Disclaimer: I don't own ay rights to Disney, nor do I wish to, cause that'd be a really big headache to deal with... though, I admit, being able to ride the rides for free sounds cool. :) Thanks for all the reviews and comments- I hope this next installment is good, since I feel kinda rusty about writing... Robin's and Marian's parents, as well as Flint, his father, Kenneth, and Fouad and his family are my own creations. Please don't sue, you wouldn't get much anyway.
Thanks for all the people that reviewed, I really appreciate your comments and I am very grateful for your advice! I might have to make a few spelling and punctuation corrections, but other than that, this story's been my most commented on! I am going to use a few suggestions given to me, just to make the scenes and the plot more authentic... (waves to the reviews and gives 'em a peace sign) You reviewers, guys and girls, you both rock!
Warning: Battle scenes and character death are in this chapter.
And now, the story continues...
A week after the tournament...
Robin drew back on the string, sighting along the arrow toward his target, both eyes open, narrowed slightly as he squinted against the light from the setting sun. He released the string, and the arrow cut through the air.
Zzzssttt!! SLICE!!
The fox blinked, taking a step back in astonishment. He looked down at the bow in his paws, then up again at the hay bale used as his target, the arrow not just hitting it, but cutting through the bale, the sharp pointed arrowtip sticking through the opposite end.
King Richard had taken the throne at the wish of his mother, Queen Eleanor. But a few weeks into his leadership, he made a startling announcement, giving the official notice that he would be going on a 'crusade', to reclaim the 'Holy Land' back from the usurpers, with John ruling the throne in his place. It was an amazing proclamation, nearly the entire army was being recruited for the quest, as well as fit and serviceable members of the royal court.
Robin and his father were among those from the court who would fight as well. Others joining them would be Adam Huntingdon, and many other men and boys around Robin's age from the village.
Last winter, due to the cold and damp, many had died, including Rumble and Kenneth. Kenneth Rabbit, the oldest servant of the Fitzooth's, had left behind a wife and many children, the youngest a mere babe in his mother's arms. Hugh and Arelyn reassured Mother Rabbit that she and her children were welcome to stay there with them, but she didn't wish to impose on them. With their help, she did buy a house in town for her and her family. The Fitzooth's sent as much as they could though, to help the family in their time of need.
Robin remembered their last visit, he and his mother were bringing over a few toys and hand me down clothes for the children. The oldest girl, Sis, had laughed as she twirled in the dress she had been given, joyful since it matched her bow. The oldest boy, Skippy, was pretending to slay dragons with a wooden sword, as his next oldest sibling, Tagalong, played with a doll.
Rumble had died in his home, through it was rumored that they had to pry a tankard of mead from his death grip. After his father was buried, Flint was named as the new Sheriff of Nottingham, responsible for collecting the taxes and for protecting the townspeople. It was the former task that caught Flint's attention, and money seemed to be pouring in, to supposedly 'support' the crusades.
Robin walked over to the hay bale and yanked his arrow from the target. He had become stronger since the archery tournament, and it showed as he practiced archery and swordplay every day, the art of war however being tempered with chess playing (also mixed with discussions of the history of previous wars and campaigns of their country) with his father, learning about the royal court and polite manners from his mother.
All of these thoughts and more flickered through his mind as he made his way home, his armor and weapons already made up for him to leave tomorrow with his father and march, then sail, then march again into battle. One lone image shone in his mind, though, and he smiled as he thought of Marian, when they had held paws after he had won the archery tournament, the kiss they shared...
Marian was joining her mother and the other ladies of the royal court to, as she put it, "learn entirely useless things to become a woman of grace and refinement." In Robin's opinion, she was already a woman, and a beautiful one at that, but then again... he sighed wistfully, shrugging his shoulder as his quiver had slipped down it.
He was worried about the fights ahead of him. What if things didn't go as King Richard planned? What if he was separated from his father in the heat of it? What if he, or his father, or both of them were wounded or...
Robin shook his head, clearing away the bad thoughts and clenching his fist tightly over the bow, his paw seeming to dig into the wood. It would do no good to think about it, what would happen would happen, and there was nothing he could do to change that.
