It's Not Easy

By: Emmithar

Rating: T

Disclaimer:

Sadly I do not own anything but my own imagination. All recognizable characters are not mine. They belong to BBC and I shall be returning them (hopefully) in one piece when I have finished.

Summary:

When Much disappears, Robin takes it upon himself to find out what has happened. Things become even more complicated when he learns of the true nature of his friend's fate. Meanwhile, Marian faces the hangman's noose when her dealings with the outlaws is discovered, forcing Guy to turn to desperate measures to see to her safety.

A/N:

I am not an expert on history, so throughout the story it will be possible that I will have some inaccuracies, so feel free to point them out to me if you do happen to catch them. Thanks to all of those that are still with me, and reading still. I love reading your comments and see what you have to say. Reviews also encourage me to write more because I know there are people reading, so feel free to drop a quick review of what you think throughout the story.

Many thanks go out to Kegel for helping by betaing, as she always does. She puts up with my random insane ideas quiet often and helps to make a jumbled mess sound a little better. Make sure to drop by her profile and check out her own story in the works!

Without further ado, we are onto chapter one!

It's Not Easy

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Chapter One: A Birthday Wish

Everyone else was still asleep. That was not too surprising; the sun had yet to even make an appearance. The smallest of fires danced within a pit in the midst of the room, the light flickering on the walls. His movements were slow, deliberate, gathering his weapons without a sound. He did not want to wake any of the others. Pulling on a hooded cloak, he hefted up his shield, silent steps taking him across the floor.

There was a way out in the back; a small hole more of the likes that was covered with a thin flap of fabric buried beneath a pile of leaves. It gave them all the ability to come and go without opening the main door. Will had dug it out some time ago, coming to the conclusion that if there was ever prying eyes about, a silent way out would be the best way to go. Much was now going to use it to leave undetected. Or so he had hoped.

There was movement near him, bringing the man to a stop. His eyes fell on the form, the one he knew to be Robin. If anyone would hear him leave it would him. And that was the last person Much wanted to know of his departure. He stood there, holding his breath, watching Robin, but the man made no indication of awakening. Only shifting in his sleep, still unaware of what was going on around him. With a sigh of relief, Much continued, climbing up the ladder and pushing his way to the outside. A few minutes spent covering the entrance once more and he was on his way.

It wasn't until he had passed the main road that he really felt comfortable. It was still considerably dark out, and without the aid of a torch it was difficult to see where he was really going. He wasn't too worried, for the field he was venturing to was easy to find, but a good walk away. The first signs of light would be venturing into the world as he arrived if he kept up at this pace. It would be the perfect time to hunt.

For weeks he and the others had sustained themselves on conies, rodents and at one point had even taken a horse that had been rendered lame after a fight. Most of it had been dried, materialized into a jerky-like quality that would last them longer. But such meat wasn't necessarily an appetizing meal, and though the others did not complain, Much knew that it was time for a change. Fresh deer meat would seem like a feast after the months of dry meat they had endured. Yet this wasn't the only reason he was making the effort.

Today was Robin's birthing day. Ever since leaving for the war they had been unable to celebrate it properly. One thing or another always occupied their minds. They had been first consumed with the greed and bloodlust of war, and once in the forest they were distracted with everyday dealings with the sheriff and some other far fetched plot that should have in one way or another failed. Whatever the case, the simple day that called for celebration always passed unnoticed, and when he later apologized to Robin for his forgetfulness the man hardly cared. Much was almost certain that he forgot that he even had a birthing day. This year he wanted to make sure that no one forgot.

He would catch a deer…one of the nice plump does perhaps. They grazed on the long grass in the earliest of mornings when the fog was still thick. He would have the time to clean it before the day got too far, but the real question came to the cooking part. More than anything he wanted it to be a surprise. If he kept his timing correct, he would have more than enough time to prepare things back at camp.

Today was their drops. The others would wonder about him for a short time, he was certain, but the peasants and villagers would be waiting. They would be expecting the food. Robin and others would not disappoint them, he knew. The drops would take most of the morning and time into the early afternoon. If Much was lucky, they would grow distracted with something else.

It would give him time to cook the meat. Not only that, but to gather the stores of wine. He had taken the liberty of helping himself to more than one flask a few days prior when they were in Nottingham, hiding them in one of their hidden locations. Surely the Innkeeper would not notice the missing stock, and the others, Robin especially, would enjoy the fresh wine with the warm meat. Much licked his lips, drawing in a deep breath. It would be perfect. They could all use a warm meal.

