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Deer were sometimes the Lord's dumbest creatures. Dashing out in front of Robin's (well, the Sheriff's) horse, and said horse (proving its species next in the line of idiocy) had reared, lost its rider, and bolted. Now, at any other time, Robin would have more sympathy for the animal; he'd been startled seeing the buck, too. But as Robin lay sprawled on the ground, his right hip and leg sending bolts of agony, he had no sympathy to spare.
Especially since said horse had abandoned him. Robin took a deep breath, steadied himself, and pulled himself to his feet. Or attempted to. His right side refused to cooperate and Robin collapsed back to the ground, his ankle and hip protesting the loudest. Perfect.
He was miles from camp, and winter was fast approaching. No snow or ice yet, but the temperatures were dipping too low for any sort of comfort these days. He dragged himself a few feet to rest against the base of a tree. But not for long, though; he had to make it back to camp before nightfall. The ground was already freezing him, and that was with daylight keeping the worst of the temperatures at bay. If he didn't make it back…well, it didn't bode well.
His men would undoubtedly start to look for him once nightfall hit, but fool that he was, he'd wanted to keep this adventure private and so had told no one of his destination. He was on his own.
"You're quite a mess, aren't you, Locksley?"
Robin opened his eyes. A few yards away stood none other than Will Scarlett, holding the reins to his horse.
"Will, you are a miracle. What are you doing here?"
"Not much of a miracle, Locksley. Your horse is lame."
Wonderful. "Let me see." Groaning, Robin grabbed the tree trunk behind him with both hands, slowly, laboriously pushing himself to his feet without putting any weight on his injured side.
Will watched his struggle.
Winded but finally, carefully, balanced on his feet, Robin caught his breath. "Thank you for your assistance."
Will didn't bat an eye. "Told you it wasn't much of a miracle." Then he gestured. "It's his left leg." But finally Will had mercy on him and walked the horse the last few feet over to him. Robin watched the horse's movements, and yes, he was definitely favoring his left foreleg. Holding the saddle for balance, Robin made as much of an inspection as he could, running his hand down the animal's leg. His favorite horse was quiet and cooperative, and if Scarlett hadn't been there, Robin might have apologized to the animal for his earlier, bitter thoughts against it.
"Fortunately, it doesn't seem too serious, but he'll be out of commission for a few days."
"Well, he'll have to suffer through it for a few more hours."
Robin frowned. "I'm not going to ride him, Will, he's lame."
"And how else are you going to make it back, Locksley? I'm not carrying you."
Robin had to admit to the logic of that. But it would most likely mean his favorite steed would thus be out of commission for weeks, not days. But, it was the only feasible way.
But as he gathered himself to mount up, he realized they had another problem. He could barely put any weight on his right leg, the usual first requirement when putting the left foot in the stirrup. He considered his options. He could try to balance on his left foot and then hop up into the stirrup, but, realistically, it was too high. It might have been possible after several tries and two good legs to practice with, but one wrong attempt and he knew he'd crash onto his injured side, and that decisively was not something he desired to do.
There was only one thing for it. "I'm going to need your assistance."
Will wrinkled his nose. "I told you, I'm not carrying you."
And he was definitely going to balk at what Robin actually needed. "I can't get into the stirrup from here with just one good leg."
Scarlett had always been the sharpest of the outlaws in Sherwood; his eyes flicked between Robin and the horse once and he got it.
"You can't be serious."
"It's the only way I'll get up there."
"Then you're walking back, Locksley." Will turned away, shaking his head in continuous denial. Somehow still filled with a little hope despite that reaction, Robin waited him out.
And finally, Scarlett let out one final huff of resignation. Then he did what Robin would have sworn the man would have rather died before ever doing; he knelt before a noble.
Robin took a careful breath, gathering himself. He knew Will's generosity would only last through one attempt.
Holding the saddle in a death grip, Locksley took a gentle, careful hop with his left foot and landed on Scarlett's kneeling leg. Will grunted at the weight but his hands shot out to steady Robin's foot. Gathering himself again, Robin hopped off Will's leg and made it to the stirrup. Carefully, he straightened and began pulling his right leg over the horse's back. Will's hands were now supporting his side as he slowly, painfully but successfully, got his leg over.
Will immediately pulled away as Robin breathed through the pain.
"Thank you."
Will just grunted, and began the leading the horse on. The poor animal was hobbling but managing, and Will kept the pace slow.
Robin repeated his question from before. "What were you doing way out here?"
"I come this way all the time; you're the oddity here, not me."
"Well, I'm glad you do. I was just cursing myself a fool for coming alone but then you appeared." Robin could have sworn he heard Will mutter under his breath about him still being a fool.
Robin waited but evidently Will was not as curious as he. But he felt the need to keep the silence from becoming awkward. "I was attempting to visit the abbey. My parents and I used to go there when I was a child. The monks would let us look through their collection. The stories and illustrations in the books always amazed me."
Will seemed to have no interest in literature and instead focused in on the first part of his story. "You said 'attempting'?"
"Yes, well, evidently they don't allow just anyone to visit, and since I didn't initially tell them who I was, they were not inclined to believe I truly was Robin of Locksley."
"You told them your name? That was reckless."
"Not so much. I don't think news had reached them that I had even returned to England, much less that I was an outlaw."
"Maybe the monks are clueless, but not the villagers." Will dug in his cloak and pulled out a folded parchment. "You're up to 500, Locksley. Congratulations."
Robin had to smile at the artist's attempt at a drawing of him. "I told Lady Marian I would get my reward up to a thousand."
"Nobles do have the strangest goals."
