The Successor, epilogue
by Jennifer Campbell

None of the characters belong to me, unfortunately. I'm just
having a little fun and will return them, no worse for wear,
when I'm done. This story takes place early in Series 1. No
beta, so blame the typos on me.

#

Some of the villagers had taken the dead soldiers into the
forest for burial -- an inconvenient duty, but they had
nothing else to do with the bodies. The remaining villagers
had gathered in the main square with Robin and his gang.

It had been a joyous reunion between Robert and Kyle, with
the hugs and back-slappings of good friends. Marion had
kissed Robin senseless right there on the hilltop, in front
of everyone, but he didn't mind. He regretted having put
her, and all of his men, through the ordeal of the past
couple of days. But he had only done what Herne had asked
of him, and no one could fault him for that.

After a whirlwind of people came past Robin to thank him
and his gang for saving them -- despite the ruined planting
field -- Robin ended up at the village's edge with only
Marion, Kyle and Robert. He unsheathed Robert's kingly
sword and, with one last regretful look at the jewel-
encrusted hilt, held it out to Robert across both palms.

"Your sword," he said. "Although I wouldn't mind keeping
it. These jewels are worth a fortune and could feed the
villages of Sherwood for months."

Robert hesitated, but then accepted the weapon. "I would
give you the jewels, except my father would disown me for
the rest of my life."

"I understand," Robin said with a smile.

Robert unsheathed Albion and held it out. "This is an
amazing sword. I was proud to carry it, although I didn't
do it justice." He stared unseeing at the runes etched into
the blade. "Gisburne disarmed me so easily. I feel like a
fool."

"You're just inexperienced," Marion said gently.

"It won't happen again," Robert said as Robin took back
Albion. "Next time, I'll defeat him."

"What next time?" Kyle asked with a chuckle. "You're not
going to run into anyone from Nottingham in Huntingdon."

Robert set his jaw in a determined look, puffed up his
chest a little and declared, "I'm not going back to
Huntingdon."

"What?!" Kyle exclaimed.

"I'm staying here. In Sherwood."

"Oh, no you're not. I didn't follow you into the middle of
the forest just to go back alone. Lord Edgar would beat me
black and blue, and then banish me."

"Your friend is right," Robin said. "You can't stay here."

"Why not?" Robert asked. "For the first time in my life, I
feel like I _belong_ somewhere. I know that this is where
I'm
supposed to be, with your band, fighting for these people."
He gestured toward the village. "I don't belong in
Huntingdon anymore."

"The time isn't right," Robin insisted.

Robert's eyes narrowed angrily and he opened his mouth to
protest, but no sound came out. He was staring beyond
Robin, back into the forest. Robin twisted around to look,
fearing to see more soldiers, but it was quite the
opposite. A strange mist had gathered among the trees, and
cloaked in it stood an imposing, familiar figure. Robin
knew what he had to do.

"You stay here," he said to Marion and Kyle, then grabbed
Robert's forearm. "And you ... come with me."

He half-dragged Robert toward the mist. It engulfed them
as soon as they left the clearing, creating an enchanted
scene. As always, the forest became eerily silent. At his
side, Robert shivered.

"Herne," Robin greeted his master and dropped to his
knees. Robert, visibly shaken and confused, followed his
lead but couldn't stop gaping at the horned figure before
them.

Herne raised his arms. "Welcome, Robert of Huntingdon."

"Who are you?" Robert asked, his voice steady despite the
strange situation.

"I am Herne, lord of the trees, and you will know me soon
enough. But that time has not yet come."

"What do you mean? That I cannot stay here?"

"Sherwood is not your home."

"But what about the others? Edward and Alison and Matthew?
What about the people of Wickham? I can help them."

"They will not remember you, nor will anyone you have met
since you came to the forest, except for my son. And you
must not seek to return. To shift the balance would ruin
all."

"I -- I don't understand. What must I do, then?"

"Have patience. And endure."

Herne lowered his arms, and vanished amid a blinding
flash. As the mist dissipated, Robert blinked to clear his
vision, then looked in bewilderment at Robin.

"You're his _son_?"

Robin quirked a smile and nodded but could bring himself
to say no more. Robert would learn what was needed at the
right time, but Robin hardly wanted to think of such
things. It touched too close to his own death. Now that
Herne had asked him to, in essence, prepare his own
successor to take up the fight, that death felt closer than
ever, an inky blackness hanging over his head that he could
touch, if only he reached high enough.

But that death would not come for quite some time. Robert
possessed the courage and inner fire, but he still had much
growing up to do before he would be ready for Sherwood. And
Robin had no intention of leaving this life yet.

Robin stood and helped Robert to his feet. "Stay here.
I'll send your friend to you, along with a couple of the
horses that the soldiers left behind." He pointed toward
the road. "Follow that until you cross a bridge and reach a
crossroads, then take the northern road. That will lead you
back to Huntingdon."

Robert nodded, resigned. "Will I ever meet you again?"

"I don't know, but I think not."

"Then, thank you. For everything. For opening my eyes." He
held out his hand, which Robin took in a firm shake.

He left Robert there and returned to the village. Kyle was
sitting alone on a barrel, right where Robin had left him;
Marion had wandered off to talk with Edward and probably
didn't even remember whom she had left behind. Robin
suspected that if Herne's magic had erased Robert from
their minds, Robert's companion also would fade from memory.

"Robert is waiting for you up there," Robin said. "Take
two horses with you. If you ride hard, you can be back in
Huntingdon by tomorrow morning."

"So he's coming with me?"

"Yes."

Kyle nodded, relieved, and did as Robin bid him. Robin
watched until they both had mounted and galloped off,
unnoticed, down the road. Somehow he knew that they would
make it back fine to Huntingdon, so he wouldn't worry on
that account.

Moments later, he felt two small but strong hands circle
his waist from behind, and he turned to gaze down on his
beautiful wife.

"What were you looking at?" she asked.

"Nothing," he said, smiling, and ran his hand through her
red curls.

She looked at him curiously. "You're a strange one
sometimes."

"But I still love you." He kissed her lightly, then took
her hand and led her back toward the village center.

Robin knew death would catch him someday, and then Robert
would return to Sherwood. But not today, or tomorrow, or
the next day. So Robin would think no more on it and simply
enjoy the life that he had. And no longer would he worry
about what would happen should he die, because he now knew
that his fight would carry on without him.

It gave him a sense of peace, to know that he would have a
successor.

The end.