Hello Everyone! I know the longest time like ever without any update: C I have moved and started a new job and now that things are settling down I can write again *yay and claps from readers*
I got this idea from BrainandHearts fic actually so some credit is due there! It is going to be a two-part fanfic. This is part 1 :) I don't own the Tales of Rowan Hood but do enjoy!
Side note this chapter has been re-updated
-Nottingham Castle: 1198
"Gentlemen, please be seated," Sir Marcus intoned, motioning for the lords gathered around the large, oval-shaped table in Nottingham Castle to take their places.
Sir Marcus was a lean man with striking red hair and an even redder beard, always kept neatly trimmed. He had recently assumed the position of Sheriff of Nottingham following the untimely demise of the previous sheriff. Once an advisor to Prince John, Marcus had accepted the role with the intention of implementing changes in the prince's name. He wore simple attire, favoring functionality over flair: a meticulously sewn black shirt that fit his form, plain black trousers, and sturdy boots. His only adornments were a simple leather vest with silver buckles, a black leather belt, and a sheathed sword at his waist.
He surveyed the faces of the assembled nobles from the shire, taking note of their expressions. He intended to spend considerable time getting to know these men, discerning those loyal to the prince's cause and dealing with those who were not. Prince John had strategically placed him in Nottinghamshire, viewing it as a crucial location for his ongoing campaign—except for one persistent problem that remained unresolved.
The tales of a man roaming Sherwood Forest, tormenting the former sheriff and the nobility, had reached Marcus's ears. This man, known as Robin Hood, stole from the rich and gave to the poor, creating chaos for near eighteen long years. How the former sheriff had failed to rid the shire of this thorn in Nottingham's side was beyond Marcus.
"I have gathered you all here today to address a rather vexing issue that has plagued Nottinghamshire for many years," Marcus began, pacing around the room. "Many of you already know the man I am referring to."
He glanced at Todd, the former sheriff's son. Todd's expression was inscrutable, but Marcus saw through it. He knew Todd had been taken in by Robin Hood a year ago and had allegedly escaped. However, Marcus had learned otherwise through the interrogation of one of Robin's so called Merry Men, who despite enduring severe torture, refused to reveal the outlaw's whereabouts. Marcus continued, "I am planning to increase security not only in Nottingham but also in each of the villages you oversee. Nottingham will see more patrols, and Sherwood Forest will be thoroughly searched over the coming months. Traps will be set, and the bounty on each outlaw's head will rise."
The men around him nodded in agreement. "He's just a man," Marcus stated, clasping his hands together. "And men can die. I don't care for the drama of a hanging. Anyone may kill any outlaw on sight, in any manner they see fit, no questions asked." Though inwardly, Marcus was curious about meeting Robin Hood, wanting to understand what drove the man to play the hero.
"What makes you think you can succeed where the former sheriff failed?" A well-fed man with an odd mustache asked, clearly echoing the thoughts of others present.
"My dear man, do you know where they say Robin Hood hails from?" Marcus asked, smiling softly. He knew the answer, having extracted this information from the former sheriff before his death. The outlaw supposedly had a favorite hideout: a large hollow oak tree. Robin Hood himself was described as a tall, well-built blonde man, excellent in combat but unparalleled with a bow.
"No, I do not," the man replied.
"Locksley," Marcus said, pointing to a small village on the map spread across the table. "A wheat-producing village close to Sherwood. We'll start our inquiries there, using force if necessary. Robin Hood is a man of justice—cut out enough tongues, and we might force him to surface."
"His men enjoy capturing nobility and treating them to a night in their camps," another man suggested. "Perhaps it would be simpler to disguise one of us and allow ourselves to be captured."
"An excellent idea, sir..." Marcus left the sentence hanging, awaiting the man's name.
"Fredrick of York," the man replied. Fredrick was thin, with a sly look that Marcus did not trust.