He hiked the bags up on his shoulder; the empty satchels would provide the perfect vessel for carrying the meat back. He could not clean the entire animal there; staying out in the open for too long was dangerous. The meadow provided no protection from passing eyes, and travelers came by often enough. Poaching was a serious crime for anyone, and even more deadly for an outlaw. Timidly he reached up, rubbing his neck at the thought of a noose around it. It wasn't something he particularly would want to do.

He pushed the thought from his head, reminding himself why he was doing this. It would all be worth it in the end. Not only that, but there was little worry for that at this time of the morning. There were very few people, guards and travelers alike, that moved through the forest at that time. Too many were fearful of the thieves that haunted the woods. He felt himself grin at the thought, walking with a more confident stride, moving across the trail, the first signs of light breaking the day. Not only that, but he could now see the edge of the meadow.

Pulling free his bow he readied some arrows, clutching them in his free hand as he crossed the last of the tree line. Now he would need patience, which was something he struggled with on a consistent basis. But this was for Robin and that made it all worth it. Settling down at the edge of the tall grasses, he readied his bow, took a breath, and began to search for the perfect target.

He was the last to wake. He had been for the last several days now. It had been a little more than a week's time since the incident that had left the man grasping for memories. So one could argue he was still recovering. Will knew that was not the case. Physically the man was fine, and to everyone, it seemed as though he had fully recovered. But Will was no fool. There was still something amiss. Something that Robin wasn't telling the others.

When he had voiced his concern to the others, they had laughed at him. They had reassured him that Robin was fine. They agreed that maybe he needed a few more days until he was himself once more, but that he was getting better. To Will…it seemed as though he was getting worse.

Normally one of the firsts to wake, Robin had recently become the last to rise. He was also eating less than the others, sometimes skipping a meal entirely. That in itself wasn't unusual. The man would often go without eating when he was stressed about a mission, or worried over some detail or another. But they had done nothing in the past few days. Some days Robin wouldn't even leave the camp, though the others hardly noticed. They would spend their own days flitting to the villages, scouring the forest, or doing whatever else they did when left to their own devices.

Will had chosen to stay behind one of the days, claiming that he needed to rest his leg. It was a lie, for it was nearly healed and no longer pained him, and at times Will even forgot of the grievous injury that had almost cost him his life. The statement, however, had perked Robin's interest, stirring up guilt inside of Will. After he confessed, he attempted to pry at the other man, to learn of what might be the issue. Robin spoke little of what had happened, and when the questions became more than he could handle, he became evasive with his answers. Finally Will had dropped the subject altogether, but the questions still lingered on his mind.

For now, he tried to push the thoughts from his head, offering instead the plate to Robin as the man moved about the fire, adding more logs to feed the flames. Robin took the plate without question, but Will didn't miss the fact that the man set it right down shortly after, not even a morsel making it to his lips.

"You should eat," he warned him.

"Later," Robin responded, glancing around the camp from where he was crouching. "It's late already, we should get a move on. The people will be expecting us."

Will wanted to argue, but knew that Robin would not fold. Not only that, but he himself had been eagerly looking forward to doing the drops. Routine was a nice thing to return to, and it was not only food they would be delivering, but small satchels of silver. It would be a wondrous feeling to see the people of the villages get some respite from the times that had been hard. Plus he was hoping the small deeds would liven up the other man. Perhaps he would begin to see the outlaw that he knew so well.

"Where's Much?"

He merely shook his head in response to Robin's question. "He was gone when I woke up; probably went to catch breakfast."

"We have plenty of food here," Robin muttered dryly, running a hand over his face. "How long has he been gone?"

"At least an hour…" Will shrugged, moving to sit on one of the beds, "perhaps more. I can't say for sure."

"We can't wait much longer. Gisborne makes his rounds in the early afternoon. We'll have to be finished by then."

"How do you know Gisborne's making rounds today?"

"I just know," he answered, moving to his feet.

Will felt another sigh coming on. This is how it had been with the other recently. There was never a direct answer, and his voice was always calm, as though he no longer cared to share any emotion. It was as though something was draining him physically without the taxing labors of work. It made him wonder if there was some sort of injury he was harboring, but even Robin knew how foolish something of the sort was. Still…he would bring the topic up with Djaq later; maybe the Saracen would be able to discover something he could not.

