A/N: Hello everyone! I hope you had wonderful holidays and a nice, LONG
vacation these past few weeks!
And now to answer a few questions that more than one reviewer has asked.
Firstly - no writer's block cuz I started a new story. I just liked writing that. But you all were so funny when all the reviews were like, "yea, yea, good story - but update turnjerkin!" You made my day. But anyways-
I finished writing this thing a while ago (minus decent proofreading). And so I separated all that I have into chapters last night (yea, I have no life) and there'll be about 30 or 31 chapters when this is finished (that includes an epilogue kind of thingie). So we're kind of coming to the end. But John will be back!
And I have read The Outlaws of Sherwood - one of my absolute favorite books ever. I cried so hard (alright, so I laughed really hard, too - "Robin was on top of Nigel, repeatedly knocking his head into the ground..'Some things never change,' Will said." *giggles madly* No, that wasn't a direct quote. I improvised. (But Much is my idol god of the vertically challenged!!) Anyways---- I've also read Lady of the Forest. I read the sequel, too. That wasn't as good as the first one. Poor Will in them both, though!
*Psst! Nobody wants to hear you talk about books, OutlawEris! Shut up and get on with the story!*
Ahem. *clears throat* And now a question from me - who's your favorite character? (That question fascinates me for some reason - ask anyone who's ever gone to a movie with me. hehe)
Enjoy!
*** *** *** *** *** *** ***
Aedre smiled brightly at me. Her pretty grey eyes sparkled as she hummed to herself, fingers clasped contentedly in her lap. Her bushy golden hair was covered in petite white flowers under her veil. She wore one of my nicest gowns, a bright blue one with white lining at the collar. And Edward could not take his eyes off her. Myself, I was in a dark green dress, a color Robin always said made me 'perfectly beautiful'. My hair was let down like Aedre's; it arched around me in a great curled mess that I loathed. Everyone else was envious of that great difficulty for some ridiculous reason. Those simpletons. I am not fool enough to complain of the beauty I am told I have (even those who do are LIARS), but the hair-eugh!
We were seated inside the church on Lord Oliver's estate. He had ordered its construction after marrying his first wife, a plump cheerful woman with a passion for God. Sadly, she did not feel such an ardor for her husband. However, the thralls of the estate adored her for her constant kindness and sweet disposition. She always said that she could see God in every single one of them. It was a sad occasion when she passed. There was not a day that went by that she did not laugh. It brought mirth back to an estate accustomed to cruelty.
This new bride did not seem at all like Lady Natalie. She was a waif-thin, petite girl, so timidly perfect that it was rather difficult to believe her real. She was more an angel, floating elegantly on the thin wisps of cloud that made her dress. She was trembling, pale face twisted by fear as the Lord Oliver took her long, graceful hands in his own fat fingers, covering their unadorned beauty with his own ring-plastered sausages. The timorous seraph peered up at him through long, thick eyelashes. You could barely see her glistening grey eyes through their pale veil. Her thin blonde hair was let loose over her small shoulders and covered by a white veil. She was gorgeous, drifting in all that white. Her stunning face bore the expression of a humbly suffering archangel as she watched her husband-to-be leer at her.
Suddenly, the closed doors or the church burst open. Robin was standing in the doorway, arms akimbo, hair dyed blonde, and wicked grin plastered on his face. He pointed to the senseless guard at his feet. "I suppose that this is yours?" he asked, raising a single cocky eyebrow. Seeing anxious Robin play 'Robin Hood' was almost hilarious. One minute he's counting heads and biting his nonexistent nails, the next he's smirking and taunting the powerful lords of Nottingham.
Lord Oliver unsheathed his sword. The angel gasped and placed two delicate fingers against her rose lips. He did not want to appear a heartless man, so he grabbed her wrist and kissed her forehead. "But a moment, my dearest," he whispered, stroking her fair face with his greasy fingers. She nodded hesitantly, whimpering in fear (of Lord Oliver or Robin I know not).
Some short blonde fop stepped into the room behind Robin, frowning. The angel turned around to stare at him, eyes wide with shock and happiness. "Oh, my Allan!" she cried, breathless in exultation, hand splayed across her chest. He smiled. "Lucy, love, I told you I would come!" he called in return, eyes bright with adoration. She smiled at him with her lips, a single fragile tear trickling down her cheek. "Oh, darling, you've come to liberate me!" She clutched her heart faintly, watching him as if he were a divine redeemer. I snorted. Please, just save yourself.
Robin sighed. "Allan, I told you to stay outside," he muttered, completely ruining the moment. I snorted in amusement. Robin knew how to cut the sappy stuff off really fast. Allan nodded. "I needed only a glimpse of my beloved," he replied, gazing passionately up at Lucy, and then raced joyfully out the door. Will stepped beside Robin, eyeing Lord Oliver dangerously. "Seventeen guards in here, five in that hall behind the altar, and eleven in the corridor leading to the confessionary. What do you want us to do?"
