The yawn split the air out of nowhere in the small cottage.
The boy appeared a moment later. His tousled hair sprouting every which way as he rubbed his eyes.
The redheaded beauty on the bed turned over to her side and squinted reprimandingly at him.
"Robin, I won't have such mischief in my house," she scolded. "You come home before midnight or you don't come home at all." He bent over to plant a light loving kiss on the tip of her nose.
"It's not midnight, yet, mother. It's barely dawn."
She swatted at him and turned away. A wild stab ate at him as it sometimes did when she showed disappointment. He ignored it.
He would have loved to crawl in next to her and curl up in a little ball of warmth, but sensed now was not the right time. He had chores to pretend to do anyways. Truth was he had long scared a few of the neighborhood boys into doing them for him. He sniffed softly, aristocratically, served them right for not playing with him right and proper, he thought.
The one thing his mother wouldn't remind him, was to say his father was waiting. She looked longingly out the window for hours with that dreamy look in her eyes, but never spoke a word. It was to keep them both safe.
Accordingly she never mentioned her lost love's name neither. The boy shrugged and virtually skipped out of the cottage in a voracious one of his mood-swings, from musingly cheerful to disgustingly cheerful. It was wonderfully early for it.
Patsy was a pretty girl, for a mortal. Even with the smudge of ashen cinders across her cheek, she painted a lovely picture of purity in the morning glow.
The cow shifted comfortably under her hands, although he imagined if it was him under those meticulously gentle ministrations, he'd be comfortable too.
He watched patsy until her attention strayed and she started to hum.
Seen and not heard applied to more than some mortals, though perhaps he had been spoilt by the nymphs that called in their sullen teasing voices as he walked through the hills. He did admit the human girl would look stunning voluptuously draped in nothing and whispering sweet promises.
He listened a moment more to the humming and decided, maybe just voluptuously draped in nothing.
Either way an unseen Robin crept into the barn smiling in all his wicked mischievously glory and taking the ends of her pretty corn-blonde hair, tied Patsy's curls into a mess of fairey tangles. So immersed in his tedious work was he that when she stood he jumped, stumbling to the side as she turned. He heard a sickening clang as his thigh hit the milk bucket tumbling it down.
Milk scrambled every which way trying to get free as patsy whirled to call after the sprinting boy, "Curse you, Robin Goodfellow! Saints preserve your mother's nerves!"
Out of breath from running and laughing at the same time, Robin collapsed just inside the forest. A sprite-ish laugh bubbling forth like frothing ale. He laughed that same drunken laughter until the boyish glee had gone flat and he was thirsty for more mischief.
He laid a hand on his chest concentrating on his breathing until a fine idea would come into his head. They always did. Unbidden they slipped in and he was but a slave to their dominion, a prisoner to their mischief. He smiled again at that and would have laughed more had he the air in his lungs.
His eyes weighed heavily on his face. Even he needed some sleep, eventually.
When he opened his eyes again, the sun was late in the sky. Robin made a face and then realized someone was watching him.
She stood there much like a nymph draped in gossamer. He wished he knew what else to call her, but the words escaped him. She stood there as if awaiting his reply to her presence. She seemed as if she could wait there forever. He didn't have forever.
"Good morn?" he replied to her hard stare and her demeanor cracked into a smile. He wondered how long she had been waiting there.
"You are most definitely a candidate," She remarked to him and the forest was gone.
In its place stood stone walls and creatures milling about.
The gossamer draped creature seemed to enjoy his squeak of bewilderment as he jumped into the air in an explosion of feathers and made to fly away.
He was caught round the ankle in a dashing flash of speed and held tight.
As strength was concerned, mayhap a chicken hadn't been the best choice of foul.
The woman shouted, "Irons! Quick!" and in a flash and a dash he fell to the hard ground just a boy. Wild green eyes staring up under shaggy auburn hair.
"You got one Mellanna," a voice said approvingly, "and such a pretty one too."
