N/A: I finally have proof that people don't read my story once and then cast it aside! I can't believe I'm on the author watch of 5 people! To some of you, that may seem laughable, but to me it's really something. I can't seem to be able to stop smiling, my family says it's quite disturbing. I'll just ignore them, ne?
miz greenleaf: Wow, you sure review fast! I'm glad you like the story, though I doubt I'm worth the praise you give me (It still feels great though ;)). I'll try to update faster, but I don't dare to make any promises…
Chapter eleven: Musings
The men's serious air vanished at the hasty retreat of the Nottingham soldiers. They were reluctant to admit that they had been nervous, and the only way they now showed it was through their loud laughter. Some sent a few arrows flying after the fleeing riders, while others hung the curtain back up for future use. After erasing all signs of the encounter, the group leisurely walked back to the Tree-village. While the men were joking and laughing amongst themselves, John was talking in hushed tones with Robin.
'I still think ye took a huge risk by steppin' up to 'em alone. They could've shot ye before ye had time te say "boo"! And comin' within whisperin' distance with tha' bloke up front wasn't what we'd rehearsed either. What were ye thinkin', Robin!'
It was obvious that underneath his gruff demeanor, John had been very worried for her. During the time she'd been with them, he had grown to like her very much.
Robin blushed a bit at being told off, but wasn't about to go down without a fight. 'Firstly, we didn't "rehearse" anything. There wasn't enough time for that after the warning – remind me that we improve our look-out system – and I just followed my instincts. Secondly, I thought it would be smart to make sure that the Sheriff knows he can't scare us that easily. To be frank, it irked me that he only sent eight cowardly soldiers and a pansy-ass captain to stop us. Can you blame me for being a tad bit disappointed after all the effort we put into this?'
John shook his head. 'Personally, I'm happy it was so small a patrol. Yer right when ye say we weren't prepared enough. Think of what would've happened if their force had been more impressive? 'T would've been a bloodbath. Now we know there's still room for improvement, and let's hope that despite your challengin' the Sheriff there'll still be enough time to do just that.'
He looked at her defeated-looking face, and clapped a hand on her shoulder. 'Hey, don't look so glum, I'm not sayin' ye screwed up. But ye have to know that there's a difference between bravery and bein' rash. Yes, in my opinion we have to be cautious, but that doesn't mean we're cowards. You least of all.'
Robin perked up a bit at his words but scolded herself mentally anyway, for she had once again forgotten that what she was doing was dangerous. She realized now that she had been so caught up in preparing a rebellion, that she had allowed her imagination to run free again. She had unconsciously pictured an entertaining and glorious battle – much like the tales of heroes she had been told before going to bed during her childhood – and had failed to separate fairytales from reality. She sternly told herself she had to get serious if she ever wanted all of this to work, and that at this point she could not afford to be fooling around, lest it cost her the good outcome of the rebellion. After steeling her resolve one last time, she set her thoughts on how to improve the apparently failing look-out system.
For the rest of the journey, Robin was too preoccupied to keep much of a conversation going with John. He didn't mind, since he figured she had a lot to think about, and he didn't want to pry. Instead, he joined the men in their boisterous conversation, firing jokes at each other.
The atmosphere in the village at their return was one of both anticipation and apprehension. Anticipation because they wanted to see if all their planning and training had been worth it, and apprehension because there was always the possibility that something had gone wrong. Many people had gathered to witness the return of the patrol, and quite a few were now checking if anyone was missing. But all their worries vanished when the patrol came close enough for the onlookers to see their big grins and hear the bantering going on between them.
The group was greeted very enthusiastically, and while the men were telling the others all about their – grossly exaggerated – adventure, Robin hung to the back a bit and tried to spot both Wulf and Wat the cook. The latter came into her view first, and she signaled him she wanted to talk.
'Aye, Robin?' He asked, just as cheerful as the others. 'what can I do for ye?'
'Ask all the women to help you prepare as big a feast as we can afford. I want to celebrate our first victory.'
Wat looked delighted at the prospect, and nodded energetically.