"Your group shall take this hall, my group will take the altar hall, and the rest take the corridor." Will nodded and stepped back, muttering directions. With a sigh, Robin unsheathed a sword he was not going to use and arched the annoying eyebrow again. He paused a moment for effect, and then cried, "Forward, bandits!" (I had helped create that ridiculous rallying call, even though he loathed it beyond everything. Even now his eyebrow twitched. But for some reason, the peasants loved it. I guess it sounded nice in ballads or something)
Lord Oliver froze midway in his pursuit of Robin. He was not ready for the stampeded of outlaws that stormed into the church, brandishing staves, bows, daggers, and swords. "Use the staff if you can," Robin reminded, and raised his own. I stared at them. Would they kill us, the patrons of the wedding?
Pfft! This is ROBIN we're talking about.
Despite the kindness, five minutes later, it was havoc in the hall. The ladies were screeching in fear and collapsing every few moments. Young men were fumbling for their weapons and roaring threats. The older men were carrying their fainted wives into the fresh air, while bellowing at their youthful fellows to work on the swordsmanship. I was racing around in a desperate search for Aedre; she had disappeared into the crowd. I was frightened for her safety. Not that I would suspect the outlaws of harming her, but Robin had a nasty habit of overestimating the decency of humanity. One of the guards tried to keep me in my pew, so I knocked him out with the hilt of my dagger. I always wore it under my dresses. One can never be too safe, especially if betrothed to Richard. Where had I forgotten to check? Of course, the hallway behind the altar. I leapt out of my pew, stepping on another guard's head in my descent.
I slipped through the fighting easily once I had wrestled my way out of my pew. I wondered vaguely how loudly Aedre could scream as I headed for the stone hallway. Lord Oliver had spent a lot of money on this church, even the floors were stone. I raced madly through the beautifully decorated corridor, a part of me wishing to remain and view the tapestries. But I hardly had time for doubts. The passage was not too long, only one corner to turn.
I passed this aforementioned corner, and gasped at what I saw. Robin was on the ground, chest pinned to the floor by a guard's foot. He still held both sword and staff stubbornly, though it was quite obvious that they were useless in this situation. The guard's sword was held closely against his throat, posed for the kill.
Before I realized what I was doing, I rammed the heavy hilt of my dagger into the guard's thick skull. He crumpled to the earth, senseless. Robin stared up at me, and his eyes were bright with shock and surprise. I shrugged and backed away. Assured that I meant him no harm, he stood up slowly, watching me as if I were a dangerous dog with violent tendencies. His fingers tightened round both his staff and sword, although it was evident I could kill him if I wanted to, with the dark bruises on both his wrists. I smiled benignly at him and spun around. Poor Aedre was still missing.
"Marian."
I turned my head in the fading sunlight and caught a full glance of Robin. His sword was clasped in his hand, casting slender flashes of light on the stone wall from where it dangled listlessly in his bony fingers. His face was stained with splashes of blood, although his sword was clean. It was the staff remaining in his other hand that bore traces of battle.
I paused in my dash for Aedre to watch him. He, too, ceased to run, eyes glancing at me with what seemed to be very little interest. I was a dash of sunlight, a spider's web, something insignificantly pretty that happened to be placed in his current path. And he had only thought to look for a moment. But he was frozen longer than that. And the two of us drifted silently in each other's eyes, alone in that ethereal hallway, surrounded by encasing stone.
"Marian," he began again, and his voice bore neither malice nor distress as it echoed in our passage. Only slight curiosity, the type of greeting one would give an acquaintance. I replied by looking straight into his eyes. "Aye, Robin?"
My words seemed unable to rouse him from the dream wafting through his eyes, when he peered at me with that remarkable detachment. A wry, sad, little smile gained his lips - but only for a moment. Why didn't he smile like he used to? Not even when Will jested would he smile fully, without that sadness that seemed to weigh every expression of happiness. Every laugh, every smirk, even his bloody smiles were never right. There was always something sad about them that I could not describe. Something I wished would go away and leave him alone.
When he met my eyes with that same weight on his timid smile, I saw what it was that weighed him down then.
Me.
I have hurt a lot of people - I'm been obnoxious, self-centered, loud and rude. But Robin --- I did, I think, in the only selfish way I can, admit to loving him. Not aloud, of course, but to myself - aye, I think I did. In the infernal words of minstrels, I would have died for him. I would have gone to death with murder on my soul if I knew it meant he would not smile like that ever again.
And I think that is why I said what I did. I rarely have fits of compulsion, and so if love is what they say of it, it must have affected my senses. But he seemed so longing, so lonely and hurt - he was singular in his misery. And it was so bloody unfair. He took on the misery and suffering of so many people in the shire - where were they to take on his burden? Maybe it was rage at that; maybe it was love for him; mayhap it was even the remote empathy that moves us to help the lowliest of strangers. I don't know. But that expression on his face drew him into my present, a wretched ghost summoned from a past best forgotten.