The heavy weight round his ankle was an ominous sign.
The boy appeared a moment later. His tousled hair sprouting every which way as he rubbed his eyes.
The redheaded beauty on the bed turned over to her side and squinted reprimandingly at him.
"Robin, I won't have such mischief in my house," she scolded. "You come home before midnight or you don't come home at all." He bent over to plant a light loving kiss on the tip of her nose.
"It's not midnight, yet, mother. It's barely dawn."
She swatted at him and turned away. A wild stab ate at him as it sometimes did when she showed disappointment. He ignored it.
He would have loved to crawl in next to her and curl up in a little ball of warmth, but sensed now was not the right time. He had chores to pretend to do anyways. Truth was he had long scared a few of the neighborhood boys into doing them for him. He sniffed softly, aristocratically, served them right for not playing with him right and proper, he thought.
The one thing his mother wouldn't remind him, was to say his father was waiting. She looked longingly out the window for hours with that dreamy look in her eyes, but never spoke a word. It was to keep them both safe.
Accordingly she never mentioned her lost love's name neither. The boy shrugged and virtually skipped out of the cottage in a voracious one of his mood-swings, from musingly cheerful to disgustingly cheerful. It was wonderfully early for it.
Patsy was a pretty girl, for a mortal. Even with the smudge of ashen cinders across her cheek, she painted a lovely picture of purity in the morning glow.
The cow shifted comfortably under her hands, although he imagined if it was him under those meticulously gentle ministrations, he'd be comfortable too.
He watched patsy until her attention strayed and she started to hum.
Seen and not heard applied to more than some mortals, though perhaps he had been spoilt by the nymphs that called in their sullen teasing voices as he walked through the hills. He did admit the human girl would look stunning voluptuously draped in nothing and whispering sweet promises.
He listened a moment more to the humming and decided, maybe just voluptuously draped in nothing.
Either way an unseen Robin crept into the barn smiling in all his wicked mischievously glory and taking the ends of her pretty corn-blonde hair, tied Patsy's curls into a mess of fairey tangles. So immersed in his tedious work was he that when she stood he jumped, stumbling to the side as she turned. He heard a sickening clang as his thigh hit the milk bucket tumbling it down.
Milk scrambled every which way trying to get free as patsy whirled to call after the sprinting boy, "Curse you, Robin Goodfellow! Saints preserve your mother's nerves!"
Out of breath from running and laughing at the same time, Robin collapsed just inside the forest. A sprite-ish laugh bubbling forth like frothing ale. He laughed that same drunken laughter until the boyish glee had gone flat and he was thirsty for more mischief.
He laid a hand on his chest concentrating on his breathing until a fine idea would come into his head. They always did. Unbidden they slipped in and he was but a slave to their dominion, a prisoner to their mischief. He smiled again at that and would have laughed more had he the air in his lungs.
His eyes weighed heavily on his face. Even he needed some sleep, eventually.
When he opened his eyes again, the sun was late in the sky. Robin made a face and then realized someone was watching him.
She stood there much like a nymph draped in gossamer. He wished he knew what else to call her, but the words escaped him. She stood there as if awaiting his reply to her presence. She seemed as if she could wait there forever. He didn't have forever.
"Good morn?" he replied to her hard stare and her demeanor cracked into a smile. He wondered how long she had been waiting there.
"You are most definitely a candidate," She remarked to him and the forest was gone.
In its place stood stone walls and creatures milling about.
The gossamer draped creature seemed to enjoy his squeak of bewilderment as he jumped into the air in an explosion of feathers and made to fly away.
He was caught round the ankle in a dashing flash of speed and held tight.
As strength was concerned, mayhap a chicken hadn't been the best choice of foul.
The woman shouted, "Irons! Quick!" and in a flash and a dash he fell to the hard ground just a boy. Wild green eyes staring up under shaggy auburn hair.
"You got one Mellanna," a voice said approvingly, "and such a pretty one too."
The heavy weight round his ankle was an ominous sign.