Yes, oh my goodness, I've finally got another chapter out. I almost can't believe it myself (and I know all the people who've reviewed definitely can't.) Again, sorry about the lack of updates, things get busy, you guys know the drill, and then there was the inevitable writer's block, which I get quite frequently. And now I've finally returned to one of my favorite stories and characters and gotten some work done. I hope y'all enjoy. And, although I can't promise Chapter Three will be coming soon, I can let you in on the fact that I'm working on it. I hope you enjoy and please don't give up on me. I'm just terrible when it comes to sticking to one idea/story at a time. I know, excuses, excuses. Anyway, I'll stop rambling and let y'all get on to the story. Again, I'm sorry and enjoy.

JLF

PS. That weird little cross thing in the middle of the chapter was actually a really neat looking celtic knot font thing that apparently didn't transfer. Sorry 'bout that.

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Chapter Two

Rhiannon did not get a very warm reception when she finally ventured into the most exclusive hide-out in all of England that first night. Some of the men looked at her with mixed levels of resentment, reserved anger, and plain blatant hostility while others looked at her with a little too much interest for her liking. She was afraid for a moment that she had gotten herself into something much worse than Prince John's own dungeon, but she did not let her fear show lest the men think her weak and try to find means of attacking that weakness. But John stuck close to her side, a veritable mountain of confidence shadowing her every step through camp as he guided her toward the sleeping area. As she neared the more secluded site littered with tents, sleeping pallets, and banked fires, she was briefly distressed as she worried about exactly where she would sleep. She couldn't sleep among the men, most of them probably had the wrong idea already and she couldn't encourage such thoughts in any way. But then where would she sleep?
"Rhiannon, stop looking so troubled," commanded John, a teasing tone running through his deep timbre.
She looked up at him sharply, anger sparking in her eyes. "I am not troub…" her voice trailed off faintly as she saw what was overhead. The very trees themselves seemed to have great wooden houses sprawling amongst the branches and leaves with stout ladders and ropes positioned at various intervals to climb up into their heights.
"And I thought you would be a hard one to shock into silence. It does me good to know I can be wrong."
"It's magnificent," she whispered reverently, as if talking about a church rather than an outlaws' hide-out.
"It's nothing really, just a good way to hide and defend oneself, as well as being a better vantage point in case of attacks. They're really just a bunch of glorified tree houses—"
"They're better than anything I could have ever imagined. Ever since I heard the tales of Robin Hood I wanted to be a part of this. And now I am. It's just like a dream come true, John."
"You might not think so in a few weeks time. Things won't be easy for you, Rhiannon. But just know that I am always here for you if you should have need," he said solemnly. A great look of surprise crossed her features before her face broke out in a heart-stopping smile.
"I am moved beyond words, John. That is the most amazing and singularly sweetest thing anyone has ever said to me. Thank you," she said softly and just as solemnly as he had made his own proclamation. She then stood daintily on tip-toe and kissed him lightly on the cheek. The kiss was sweet and feather-soft and like nothing John had ever experienced. Somehow this tiny slip of a girl had managed not only to fell the mighty Little John in physical combat, but she had also managed to worm her way straight into the very depths of his heart in a matter of hours.
"Let me show you where you can sleep," he said quickly, heading over to a nearby ladder and beginning to climb, throwing one cursory glance over his shoulder to make sure she was following him. After a dazed moment of admiring the structures from the ground, she shook her head as if to clear it and dutifully followed him up the ladder, hurrying in her excitement to see these marvels.
As they were standing on a small pathway that branched out to several other structures, John paused, allowing Rhiannon another moment to take in all that was around her.
"Who built all of this?" she asked in a hushed tone.
"We all did, though at the time there weren't as many here to help."
"Did Robin design this?"
"No, Robin has no head for such things."
"Then what does Robin have a head for…so to speak."
"Money…and women, I suppose, when it suits him."
"Right champion of the people, eh?" she questioned wryly.
"He had good intentions…at the beginning. I suppose he's just let all this…fame get to his head."
"You know, I did a bit of research before seeking you out."
"Seeking me out?"
"Not you personally, John; Robin and the men."
"What kind of research?"
"I went around to the various villages, posing as a beggar, testing the waters on this legend. There are many who have heard about Robin and his cohorts and their brave and gallant actions. But I wanted to be sure that it wasn't just a legend; that such men did exist."
"And how did we pass?"
"You have passed remarkably well. Others…have not."
"Don't judge Robin by his treatment of you. He just…doesn't like losing or being proved wrong. You bruised his pride."
"I would think in this kind of business pride would be superfluous. Maybe even dangerous."
"At times it can be. Of course, when dealing with the sheriff…sometimes a healthy amount of pride goes a long way."
"I'll remember that. It may come in handy."
"Already planning your first encounter with the sheriff? That's a bit presumptuous, don't you think?"
"The first thing you should've learned about me, John, is that I am in no way afraid of being presumptuous."
"Very true, very true indeed."
"Woman! I thought I told you to get to work! The men are hungry," Robin called out from below them. John heard a faint growl emit from Rhiannon's throat before she turn her back to the bellowing leader.
"It's food he wants, is it? Well, I'll give him a meal like he's never had before."
"Rhiannon, perhaps now is not the best time to be courting trouble…at least, not more than you've already courted."
"He has to know that I was not simply cow-tow and allow him to treat me this way. The quicker he learns the better off we'll all be. Don't worry, I won't poison him…at least I won't poison him enough to kill him," she said slyly, a gleam coming into her eyes.
"Rhiannon, just what is it you're planning to do?"
"Never you mind, John. Besides, it's better if you don't know. That way you can truthfully claim complete innocence. Now, show me where they make the food so I can get to work and not cause any more discord."
"This way then. And Lord help us all," he murmured, before heading down another ladder.
"Sometimes the Lord works in mysterious ways, John. And you're about to see some of His most mysterious ways. I hope you're ready."
"I somehow don't believe anything could make me ready for whatever you've got in store for the lot of us. But I won't hinder you and I won't give away that you're planning anything underhanded. Where would the fun be in that?"
"Where indeed?"

