Disclaimer: I don't own anything! Robin of Sherwood characters belong to Richard Carpenter and Anglia TV. Lord of The Rings characters belong to Tolkein's estate. I'm not making any money from this. All characters will be returned with only minor contusions.
The Archer and The Greenleaf.
Chapter 3.
Jokes were exchanged and drinks were shared among the Nobility. Those who were there to trade did well, and those who were there to shoot prayed that their arrows would fly try.
This was true as each round was fired, and as another set of archers were taken away, the penalty for not being accurate enough.
Finally it was down to the last six. Three commoners who had the fortune of being good enough to make it this far were to compete along with Legolas, who had shown true talent throughout the contest, the black clad Saracen Nasir, whose silence hid a deadly skill, and an old man, the Hedger of Castleton, who despite his age had the hands of a youth and talent with a bow that matched Legolas'. The commoners all looked nervous, John Barley was a burly man, clad in studded armour, but his nerves were betrayed as he fiddled with his bowstring, as did the older William the Smith whose hands were covered in calluses that showed him to be a working man. The youngest of the three was also the most nervous. Adam the Carter looked barely over twenty, and he pulled at his gloves relentlessly, trying to focus on something other than the other competitors.
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The bow he held weighted down more than his arms. It tied down his soul and his conscience with a responsibility he wanted nothing to do with. This fight was not his, but to free his companions he would do anything, to see that the One Ring was destroyed he would do this.
Legolas shook his head and glanced around. He stood apart from the other competitors who talked amongst themselves, though the black clad Saracen seemed to be avoiding the group as well.
Then came the call that the targets had been moved back, and the six moved to their shooting positions. The three commoners looked around nervously. The man called John Barley was up to shoot first. He drew his bow, and momentarily looked round at the other competitors. The crowd went silent as he turned his attention to the target and took aim, loosing his arrow a moment later.
It landed with a thud on the target, just shy of the black centre.
"Seven." Came the call from the official. The leather-clad man shook his head and stepped back from his shooting position, fiddling with his bowstring.
Next up was William the Smith. The older, slightly balding man took his place. He wiped his brow with the back of his sleeve before drawing his bow. His arrow sped to the target, but landed wide of its centre.
"Five." Called the official. William too stepped back from his standing position and shot a glance at John Barley, who shrugged. The two then returned their attentions to the next competitor.
Adam the Carter then took his place to shoot. Once more the crowd shushed as he drew his bow, but nerves overcame him and his shot went wide, only just hitting the target.
"Three." Was the call. The young man shook his head and stepped back, allowing the crowd to see the next competitor to shoot.
The man known as Hedger of Castleton was next to shoot, and the last man to represent the Saxon population. The old man hobbled up to take aim, and just as it appeared that he was to take his shot, he lowered his bow and turned to the two remaining archers and the crowd, and looked up at the sky.
"It'll rain tonight I reckon," he said, loud enough fro the front few round of spectators to hear. Some in the crowd laughed, while Gisburne shot him a foul look and the Saracen competitor glared at him disdainfully. The old man ignored them all, and turned back to the target.
Once more he drew his bow, and once more, just as everyone thought that he would fire, he lowered the bow and looked around. This time he remained silent, and after a moment, drew back his bow and with what Legolas considered to be undue haste, loosed the arrow.
"In the black." Called the official, and the crowd cheered. The Saracen raised a sceptical eyebrow, while Legolas felt more certain that there was something not right about the old man.
The old man grinned, then hobbled out of the way and Legolas took his place.
The Elven warrior notched the arrow and looked up at the target. It was made of coarsely woven cloth and mounted on a wooden frame padded with straw. He had practised on similar targets throughout his life, and had no doubt in his mind that he could hit the centre. He shot a brief glance at his companions, Gimli was standing with his arms folded across his chest, his face obscured by his beard and helmet, while the Hobbits were sitting in a row, Sam reaching over with a scolding look on his face, saying something to Merry. Boromir was pacing, while Aragorn scrutinised their surroundings.