I smiled timidly in response, turning somewhat, so that one shoulder was closer to his body than the other. "I have missed you," I blurted.
He blinked two or three times in surprise, tilting his head to the side almost imperceptibly. The sounds of a minor battle, one of staves against swords, clamored in the distance. "And.well, and I you," he finally continued, and the left corner of his mouth curled upward. It was the look he had given me before I hurt him, before I betrayed him. I wanted to forget that it really was any different than his face said. But the burn mark across his face was still visible, an awful reminder of how things stood.
I took a single tentative step forward. "I'm sorry, Robin," I murmured, gazing plaintively at him. Good God, that pain I had put him through. Why had I changed everything? Nay, why had I ruined everything? He observed my motions, my eyes, my longing - all with that horribly impassive glance. Where was the look of before? My eyes watered girlishly, and from somewhere deep inside my stomach, self-disgust gurgled upwards. But it was crushed by the dead weight of my heart as it sank deep into the wretched recesses of my soul.
And then a hand was on the side of my face, gently gracing my chin. The feel of his fingers upon my skin beckoned my heart upward and towards it. Yet his face, despite the tender gesture, remained odd. He was watching me for a reaction, almost as if he thought I should be disgusted at his touch. Instead, I also lay my hand upon his face, and a smile broke loose upon my face. Unlike stoic Robin, I could not keep my joy hidden. Or mayhap he felt no ecstasy at my presence, as I did at his. He seemed so puzzled. What was wrong with him?
His face twitched as both eyes darted to his feet. He fought with himself for a few moments, and for a trice I thought him capable of mastering emotion and scowling at me. But he stepped towards me, even closer than before, fear and longing both fighting for control of his eyes.
Suddenly, his lips lay softly against my own. Quietly, timidly - damn him, so quickly - he kissed me, barely meeting my lips. I shivered, scarcely able to keep the familiar fire from streaming through me. There was nothing to compare to this - nothing. I wanted to remain near him for every moment of my existence, exactly like this.
He sharply withdrew from our kiss. I peered cautiously upward at his face. He blinked in surprise at himself. "I'm sorry, Marian," he whispered, "But I--- I have wanted to kiss you for so long-so bloody long --- I am sorry." He bobbed his head in a tiny bow. "I'm sorry to you, and to--- to the others. I am sorry that---" His face twisted with horror, and whatever he had done to be sorry for seemed inevitable. I met his eyes, and all the emotions in him passed before me. Lord, I saw pain - so much pain, and the helpless confusion of someone who hates none but himself.
He staggered backwards, literally shoving himself away from me. Both long arms flailed to support the thin frame they were attached to as he tripped towards the floor. I reached out to help him up, but he shook his head violently. "Nay, Nay; don't, Mari. I'm sorry. I'm sorry." He darted to his feet, turning around to find the way from this hallway. I watched him leave me as he moved towards his friends - his loyal friends, who protected him from the one thing he could not raise a shield against - me.
"What are you sorry for?" I asked, knowing he would not answer.
To my surprise, he turned to me one last time. "I am sorry to you, and to Will, and Sarah, and Nan, and David, and - and all those in the forest. I am sorry."
"What did you do?"
I still wake up some nights dreaming about that despairing look he wore before tearing away from me - the pleading, miserable, lonely stare from eyes that wanted to be hollow of emotion, the cup of sorrow too full to selfishly release its heavy contents on a world.
"I'm sorry I love you."
*** *** *** *** *** *** ***
Will brought his staff cracking on the skull of another guard. The sentinel collapsed uselessly on the floor. That was the last of them. He sighed, wiped the blood from his forehead, and looked up. Sara knocked another guard down, her back to his. "Isn't this romantic?" she asked, laughing at her own sarcasm. Will grinned. "Oh, aye," he replied. They'd finally knocked them all out. Every single bloody one. The patrons of the wedding were long gone.
Robin appeared. "They've deadened those seven in the corridor, and my group knocked out the five in the altar hallway." Sarah brushed a few strands of hair out her face. "What group?" she asked, "You didn't have a group. Only Will, David, and John did." Will turned on his cousin, glaring. "Robin---"
"It's my damn fault we're in this mess, isn't it?"
"Five of them on your own! I ought to throttle you."
"Ha! If only you could catch me."
Allan bounced up to them, leading an exultant Lucy past an infuriated and bound Lord Oliver. "Well, we are to be married, aren't we?" he asked, beaming merrily at her. She smiled and brushed the side of his face. "Allan, I missed you so desperately, sweetheart." Will rolled his eyes at Sara. "Please, NEVER say anything that foppish to me. I just might have to slap you." She snickered. "May CHRIST smack me if I ever act like that."
