Too Sexy For The Law
Guy of Gisborne stalked the halls of Nottingham castle like a man in a daze. He had gotten little sleep the night before; instead he'd tossed and turned till dawn as memories haunted him. Memories of the Holy Land, of Marian taunting him with her love for the outlaw. And the rage, the white hot rage that had filled his mind and heart. Every smile, every look and every kiss had been a lie, she'd used him, and in that rage he'd struck back. In one moment of pure uncontrolled passion he had destroyed the one thing in the world he'd desired more then money or position. Now he buried the thoughts of her, she was gone and he could not afford to wallow, the sheriff had made that perfectly clear.
He'd just turned the corner to the sheriff's quarters when a very familiar face stormed past, obviously quite displeased. Guy stared after him a moment frozen as if he'd seen a ghost then quickening his pace he passed through the now open doorway to find the Sheriff fondling a hapless bird attempting to calm himself.
"My Lord?" The Sheriff turned to face him, his expression less then welcoming and Guy closed the door with a sinking feeling.
"It's would seem that news of your beloved harpies fate has reached all the way to London." Guy paled a little as his employer replaced the twittering creature to it's cage.
When they had returned to England the Sheriff made it known that the Lady Marian, still heartsick after the death of her father, had decided to travel the French countryside until she felt she could once more return home. And of course as Sheriff he would manage the estate left to her until her return. But through out Nottingham there was talk of what had really happened in the Holy Land and as in any time or place gossip is the fastest form of communication.
"Who-" Guy started to ask before being abruptly cut off.
"Now young Charles Fitzwalter," the sheriff continued taking a seat at his desk, "after hearing rumours of his nieces untimely death has come all the way from London to claim what is his by right and blah dee da tee da…" He trailed off, reclining in his seat, bare feet on the desk and fingers steepled under his chin.
"But that is not possible." Guy interjected, "Edward willed everything to Marian, the wealth, the lands, everything is to be hers upon marriage."
"Which, of course, is now impossible." A muscle in Guy's jaw twitched as he held his emotions as well as his tongue in check before collecting his thoughts and continuing in a level voice.
"But as far as anyone here is concerned she is still very much alive. He can not just declare her dead."
"True. However, what he can do is insist on us sending word to his dear niece demanding her swift return. And by the end of the month if she has failed to do so he will have no choice but to assume the worst and as next of kin take control of Knighton." The Sheriff was calm, Guy noted, very calm as he spoke, usually he would be in fits at this point and searching for someone to strike. Something told him that his Lord Sheriff had already formulated a plan and he was almost certain he knew what that would be.
"Surly he can be… taken care of?"
"Oh Gisborne," The Sheriff chided as if talking to a small child while Guy's brow furrowed in confusion. "Have you never heard the saying 'know thy enemy' hmm? No? Well, the fact of the matter is," The Sheriff went on getting to his feet and surveying a near by platter, "that when daddy Fitzwalter died and left big brother Edward the lands and the majority of the family's wealth, little Charles went off to London in a huff." After carefully studying a grape he popped it into his mouth. "Since then he's developed some close ties with some very powerful people, among which is our good Prince John. So any sudden 'disappearances' or 'accidents' would not go unnoticed." With that the Sheriff plopped himself back down and tossed another grape into his mouth. "A man after my own heart… if only he was not after my money."
Gisborne refrained from reminding his employer that now Marian was gone the land and wealth of Knighton rightfully belonged to Charles Fitzwalter and there for was not technically 'his' money. "What do you have in mind?" Was what came out instead, because now Guy knew for sure that the Sheriff of Nottingham did indeed have a plan.
A voice wafted through the grassy hills gruff and off key, the lyrics were crud and unknown to Macy; yet she followed the sound, curiosity guiding her. It lead her to a dirt road cutting through the meadow and soon other sounds joined the voice. The soft creak and thump of wooden wheels on a bumpy county road and the sound of hooves trotting at a slow and steady pace.
Squinting through the bright afternoon sun she could make out a small cart heading her way followed by a trail of dust. It was pulled by a single donkey and was not accompanied by any form of guard, which meant nothing particularly exciting, though the driver seemed to be enjoying himself. Macy considered the cart, the long road ahead of her and her sore bare feet before she began walking slowly in the direction it was heading and acting as nonchalant as possible.
As the cart neared closer Macy wondered just how people hitched rides in this century and pondered sticking out her thumb to see if he'd stop when the cart rolled on passed her. The driver pulled furiously at the reigns and cursing the donkey to stop which it did abruptly causing the now irate driver to jerk forward. Quickly righting himself and throwing back his hood the man began straightening out his robes. Now that she could get a good look at him Macy could see he was some sort of monk, clothed in a simple brown robe and rather young. At least younger then Macy's idea of how old a monk should be; cuter too.
