I'm an awful awful person for not posting in a while, aren't I? I was out of inspiration for quite some time (obviously) but I found it a few days ago and here it is!!! I'm so happy to have it posted... I feel absolutely wonderful. But you know what would make it even better??? Come on, you know you want to know.... Okay, it would be even better if you'd read, review and enjoy!!
"Robin it's been two weeks," Marian said bluntly. "I will not sleep without a roof over my head for one more night!"
It was early in the morning, nobody was quite awake yet. "Sleep in the Oak," Robin told her.
"And when it rains? I'll be inside a tree, but where will you two be?"
Much glanced up, for the first time, realizing that the argument had something to do with him. "In the tree?"
"No, I'll be in the tree. You two will be fending for yourselves outside." Marian crossed her arms and glared at the two of them. "Build something. This is England; it will rain sooner or later, and when that happens will you be stuck in it? Yes. You could use the cave, but tell me, will you really be comfortable? Are you willing to spend every rainy night for the rest of your lives on a stone floor?"
Robin didn't immediately disagree with her, but rather remained silent. Much spoke up. "Yep, that's fine with me."
Marian glared at him. "Say so again after a month or two."
Much shot back, "I will." He grinned manically.
"Men!" She looked to the sky, or what little she could see of it through the leaves. "When you rain again, show these idiots that a decent establishment is more than a cave!"
"Outlaws don't have decent establishments, Marian," Robin said.
"Outlaws usually aren't women either. Yet here I am." Her voice was tinged with mockery. "And how happy do you think my horses are going to be, standing in the rain?"
Neither offered to argue with her point or remedy the problem.
"One week," she said. "One week to build something for the animals, at least."
A week later the three of them had built a shelter for the two mares in one corner of the camp. Marian carried a smug look on her face.
"My turn to make a request," Robin said. "Archery practice every day for as long as I deem necessary."
The three of them had mimicked Marian's raid of her own home and raided Robin's earlier that week. They had snuck into the armory and stolen longbows and arrows. It was a worthwhile venture, Marian thought. They needed weapons, that wasn't questioned.
"Marian," Robin said. "When was the last time you shot a bow?"
"Five years, obviously." She grinned at the memory. "It didn't last long, seeing as I was almost arrested for it. Why'd you even ask? You knew the answer."
Paying no attention to her accusation, Robin turned to the miller's boy. "Much?"
Much shifted, thinking. "Maybe a month."
Robin sighed. "The first to strike that knoll…" he pointed to a rather familiar birch a ways out of the glade. "Doesn't die while the other two will. Theoretically speaking."
Marian felt a day's worth memories flow over her. "Robin, is that the same target I used before?"
"Maybe," Robin said. "Does it matter? You should still watch your follow-through."
She scowled. "We already fixed that."
"In five years you could've ruined all the time we spent working on it." Robin shrugged indifferently.
Marian drew out an arrow and set it to her string. She aimed from where she stood and released, and executed a perfect follow-through. Her arrow struck just an inch away from the knoll. "Say so again," she told Robin who was nocking an arrow of his own. He aimed and released, the arrow hitting the center of the knoll.
"Well," Much said dejectedly, "I guess Marian and I are dead then." He playacted falling dead on the forest floor and then jumped back up again. Then He grabbed his own bow and his arrow struck an inch away from Marian's.
Marian, feeling miffed that she was now theoretically dead, tried again. This time she hit the outside edge of the knoll. "I'm not dead yet, then, am I?"
--*--
Robin decided not to threaten them with 'death' again during archery practices because Marian and Much were arguing with such ferocity that it made his ears hurt. How they managed to keep up this arguing when they'd stopped shooting for over an hour and were trying to eat a meal, he really didn't know.
"You died before I did and you know it," Much accused.
"But I also shot more accurately than all of your shots put together," Marian said with a sniff of petulance.
"Oh, really? At least I haven't abandoned archery for over five years until this day unlike some people I could mention!" Much bit into his venison pointedly.
Robin listened to them and tried to keep from laughing. If they could only hear themselves…
--*--
Marian was awake before anyone else that morning, which was unusual since Robin was more of an early riser than she was. She ran her hands over one of her mare's faces. "You know," she said. "You're going to have an interesting life." She smiled ironically at it. "And so am I, if I have anything to say about it."
Marian grabbed her bow and a dozen arrows and half skipped over to the mark they'd set yesterday for themselves. "We'll see who dies this time, Much."
For an hour she practiced, until her arrows were in clusters on the knoll. She grinned at her work, overly proud of herself. "See," she said to air, reminding her of how she used to speak to Robin like this while he was away. "I'm not dying, Robin. Not yet."
"Congratulations."
Marian jumped when Robin answered her. She hadn't expected him to be there. "Sorry, you caught me by surprise." She realized how stupid that sounded as soon as she said it; she'd been talking to him, so she had to have known he was there. Or at least, that was how he would see it.