Robin nodded. "Onto the altar, love birds," he called, pointing at the aforementioned goal and frowning. The two, still holding hands, raced down the aisle. The priest, originally to wed Lord Oliver and Lucy, was now being forced, under threat of death, to marry her to Allan. He stared nervously at the two young sweethearts as they headed towards him. May the Lord forgive him.
With an abrupt halt that still seemed graceful, Lucy released Allan's hand. He turned around in surprise. "What is wrong, love?" he asked, simpering strangely. The angel placed a single subtle finger against her slightly pointed chin. "Someone needs to give the bride away," she replied, smiling as if it were pleasantly obvious. Allan turned to the outlaws.
David, Will, and John pointed at Robin. He glowered at them. "But, David brought---" Will shook his head. "It's your fault we're in this mess," he quoted, smirking. Sara grinned. "Robin'll do it!" she called, leaning to the left of Will so that they might see her. Allan nodded, and then shrugged helplessly at Lucy.
Robin glared at Sara. "You'll have privy duty for months," he muttered darkly, stalking crossly towards the fragile Lucy. He forced the scowl off his face, and grimaced in what was supposed to be a smile. Her pretty eyes widened in shock or fear, and she held out her hand for him to lead her up the aisle. Having never been to a wedding, or heard of how one was run, Robin did not take the hint. He picked her up under the armpits and dumped her unceremoniously beside Allan. "There, you're given away," he proclaimed.
Will burst into laughter, clutching his sides. Robin turned his head to stare awkwardly. "What did I do?" he asked, sounding truly puzzled. Will only laughed harder.
After a pause to compose herself, Lucy smiled benevolently at him. "Nothing," she promised, and then turned back to Allan. "Dearest, it is high time we were wed, don't you think?" Her face was bright, not only with the nature pale of her countenance, but with the newfound radiance of freedom. She kissed him politely on the lips, gracing the side of his face with her tender hand. Sara sidled over to Will's side. "I'm a better kisser than that, right?" she asked, raising a disgusted eyebrow. Will smiled. "I'll be damned if you aren't."
Allan, however found this brief indulgence more than adequate. The two turned to the priest, and he quickly completed the necessary vows. As soon as the essential formalities were over with, Lucy grabbed Allan's shirtfront and kissed him. Brief words were exchanged as she delicately kissed him, betraying not a hint of passion as she covered his cheek with kisses.
Nan sighed romantically. She thought it was sweet to see them kissing like that, completely innocent in their young infatuation. David was gazing in absorption at his fingernails, thoroughly bored with the ceremony. Will and Sara were holding each other, snickering at frequent intervals. Even John seemed interested, smiling in his silent way. Tuck was standing in a corner, hands tucked into each other as they wrapped round his formidable paunch. He was grinning exultantly, chuckling at the obvious affection. Nan looked for Robin. He was gone.
She slipped out the door after him, sure to keep her feet quiet. He was leaning against the wall of the church, eyes closed against one emotion or the other. With extreme caution, Nan crept forward. But she wasn't less than five feet away from him when he called, "Hello, Nan. I was only checking if the guards had awoken from their sleep yet." She started in surprise, but smiled despite herself. "Had they?"
"Only two of them."
"I take it that you handled the situation?"
"Nay, Nan. I am only a ghost come to haunt you. You'll find my body round the corner."
She giggled. "Are you feeling all right?" she asked, locking her hands together and stepping towards him. Catching on to the discordant note of pity in her voice, Robin covered up his emotions with the eternal sarcasm. "Actually, death isn't even remotely painful. You'll have to mention that to Allan. He exaggerates the experience in those ballads." Nan sighed, crossing her arms and scowling. "Robin, you know perfectly well what I mean," she replied. He shrugged. "I do not wallow in the kitchen swill of self-pity like some egotistic hog."
"You were betrayed, Robin, and you loved her. You have an --" Robin opened one eye and stood up. He pointed a finger at her, smiling contentedly. "And that, Nan, is where your little theory of my inner torment falls apart. I 'was' betrayed, and I 'did' love her. Those events have already passed, and anyone with any pride would not dare convince themselves that it is perfectly fine to dwell morbidly on those events. They have PASSED, and so have my emotions concerning them." He frowned and returned to the former position against the wall.
Nan watched him with the concerned affection she gave everyone. "So you don't love her?" she asked quietly, wanting to hug him and offer comfort, but knowing that he wouldn't tolerate such compassion. Robin's shoulders slumped. "If only," he replied, and his steady voice broke.
+++++++++++++++++++++++++
A/N: Haha. Now everyone hates you Robin! *Robin pouts* There'll be an explanation next chapter, worry not if you're confused. Hope you had fun with this sort of long chapter, because somebody better be happy around here. I won't. Because I have to run the stupid 1000 meter at my track meet tomorrow!! At least I got to run the 600 last time, but this -- *joins Robin in pouting* I'll be dead. D-E-D - dead. (haha. I love Men in Tights)
Enjoy and pity me (not Robin - ME!)! hehe
And now to answer a few questions that more than one reviewer has asked.
