A/N: Here's a short little fic I wrote for the Christmas fic challenge at hoodland at LJ. It's a little late for Christmas, but I had to wait till the challenge was over. Thanks to Emmithar for the beta! :)

A Gift to Keep

"Not being funny... but where did you actually get that hat from?"

Much looked up from the fire that was crackling in the outlaws' camp. He adjusted the cap on his head. "It's a long story."

"We've got time," Allan shrugged with a grin and Much glanced at Robin.

"It's a boring story really, you don't want to hear it," the man told them quickly.

Much frowned. "Well..." He could understand that Robin didn't really want the others to hear it, but then... his master was most of the times ready to have some fun, so why should the gang not hear the story?

"Come, do tell," Djaq prompted him, giving Robin a look. The man shook his head slightly, grimacing, but didn't say anything more.

Much nodded.

Christmas 1184 was a mostly peaceful time, quite opposed to most of the Christmases of the years that were to follow. That was only one of the things that were to stay in Much's memory of the celebration of that year.

He had been working for Robin for several years and although his resources were indeed very limited, he'd always taken care to give Robin a present that showed his estimation for his master... well, it had maybe become a little more than estimation over the years. He wanted to bring him joy, as small as it might be, and it was the best time of the year for it.

This year he had decided to bake pastry. In the course of his servitude at Locksley, he had been introduced to the art of cooking and baking, and though it did not always go smoothly, he had learned and was confident that he would be able to manage well enough.

He had to beg the housekeeper for the ingredients. Thornton assured him that there would be plenty of food available for Master Robin on Christmas Day, but Much told him earnestly that he wanted to do it, wanted to make something for Robin...

Finally Thornton agreed and handed Much five pence that he would be able to spent for whatever he needed. Much realized quickly that he still would have to sneak spices from the kitchen, as he wouldn't be able to afford them with the money.

He had set aside the day before Christmas Eve for the endeavor. The morning was a busy one, as Robin had wanted his company and had asked him to follow him to Knighton. He already knew what for; lately Robin had taken a keen interest in sneaking up to Lady Marian's room. Her father surely would not like the idea, and Robin had pleaded with Much to keep watch.

So Much had accompanied him. He knew that it was unlikely to see Sir Edward, as he spent much of his time in Nottingham. What made sense of course, as he was the sheriff after all, Much mused, watching the window that Robin had climbed into minutes earlier. Robin still wanted to have Much warn him in case the man did return. Of course, as far as Much knew his master, it wouldn't necessarily mean that he would actually do so. Robin seemed to like the thrill.

No interferences had happened in the course of the hour that Robin had spent inside, and finally they made their way back to Locksley, were Robin was to attend to the matters that came with his position, a position he liked to forget about just too easily when he was away to have fun, as he called it. Once again on this day, pleasure had come before business, but now Robin was up in the study with Thornton, and Much had free range to do as planned.

Everything had gone according to plan, until Robin, apparently having put aside business soon, strode into the room where Much was just preparing the dough. He looked up, eyes wide, hoping Robin wouldn't realise he was seeing his Christmas present being made. Much wanted it to be a surprise, after all.

Robin didn't question it, but wandered around in the room instead, a pensive expression on his face that made Much wonder what his master was up to. He continued kneading the dough, attention focused on his task once again, when the room suddenly fell dark, only the small shine of the setting sun streaming inside.

"Why's there only one candle burning?" Robin asked then and Much looked up to only see his silhouette, realising that the man had extinguished the candle, though he could not come up with a reason as to why.

"Thornton only wants us to use one candle at a time," Much explained.

"But it's Christmas!" Robin insisted.

Much nodded, moving to light it again. Once it was burning, he returned to his dough, while Robin looked around the room for more candles to burn. He lit them one by one then, bathing the room in a flickering bright light.

Much was busy rolling out the dough, when Robin spoke up again.

"Can you do this?"

He looked up. "Can I do what, Master?"

Robin held up his hand, spreading the fingers that were so often drawing a bow. Then Robin snuffed out three candles in one quick motion, before showing his unsinged fingers with a grin.

"Yes, of course I can," Much assured him, flattening the dough further.

Robin seemed disappointed, but lit the candles once again. "I can do it with my eyes closed!"

"But surely, Master-!"

It was too late. Robin had closed his eyes and had tried to snuff the candles with his fingers once again. He missed the second one though and Much saw with horror as his sleeve caught fire.

"Master!"

He didn't know if it was because of his call or due to the fact that his sleeve had suddenly turned very hot that Robin noticed that something was wrong, his eyes flying open. Much was already by his side, trying to extinguish the fire with his own clothing. Robin at first looked at the fire in surprise, before waving his arm upwards, hoping to erase the fire, catching Much unaware.

Later Much was simply glad that they were both alive, and reasonably well. His baking had had to wait. Much had taken care of the singes at Robin's arm, thanking God that it was only a superficial burn. Still, his master was hurting, and it caused an ache in Much, too. No matter that it was Robin's own fault of course.

"Uhm, not being funny... but I don't get it... where does the hat play in?"

Much glanced at Robin again, but figured that the worst part of the story was already told.

"My hair got singed pretty badly when Robin pulled up his arm," he explained. "I had to cut it off."

"Is this true?" Djaq questioned.

Robin nodded. "It looked bad." He shrugged and Much wondered if it was actually embarrassment that he saw in his friend's face. "So I gave Much the hat for Christmas, so he could cover his head till his hair had grown out again."

"But you still kept it."

Much nodded. "I got it from Robin," he said with a small smile, looking down into the fire that was still warming their camp.

"Not going to let this one near the fire anymore though," Allan pointed out, shaking his head. "Don't want to see camp going up in flames."

Much laughed, once again setting his hat right on his head.