He walked on, down the path that would take him home.
Two years later... the Holy Land... war...
The smoke cleared away as the lone soldier ran, his paws pounding against the sand and stone, hefting up a shield in his left paw, gritting his teeth, stopping to briefly look all around him, then running on away.
He was weary, with sweat seeming to pour through his armor, but he kept running, the sword in his right paw gripped tightly, eyes scanning the battle and fighting around him as he ran. He rushed past the sounds of catapults firing their lethal ammunition and of several soldiers dying and wounded, shouting out a word over and over again.
"Father!! Father!!! Where are you?! Father, where are you?! FATHER!!!"
And then Robin saw his father.
Hugh Fitzooth was wielding his sword with deadly accuracy, felling several soldiers with each swing of his blade, eyes blazing and lips pulled back in a deadly snarl. Adam stood nearby, using a cross bow to take care of other interlopers, the arrows flying through the air, striking down anyone who threatened to swarm them.
Then as the dust cleared, only one fighter was left, his body covered from head to foot in white rags and a gray scarf covering his face. The solder, who seemed to be about the same height and age of Robin, hefted a scimitar in one paw, pointing from himself to Hugh, gripping the sword with both of his paws, bright eyes glaring through the cloth mask.
"He means to challenge you, Hugh!" Adam shouted to his friend, while Robin watched the snarl fade from his father's face to an intent look. He nodded, hefting his own blade, his eyes fixated on the new enemy in front of him.
A wild scream echoed through the air as another enemy fighter ran past Adam, slashing him in his arm with a dagger. Adam roared with pain as he fell, Robin felt himself jolted forward, racing toward his father. The enemy fighter kept running, tossing aside the blood-stained dagger and unhooking an ax from his belt. Hugh turned and faced the interloper, made a stab with his sword-
And was brought down by the ax as the soldier dodged the stab. It seemed to happen in slow motion, but everything was clear- the dust from the ground kicking up as Hugh fell, the hard 'thud' as his body hit the ground, one of his paws gripping his side as a crimson liquid flowed through the wound, between his fingers, onto the ground and mixing with the dust.
A scream slowly grew in Robin's mind and became louder as he realized he was really screaming, tears forming hot burning tracks down his face as he tore his way through the sand and crashed down by his father. He slowly raised his head, looking into the eyes of the fighter who had killed him. The soldier gave a crazed grin, and raised his ax to strike a killing blow to Robin-
Only to suddenly stop, the crazed grin fading away to one of confusion, blood trickling down from his mouth onto his throat as she looked downward at the scimitar point sticking out of his chest.
He to his knees, then to his side, and was still. The white-rag clad fighter walked over, pulling his sword from the body of the other fighter, before looking through the scarf at Robin.
Robin seemed to be looking into his own eyes; the same color, the same spark in them as his own... He HATED this stranger. A feeling of sickness swept over him, only to be replaced by a fierce burning anger as he sprang up, glaring at the soldier, his sword raised, hatred rushing through his body. "You wanted to fight- fight me then, curse you!" Robin cursed, shouting the words at the enemy in front of him.
The soldier stared at him, his eyes expressionless. Then they widened, shock rising to fear as he looked upward. Robin turned and saw one of the flaming cannonballs from the catapult flying toward them. Without thinking, Robin grabbed the other soldier and pushed him down, jumping on top of him, covering both the soldier and his father as the catapult's airborne ammo whooshed past right where their heads would have been.
CRASH!!!!!!! BOOOMMMMMMMMM!!!!!!
It seemed that a million firecrackers had gone off at once, with a rush of heat and flame, yet in an instant, it was all over. Robin raised his head to see a blackened crater several feet away from them, sand still drifting upward and riding the breeze.
Dazedly, Robin slumped downward, his paw reaching for that of his father's, grabbing it and holding it tightly... and was rewarded with a reassuring clench before fading into blankness.
He opened his eyes, staring up at a ceiling, covered in clean and warm blankets...nice, familiar... wait, not familiar, this wasn't his bed... he didn't have mud-caked ceilings...