Robin tucked the reward poster away. "And what are your goals, Will?"
"To wait for the thousand and turn you in."
Robin snorted in amusement. "You're such a poor liar."
That drew the other man up. "You don't think I would?" Menace in his voice.
But still Robin could only laugh at him. "Will, I was without weapons, alone, injured so I could barely have put up a fight, but you found me and my horse, and are currently leading me back to camp. I don't think you're out to kill me." Anymore was left unsaid.
Will's grip on the reins tightened. "Maybe I'm leading you straight to Nottingham."
"Don't take offense. It was meant as a compliment."
"I don't need any compliments from you."
"Fair enough." So prickly. Still. "So, besides my eventual murder, what other goals do you have in your life?"
Will shrugged. "I'm an outlaw and a peasant. All I hope for is to survive the winter."
A very practical goal. And one he was worried about; he'd thought - hoped - his vendetta against Nottingham would have succeeded by now. "Will this be your first winter in the forest?"
"No, I've been here for years."
Doubtful but Robin would allow him his exaggerations. "What of your family?"
An annoyed huff. "Don't have any, Locksley."
And okay, if Robin had thought before he'd asked the question, it would have been obvious. "I'm sorry." But the damage had been done, and the few moments of easy conversation drifted away.
Silence descended for a few minutes. Robin knew he should just give up, chances were he was only going to make things worse if he continued talking, but he had to try to salvage that momentary truce. "If you remember," he continued delicately, "I now share your situation; I have no family either." And while he hadn't been looking for sympathy, he was still a little disappointed at the lack of reaction. He knew Will didn't like any comparison to him, a spoiled rich boy, being like Will, John, and all the other outlaws. But there were similarities. They all had been hurt by Nottingham, and while the others had lost homes, a bitter part of him wanted to scream from the treetops that he had lost the last remaining member of his entire family.
The bitterness and sadness that he'd inadvertently dredged up made him trail off from the conversation, lost in his thoughts. Six years of war and prison and he'd been intoxicated with the idea that he'd at long last see his father again. The utter joy he'd felt as he'd jumped from the boat and danced his way home, thinking of the tear-filled, prodigal reunion he'd share with his father. And it had already been a lie, his father having been murdered, mutilated, and left to rot months before.
Scarlett was watching him. "Is that why you wanted to visit the abbey?"
"Because it reminded me of my family? I suppose I did hope to encounter good memories there." They'd been happier times.
Will had stopped. Becoming aware of what he'd done, he quickly resumed walking. "It's a shame they didn't let you in."
And Robin found he was able to translate Will's prickly speech better. That was the closest Will Scarlett would probably ever come to offering him condolences on his loss. "Thank you."
They travelled in silence, each lost in his thoughts, until finally Robin noticed. "Will, it's snowing."
"The cleverest noble alive, Locksley. It's been snowing for a half hour."
"Look at it."
"It's England and it's winter. It's nothing you haven't seen before."
"Will Scarlett, stop walking right now and enjoy the beauty before you."
Surprisingly, Will drew to a halt. And whether or not Will enjoyed it, he was quiet as Robin watched the snowflakes fall through the trees.
England. He'd missed it so.
"My first snowfall in six years," Robin murmured.
Finally, Will stirred. "Can we go now, Locksley? It'll be dark soon and we need to get you home."
Robin startled at the last bit and shot a glance at Will, who only just seemed to realize his own phrasing and quickly pressed on, resolutely ignoring the other man. Robin knew better than to comment, but he couldn't stifle a smile.
Eventually, they made it to camp, fortunately before John and Azeem sent out search parties. The other outlaws quickly gathered to help Robin off the horse and to tend to his injuries. The crowd of peasants bustled around their hurt leader, and within seconds, Scarlett had disappeared. Robin had hoped to be able to thank him further, but he supposed he should have expected Will's quick retreat, not wanting anyone to notice his helpful actions toward the man he so openly despised.
Days later, Robin was managing to hobble around camp with the aid of a stick. He'd not injured anything too grievously, thank the Lord for small favors, but it was still painful.
Much hailed him, holding a cloth sack in his hands. "Oi, Robin. Some monk brought you something."
That captured his attention. Slowly Robin reached into the bag and pulled out the one bulky item within. A book. A full, complete, laboriously hand-copied and illustrated tome. Robin ran his hand over the intricately designed cover. This wasn't right. "A monk just came and gave you this? What did he say?"
"Oh, I don't know. He gave it to Scarlett, but Scarlett told me to give it to you."
"Did you see the monk?"
"No. Was I supposed to?"
"No, Much, that's fine."
Robin tracked Will down. "You stole a book from a monastery?"
Will rolled his eyes. "I knew Much was useless."
"You robbed a bunch of monks."
"It's not like I stole the Bible, Locksley. And once you finish with it, I can put it back."
"I want you to give it back right away."
Will opened his mouth to argue then closed it with an angry click of his teeth. "Very well, m'lord," he spat, grabbing the book and spinning on his heel. And suddenly Robin understood.
"Wait."
Scarlett glared. "What now?"
"You're right. It's already stolen; I might as well read it first." He gestured. "May I have it back?" The other man reluctantly surrendered it back to him. "Thank you, Will, it was very thoughtful of you."
Will began to snarl.
"I promise to get my reward up to one thousand gold pieces as quickly as possible."
Will glared at him but, finally, a reluctant smile twitched at his lips. "I'll hold you to that, Locksley."
Robin grinned back, holding tight to the present Will had given him. It was a good reminder.
It didn't matter that he had no family left. He still had friends who cared about him.
And how strange to think that Will Scarlett might be becoming one of those?
A miracle, indeed.