Firstly - no writer's block cuz I started a new story. I just liked writing that. But you all were so funny when all the reviews were like, "yea, yea, good story - but update turnjerkin!" You made my day. But anyways-
I finished writing this thing a while ago (minus decent proofreading). And so I separated all that I have into chapters last night (yea, I have no life) and there'll be about 30 or 31 chapters when this is finished (that includes an epilogue kind of thingie). So we're kind of coming to the end. But John will be back!
And I have read The Outlaws of Sherwood - one of my absolute favorite books ever. I cried so hard (alright, so I laughed really hard, too - "Robin was on top of Nigel, repeatedly knocking his head into the ground..'Some things never change,' Will said." *giggles madly* No, that wasn't a direct quote. I improvised. (But Much is my idol god of the vertically challenged!!) Anyways---- I've also read Lady of the Forest. I read the sequel, too. That wasn't as good as the first one. Poor Will in them both, though!
*Psst! Nobody wants to hear you talk about books, OutlawEris! Shut up and get on with the story!*
Ahem. *clears throat* And now a question from me - who's your favorite character? (That question fascinates me for some reason - ask anyone who's ever gone to a movie with me. hehe)
Enjoy!
*** *** *** *** *** *** ***
Aedre smiled brightly at me. Her pretty grey eyes sparkled as she hummed to herself, fingers clasped contentedly in her lap. Her bushy golden hair was covered in petite white flowers under her veil. She wore one of my nicest gowns, a bright blue one with white lining at the collar. And Edward could not take his eyes off her. Myself, I was in a dark green dress, a color Robin always said made me 'perfectly beautiful'. My hair was let down like Aedre's; it arched around me in a great curled mess that I loathed. Everyone else was envious of that great difficulty for some ridiculous reason. Those simpletons. I am not fool enough to complain of the beauty I am told I have (even those who do are LIARS), but the hair-eugh!
We were seated inside the church on Lord Oliver's estate. He had ordered its construction after marrying his first wife, a plump cheerful woman with a passion for God. Sadly, she did not feel such an ardor for her husband. However, the thralls of the estate adored her for her constant kindness and sweet disposition. She always said that she could see God in every single one of them. It was a sad occasion when she passed. There was not a day that went by that she did not laugh. It brought mirth back to an estate accustomed to cruelty.
This new bride did not seem at all like Lady Natalie. She was a waif-thin, petite girl, so timidly perfect that it was rather difficult to believe her real. She was more an angel, floating elegantly on the thin wisps of cloud that made her dress. She was trembling, pale face twisted by fear as the Lord Oliver took her long, graceful hands in his own fat fingers, covering their unadorned beauty with his own ring-plastered sausages. The timorous seraph peered up at him through long, thick eyelashes. You could barely see her glistening grey eyes through their pale veil. Her thin blonde hair was let loose over her small shoulders and covered by a white veil. She was gorgeous, drifting in all that white. Her stunning face bore the expression of a humbly suffering archangel as she watched her husband-to-be leer at her.
Suddenly, the closed doors or the church burst open. Robin was standing in the doorway, arms akimbo, hair dyed blonde, and wicked grin plastered on his face. He pointed to the senseless guard at his feet. "I suppose that this is yours?" he asked, raising a single cocky eyebrow. Seeing anxious Robin play 'Robin Hood' was almost hilarious. One minute he's counting heads and biting his nonexistent nails, the next he's smirking and taunting the powerful lords of Nottingham.
Lord Oliver unsheathed his sword. The angel gasped and placed two delicate fingers against her rose lips. He did not want to appear a heartless man, so he grabbed her wrist and kissed her forehead. "But a moment, my dearest," he whispered, stroking her fair face with his greasy fingers. She nodded hesitantly, whimpering in fear (of Lord Oliver or Robin I know not).
Some short blonde fop stepped into the room behind Robin, frowning. The angel turned around to stare at him, eyes wide with shock and happiness. "Oh, my Allan!" she cried, breathless in exultation, hand splayed across her chest. He smiled. "Lucy, love, I told you I would come!" he called in return, eyes bright with adoration. She smiled at him with her lips, a single fragile tear trickling down her cheek. "Oh, darling, you've come to liberate me!" She clutched her heart faintly, watching him as if he were a divine redeemer. I snorted. Please, just save yourself.
Robin sighed. "Allan, I told you to stay outside," he muttered, completely ruining the moment. I snorted in amusement. Robin knew how to cut the sappy stuff off really fast. Allan nodded. "I needed only a glimpse of my beloved," he replied, gazing passionately up at Lucy, and then raced joyfully out the door. Will stepped beside Robin, eyeing Lord Oliver dangerously. "Seventeen guards in here, five in that hall behind the altar, and eleven in the corridor leading to the confessionary. What do you want us to do?"
