Disgruntled...that was the word Much was searching for! Or at least, if he wasn't exactly disgruntled, he was far from being gruntled.
Not only did he have to catch the food for Robin's gang, even though their leader was the finest marksman in the land who never missed a shot and therefore should be the one with that responsibility, but wasn't, but Much also had to prepare the food (a nasty task involving plucking it if it had feathers, scaling it if it had...well, scales, or skinning it if it had...well, skin, or fur). Odd that no one called it "furring it." Much wondered why, but then returned to complaining. And next, his thoughts resumed, after preparing the food, he had to see to the cooking fire and roast the meat, when they were lucky enough to have meat!
An entire forest full of game, and they rarely had meat! Unbelievable! It wasn't the forestry laws keeping them from feasting, either. They were outlaws, after all, so what did they care for unfair laws? No, Much suspected it was Little John's obnoxious snoring at night that scared the forest creatures far away. He had no idea his constant rantings might also have something to do with sparse game in the vicinity.
He collected his wandering thoughts and began the new task Robin had assigned him...prepare a picnic supper for Marian. "Something special," Robin had said. Unbelievable! What exactly did his master mean by that? And why was Robin taking Marian on a picnic? Well, Much knew the answer to that only too well!
Robin meant to woo her with his picnic plan. Oh, that created no pressure on Much...no pressure at all! What was it girls liked to eat anyway? He hadn't a clue what to pack. This was terrible! He hated not knowing what to pack! He hated it!
A small furry creature with a bushy tail scampered across his path, a nut in its jaws, giving Much an idea. Perhaps it would be just the thing to make the picnic special! He raised his bow and took careful aim.
...
Following evening prayers, Marian ran upstairs to her room to put away her rosary. She was dismayed to see a new arrow lodged in her wall.
If he kept this up, he was bound to accidentally shoot her one day! Or, if he didn't hit her, he'd hit Sarah or another servant. He probably didn't even consider that, the arrogant fool, as he went about firing arrows willy nilly into innocent peoples' homes!
All the same, she was curious to read the message he had attached to his arrow. She unfolded the parchment and read, "Marian, I am so sorry. Please forgive me for splashing you. It would be my honor if you would accompany me on a moonlit picnic supper tonight. Will you meet me on the hilltop overlooking Locksley? Please say yes. -R-"
Marian was silent, taking it in. On the one hand, he truly sounded contrite. Humble, even, which meant he really was sorry. And he'd actually asked her politely, which was quite nice.
On the other hand, it was so like him not to mention when he expected her to meet him. "Moonlit picnic supper" was all he'd said. Wasn't he always late? Suppose she showed up on the hilltop, and he wasn't there? She wasn't about to wait and wait and wait for him to show!
He'd been so full of himself today at the stream, almost as if his nakedness made him bolder than usual. At least she assumed he had been naked. The water was murky, and she hadn't seen anything, accept for one all too quick flash of butt cheek when he dove under water, not that she'd tried to look. The water was so murky, after all. So very very murky. It hid everything she didn't wish to see.
No, she'd never go on a picnic with him, not after the things he'd said. Or especially the things he'd left unsaid.
Let him wait for her, for once! She had better things to do than wait around on the top of a hill for an arrogant fool who couldn't even face his feelings, if he had any feelings other than those which made him laugh. When would he realize that life in Nottingham was no laughing matter? It was harsh and cruel and unfair, and people needed her help, just to survive.
People needed her! That was what she would do tonight, rather than waste her time waiting or being mocked by someone who found himself so clever and amusing! She would help those who needed her. She could do it just as well as he could! She opened her chest and pulled out her Nightwatchman costume.
...
Robin was quite excited as he waited for Marian on the hilltop overlooking his village. Although the evening was beautifully warm, he wore his cloak as a protective shield from the eyes of his enemies, and also so he could spread it on the ground for Marian to sit upon once she arrived.
He was confident she would arrive. She'd always loved picnics! They'd enjoyed so many together over the years, but never at night! He'd selected nighttime partially out of necessity...the darkness hid them from danger, and also because moonlight was so romantic.
He couldn't wait to see her! He really wanted to be a perfect host, to make up for how he had behaved toward her earlier in the day. He'd show her he hadn't forgotten how to treat a lady, and he intended to treat her with the utmost respect as well as show her every kindness and courtesy she deserved.
Where was she? She had to have received his message...his arrow hadn't gone anywhere amiss. She'd be along soon. She was probably fixing her hair. He knew she'd want to wear it up, to hide the fact it was so short. He wished she knew he didn't care how she wore it. As much as he admired her hair's beauty, he wasn't in love with it, after all, he was in love with...
He stopped his thoughts. He wouldn't even think the words. It wasn't something to admit... just something he knew, something he lived with every day since he'd first become aware of her as a young woman rather than a playmate. No, even before that. Even when they were small, she was his ideal. He'd always wanted to be her hero.
But he certainly wasn't her hero any more. "Fool" was how she frequently described him now.
He bit his lower lip and turned his head from side to side, peering into the night to see whether he might see her coming. But he saw nothing more than the moon and the stars shining down on him as he waited all alone for his lady who clearly was not coming.
Suddenly, the air was rent apart by a scream from his village! With no thought for his own safety, he charged down the hill toward the sound of a woman screaming in fear.
...
(DISCLAIMER: I do not own and did not create the line "If he wasn't exactly disgruntled, he was far from being gruntled." It appears in literature written by P. G. Wodehouse, and I've always thought it funny, and felt it suited Much perfectly).