'Right-o Robin! You'll be in for a treat the tonight!' And with a last wink, he departed to mobilize his squad of kitchen-queens.
With that taken care of, Robin continued to try and spot Wulf, and was finally rewarded with the sight of a familiar mop of messy brown hair. She meandered through the vast mass of people that separated her from Wulf, and finally managed to get his attention.
'I was wonderin' where ye were hidin'. Wulf greeted her with his trademark grin. 'Not feelin' like joinin' the festivities?'
Robin chuckled. 'Not yet anyway, there are some things I need to take care of. That's where you come in.'
'Oh?' Wulf raised an eyebrow in question. 'And what could be so important that it can't wait until after the feast?'
'The fact that, as your father pointed out to me, we were very badly prepared and quite lucky that the Nottingham patrol was only small.'
Wulf's eyes widened in surprise.
Now it was Robin's turn to raise an eyebrow. 'You didn't believe all those fantastical stories they are telling, did you?'
Wulf blushed. 'No, of course not. Never believed them.' He shook his head a bit to forcefully, and Robin chuckled again.
'You are the worst liar I've ever seen. Now come, we have a scouting system to improve.' And before he could protest, she pulled him with her to their headquarters.
On their way to the large tree house that was set up as their headquarters for all coordination, the pair ran into Will. He had for some reason not been present at the gathering, and was only now moving towards the noises that indicated a party was in the making.
Robin intended to move past him without seeking a confrontation, as she had done ever since the Turnaround, but Will wasn't so accommodating.
'I'd have thought you would enjoy a party that's given in your honour, Milady, but it seems you're looking for someplace more calm for your "activities".'
Will was smirking suggestively between her and Wulf, and when the bushy-haired boy began to blush, Will's smirk only increased.
Robin eyed him coldly. If he wanted a fight, he could certainly get one.
'For your information, that party is to celebrate our first victory. But you wouldn't know that, since you obviously weren't invited, were you? And as for where we're going, that isn't of any importance to you. So just scamper off now, and go see if anyone is willing to share some food with you.'
Not waiting for Will to answer, she pushed past him roughly, gesturing for Wulf to follow her. She didn't see how Will opened his mouth to shout something after her, then thought the better of it and continued towards the party, his shoulders tensed and his back rigid.
'Robin, wait! Dammit- would you slow down!'
The girl was moving at an impressive speed, and even with his much longer legs, Wulf had difficulty catching up. Reluctantly, the girl slowed down, allowing him to come up next to her.
'Ye shouldn't let 'em get to ye,' he said, eyeing her clenched fists, 'No one values what he says anymore, and neither should you. None of 'em are ever gonna believe that you and I, eh-'
'That's not the point,' Robin interrupted, 'What bothers me is that he refuses to see that I only strive to improve our situation, and that he never lets an opportunity slide to get on my nerves!'
She turned to face him, anger flashing in her eyes. 'What have I ever done to him! Why is he acting like this when all I try to do is help?'
Wulf looked at her calmly, knowing that he needed to be just that to let her regain her own composure. After a few seconds he spoke softly.
'He told you. He doesn't like you because you're of aristocratic birth. Yes, I know that is completely unfair, but it can't be changed. At least not in so short a time. Just let it go, and maybe he'll come round later. And if not, well, that's his loss. You must accept that you can't be friends with everyone.'
During Wulf's little speech, Robin had relaxed her fists and her anger was as good as gone. She now realized that there was not a trace left of his usual accent, but she chose not to comment on it when she raised her eyes to meet his.
'I guess you're right… I just wish he'd keep his irrational grudges to himself.'
Wulf sniggered. 'If I'd get everything I wished for…' He wiggled his eyebrows.
'Too much information!' Robin exclaimed, and pulled her still sniggering companion to the ladder leading to the tree house.
Inwardly seething, Will walked towards the party. He had been reluctant to join the others to begin with, but now his mood was so foul that he really wished he didn't have to. Unfortunately, his stomach was rumbling and every last scrap of food was now regrettably located at the feast. He had no choice but to go.