"Ah," Sir Marcus acknowledged, looking around the room before continuing. "Regardless, Robin Hood isn't some spirit of the Greenwood," he said, referencing the mythical aelfe that folklore claimed roamed the woods.
"And his daughter?" another voice asked from across the table. "Some say she's a witch, a seeress with healing powers."
Marcus had heard whispers of the girl but did not fear witches. To ease the men's minds, he replied, "Witches can be burned."
Somewhere in Sherwood Forest - Robin POV
Laughter reached Robin's ears, instantly putting him on alert. He moved silently, placing each step with care, and soon saw the source: three foresters around a small fire, with a tent pitched behind them. One man was napping, and the group seemed at ease. Robin deemed them no threat and continued on his way.
His attention was caught again, this time by a girl dressed similarly to himself, with brown hair in a braid. She had her back to him, an arrow nocked and drawn to her cheek as she crouched in the brush. He almost missed her, she blended into her surroundings well. Though soon it would become difficult with the encroaching fall. Soon trees and plant would loose their leave and break into winter the hardest season for outlaws let alone any common folk or peasant. Following her line of sight, he saw a large stag grazing nearby. How does she plan to carry that deer back to her hollow? he wondered thinking of the rowan hollow. A spot perhaps a little too close to Fountain Dale and the Nottingham way for his own liking. Nonetheless a place his daughter called home. It was hidden well enough by an uphill rocky slope littered with trees, brush and bramble.
Purposefully, he stepped on a crooked branch, the snap startling the deer, which bolted instantly. The girl spun around quiet and fast,with a practiced ease her arrow aimed at him eyes squinting. Recognizing him, she lowered her bow and glared before rolling her dark green eyes.
"Toads, Father," Rowan spoke a little too loudly. Robin raised his hand to signal for silence, nodding for her to follow.
Once out of earshot, he began to reprimand her. Normally, before she would have listened quietly, but as of late she fidgeted, sighed, and kicked at the forest floor. "Rowan, are you listening at all?" he asked when she had her head down for too long.
"Be more careful, I know. But I had a protection spell on me. Anyone with ill intent wouldn't be able to spot me," she explained, a hint of annoyance in her voice.
"Protection spell?" he muttered, "I doubt a protection spell did your mother any good." realizing too late he had spoken the rest aloud. Rowan's head snapped up, eyes narrowed at him once again. He opened his mouth to apologize, but she wasn't listening, her attention back on the forest floor, hand tightening around her bow.
Their relationship had been strained since her abilities—lovely gifts from her mother's bloodline—had emerged and grown stronger. She was now a ball of nerves and sharp retorts, even to her friends. His comrades had warned him of her irritable state. "Lass—" he began, but she interrupted.
"It's fine," she said, looking off into the forest surrounding them now. He sighed, studying her. She was growing up too fast. He hadn't known her as a child; they had met when she was already thirteen. Small and cautious then, she had been a poor shot with the bow but eager to listen. Now nearly seventeen, she looked more like her mother and displayed the same fierce independence.
Celandine, his heart ached even thinking of her name. How he had forgotten... yes... Laverna's spell... No. Don't think of that now. Don't feel that now. He pushed the thoughts back again not at a space to handle the pain of them. Focus on something else. "Perhaps you and your friends should come for dinner?" he suggested, referring to the small band she lived with in the hollow. "I know we spoke of one day a week but..."
She shrugged, interrupting him saying she'd ask them. Robin nodded slowly, wanting to hug her, to offer reassurance, to speak to her of the past he knew she questioned about but his heart ached once again. He needed to focus on protecting her. Protecting his comrades. Be the hero. Be who they expect you to be. Don't let feelings get in the way ever again. Instead, he said, "Just be mindful of your surroundings, please."
"Fine," she replied, walking back toward the hollow. "If we don't come tonight, we will still come later this week," she added, her tone softer now.
Robin watched her go, his heart heavy with the weight of unspoken words.