"Your group shall take this hall, my group will take the altar hall, and the rest take the corridor." Will nodded and stepped back, muttering directions. With a sigh, Robin unsheathed a sword he was not going to use and arched the annoying eyebrow again. He paused a moment for effect, and then cried, "Forward, bandits!" (I had helped create that ridiculous rallying call, even though he loathed it beyond everything. Even now his eyebrow twitched. But for some reason, the peasants loved it. I guess it sounded nice in ballads or something)
Lord Oliver froze midway in his pursuit of Robin. He was not ready for the stampeded of outlaws that stormed into the church, brandishing staves, bows, daggers, and swords. "Use the staff if you can," Robin reminded, and raised his own. I stared at them. Would they kill us, the patrons of the wedding?
Pfft! This is ROBIN we're talking about.
Despite the kindness, five minutes later, it was havoc in the hall. The ladies were screeching in fear and collapsing every few moments. Young men were fumbling for their weapons and roaring threats. The older men were carrying their fainted wives into the fresh air, while bellowing at their youthful fellows to work on the swordsmanship. I was racing around in a desperate search for Aedre; she had disappeared into the crowd. I was frightened for her safety. Not that I would suspect the outlaws of harming her, but Robin had a nasty habit of overestimating the decency of humanity. One of the guards tried to keep me in my pew, so I knocked him out with the hilt of my dagger. I always wore it under my dresses. One can never be too safe, especially if betrothed to Richard. Where had I forgotten to check? Of course, the hallway behind the altar. I leapt out of my pew, stepping on another guard's head in my descent.
I slipped through the fighting easily once I had wrestled my way out of my pew. I wondered vaguely how loudly Aedre could scream as I headed for the stone hallway. Lord Oliver had spent a lot of money on this church, even the floors were stone. I raced madly through the beautifully decorated corridor, a part of me wishing to remain and view the tapestries. But I hardly had time for doubts. The passage was not too long, only one corner to turn.
I passed this aforementioned corner, and gasped at what I saw. Robin was on the ground, chest pinned to the floor by a guard's foot. He still held both sword and staff stubbornly, though it was quite obvious that they were useless in this situation. The guard's sword was held closely against his throat, posed for the kill.
Before I realized what I was doing, I rammed the heavy hilt of my dagger into the guard's thick skull. He crumpled to the earth, senseless. Robin stared up at me, and his eyes were bright with shock and surprise. I shrugged and backed away. Assured that I meant him no harm, he stood up slowly, watching me as if I were a dangerous dog with violent tendencies. His fingers tightened round both his staff and sword, although it was evident I could kill him if I wanted to, with the dark bruises on both his wrists. I smiled benignly at him and spun around. Poor Aedre was still missing.
"Marian."
I turned my head in the fading sunlight and caught a full glance of Robin. His sword was clasped in his hand, casting slender flashes of light on the stone wall from where it dangled listlessly in his bony fingers. His face was stained with splashes of blood, although his sword was clean. It was the staff remaining in his other hand that bore traces of battle.
I paused in my dash for Aedre to watch him. He, too, ceased to run, eyes glancing at me with what seemed to be very little interest. I was a dash of sunlight, a spider's web, something insignificantly pretty that happened to be placed in his current path. And he had only thought to look for a moment. But he was frozen longer than that. And the two of us drifted silently in each other's eyes, alone in that ethereal hallway, surrounded by encasing stone.
"Marian," he began again, and his voice bore neither malice nor distress as it echoed in our passage. Only slight curiosity, the type of greeting one would give an acquaintance. I replied by looking straight into his eyes. "Aye, Robin?"
My words seemed unable to rouse him from the dream wafting through his eyes, when he peered at me with that remarkable detachment. A wry, sad, little smile gained his lips - but only for a moment. Why didn't he smile like he used to? Not even when Will jested would he smile fully, without that sadness that seemed to weigh every expression of happiness. Every laugh, every smirk, even his bloody smiles were never right. There was always something sad about them that I could not describe. Something I wished would go away and leave him alone.
When he met my eyes with that same weight on his timid smile, I saw what it was that weighed him down then.
Me.
I have hurt a lot of people - I'm been obnoxious, self-centered, loud and rude. But Robin --- I did, I think, in the only selfish way I can, admit to loving him. Not aloud, of course, but to myself - aye, I think I did. In the infernal words of minstrels, I would have died for him. I would have gone to death with murder on my soul if I knew it meant he would not smile like that ever again.
And I think that is why I said what I did. I rarely have fits of compulsion, and so if love is what they say of it, it must have affected my senses. But he seemed so longing, so lonely and hurt - he was singular in his misery. And it was so bloody unfair. He took on the misery and suffering of so many people in the shire - where were they to take on his burden? Maybe it was rage at that; maybe it was love for him; mayhap it was even the remote empathy that moves us to help the lowliest of strangers. I don't know. But that expression on his face drew him into my present, a wretched ghost summoned from a past best forgotten.