Robin tried to sit up, but was stricken by nausea, wearily falling back onto the blankets. His eyes moved from left to right as he looked at the room he was in.
The walls, the ceiling... the entire house seemed to be made of mud, long since dried and formed into living quarters. He was lying in a bundle of blankets, settled on top of clean straw and grass. He looked down at himself- the armor was gone, but he still had on his shirt and his under tunic, his father was lying nearby-
Robin sat up quickly, ignoring the nausea as he looked down at his father. He was breathing evenly, but was sweating and grimacing in his sleep, one paw clutching a reddened rag on the left side of his ribs. Robin remembered that was where the enemy soldier had cut into him with the ax...
"Are you alright, Robin?"
Robin looked up from his father to see Adam sitting in the corner, his wounded arm in a sling. Despite his injury, Adam looked well, and managed a small smile.
"I'm glad you're alright, Earl Huntingdon," Robin started, but Adam waved away the title, wincing as he moved his uninjured arm.
"It's Adam, lad. Do you remember what happened?"
Robin's expression was one of puzzlement, then of bitter realization. "I was looking for Father and you both, I was separated during the fight... he fought against at least seven others, taking on two at a time, you with your crossbow... he was challenged, but that other fighter"
He trailed off, hot tears forming in his eyes as he managed to choke out the question he dreaded being answered.
"My father's dying, isn't he?"
Adam nodded sadly in reply as Robin bowed his head, his teeth clenched hard as tears ran from his eyes down his face, forcing back sobs as Adam spoke.
"His wound was dressed and treated, but the bleeding's still severe, and he's caught a fever. All that could be done was done, Robin... do you remember what happened after he was struck down?"
Robin raised his head, ignoring the tears on his face, thinking back to the battle. "That fighter, the one who wounded him... he was killed by the fighter who had challenged him first-"
"Then you wanted to fight me, but instead, you saved me from that fireball from the sky," a stranger's voice finished, and Robin looked up to see the same fighter who challenged his father.
Instead of the gray rags and headscarf clad soldier, a fox stood there, about Robin's age, dressed in dark charcoal robes tied with a sash around his waist. His eyes were exactly like Robin's eyes, same color, same shape, though his features were different. While Robin's fur was reddish colored, the other fox's fur was more golden-colored than red, a light yellow like the sands of the desert they were in.
The stranger's face was solemn as he walked over and knelt besides Robin's father, looking steadily at Robin. "My name is Fouad," he spoke Robin's language with some difficulty, but managed the words. "I owe you... my life...for saving mine."
Fouad was interrupted by a sudden coughing, Robin jerked his head around to see his father gasp, gripping the reddened cloth on his side. Robin grabbed the free paw of his father, words spilling out of him.
"Father! You're awake, thank goodness, please, Father, stay awake, hang on, you'll be alright, I know you will!"
Through the pain, Hugh opened his eyes, and on seeing his son, a faint smile crept onto his lips. "Robin..." Hugh rasped out, interrupted by a string of coughs that shook his whole body.
"You were wounded, but you'll be fine, your wound will heal, you'll beat the sickness and we'll... we'll both go home together..." Robin's voice was filled with hope and desperation that faded as Hugh gripped Robin's paw tightly, sitting up from the ground, speaking clearly and loud, his eyes wild as they stared into Robin's, battles being fought behind them.
"Listen to me, Robin. Don't let this happen, to you or anyone else. War is a savage monster that takes the lives of anyone in it, good or evil... life is precious, you remember that..." Hugh lay back down, breathing deeply, exhausted.
Adam made his way over, gripping Hugh by the shoulder reassuringly. Hugh unclenched his paw that was holding the cloth to his side, reaching up and grabbing Adam's paw.
"Did I send enough of 'em ahead of me, Adam?"
"You gave them all you had and more, Hugh, old friend. All those that we knew who went before us, they'll be waiting for you."
"Promise me, Adam... make sure that Robin makes it back home, back to his mother."
"I swear it, Hugh."
Hugh looked from his friend to his son, his gaze becoming gentle. "Do you remember, Robin... the story of your birth... you've grown into a young man, son... promise me, Robin..."
