaceful and silent here and for an instant he caught sight of the hooded woman who always accompanied him. He shuddered as he watched her from a distance. Was she supposed to be an angelic figure or a creature from hell? Did angels walk hooded, or did demons?

She turned to look at him and it was if he could feel the pain radiating out of her. He was confused at this and stumbled backwards. The woman raised her hand as if to still his movements, but suddenly she seemed to be pulled away. She struggled suddenly and with a cry she was gone, and with her a nightmare was revealed where she had so often blocked it.

Guy was back at Locksley and at first it was if he had never left. He seemed to have awoken from sleep. He started, sitting up in his bed, holding his head in his hands as if to make sense of what had happened, but he found his mind clouded as if all that had happened to him had been the true dream.

A voice beside him called him out of his confusion. "A nightmare?" Marian inquired as she sat up, placing an arm about him gently.

Immediately Guy gave a gasp of horror, wrenching himself out of Marian's arms. "What is it?" she asked, her eyes shimmered with concern.

He stared at her in absolute horror for a moment. "N-n-no." He croaked out, "You're dead." he repeated, "You're gone..you're..." Marian was inching closer to him, compassion in her gaze. She pressed a finger to his lips, hushing him.

"A nightmare. That was all. I am alive and well." She laughed, lowering her hand and kissing him lightly, drawing another gasp from Guy. "Can you not feel me?" She replied, lowering her head so that she was nestled against him. She took his hand and guided it to her breast, "See? There is my heartbeat. What more proof do you require, my love?"

She was soft against him, so soft. He hesitantly wrapped his arms about her, hearing her sigh. "Marian..." he whispered as she curled against him all the more.

He buried his head against the tangled auburn of her curls, believing he could even smell the familiar scent of her. He kissed her forehead once, twice. "Marian," he whispered her name again, feeling a sense of relief he had never felt before. "I thought I had killed you." he confessed, "That I had lost you." He would speak no more of it, he could not. He continued to kiss and caress her, each touch burning into his heart.

"Nonsense." Marian scoffed, "You could never lose me. I love you."

Guy smiled, the words like a soothing balm. "I love you." He responded, his voice threatening to break with emotion. He thought he would never be able to truly tell her this. His mind felt jarred, what was real? What was not? "I love you, Marian." he repeated, he felt as if a weight had been lifted from him by admitting this.

"Go back to sleep, Guy." Marian sighed, bringing him back down onto the bed beside her.

She lay with her head against his chest and one arm curled about him. She felt warm. Guy brought her close to him. It had only been a nightmare then, he sighed, toying with a lock of Marian's hair. The Holy Land, the journey back home, Marian's death; of course, all if it had been far too horrific to have possibly been real. She did love him, then; she had married him. He closed his eyes, for once unafraid of his dreams and of the morning after.

He awoke slowly, blinking back the harsh light of the gray morning. He did not start from the bed, merely rolled over, expecting to feel Marian beside him. He frowned, clearing his vision a bit he took stock of his surroundings. Marian was not next to him. He sat up, "Marian?" But the name died on his lips as he realized he was not back at Locksley, but still in the tavern.

His mind reeled in protest. Another nightmare, this wasn't real. He closed his eyes hoping to somehow jar himself awake, but nothing changed. He couldn't hear Marian's voice, he couldn't see her, or feel her lying curled up against him. She was gone. It had only been a dream.

Quietly Guy lowered his head, and covering his face with his arms, he began to weep.

There are so many twists and turns coming up...and that's even before the two parallel stories cross! Really excited about it, I just hope you all haven't completely lost faith in my ability to update! Please do review and let me know some of you are still interested.