Robin didn't say anything in response to her blunder of words, instead he said, "You're not usually the one to wake up this early."
"No, I guess not." This was awkward, and for the first time Marian wished Much were around. "I just wanted to practice without Much making a racket." She offered him the bow and her last arrow which he accepted.
Marian watched closely as he drew it back and noticed that he wasn't aiming for the knoll but something else, farther off. With a smirk, one that she was glad to see, he let the arrow fly. Marian followed straight into a rabbit fifty feet beyond what she'd been aiming for.
"Breakfast," Robin explained, looking pleased with himself.
"Show-off," she said, peeved, but she said it with a smile. He returned her bow to her and as she took it from him their fingertips brushed together. The touch sent a jolt through her arm and straight to her heart. "I leave the skinning of breakfast to you," she said quickly, eager to cover up the momentary stutter of her heart. Marian set off to collect her arrows, her recently acquired instinct to run away from her emotions kicking in.
"If I skin it, will you prepare it?" Robin asked as he took out a knife.
Marian pulled an arrow from the tree. "I suppose. Being the lone female of this group, I suspected I'd get the brunt of kitchen responsibilities."
"How do the rest of the outlaws do it?" Robin mused aloud, just to get on her nerves. "Without women to prepare the food?"
He was trying to annoy her and she liked it because it meant that maybe their familiar friendship would come back—soon. She smiled.
--*--
Robin slept fitfully that night as he was prone to on occasion since the war. And he was also prone to do, h had nightmares…
They were at Acre, which was the worst of the Crusades for him, and they were actually in the city. Robin saw an old man and his wife cowering in an alley, the man holding onto her frail shoulders. "Kill them all," they'd been told. "Every last one of them."
Robin swore in Arabic. The women and children? The old men whom couldn't even dream of defending themselves against the young Christian crusaders? All of them, their captains had said. Robin had to obey.
He tried to avoid any people other then the men, but it was inescapable. Robin was forced to cut down the women and the children who ran across his path. The streets of Acre were coated in blood, along with anyone there. It was slaughter, and Robin knew it.
An Arabic man charged toward him bearing a scimitar and a fiery look of hatred in his eye. "You devil!" he screamed in is native tongue, blood spilling from his lip, pointing his blade at Robin.
Robin let the man back him against the wall of a nearby home. He heard the truth of the man's words. "I'm sorry," Robin said, barely taking a defensive stance. "I'm only following—"
"I do not care! You killed my wife and young son as I defended my aging mother! They are all dead thanks to you and your orders!"
Robin remembered the woman and her son. She had brandished a long knife, probably from her kitchen, as her only defense. That was why blood was running down his forehead and over his face. She had not lasted long against him, a trained soldier, but she had tried with every breath she had to protect her son.
Robin felt sick. The man swung his blade with force meant to kill. Only on instinct did Robin's blade flash forward to block the blow and hold the two blades locked together. This man had a right to kill him.
Behind the Saracen man there suddenly was a woman dressed in white, with not a drop of blood on her. The man's voice faded along with the screams of pain and anguish from the rest of streets.
Robin could hardly look at her; he felt insignificant and ashamed. But he had to, and when he did he recognized her at once.
Marian. What was she doing here? This was the last place she belonged. He couldn't look away from her face, which was filled with concern and sorrow. "Robin," she said. "Please, don't do this to yourself."
The war and Acre were fading, but somehow she still there. "Marian," Robin said, not sure why, but needing to say her name out loud.
"I'm right here," Marian said. Suddenly she was right in front of him one hand on one side of his face. Everything was gone, the Saracen man, Acre, the Holy Land itself was gone. It was white and then, sadly he found himself in the King Richard's tent. Marian was still there and he wanted to tell her to go away, that she shouldn't be here. She belonged far away from the death and blood of this place.
Robin found that he couldn't though, because the king was discussing the execution of hundreds of Saracen prisoners, the few survivors of Acre. "Richard, no!" Robin protested. "They… they have lost enough! Can't they keep their lives?"
"Shh…" Marian put her other hand on his chest. "Come back, Robin. Come back to England, to Sherwood, and… to me."
Robin looked past her pleading face to the king. Some of the other men in the tent were giving him disapproving glares for speaking so his sovereign. Richard however was unperturbed. "Robin, you know I enjoy hearing your opinions, but this cannot be argued further."
"Your Majesty, don't—"
"Robin!" Marian said loudly. "Stop. Please! You have to come back to Sherword this instant, or… or…or I'll pour cold water on your face!"
This didn't seem like a threat that he would mind too much in the heat of this desert. Robin kept arguing with the king, and the other men, ignoring her warning. She started shaking him after a few minutes, trying to demand the attention he wouldn't give.