Robin collected the first of the bags, tossing several to John and then Allan, both men catching them easily. They had hardly paid any heed to the conversation, the pair busy instead discussing something that sounded curiously like a sort of gamble or bet. John was not one who divulged in such sport often, but Allan was quick with his words and Will could already see the other man interested in what Allan was saying.

If Djaq had heard, he could not tell, for she was gathering a pile of bags at her feet. She made no indication of having even noticed , which was troubling for Will. It made him wonder if he was simply imagining things as the others had once suggested, or if Robin had become skilled enough to hide his burdens well enough from the others.

There was not much time to worry on it, Will catching the bags as they were tossed to him. He tucked several under his one arm, grabbing some more with his good one. Time had healed most of his arm. There was still pain, and he could not rightly draw a bow without discomfort, but he tried to keep it at bay. He knew that Robin still blamed himself for the injury, and perhaps it was rightly so. There had been no ill-intent on the other's part, but it still had been his doing.

"Let's move," Robin gave the order, already taking the lead. They were headed east, most likely to Knighton first. The village was still struggling the worst, recovering from the fire and loss of population all those many months ago. In a time where everyone was struggling, a blow like that could render a village useless for years even.

Will fell into step beside Djaq, nodding to her as he slowed his pace. She followed his example, a slight expression of worry clouding her features. He quickly shook his head at her unasked question. He was fine, and once she understood he motioned to the front. Her eyes followed to where he pointed, then turned back to him.

"Robin?" she whispered.

He nodded, keeping his voice low. The last thing he wanted was for the man to overhear, and grow even more anxious at the thought of others speaking behind his back. "There's something wrong."

"Yes."

It was a simple answer, but it caught him off guard. He turned to her, a frown on his face. "He told you something?"

"No."

Another simple answer, and it was infuriating. "That doesn't mean anything."

"What it means," she told him, "is that what is bothering him is only something he can fix. Give him time, Will Scarlet. He will be well."

She spoke with such wisdom, but it did not encourage him to let go of the feelings that still harbored inside of him. How could he, when there was such worry? What could bother Robin so greatly that it would change his entire demeanor? He was determined to find out, but now was not the time to do so. Right now they were headed to Knighton, and the remainder of their day would be taken up by the drops, and the trek back to camp. Right now, their main worry was to deliver the food, without being caught by Gisborne or his men.

Taking the doe had been easy. She had been a young one, perhaps in her second or third year. She had been grazing over a crest with several other does. They were plentiful this year, revealing in the late summer season and growing strong. Much had bided his time, strung an arrow, and taken aim. It had been a solid shot, the creature dead even before she knew what had happened. The others had stampeded away even as she fell, leaving Much to be the only living thing in the meadow.

His knife was sharp, and he worked quickly in preparing the doe. He packed as much as he could into the bags he was carrying, tying them off tightly before dragging the rest of the remains with him. Even though he had chosen a doe, the animal was still large, a heavy burden, and Much knew he would not be able to carry all of it back to camp. Instead he pulled it free of the clearing, pulling it well off the traveled path and into the underbrush. Scavengers would take care of the rest before anyone was lucky enough to even find it.

Shouldering the heavy bags he now turned, heading back for the camp. It was already well into morning and by now the others would have already departed. He smiled gleefully at the thought of their expressions, of Robin's in particular as the man returned. To come home to a bountiful feast with fresh meat and strong wine. It would not be like the celebrations Robin had had before; spices and such were hard to come by living in the forest, but he was certain the man would appreciate it none the less.

Much knew that he himself would. Conies were not all that bad once gotten used to, but there was nothing like deer…or pig for that matter. But he didn't have any pig with him, and poaching deer was different from poaching pigs. Robin would garner a bad name if his men just started flitching livestock from the villages.

He pushed the thought from his head, knowing that if lingered too long he just might be enticed into doing such a thing. Robin would not be pleased if he did…and Robin should be pleased. It was his birthing day. He was grinning again, crossing an open path and heading back into the brush when he first heard it.

At first he wasn't quite sure of what it was. It could have been many of things; the forest was filled with strange sounds and even he found himself waking at night trying to sort out what he had just heard. This time could be no different, but there was something that held him there. He was listening intently when it came again, and this time he was certain. It was a cry for help.

There was no debating of what to do. Without question he turned and headed down the road. Much was careful to keep to the side, a useful tactic if one had to hide quickly. As he drew closer, and he could hear more properly, he found himself pausing. If he had to fight he could not do so with such weight holding him down. Quietly he stepped off the road, lowering the satchels to the ground. Here the weeds grew thickly, and he had no problems covering his prize as he stepped away. Now he was left with only his weapons and shield.