"Er… Miss?" A hesitant voice broke through her thoughts and as she blinked repeatedly she realized he'd not only spoken to her but that she'd been staring. "Are you alright miss?"
"What?" Clearing her throat and shaking her head to clear her thoughts Macy donned her best Kira Knightly voice. "Sorry I was miles away, what did you say?"
"I asked if you were alright miss."
"Oh, well, I'm fine thank you."
"What are you doing out hear all on your own?"
"Yes I can see that. Where to?"
Macy bit her lip in thought. "Wherever this road leads I suppose."
"That would be Nettlestone but a pretty young woman such as yourself should not be traveling these roads without escort or footwear, it isn't safe." She unconsciously scrunched back her toes, hiding them under her pant legs, "But I think I have just the solution. Since I am heading in that same direction might I offer you a seat until we get to wherever it is this road ends?" Macy took a calculated moment to consider before climbing up beside the young man with a bright smile.
"I'd be delighted."
Guy of Gisborne paced in front of a line of five young women, all fair faced blue eyed and dark haired. Gisborne been to every village of Nottingham Shire and had yet to find what he was looking for. Now pacing in front of the only viable candidates he feared he'd have to return to the sheriff empty handed. The women themselves were frightened and confused but kept their heads up and eyes forward as instructed as Gisborne's guards kept protesting loved ones at bay.
Guy took in every aspect of the young women in front of him but like all the villages before this one none of them were right. Hands too rough, bad teeth and a plethora of other tiny details that would never match. Not to mention the people who would know, there would be no hiding the truth. It seemed to him the Sheriff really was grasping at straws with this one. In fact it reeked of desperation and that meant there was no alternative but to report back empty handed. A prospect he was not looking forward to.
"Return to your family's," he ordered with a sigh as he mounted his horse, "and rest easy. The fugitive we seek is not here." He reassured, spinning the tale he'd told in every other village before this. "But we will find them, it's only a matter of time." Turning his mount he brought it to a canter, leading his men back towards Nottingham.
"Just a moment," Robin halted the others with a hand just as their camp was in sight,
"about this spirit. Let's not mention it to Little John, alright?" Much nodded in wholehearted agreement but Luke's brow furrowed in confusion.
"Why are we not to mention it to Little John?"
"Are you mad?" Much cried indignantly. "If we tell John there's a spirit haunting the hill of Locksley, we'll never get him out of the forest."
But when the trio walked into camp it was to find it empty, the others not yet back from their rounds. Straight away Much began to build a fire as Robin and Luke stored the weapons. Sending Luke to fetch water Much gathered together the ingredients for a stew and Robin saw this as his chance to slip away for a while.
"Robin?" Or at least it would have been if the concerned tones of Much hadn't made him pause.
"It's alright," he cast a reassuring glance over his shoulder before continuing on, "I'll be back in a bit."
Much just stared at the disappearing back of his former master and best friend. Robin had been like this since before leaving the Holy Land; withdrawn, always going off by himself to 'think'. Brood seemed a more apt description in Much's mind. There was something missing in Robin, he hid it well in front of most people but the gang, well they could all see it.
For all his talk of needing to come home and carry on the war against Prince John and the Sheriff and their lot; the passion he once had, the energy about him that made people love and hate and follow him was gone. And Much was very much afraid that it was gone for good. That it had died with Marian.
Authors Note: So… I blame the Hobbit for this. Seeing it made me want more Richard Armitage in my life and led to me rewatching Robin Hood which led to this. And yes there is more to come. A few thing I should mention real quick, first. Yes, Robin is going through some angst right now but I just couldn't make him his usual perky accessible self after what he's been through. It just wasn't realistic but fear not he will start to come out his funk.
Second is the inclusion of Fitzwalter as Marian's surname. I couldn't ever remembering it being mentioned in the series so I took to the internets and the only place where she's listed with one is on . I am fully aware that this is most likely wrong but if some one out there can correct me I'll change it. If not I'm just going to keep using it.
And finally, I have not to this day seen the third season (series for you non Americans) of this show and I'm not sure I ever will. When I started this fic season two had yet to finish and when it did, this story got one hell of an overhaul as a result. But one thing remained the same which was my inclusion of my own version of classic character Friar Tuck who was based on David Wenham's character in Van Helsing. A younger version who was a bit of a fighter but mostly smart and funny who, I felt, fit with the campy tone of the show I loved. So while Tuck did become a cannon character, I have no idea what he was like. And since this has become wildly AU in regards to the third season I'm not going to change it. I hope you can enjoy it anyway and let me know what you think even if you don't.