I smiled timidly in response, turning somewhat, so that one shoulder was closer to his body than the other. "I have missed you," I blurted.
He blinked two or three times in surprise, tilting his head to the side almost imperceptibly. The sounds of a minor battle, one of staves against swords, clamored in the distance. "And.well, and I you," he finally continued, and the left corner of his mouth curled upward. It was the look he had given me before I hurt him, before I betrayed him. I wanted to forget that it really was any different than his face said. But the burn mark across his face was still visible, an awful reminder of how things stood.
I took a single tentative step forward. "I'm sorry, Robin," I murmured, gazing plaintively at him. Good God, that pain I had put him through. Why had I changed everything? Nay, why had I ruined everything? He observed my motions, my eyes, my longing - all with that horribly impassive glance. Where was the look of before? My eyes watered girlishly, and from somewhere deep inside my stomach, self-disgust gurgled upwards. But it was crushed by the dead weight of my heart as it sank deep into the wretched recesses of my soul.
And then a hand was on the side of my face, gently gracing my chin. The feel of his fingers upon my skin beckoned my heart upward and towards it. Yet his face, despite the tender gesture, remained odd. He was watching me for a reaction, almost as if he thought I should be disgusted at his touch. Instead, I also lay my hand upon his face, and a smile broke loose upon my face. Unlike stoic Robin, I could not keep my joy hidden. Or mayhap he felt no ecstasy at my presence, as I did at his. He seemed so puzzled. What was wrong with him?
His face twitched as both eyes darted to his feet. He fought with himself for a few moments, and for a trice I thought him capable of mastering emotion and scowling at me. But he stepped towards me, even closer than before, fear and longing both fighting for control of his eyes.
Suddenly, his lips lay softly against my own. Quietly, timidly - damn him, so quickly - he kissed me, barely meeting my lips. I shivered, scarcely able to keep the familiar fire from streaming through me. There was nothing to compare to this - nothing. I wanted to remain near him for every moment of my existence, exactly like this.
He sharply withdrew from our kiss. I peered cautiously upward at his face. He blinked in surprise at himself. "I'm sorry, Marian," he whispered, "But I--- I have wanted to kiss you for so long-so bloody long --- I am sorry." He bobbed his head in a tiny bow. "I'm sorry to you, and to--- to the others. I am sorry that---" His face twisted with horror, and whatever he had done to be sorry for seemed inevitable. I met his eyes, and all the emotions in him passed before me. Lord, I saw pain - so much pain, and the helpless confusion of someone who hates none but himself.
He staggered backwards, literally shoving himself away from me. Both long arms flailed to support the thin frame they were attached to as he tripped towards the floor. I reached out to help him up, but he shook his head violently. "Nay, Nay; don't, Mari. I'm sorry. I'm sorry." He darted to his feet, turning around to find the way from this hallway. I watched him leave me as he moved towards his friends - his loyal friends, who protected him from the one thing he could not raise a shield against - me.
"What are you sorry for?" I asked, knowing he would not answer.
To my surprise, he turned to me one last time. "I am sorry to you, and to Will, and Sarah, and Nan, and David, and - and all those in the forest. I am sorry."
"What did you do?"
I still wake up some nights dreaming about that despairing look he wore before tearing away from me - the pleading, miserable, lonely stare from eyes that wanted to be hollow of emotion, the cup of sorrow too full to selfishly release its heavy contents on a world.
"I'm sorry I love you."
*** *** *** *** *** *** ***
Will brought his staff cracking on the skull of another guard. The sentinel collapsed uselessly on the floor. That was the last of them. He sighed, wiped the blood from his forehead, and looked up. Sara knocked another guard down, her back to his. "Isn't this romantic?" she asked, laughing at her own sarcasm. Will grinned. "Oh, aye," he replied. They'd finally knocked them all out. Every single bloody one. The patrons of the wedding were long gone.
Robin appeared. "They've deadened those seven in the corridor, and my group knocked out the five in the altar hallway." Sarah brushed a few strands of hair out her face. "What group?" she asked, "You didn't have a group. Only Will, David, and John did." Will turned on his cousin, glaring. "Robin---"
"It's my damn fault we're in this mess, isn't it?"
"Five of them on your own! I ought to throttle you."
"Ha! If only you could catch me."
Allan bounced up to them, leading an exultant Lucy past an infuriated and bound Lord Oliver. "Well, we are to be married, aren't we?" he asked, beaming merrily at her. She smiled and brushed the side of his face. "Allan, I missed you so desperately, sweetheart." Will rolled his eyes at Sara. "Please, NEVER say anything that foppish to me. I just might have to slap you." She snickered. "May CHRIST smack me if I ever act like that."