‡

Rhiannon asleep was a thing of beauty…or, more correctly, a thing of entirely different beauty than Rhiannon awake. Stumbling upon her sleeping form was like wandering into some enchanted realm and discovering a beautifully serene fairy princess waiting to be awakened by a magic kiss. She was at once transformed from a sly, sometimes vexing, taunting wildcat into a peaceful and guileless beauty. But Robin knew better than to believe she was anything of the sort, no matter how innocent she appeared.
"Robin, don't you think you're jumping to conclusions a bit? It was probably an accident."
"An accident, John? Yes, it was an accident; she really meant to poison me, not just make me sick. Don't take her side, John. It'll only land you on the wrong side of me and that is most definitely not a side you want to be on."
"I'm not on anybody's side. I'm your friend and I'm hers as well. Besides, you can't exactly say you didn't deserve this."
"Yes, yes I can say I didn't deserve this…this foul condition brought on by her purposefully bad cooking."
"You did taunt her something awful while she was preparing the food. And after she had proved herself worthy and more than able to join us, you gave her the most demeaning tasks you could think of."
"All tasks fit for a woman," Robin stated matter-of-factly, as if this were a thing that should've been apparent to all.
"Not a woman like her. She's not meant to be wasting away in a hot, sweaty kitchen or laundering and mending all our clothes. She's meant to be doing mischief with the rest of us. And she's apparently damn good at it."
"That's another matter I'll have to bring up with her."
"What?"
"Her treatment of my clothes," Robin replied crossly, indicating the sad torn state of his favorite tunic.
"You should've thought it through before relegating a task like taking care of your clothing to a woman like that after you'd already made her plenty angry."
"Apparently. I see your clothes are in fine condition. Must be the good courting you're giving her."
"Or it could be that I mend 'em myself. Not that I wouldn't trust her to try her best at cleaning or mending 'em, but I caught a fair glimpse of her as she went about it. I'm not really sure all of this mess is completely sabotage."
"What is the world coming to when women don't even know how to properly cook, clean, and mend things?"
"A much better world in my opinion. I'd rather have twenty women like Rhiannon fighting alongside me than twenty useless noble ladies who sit around stitching things all day."
"Ah, John, that's such a sweet thing for you to say. Almost makes up for your insulting comments about my skills with needle and thread."
"I thought you might've been awake for that. But truth's truth and truth is you're both a terrible cook and a terrible seamstress even when you're trying your damnedest."
"Hmm…I guess I can't really kill you for telling the truth. Though I could bring myself to beat your arse in a sparring match as soon as Robin's done with whatever he came here to complain about."
"I'm not here to complain about anything."
"Really? Then why the hell did you two decide to have a conversation in my room about me while I was asleep thus waking me from a rather nice dream."
"What was the dream about?" asked John curiously, maintaining a remarkably straight face in spite of Robin's clear annoyance at the turn in conversation.
"I don't think there's really any point in us knowing what she was dreaming about, John," Robin stated, a hard note edging as voice as he tried to leash in his anger.
"I don't mind," Rhiannon replied before looking past Robin at John. "I was taking a bath. A wonderful hot bath complete with scented soaps and herbs and the works. I don't remember the last time I ever had one. Or if I ever had one. Hmm. So what is it you wanted, Robin? Since I'm awake I might as well get to preparing the morning meal."
"That is not necessary."
"Then perhaps I should get to the laundry. I noticed quite a lot of it lying about last night around the men's tents and rooms."
"No, I think it would be best if we all just tended to our own laundering and cooking needs."
"If that's what you think is best," Rhiannon complied innocently, briefly winking at John when Robin wasn't paying attention.
"There is one other issue I wished to address with you."
"Yes, what is it?"
"If you ever try to poison me again, I will kill you."
"Robin, if I had wanted you poisoned, you'd be dead, not just needing to shite every few minutes. Is that all?" she replied cheekily. Robin stared at her glassily as if he could not believe she had actually admitted to causing his sickness while John stood braced behind him, ready to catch him should he try and attack Rhiannon. No matter how good she was at sparring (and she was good indeed as John himself could attest to after only a matter of days) she had no idea how Robin most liked to fight and she could very well end up with a knife between her ribs before she even saw him twitch.
"Perhaps it would be best if we all witnessed exactly what you are capable of doing instead of the areas in which you are clearly incapable," he finally replied stonily.
"Fair enough. I suppose we'll go with the full gamut. Swords, staffs, knives, hand-to-hand…and archery."
"Perhaps. But let's not rush things," he answered before turning swiftly, his every movement radiating anger, and leaving her quarters.
"You really should be more careful around him, Rhi," John finally said after Robin was out of earshot.
"I'm not afraid of him, John."
"You have no idea what he is capable of."
"And neither he nor you know what I am capable of. I'd say that makes us all pretty evenly matched, wouldn't you?"
"Maybe. I guess we'll find out soon enough."
"Yes, it appears we will," she said merrily, a glint in her eye that already had John worrying. "You up for some real sparring today, John?"
"Always am."
"Good. Just remember not to hold back just because I'm a wee pretty lass."
"Oh, I'll remember. I know that that wee pretty lass is more hellfire than womanly daintiness when she's in the mood."
"Oh, do you now? Well, you haven't seen nothing yet. Let's go. I'm itching for a good tussle with you."
"Really? What kind of tussle?"
"That would be giving everything away, now wouldn't it?"