by White Wolf

The day was clear and sunny, the weather cool. It was the kind of day for getting things done or doing nothing at all. At this moment, the outlaws of Sherwood Forest were choosing the latter. They sat around the campfire, taking it easy.

Robin walked into camp. He was carrying two full waterskins. He handed them to Tuck.

"Thank you, Robin," the friar replied gratefully. He had a sore toe, and he hadn't felt like going to get the water. Robin had volunteered to do it for him.

"I'm going to Wickham to talk to Edward." Robin announded to the group. "Much, would you like to go with me?" he asked as he looked across the campfire at the curly-haired youth.

Much jumped up. "Yes," he said happily. He grabbed his knife and eagerly joined Robin, who pushed his magical sword Albion down into its scabbard. With a smile, Robin put his hand on Much's shoulder as the two headed off.

For the first few minutes, neither young man said anything. Much was the first to brake the silence. "Do you have important business in Wickham?"

"Not all that important. The important part is going with you."

"With me? What do you mean?" Much was puzzled, but he waited for Robin to explain.

"I really do need to talk to Edward, but mainly I wanted time for us to talk. We don't do it often enough." When Robin saw the puzzled look still on Much's face, he smiled. "I mean just the two of us. We never seem to have the time to be alone."

"Have I done something wrong?" Much asked, completely misunderstanding what Robin was saying. He half expected his leader to start fussing at him about something.

"It's just the opposite, Much." Robin stopped and turned to face the young man at his side. "I just want you to know how much I appreciate all you've done for me."

"I haven't done anything. The others..."

"No. Don't keep giving credit to the others and dismissing yourself. You do that all the time. You're as important as anyone here, Much. You have supported me from the beginning even though I know how hard it was for you to do that. You had lost your brother. You missed him. Yet, once you understood that Herne had chosen me as the new leader, you accepted me, probably easier than any of the others. John was the first one to call me Robin. But, once you called me that the first time, you never went back to calling me Robert. The others did it off and on until they got used to the idea."

Much lowered his head, not sure exactly how he should be reacting. Finally, he said, "It was hard to say the name at first, knowing it wasn't him I was talking to. But, I never got the two of you mixed up. I want you to know that. You and Robin are a lot alike in a lot of ways, but you are different, too, and not just in looks."

Robin appreciated the difficulty all of his friends must have had dealing with the name issue. Then, he changed the subject. "I don't tell you often enough how much your friendship has meant to me." Robin looked closely at Much, trying to figure out why he was looking so solemn. What he had just told Much should have pleased him. "Much?"

Much looked up into Robin's concerned blue eyes. "Can I tell you something?"

"You can tell me anything."

"I didn't really accept you at first. Not like you think I did."

Now, it was Robin's turn to look puzzled.

"I kind of resented you at first. All the time we were rescuing Marion from Owen of Clun, I thought that's all there was to it. We'd get Marion and then you'd go back to Huntingdon, and we'd go our own way again. When it was clear you were staying here, I didn't want you to. I know Herne wanted you with us, but Robin was our leader. He died, but still I didn't think anyone else should come in here and try to take his place. It didn't seem right to me even though I knew we had to have a leader, so we could all stay together." Much's face reflected the guilt he felt over his confession.

"I never knew that," Robin admitted more than a little surprised. "Why didn't you ever say anything to me?"

"I didn't think it was my place to. Herne chose you. You became his son. The others accepted you. Even Will did, despite all his arguing. My objections wouldn't have meant anything, so I kept quiet."

Robin shook his head. He hadn't expected that. It had never occurred to him because Much had never given him any indication he felt that way. "Did I intimidate you somehow?"

"Yes," Much admitted, then quickly tried to explain. "You didn't do it on purpose. I know that. It's just, you know, being the son of an Earl, being rich and... " He paused.

"And?"

"And, being a Norman. I was always raised to hate Normans. The nobility has never been kind to people like me. I was afraid of them. When you first got us all together, you were nice. I thought it was just because you wanted our help. I expected you to change and start trying to lord it over us, treating us like we weren't much better than slaves. You never did change. You just aren't like that."

Robin might have been amused at Much's ideas on the nobility, except that he was right. Most of them did treat the Saxon peasantry like slaves. Some were cruel. Some, like his father, had a strong sense of justice and never did anything to harm them, but he accepted the fact that the nobility were superior. It was just the way of things. Robin---no Robert---had grown up that way, though he had always stubbornly voiced his feelings of injustice over it. Now, as Robin Hood, he was risking his life every day to protect and defend these very same people. He owed that side of his nature as much to his mother as to his father.

"Thank you," Robin said with genuine gratitude. "I'm glad you think well of me. I hope you know now that you can always tell me whatever's on your mind."

"I do." Much looked away, slightly embarrassed by what he was going to say next. "I think of you like a brother." Then, with a stricken look, he said, "I hope that's not being disloyal to my brother."

Robin put both hands on Much's shoulders and turned him so that the two were looking straight at each other. "I think of you that way, too. And, no, you aren't being disloyal as long as you hold him in your heart. You know I never had a brother." Much didn't know about Gisburne, and Robin wasn't about to tell him. In this case, love and friendship were a whole lot more important than blood.

"I depend on all of you to tell me how you feel about the things that effect your lives as well as mine. There has to be a leader, or being here would be a disaster, everybody running around doing whatever they wanted to. Without the order of having one person making the final decisions, it wouldn't take long before we'd all be caught and killed. That doesn't mean I'm the only one who has the right to give an opinion. Believe it or not, the best leaders are the ones who listen." Robin laughed. "I even value Will's opinions. It's just that most of the time it's not easy listening to him tell me about them."

That statement brought a smile to Much's face. Then he frowned. "Will thinks I'm a half-wit."

"Will's wrong. Next time he says something to you that you don't like, tell him how you feel about it. Stand up for yourself. I've seen you do it before about other things. You don't have to stand back and keep quiet."

"Even if it's you I don't agree with?" Much asked somewhat shyly.

"Well..." Robin smiled, genuine humor in his expressive eyes. "Yes, of course, even if it's me." Robin squeezed Much's shoulder. "Do we understand each other a little better now?"

Much nodded, happy once again. "All right. I have an opinion about something."

Robin raised his eyebrows in a questioning gesture.

"When we get to Wickham, it's my opinion we ought to get some of Allison's fresh baked bread to go with dinner. I also think..."

Robin's laughter rang out through the nearby trees. Had he created a monster?