Title: Hope Guides Me
Rating: PG-13
Spoilers: Only very minor ones for 2x01 and 2x02.
Pairings: Robin/Marian and Will/Djaq, slight hint at Allan/OC. There's also a nice dollop of Robin/Much and Allan/Much friendship to be had.
Warnings: None (unless you think 'Much related angst and worry' should come with a warning.)
Summary: A good deed in the dead of winter is all well and noble but when, on a long journey home again, Much falls desperately ill Robin will stop at nothing to save him. Especially when the illness is spreading and the Sheriff is keeping all the urgently needed treatments to himself.
Author's Note 1 With apologies to the 'Treat Much Right' campaign. I am treating him right honest, as is Robin and the whole gang. He just has to get a little bit deathly ill in order for them to do this.
Author's Note 2: I've long thought that the film 'A Knight's Tale' is our show's spiritual cousin. Anyone who hasn't seen it really should because if you're not particularly bothered by purposeful historical inaccuracies then you'll probably love it. Anyway, in it is a character called Kate. She's a bit underused but she is just fabulous – strong, takes no nonsense, is fiercely independent and can just be one of the boys whilst remaining very much a woman. She also has a slightly secretive past (like where did she learn to dance like the nobles?). When I saw the film again the other night I thought 'she should be in Robin Hood because that show needs more wonderful women', so now, by the power of fic, she is. This is not a crossover, more a character transplant and as such it makes not a jot of difference if you've seen the film really. I've kept it very much a team Robin piece.
When Much said he wasn't hungry, they laughed.
Allan said that that seemed about as likely as the King returning, setting up home with the Sheriff and the pair of them rearing goats for a living. John snorted in disbelief whilst Djaq and Will simply smiled at each other. Robin just grinned.
But Much was insistent. He was not hungry. But he was very tired and if they wouldn't mind keeping it down a bit he'd like to get some sleep.
Robin could understand that. They were all tired and the forest floor was not really comfortable enough to allow the decent night's rest they desperately needed. Litton was a good three days walk from their camp but, when they'd heard that part of the mill there had collapsed because the miller simply could not afford the repairs required and that the people were suffering as a consequence, he simply couldn't ignore the urge to help. They'd travelled there on foot as fast as they could, crossing with ease through the forest he'd come to know so well, having no need of the paths anymore. They made their own paths now. Will's expertise and some hard work from the rest of them had, after a couple of days, completed the necessary maintenance and they had begun their journey back the very next morning, keen to quickly return to their normal routine of ensuring that the people of Nottingham survived another day and that the Sheriff did not profit too greatly from their misery.
The villagers had offered them horses but they could not take them. Six good riding horses were far too great a payment for the job they had done. No, instead they had just taken the food offered, enough to see them back, and had headed on their way.
A day away from the village now and progress was notably slower than it had been on the journey there. They needed rest, proper rest in warmth and comfort, sheltered from the ice wind that had set in in earnest during the last week. But they knew they wouldn't get that out in the open, the protective canopy of the forest having long since fallen, leaving behind skeletal, dormant trees in its wake that offered no kind of shelter at all. So they continued on as fast as they were able, the promise that the relative luxury of the camp held driving them on.
But they couldn't avoid the need to rest entirely and, long after the sun had gone down, they had found a place, a sheltered area at the bottom of a slope that would provide at least a little respite from the wind, and had stopped for the night.
Shortly after eating they all joined Much in sleep, Robin instructing John to leave something aside in case their friend woke up hungry.
It was just touching dawn when Robin's eyes opened again, his body disturbed by a fierce gust of wind that cut through his clothes like they weren't even there. He groaned, momentarily missing his warm bed in Locksley Manor. Even his alternatively humid or freezing tent at Acra would have been preferable to this. Sometimes they did indeed suffer for their principles and loyalties but it was odd how these relatively small day to day hardships always seemed to be the most wearying.
As he sat up in defeat, knowing he would sleep now more, he heard Much coughing, loud and deep, the noise sounding vicious in the quiet air.
Robin had noticed Much's cough in the past few days but he had thought little of it until now. They were all suffering somewhat in the recent inclement weather, him included, and he had simply thought that Much must be just reacting to the worsening conditions more poorly than the others were. Only two days ago he had asked Will to ensure that the camp was as protected from the elements as it could be when they returned home. Robin remembered the feel of this air as a boy, the chill so deep it made his bones ache, and knew that it meant a hard winter was ahead.
Yes, they were all a little under the weather, but Much's apparent ill health was a growing concern now as was the fact that he had not touched any of the food that John had left next to him. Many became ill this time of year, that was just a fact of life, but few had to live such a rough and dangerous life as they. It would not do well for any of them to be poorly.
A few feet away, Will was awake too, sitting with his knees huddled to his chest, an ineffectual protection against the cold that bit at them.
"It's going to snow," he said quietly, his eyes looking up at the seemingly permanently grey sky as though expecting to see flakes falling already.
He was right and within half an hour they were tumbling from the heavens, thick and heavy and showing no sign of relenting any time soon. In his youth, Robin had always thought that snow was beautiful and a source of fun. Now it was just another inconvenience that they could do without. They did not need to be both cold and wet.
John's skill and experience allowed him to keep a fire going even against the weather's best efforts to defeat him and they all sat huddled round it, as close to the flames as dared whilst they ate breakfast in silence. Each one of them looked pale and tired but Much most of all as he nibbled unenthusiastically at his food, eating because the others insisted rather than because he wished to.
"I don't feel right," he muttered, shaking his head as a shiver seemed to violently hit him even in the absence of the wind that had died down just a little since the snow started, "I don't feel right at all."
Without waiting to be asked, Djaq placed her hand firmly on his brow, glaring at Much's attempt to pull back.
"You have a slight fever," she announced sternly, as though it was somehow his fault, "I have something that will help."
Robin frowned in concern as he watched Djaq pull some herbs from the pouch she always carried with her and throw them in a cup of water, holding it over the fire until it was warm and smelled pungent. Djaq was not one to fuss unnecessarily and it seemed that she believed Much's current poor health was something of genuine note. Robin had hoped that his own worry was ill founded, that he was overly troubled because Much was his dearest and oldest friend and that he was making more of this than it actually was. It seemed however that he was wrong and his concern was perhaps well placed.
Much wrinkled his nose as she handed the cup to him.
"Nothing so foul smelling could be good for you," he insisted.
"Drink it," she ordered, the conviction in her voice compelling him to do so against his better judgement, "It will help."
Despite Djaq's conviction however Much's cough continued along with the snow and his pallor worsened as the day drew on. Djaq seemed concerned but kept her worries to herself, perhaps realising that to voice them would be pointless in their current situation and maybe even tempting fate. They trudged onwards, cloaks wrapped around them as the snow on the ground passed their ankles and Much's cough became almost commonplace they heard it so often.
The snow grew so thick that when he pitched forward, his legs collapsing from underneath him, only a soft thud was heard.
