A/N: An Allan and Much friendship story, following the events of "Turk Flu." No slash. Enjoy and please review! Thanks!

Much shifted upon his bed, if one could call it that—it was only a bedroll upon the ground. However, it was not the hard ground or thin blanket that kept him awake tonight. It was the groaning—nay, the roaring—of his stomach that was keeping him away from sleep. He winced as a slight spasm of pain jerked his stomach. He rolled around and instantly regretted it; the lack of food was making him sick to his stomach and the movement had not helped him at all. He would surely perish tonight for lack of food! Oh, the food he would eat when his fast was over! A sudden sound pulled him out of his self-pitying thoughts. It sounded like retching. Allan...

Cautiously, Much raised himself from his bed and looked about. Allan was near by, leaning against a tree. Much winced as Allan retched violently. Poor soul...

He seemed to be worse off than before. It was a good thing that Much trusted Robin's judgment about the plant that Allan had run afoul of, or else Much should be quite worried now.

"Allan?"

Allan's only response was a slight shudder and then a violent retch. He was pale white and his eyes rolled about listlessly, as if he could not quite focus on anything. Much put a hand on his shoulder.

"Sit down. I shall be right back."

Much moved back to the ring of bedding surrounding the fire. He snatched up Allan's blanket. Returning to Allan, Much draped the blanket around his friend's shoulders.

"Here, this should help a bit—with the shudders, at least."

Allan managed a half nod before being overcome with a fierce fit of dry heaves. Much squeezed his shoulder in sympathy.

"Nothing to do now, my friend, except to wait for it to pass, Robin said."

Allan's shoulders slumped glumly.

"I will wait up with you. Perhaps that will help it pass easier. I shall think of something to pass up the time more quickly." Much thought for a minute, then exclaimed, "I have it! I shall sing you a song! Perhaps of Locksley? I have..."

Allan aimed a weak slap the direction of Much, who moved quickly out of his way.

"Perhaps not, then. I was only trying to help." Much sulked for a moment, then another thought struck him. "A tale, perhaps?"

Without waiting for a reply and knowing he was out of Allan's reach, Much launched into a tale.

"When I was a lad, we used to have such times up at the Locksley Manor, and such feasts! Of course, I did not eat with the Lords and Ladies, but Cook—bless her—saved some back for us. Once Master and all his guests were served, we could eat. Such foods—roast mutton, leg of lamb, soups, pastries...!" Much broke off as his stomach growled in protest.

"Let us not speak of food," He muttered weakly, to which Allan only groaned in agreement.

Much sat in silence for a minute, trying hard to banish all thoughts of Locksley and great feasts from his mind. He wondered what else they could do to pass the time. He would not sing (only because he did not wish to wake the others and not at all because he could not sing) and he could not tell a tale now, because all good tales involved food. He sighed mournfully. It could be worse, though, he thought, trying to be cheerful: he could be Allan! He turned to look at his friend, who had been surprisingly silent for several minutes. Allan was sound asleep, still pale white, but looking rather peaceful. Well, Much liked that! He had offered to sit up with his friend and now he was asleep. That was gratitude for you. Especially since Much himself still could not sleep. Rather disgruntled, Much made his way back to his bed. He would lie awake all night, trying to banish all thoughts of food from his mind.

"How are we this morning, Allan? Better?" Robin stood over his friend. Allan stretched the crick in his neck and smiled.

"Yes," he stood up and with a grin, punched Robin lightly on the shoulder, "I'm not being funny, mate, but if you ever, ever give me another plant to chew, I will kill you."

Robin laughed. "You are better, indeed. Come eat some breakfast. Much has already attacked the supplies. You should hurry before he eats it all."

"Or breaks into song," Grinned Allan, remembering the night before, "Oy, Much save me some! I did not eat last night either, you know!"

Robin laughed as his friend ran off in pursuit of a good breakfast.