Legolas sighed and raised his bow, setting his sights on the black circle. Drawing the bow he took a deep breath, and closed his eyes. After a seconds hesitation to he opened his eyes once more and checked the wind, then loosed the arrow. It flew from the bow with deadly accuracy and landed with a 'thunk' in the centre.
"In the black." The official called for the second time in a row. The Sheriff beamed, but Legolas merely moved back for the final competitor, grateful that he was one step closer to freedom.
The final competitor, the Saracen Nasir stepped up to shoot. Dressed in black, with his masters' crest emblazoned on his chest, he was a far more imposing figure than any of the other previous archers, and he was completely focussed on his task. He notched and drew his bow in one fluid move, with a brief glance to aim and his arrow was away, and landed in the target, quivering.
"In the black." Was the final call. A small, wary cheer rose from the crowd, and the Sheriff scowled.
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Abbot Hugo de Rainault sneered as the final archer won his place in the final, and turned to Guy of Gisburne, who had been prowling round the grounds.
"Any sign of the outlaws?" he asked. Gisburne shook his head.
"None my Lord."
Just as the Abbot was about to retort, the competitions official came to the raised dais where the Sheriff, the Abbot, and the Baron de Belleme were sitting, followed by the six archers who had just competed.
The official, an aging man bowed to the Sheriff before reading out the names of the three who had made it through to the final round. The Sheriff nodded, and signalled to Gisburne, who in turn addressed some of the guards who were standing nearby.
"Take them away." He ordered, gesturing to the three who had been unfortunate as to have not made it to the final. The crowd shouted and jeered, but none had the courage to stand up to their Norman overlords, so nothing was done.
The three finalists stepped forward.
"My lord," Legolas spoke up, "as a true test of skill would it not be better for the three of us to shoot at the same target, and set it back, say another 50 paces?"
The Sheriff thought momentarily, he then turned to the official who nodded. He then set his eye on Hedger of Castleton.
"Fine, what about you old man?" he asked without a hint of manners.
The old man looked confused for a second. "What? Oh, yes, very good. What say you Master Nasir?" His nasal voice scraping at Legolas' hearing as he addressed the silent black clad archer, who nodded.
Distracted by his idea, Legolas had failed to notice eyes on him, but now that he had no such concern, he turned to the source of the gaze, and found himself staring at the Baron de Belleme. It took much of his strength not to cower away from the man, but rather to return his stare, and face the evil that emanated from him.
He hadn't noticed the Sheriff ordering the targets to be moved, but was pulled from his reverie by Hedger shaking his shoulder as they moved back to the shooting area.
The brief pause while the targets were moved was spent assessing escape possibilities, should the Sheriff break his promise. It appeared that his companions had had their weapons returned to them, the light glinting off Gimli's axe and Boromir's shield.
Then they were called to shoot. Since Legolas shot for the Sheriff, and by default the King, he was to take the first shot, with Nasir, who shot for a high ranking noble going second, and hedger, who shot for no-one but himself taking the final shot.
Legolas took his place, his nerves suddenly overtaking his conscious thought. He longed to make a run for it, he had his bow, the rest of the Fellowship were armed. They could get out of this place and look for Frodo without much hassle.
He shook his head, mentally scalding himself for thinking such ridiculous thoughts. His only way out of this was to honour his agreement and shoot in this contest until it was over.
He raised his bow and notched the arrow. Setting his sights on the centre of the target, Legolas drew the bowstring back and aimed. Waiting until he was sure of his aim he loosed the arrow and waited for it to strike. It hit the target in the black centre, but to his dismay, it was closer to the yellow edge than he had hoped for.
He stepped back and let Nasir take his place to shoot. Letting his mind wander, he looked to the dais and noticed the Baron fingering the star shaped pendant he wore. The black clad archer took his shot, and the arrow sped to the centre of the target, beating Legolas' shot easily. Legolas sighed and continued looking round. His eyes scanned the crowd, hoping for some sight of Frodo, and though there were many in the crowd of Hobbit stature, he couldn't see the Ring Bearer among them.