Robin looked at his father, tears building up in his eyes. "Anything, Father."
"Take care of your mother, and of the Huntingdons... Defend those that you love and respect... who can't defend themselves from cruelty and tyranny... promise me, Robin... promise..."
"I swear it, Father, you'll be fine, we'll do this together... Father?
Father??! FATHER!!!"
Hugh relaxed his grip on Robin and Adam's paws, leaving the world holding on to his best friend and his son. Robin's anguished cry rang to the ceiling as Adam's head bent, heavy with sorrow.
And thus, Hugh Fitzooth passed on...
'I won't cry,' Robin thought, gripping his sword handle tightly, 'Not now. I'll wait until I'm alone.'
Robin stared, dry-eyed as he watched his father's funeral pyre burn, the flames climbing toward the sky, the wind carrying the smoke and the ashes toward the direction of home.
'I swear it, Father. I will defend those who cannot defend themselves.
It's what you would want.'
Adam watched as the other mourners walked away from the pyre, Robin still there, his face as hard as stone as he watched the flames. He moved to go to Robin, but was stopped. Adam looked toward the one holding him back, and saw it was Fouad.
"Let him be. Once the final flames are out, he will grieve. Let him have his time of mourning."
Adam didn't like it, but looking up and seeing the resolution on Robin's face, he was forced to respect it. He made his way back to Fouad's home, leaving Robin behind.
Robin was unaware of anyone else around him, thinking only of his father and his promise.
'I swear, Father. I swear.'
Robin came back a full two days later, gathering up his things, ready to travel. But they were delayed about a week, waiting for Adam's arm to heal. During that time, Robin talked with Fouad, forming a friendship of sorts with the desert fox.
Fouad was the oldest son in his family, the only one of age who was old enough to be sent to battle. His own parents were on a merchant trip, selling exotic goods in different lands, though never as far as Robin's home. Fouad understood about the 'Holy Land' that the Crusades were about, but spoke of a much more substancial motive.
"It seems as if your king would conquer land easier if it were designated as holy... but we were told that you and your people were devils who cared about slaughter and cruelty... after seeing you and your father and his friend fighting, I knew I was wrong," Fouad finished, looking across the desert sands as the sun was setting behind a dune. "There are many people all over who are like this."
"But there are much more people who are supporters of peace and kindness," Robin quietly replied. "They just have to be united."
"They'd need someone strong and able to lead them. I think you may be such a person, Robin."
Robin looked away. "I'm no leader... I can't even..."
Fouad grabbed Robin's shoulder, whirling him around to face his gaze.
"You care about life to the point that you would risk your own to save it. There is no shame in that, there is courage."
Robin was silent. Fouad released him, and they walked on, to the front of the house where Fouad's younger brothers and sisters were playing.
One of Fouad's little sisters ran up, holding up some desert flowers toward her brother. Fouad smiled and pointed at the flowers, saying something his native language, she nodded and looked at Robin, offering her bundle to him. Robin bent down to look at the girl, who was smiling shyly.
"You want me to have these?" Robin spoke gently, the girl looking at her brother confused, who translated the words for her. Fouad's sister turned back to Robin, nodding and placing the flowers in Robin's paw. A small smile, the first one he had since his father had died, flickered on his face.
"Thank you."
The girl said something to Fouad, then ran back the other children. Robin stood up, looking at the flowers, then turning to look at Fouad, confused. "What did she say?"
Fouad smiled. "She said, 'I'm glad the flowers made him feel better. He can give them to someone to make them feel better, too.'"
Robin looked down at the flowers, Marian being brought his mind, if he gave her these flowers. A faint blush was visible as he coughed. Fouad smiled knowingly.
Robin and Adam waved, bidding farewell to Fouad and his family, who waved back, the little sister who gave Robin the flowers sitting on Fouad's shoulder. Robin and Adam crossed over the sand dunes, walked until they had faded away with the setting sun.
'I wish the best for you, Robin of Fitzooth,' the golden-colored fox thought as he set his sister down and led his family back into the house for the night.
'May you bring your family and loved ones honor.'