While slowly approaching the crowd, he went over his last encounter with Robin. He just hadn't been able to keep his mouth shut – again. He didn't really know why, but she annoyed him to no end. In the beginning he'd been convinced it was because she was rich, and of noble birth – he hated nobles – but so far she hadn't displayed any of the selfishness and disdain that he knew always accompanied such people. In fact, his conscience tauntingly reminded him, she'd worked very hard for everyone's well-being, only using her intellectual upbringing for the good of the group.
Thus far he hadn't been able to catch her on a deliberate attempt to harm anyone, so it had proven to be impossible to name her heritage and characteristics as the reasons for his dislike any longer. But the fact remained that she was still excruciatingly annoying. He had yet to point out what exactly it was about her that irked him so much, because everyone else found her to be very likeable, save for her sometimes astounding naiveté and over-enthusiasm. But even then there were people, especially women, who found her sweet.
One would think that these things would make anyone admit their mistake of judgment, but Will was more stubborn than all the mules in Britain combined. He simply refused to offer his apologies and risk being heavily embarrassed. But his resolve was very much being put to the test, because Robin wasn't fuelling his dislike at all. She was never the one to start the fights they regularly had, and she never discredited him behind his back.
Will's train of thought was interrupted when he was handed a bowl of hot soup and an empty plate by Wat. The cook told him in not unfriendly words that he was supposed to fill it later at the tables laden with food. He avoided looking in anyone's eyes while making his way towards a tree stump that wasn't occupied yet. After setting down his empty plate, he began eating the broth, allowing his thoughts to roam free again. His anger and frustration had by now disappeared, and he was able to calmly think his situation over.
His obvious antipathy for Robin – which he would try to rationalize again later – had not improved his position within the camp, not by a long shot. He had come from a village that was relatively far away from the Forest, and he was the only one from that area to have come to Sherwood. The other outlaws in the gang had all come from neighbouring towns, and Will was regarded as an outsider. That his nature was not overly nice, didn't help either. He had a different, more cynical sense of humour and not as talkative as the others. He had never divulged why exactly he was on the run, and that was also one of the reasons why it had taken the better part of a year for people to really consider him part of the group. He had finally felt accepted and at ease when Robin had shown up, but his feud with her had alienated him again.
Maybe that was one of his motives, he mused. She was the reason he had lost his more or less comfortable position in the group. He tried to ignore the small voice in his head saying that had been his own fault, that it had been his harsh prejudice that had triggered this reaction from his peers.
He bowed his a bit deeper over his soup, his brow creasing a bit as he still carefully avoided locking eyes with anyone.
True, he might have exaggerated a bit in his accusations, but he had seen her as a threat to the group he had finally managed to belong to, as he had attributed her all the characteristics that he thought went hand in hand with nobility. But she hadn't lived up to his grim expectations, and people were now very displeased with him for badmouthing her like that.
He knew that everything would be much better if he buried his hostility and offered her his apologies, but it would be excruciatingly humiliating to admit that he was at fault when he had vehemently defended his views for the better part of two months. He didn't have much, and a lot had been taken away from him in his life, but one thing he had always been able to keep was his pride. And he was not willing to throw that to the wind because he had misjudged some weird, idealistic, rich girl. If he were to surrender, he would be at her mercy. She would be able to torment him for God knew how long about the wrong he had done to her, and no one would complain.
As he finally finished his soup, his conscience whispered that maybe it wouldn't be so bad to surrender. It would mean that he would be free to enjoy the benefits she had created for them as well, and that he didn't have to scorn her ideas any longer when he actually thought they were rather good. And not in the least: it would save him from a great deal of headaches. So why not give in, his conscience told him with a jibe of jealousy, and see if she could be as good a friend to him as she was to Wulf…
Will violently shook his head to clear his mind from those ghastly thoughts, and stood up to go to his hut. He had suddenly lost his appetite.
N/A: I hope you like the insight I've given you in Will's reasoning. I feel he is more 'alive' as a character now. I don't know yet what action is going to happen in next chapter, but I do hope to get it out before my week of vacation is over.