It was the old mans turn to shoot. Weary of trying to find someone who was obviously not there, Legolas returned his attention to Hedger, who was aiming his bow, his hands steady for a man of such advanced years. Yet Legolas was convinced, no sure that there was something unusual about this man.
Having finally found his aim, the old man fired, and his arrow flew with great accuracy, splitting Nasir's arrow in two. The crowd let up a huge cheer, and the Sheriff, scowling motioned for two guards to go and retrieve the target so that he could inspect it.
The three archers were escorted back to the dais, and as two mounted soldiers bore the target over, the Sheriff smiled maliciously.
"I congratulate you Hedger of Castleton. Your ability is incredible considering your age." He offered the box with the arrow in it forward, and Hedger grabbed it, raising it above his head in victory. Once more the crowd went wild, until the Sheriff waved his hand and silence fell.
"Tell me Hedger, how come we have never heard of you until today?" he inquired, and watched the old man squirm under his gaze.
"It's impossible." Mumbled the Abbot.
"Not for Herne's Son. Not for Robin in the Hood." his sneer returned, but was swiftly cut off, as Hedger stuffed the silver arrow in his belt, and drew his bow, pointing it at the Sheriff.
Gisburne made to draw his sword, but the armed archer waved his bow briefly. "Move and he dies."
The grounds were now in panic. Guards moved to defend their Lord, but Gisburne waved his hand at them, ordering them to stay back.
Legolas took his opportunity to run over to the rest of the Fellowship, who were no without guards. The Hobbits were getting to their feet, and both Boromir and Aragorn had their swords drawn. He turned his head briefly to see if the Sheriff was still trapped, and saw that the Baron was no longer in his seat, and his archer Nasir was bringing their horses round.
He heard the hoof beats behind him too late, as a guard wearing the Belleme symbol rode up behind him, and delivered a heavy blow to the back of his skull, knocking him to the ground, and forcing him to drop his bow as he raised his hands in defence. The guard turned and grabbed the back of Legolas' tunic, pulling him off the ground and onto the horse. In his stunned state, Legolas couldn't find the strength to fight back. As the horse galloped off, out of the castle grounds, he was sure that he heard Frodo shout his name.
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Frodo pulled out of John's grip as he saw Legolas struck and pulled onto a horse. He ran to where his comrade had been attacked, and picked up the Elven bow, just as Aragorn reached the same spot.
Frodo launched himself at Aragorn, grateful that his friends were alive
"Hey, lad!" John called after him holding a bow and arrow tipped with cloth. "Come on, we've gotta get out of 'ere." He put his huge hand on Frodo's shoulder, and the Hobbit turned to look at him.
"These are the friends I was talking about." He said, pointing to the rest of the Fellowship, who had run over to join Aragorn.
"That's nice lad. Now get a move on. You lot too unless you want to spend the night in the dungeons." He pulled Frodo up, and gestured that the Fellowship should follow him. Aragorn shrugged. Frodo seemed safe with this man, so he was willing to trust him, and he had no desire to return to the dungeons.
"Come on." He called. Boromir shook his head wearily, but followed, making sure that the Hobbits were in front of him so they didn't fall behind.
Hedger of Castleton had moved from where he had aimed his bow at the Sheriff, and was now running with the speed and agility of a man not long out his teens towards the same spot that John, Will, Much and the Fellowship were heading for.
They came to a wall, which they managed to get over easily, apart from Much, who refused to jump, despite the straw bales that would break his fall.
"I can't Robin," he pleaded, but Robin, who had shed much of his disguise, made a hurried gesture as Will started to light the arrows that they had been carrying. Finally the boy was persuaded down, and the outlaws each took an arrow, and launched it over the wall into the wooden constructs and straw stores of the castle, before running towards the forest which could just be seen, the Fellowship not far behind.
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AN – Reviews always welcome, help feed the muse! And I'm afraid updates may be a little 'as and when' while I do my exams.