"More ale?" Much asked Robin late that night, as they stood together jovially around the fire.
"A very worthy idea, my friend!" Robin grinned, reaching to slap Much on his back, but just missing him.
Much chortled as he refilled Robin's forest tankard, and Robin joined in his laughter as the ale overflowed the cup and continued pouring, spilling over its sides onto Robin's hand, to finally splash to the ground at his feet.
"Save some for me, boys," Kate whined with a hiccup, making all three outlaws nearly collapse with laughter.
"I like Bat," Much decided, once he'd recovered from laughing.
Marian had seen fit to have the small boy sleep in her and Robin's private bower, giving her husband no reason to retire early for the night, for once. Robin had helped her prepare a soft bed of moss and heather for the lad, and had stayed to help tuck in the child, even telling him a very thrilling bedtime story, complete with humorous voices and dancing eyebrows, but had departed when Marian started on her second lullaby.
It stung to listen to her sweet voice, knowing that it would never be used to sing to the children they could not have. Hence, the ale, and the merry company of his men, which greatly eased Robin's pain by temporarily banishing his regrets.
Little John belched, and the gang, minus Djaq and Marian, who had sensibly long since gone to bed, laughed so loudly they raised an owl from the treetops, who beat his wings with a furious rush and flew away, seeming to scold them with a noisy chorus of hoots as he went. That surprise only made the men laugh harder.
"Should you be doing that?" Much asked Will, watching the young carpenter whittle meticulously away at a piece of elm. "I mean, you might cut yourself. Your hatchet might slip, and you might chop off a finger!"
"Not bein' funny, but that's not the only thing he might chop off!" Allan jested, somehow managing to look innocent and devious, all at the same time.
"His wife can patch him up, if anything goes awry," Robin decided, trying to soberly dole out his authoritative ruling on the matter.
Will was in no danger. The ale in his tankard lay nearly untasted, for after only a few gulps, he had been inspired with an idea and felt driven to create something marvelous to give to the boy. At least, he modestly hoped it would be marvelous. He'd whittled a flute only once before in his life, and that had been to disguise a weapon to sneak into the sheriff's celebration of the King's birthday. These pipes he was carving now were to give the mute boy some kind of a voice, and needed to provide a variety of notes without requiring the use of a tongue. But Will's brilliant mind and skillful hands were up to the task.
Robin felt the shadow of his unhappiness returning, so he lifted his tankard and drained it in one draught. Not to be outdone, Kate did the same to hers.
Both of them swayed on their feet, and Robin chivalrously reached for the girl, to keep her from falling to the ground. Kate grabbed onto him to steady herself, latching both hands onto his buttcheeks, but the two of them collapsed to the forest floor anyway, Robin falling underneath the small blond.
"Oh, hello, Marian," Robin said with a grin, delighted to see that Marian had decided at that moment to join them. "Is the boy asleep?"
"Miraculously, yes," she spat at him, with a glare so fierce even Little John backed away. "No thanks to you and your riotous gang of drunken revellers! Take your scrawny hands off my husband!" she ordered Kate, pulling the girl off Robin herself, and tossing her body aside like a sack of grain. "And just when are you thinking of coming to bed?" she asked Robin, furiously.
"You look gorgeous, Marian," Robin uttered sentimentally, leaning up on his elbows. "I love you. Have I ever told you that?"
Recalling what she'd seen Matilda do to him earlier that day, Marian leaned over her husband, cuffed him on the side of his head, and said, "Men!"
"What was that for?" Robin asked, looking remarkably boyish in his confusion.
"Come to bed, Handsome," Marian told him, her anger washed away by the innocent look on his face. "I've gotten used to having you near me, and I find I can't sleep anymore without you."
"We should all be getting to bed," Robin told his men, standing and leaning on his wife's arm.
His men grunted their approvals, though Much had already passed out.
"I need to finish this first," Will told them, not looking up from his work.
"Alright," Robin agreed. "Be sure to throw a blanket over Much before you go to bed, will you?"
Will barely nodded and continued whittling. Allan, less drunk than the others, said, "Naw, don't bother. I'll put him to bed. Come on, Idiot," he said to Much, dragging him under his arms toward his bunk, "it's time for slumber."
Little John lumbered toward his own bunk and collapsed face down on top of it. No one seemed to notice Kate, lying in a heap on the leaves, where Marian had tossed her.
...
Once inside their private grove, Robin cast a gentle smile on Bat, who was sleeping peacefully in his new bed.
Marian helped Robin ease himself onto their bed of moss, heather, and leaves, for his body was still sore from the fight he'd had with Gisbourne. Then, on her knees before him, she removed his boots and set them beside the bed.
"I drank too much," Robin admitted, watching her lovingly.
"Really?" Marian asked, rolling her eyes. "Whatever gave you that impression?"
"Seeing you take off my boots like that. I don't want you to have to do that, Marian. I don't want to be that sort of husband."
She lay back contentedly in his arms. "It's only this one time. But if you ever drink so much again, you'll find yourself sleeping alone, do you hear me, Locksley?"
"I love it when you call me that," he murmured, brushing the top of her head with his lips. He closed his eyes and groaned softly as the forest seemed to spin all around him.
Marian sighed and snuggled against the warm hard body she loved so well, listening to the child's soft rhythmic breathing. In no time at all, husband and wife were asleep as well, and peace and contentment reigned within the outlaw camp. No one could have any idea of the threat that secretly loomed over them.