"Get out, Locksley!" one of the king's guards ordered, grabbing him by the shoulder and dragging him to the entrance of the tent. Robin swore quite loudly as he realized that he wouldn't be able to do anything for the Saracen prisoners.
Marian slapped him. He wasn't sure whether it was for defying King Richard or the profanity. Did it really matter? "Robin, just—Come out of this! You're going to send me into a panic!"
Robin wanted to charge back into the king's tent and demand to be allowed to speak, and he said so to the guard who'd dragged him out. The man didn't care, he did, in fact, completely ignore what Robin had said.
"Robin," Marian sounded like she was crying, and Robin had to look at her for that reason alone. She was crying. "What's happened to you?"
He almost said something, when, with indecision in her eyes, she leaned in and kissed him. Robin was taken aback although he was quite happy with this turn of events. Marian pulled away with a smile, left a peck on his forehead, and was gone. She left him in Sherwood, with sunlight that wasn't burning hot streaming through the trees.
--*--
Something woke Marian up that night and she wasn't sure what. She listened and then heard Robin speaking a foreign language. She sat up and looked over at him from her side of a dying fire. Much was up already since he was keeping watch for the first half of the night. "Much," she whispered. "How long has he been doing that?"
Much shrugged. "A while. I was thinking of waking him up, but it made things interesting."
Robin started thrashing all of a sudden and Marian had a feeling that the foreign language was Arabic and this was a nightmare brought on by that wretched crusade. She had to wake him up.
She went over and knelt by his side not sue what to do. "Robin. Don't do this to yourself."
He calmed but not by much. "Marian." It was the first word she understood from him.
Marian put a hand on one side of his face, not entirely sure it was the smartest thing to do, thinking of their recent few days and her vow that she shouldn't love him the way she did. "I'm right here," Marian said.
Much spoke, "Do you think he's coming out of it?"
His question was answered with a decisive 'no' when Robin started shouting again, but in English, at…the king? That's what it sounded like, anyway.
She tried to shush him and put a hand on his chest to hold him down. "Come back, Robin," Marian pleaded. "Come back to England, to Sherwood, and… to me." Her mind protested the last part, while heart was exuberant.
Robin burst out, "Your Majesty, don't—"
"Robin!" Marian raised her voice; he was scaring her. Why wouldn't he wake up. "Stop. Please! You come back to Sherwood this instant or… or…. or I'll pour cold water on your face!"
It had no effect. Robin continued to yell things at who she was sure was the king. She shook him and he still would wake up. Why wouldn't he open his eyes and leave the nightmare he was in? Or was it that he couldn't leave it? That terrified her even more and it was a rare thing that could have her feeling this way.
Robin said something in Arabic again and Marian had feeling it wasn't pretty.
"You have to do something," a wide-eyed Much proclaimed.
Marian didn't know what to do, so she slapped him. She felt horrible for it, but she didn't know what else to do. "Robin, just—Come out of this! You're going to send me into a panic!"
Robin started talking in Arabic again, and wasn't sounding very friendly, either. What had happened in the Holy Land that wouldn't go of him like this? She could feel uncalled tears pricking in her eyes and she found herself on the verge of crying for him. All she wanted was to help, but she couldn't.
"Robin, what happened to you?"
"Kiss him," Much said. "It'll bring him out of it for sure."
She took a shaky breath and gave it some consideration, taking into account the fact that he could wake up to it, and it would ruin the wall she'd been building around her heart so carefully. Looking down at Robin, though, she knew she couldn't say no.
She did as Much had said, her tears mixing with the kiss. This was wrong. What if he woke up to this? Even if it was wrong, she didn't care, because Robin went still and his breathing went back to normal. She sat back up after kissing his forehead quickly.
"It worked," she stated. Marian stood up and looked at Much, who was staring incredulously at her. "Don't you dare tell him anything, Much. Nothing about the nightmare at all. He doesn't need to know that I…"
Much nodded. "Do you think you'd do it again? If he does this on some other night?"
"As a last resort."
Later that night she resolved that she would get rid of whatever was holding onto Robin from that war, if she had to beat it off herself.
She touched her lips, and could've sworn that he'd been kissing her back.
The following morning, however, he showed no memory of anything, at last not that he said. Robin acted so completely normal that Marian had to believe that he didn't remember.
--*--
Robin did remember, though. He'd been having such dreams ever since he came back from the war and while he was there too. Never, not once, had Marian been involved. It was strange. Too strange for any real explanation. He had to wonder why… Last night's nightmare had ended so soon, though. Last night's nightmare hadn't taken hardly any time at all compared to the others. Why?
It was a question that he never answered until almost a year later.
Wanna guess how he answers the question?? I might give you a yes or no answer. You'd have to tell me in a review which requires you to hit the reveiw button just below this. Please???