At the crest of the hill he could see what the commotion was. There were only three of them, promising numbers, even more so upon seeing one of them was only a small boy. He was the one shouting for help, the two other men on horseback snarling threats to the angry and weeping lad.

Still Much used caution, his heart beating in his chest as he pulled off the road, keeping to the brush. Drawing nearer he knelt down by the side of the road, listening and watching. The boy's hands were tied, a rope leading from between his wrists to the horn of the saddle on one of the creatures. They were moving at a steady pace, headed south, but the boy was not making it easy on the pair.

"I dun' wan' go!" he cried, pulling back on the rope and falling to his knees. The horse ahead of the boy jittered nervously, obviously shaken by the loud cries.

"You can't go back on your word," one of the men shouted, trying to calm the animal. The other man reached out and grasped the rope, tugging on it harshly. The boy was jerked forward, stumbling to his feet once more.

"I changed my mind," he protested once more, struggling still with the rope. Much frowned at the scene before him, realizing now what was taking place. They were kidnapping the boy…

"We'd untie you, you know, if you only promised to not run away," the second man stated quietly. "You agree to help us, and then you run. Not one to keep your word."

"This isn't worth our time," the first growled, coaxing the horse back into a trot. "Bloody bastard is going to wake the entire forest."

"It's a forest, Dax, what are you afraid of waking? Squirrels?"

"They say these woods are haunted, poached by thieves and murderers," Dax argued, his voice growing thin. He was of good size, a man that had once seen battle, perhaps. Still he seemed young, perhaps close to Robin in age, but Much could not be certain.

The other was skinnier, lacking in muscle and gangly, but he was also quite tall. There was a sneer of amusement on his face, and he reached over to give the rope another harsh tug as the boy fell to his knees once more. "Folk tales, nothing more. You really don't believe in such stories, do you?"

"'is true!" the boy cried, "Robin Hood will save me! He will! He's a hero. You'll be sorry!"

He was crying hard now, and the words came out in a jumbled mess that was hardly understandable. But the message got across, for the others were laughing. "You hear that, Dax? Some fairy is going to come out and stop us! What do you think of that?"

"I think we should be moving," Dax responded. "There's a reason for stories; they're partially true."

"Stories," the other huffed, but he turned in his saddle, riding out a ways ahead. Much drew in a breath, pulling free his sword. He wasn't going to just sit by and watch all of this happen. He had to do something.

The pair had gained a steady gait once more, the boy stumbling as he was pulled along. He had stopped his yelling for the time being, choked by his tears instead. Much turned, moving along the brush to catch up with them. As they came to the crest of the next hill he moved, stepping out in one fluid motion.

The movement startled the horses, already nervous from the earlier commotion. The creature back-peddled, rearing up with a sharp whine as the man tried to hold on. "What in the blazes?!"

"You'll go no further!" Much responded, holding his sword up high. "Let the boy go!"

He wasn't quite sure what he was trying to do; he was only one man against a couple. But there was some logic in his mind. The others were already burdened; the boy providing enough of a distraction, and Much had experience garnered from the war. He also knew this forest well, which was another advantage if he had guessed right in the fact that these strangers were from another shire. Everyone in Nottingham and the surrounding villages knew about his master. Robin Hood was no secret;, revered by friends and feared by enemies. No one that lived near Sherwood was unaware as to who the outlaw was. His point was proven in the next moment as the second man laughed, turning his horse about.

"Check it out, Dax, you were right. The fairy boy came to rescue the lad!"

"I am no fairy boy," Much retaliated. "I am one of Robin Hood's men! If you do not let the boy go…then we will have no choice…but to attack!"

"Really?" the man responded, a sly expression on his face. He glanced one way, then the other. When he turned back to face Much he held out his hands, giving a shrug. "I don't see your army anywhere."

"We have you surrounded."

"Prove it."

Much fell silent, trying to come up with what to say next. Dax sat upon his horse, the animal calmed down after the fright, the boy on his knees glancing hopefully at him. He could not let the boy down, but what was he to do?

"We don't need this trouble," Dax spoke, "take yourself home and leave us to our business."

"Kidnapping children? That's your business?"

Dax's face hardened, but it was the other man that spoke. "It's profitable," the gangly man kicked his horse, moving closer, "for our concerns, of course."

"It's revolting," Much spat, pointing with his sword. "You let him go…or…or I will."