Robin nodded. "Onto the altar, love birds," he called, pointing at the aforementioned goal and frowning. The two, still holding hands, raced down the aisle. The priest, originally to wed Lord Oliver and Lucy, was now being forced, under threat of death, to marry her to Allan. He stared nervously at the two young sweethearts as they headed towards him. May the Lord forgive him.
With an abrupt halt that still seemed graceful, Lucy released Allan's hand. He turned around in surprise. "What is wrong, love?" he asked, simpering strangely. The angel placed a single subtle finger against her slightly pointed chin. "Someone needs to give the bride away," she replied, smiling as if it were pleasantly obvious. Allan turned to the outlaws.
David, Will, and John pointed at Robin. He glowered at them. "But, David brought---" Will shook his head. "It's your fault we're in this mess," he quoted, smirking. Sara grinned. "Robin'll do it!" she called, leaning to the left of Will so that they might see her. Allan nodded, and then shrugged helplessly at Lucy.
Robin glared at Sara. "You'll have privy duty for months," he muttered darkly, stalking crossly towards the fragile Lucy. He forced the scowl off his face, and grimaced in what was supposed to be a smile. Her pretty eyes widened in shock or fear, and she held out her hand for him to lead her up the aisle. Having never been to a wedding, or heard of how one was run, Robin did not take the hint. He picked her up under the armpits and dumped her unceremoniously beside Allan. "There, you're given away," he proclaimed.
Will burst into laughter, clutching his sides. Robin turned his head to stare awkwardly. "What did I do?" he asked, sounding truly puzzled. Will only laughed harder.
After a pause to compose herself, Lucy smiled benevolently at him. "Nothing," she promised, and then turned back to Allan. "Dearest, it is high time we were wed, don't you think?" Her face was bright, not only with the nature pale of her countenance, but with the newfound radiance of freedom. She kissed him politely on the lips, gracing the side of his face with her tender hand. Sara sidled over to Will's side. "I'm a better kisser than that, right?" she asked, raising a disgusted eyebrow. Will smiled. "I'll be damned if you aren't."
Allan, however found this brief indulgence more than adequate. The two turned to the priest, and he quickly completed the necessary vows. As soon as the essential formalities were over with, Lucy grabbed Allan's shirtfront and kissed him. Brief words were exchanged as she delicately kissed him, betraying not a hint of passion as she covered his cheek with kisses.
Nan sighed romantically. She thought it was sweet to see them kissing like that, completely innocent in their young infatuation. David was gazing in absorption at his fingernails, thoroughly bored with the ceremony. Will and Sara were holding each other, snickering at frequent intervals. Even John seemed interested, smiling in his silent way. Tuck was standing in a corner, hands tucked into each other as they wrapped round his formidable paunch. He was grinning exultantly, chuckling at the obvious affection. Nan looked for Robin. He was gone.
She slipped out the door after him, sure to keep her feet quiet. He was leaning against the wall of the church, eyes closed against one emotion or the other. With extreme caution, Nan crept forward. But she wasn't less than five feet away from him when he called, "Hello, Nan. I was only checking if the guards had awoken from their sleep yet." She started in surprise, but smiled despite herself. "Had they?"
"Only two of them."
"I take it that you handled the situation?"
"Nay, Nan. I am only a ghost come to haunt you. You'll find my body round the corner."
She giggled. "Are you feeling all right?" she asked, locking her hands together and stepping towards him. Catching on to the discordant note of pity in her voice, Robin covered up his emotions with the eternal sarcasm. "Actually, death isn't even remotely painful. You'll have to mention that to Allan. He exaggerates the experience in those ballads." Nan sighed, crossing her arms and scowling. "Robin, you know perfectly well what I mean," she replied. He shrugged. "I do not wallow in the kitchen swill of self-pity like some egotistic hog."
"You were betrayed, Robin, and you loved her. You have an --" Robin opened one eye and stood up. He pointed a finger at her, smiling contentedly. "And that, Nan, is where your little theory of my inner torment falls apart. I 'was' betrayed, and I 'did' love her. Those events have already passed, and anyone with any pride would not dare convince themselves that it is perfectly fine to dwell morbidly on those events. They have PASSED, and so have my emotions concerning them." He frowned and returned to the former position against the wall.
Nan watched him with the concerned affection she gave everyone. "So you don't love her?" she asked quietly, wanting to hug him and offer comfort, but knowing that he wouldn't tolerate such compassion. Robin's shoulders slumped. "If only," he replied, and his steady voice broke.
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A/N: Haha. Now everyone hates you Robin! *Robin pouts* There'll be an explanation next chapter, worry not if you're confused. Hope you had fun with this sort of long chapter, because somebody better be happy around here. I won't. Because I have to run the stupid 1000 meter at my track meet tomorrow!! At least I got to run the 600 last time, but this -- *joins Robin in pouting* I'll be dead. D-E-D - dead. (haha. I love Men in Tights)
Enjoy and pity me (not Robin - ME!)! hehe