"And how do you propose to do that?"

He said nothing in response, mainly because he failed to come up with one. The man was getting closer, and the time for action was quickly disappearing. Suddenly Much lunged forward, taking several large steps to close the gap between him and the boy. The others saw what he was about to do, but even a kick to the sides of the horse was not enough.

With a heave of the sword the blade cut through the bonds, the boy falling backwards, having pulled the rope taunt to help with the severing. Much pulled him to his feet, shoving the boy in front of him, encouraging the boy to run. There was none needed, and he was already racing away.

"Dax! You fumbling idiot! Don't just sit there, get after them!"

Sheathing his sword Much followed the boy's example. He ran. The boy had a head start, but Much was quick in catching up; long strides matched even to that of the short hurried ones, and the pounding of hooves was growing rapidly behind them.

Turning he grabbed the boy's arm, pulling him off the path. There weren't any questions asked, his arms out in front of his small frame, pushing through branches that smacked at his face. Much hurried him along before pushing him into a brush.

"Stay here," Much warned him, "whatever you do, do not move until I come back."

Breathlessly the boy nodded, Much pulling away and taking off into a new direction. The sudden change of course had slowed the two kidnappers down but only for a fraction of a second. The animals turned, the pair gave chase, which was exactly what Much wanted. He held his shield out in front of him, plowing through brush and undergrowth. Not only did it help to clear his way, but it also mimicked that of another, smaller form in front of him. Of that of a boy, perhaps…maybe even enough so that the kidnappers would not realize the boy had already departed and was hidden away safely.

Already the pair had left the road, turning onto a small foot trail that was hardly big enough for the horses. The first was reluctant, the nervous animal helping Much greatly in favor as it backtracked, stamping the ground. The second man however would not wait, forcing his horse off the path and stumbling over the uneven ground as he pressed around the first. It only encouraged the outlaw to run even faster.

All he had to do was get far enough ahead, then he could hide. Then he would wait until they passed, and backtrack. He would get the boy, and bring him back to the camp. Robin would know what to do. Of course there was the meat still. He couldn't rightly remember where he had left it at the moment, but retracing their steps shouldn't be too difficult, and the boy could even help him carry the food back to camp…

The ground disappeared from under him. He had misjudged the jump; here the ground sloped, making its way down to a ravine where a stream trickled through. With the landing his shield went flying from his hands, scattering on the ground and stirring up the fallen leaves. The momentary fall left him winded, and he was slow to pick himself up. At the same time the first of the men caught up with him.

Scrambling to his feet he reached for his sword, knowing there was no more time for running. But the man, though gangly in appearance, was no weakling and had quickly knocked the weapon from his grasp with a solid kick. Even before he could move there was a rope about his shoulders, a makeshift lasso tossed from horseback, pulled tautly over the saddle horn. With a yank it tightened about his chest, pulling him to his knees.

With grasping hands he was already pulling the rope off, determined to be free, but another rope was about him, pulling from the other direction. He found himself on the ground once more, struggling to right himself even as the first man dismounted. If he had any thoughts of escaping then, they were quickly dashed as his hands were bound, the rope chaffing his skin as it was pulled tight.

"Let me go," Much cried as the man pulled away. He glanced from the first back to where Dax still sat seated on his horse. There was a strange, forlorn expression that he held.

"You should have just gone home when you had the chance."

"Where's the boy?"

It was the other man who asked the question, his voice hard, eyes narrow as though they burned with fire.

"Let it go, Eloy; boy's long gone."

"No," Eloy shook his head, "We risked our lives to get him. I want him."

"You filled his head with muddle; like giving sweets to a babe. You risked nothing."

"I won't tell you," Much shook his head from where he sat. "I won't. You'll have to kill me first."

"We can arrange that."

"Messy business," Dax shook his head. "Not our business. We should get moving. If there's one, there's bound to be more. And when that kid does get home he'll have the entire village on our backs."

Eloy said nothing, his gaze still deadly, his face a slight shade of red. But as intimidating as it was, Dax did not back down, and finally the other nodded, moving to mount his steed. Much let out a sigh.

"Good idea then. Best that you get going. You can untie me, and we'll pretend that none of this ever happened."

"Oh no," Eloy shook his head, turning on him. "The only way you'll be going is our way. You're coming with us."

"You can't be serious," Much said with a laugh. What could they possibly want with him? But Eloy smiled as he mounted. "You…are, aren't you? Serious, I mean?"

"I told you that you should have just gone home."

TBC