Sherwood Adventures -- Part I (of II or III)

[queenofmay]

Marian leaned against one of the paddock fences, watching him finish up afternoon work she still hasn't sure he actually had to do, studying the horizon. "It is rather impossible to miss how beautiful this place is, when the sky isn't red."

It seemed so long ago, trying to remember when it was all foreign. Back before looking at all of it filled part of her heart with fondness and deep recognition. Back when, she was all too aware, they had first met and parted.

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[queenofmay]

"I think it would be very much, both. But he probably didn't realize I was gone," Marian said, a little more blatantly honest in saying than feeling. "Time stops here while I'm gone frequently, for months at a time, and he hasn't seen Milliways since a while after you left."


Marian glanced at him, the lightness touching her eyes finally, as she was finishing placing her own parcels. "If you haven't noticed, Sherwood is missing a derth of helpful Doors to change that."

[the_seafarer]

As a matter of fact, he had noticed that, and before Much had said anything. It was in the way neither of them had mentioned a way back, nor said anything about how long this surprise visit might be, but when he swings up into the saddle, he finds a smile for her, wry though it might be.

"I have faith," he says, simply. "Aslan has paths through many worlds. I cannot think he has led me here without giving a way back. And mayhap we were meant to take this task, or some other."

Milliways sometimes has a way of deciding others' fates for them, without request.

[queenofmay]

Marian hadn't been referencing his own need for it, only Robin's own obvious inability to get to them here, and, thus, she stiffened a little when she realized he was.

Leading them away toward the way they'd came from, toward the rise, she did decide to say at least one of the many things she'd thought I about. "I do think you should consider coming back, later tonight. You could still meet them all."

And it might be far safer than sneaking him in and hiding him in Nottingham. It would be hard enough explaining her own absence, were it noted. It might not be. There were whole days people left her alone, as though forgotten and not existing.

But she'd been very specific again. You and not we this time.

[the_seafarer]

"Perhaps," he says, neutral.

It's unlikely. Robin and his men, though interesting to him, are not Caspian's friends and they would probably not be likely to enjoy having a stranger in their midst if they are all as wary of new faces as Much is. And without Marian there -- well, surely, she must be needed elsewhere. This is her world, with her responsibilities and tasks, and if she cannot go back to the outlaw camp, then logic says she feels she must be somewhere else.

He's the one who's out of place, here: he cannot expect to tag along with Marian wherever she goes, and yet he's wary of heading off by himself. He doesn't know this land or this world, and though he has his sword, he knows better than others what might befall a stranger in a new world.

"You have other tasks tonight?"

[queenofmay]

"It is as you said," Marian didn't deny. "I am home. It brings with it certain, other, obligations." Though her heart twisted at the word chosen, waring with her.

A life was on the line. But there were always lives on the line, no matter which way she turned here. And did she have any right to say that this one was any more important than that one. Even if it was hers.

Even as she was putting it off for others, still.


But it was still early, if mid-afternoon, and "We don't have to decide now," Marian said, leading them back through the small hills. "There's still time for all of this, first." Because she would make time for it. For them. And for him.

She gave him another glance, "Would you prefer the forest or the road?"

[the_seafarer]

"There never is a shortage of those."

Obligations, duty, the need to take responsibility: these are things he and Marian have talked over many times. He knows she has things here that must be done, people who must be taken care of.

It's part of the reason why they are such good friends. Those responsibilities -- obligations -- are something they both know well.

At her question, though, he leans forward in the saddle, considering, mouth making a thoughtful line. "Oh, the forest, I should think. Unless there's anything terribly interesting on the road or it's much faster."

[queenofmay]

"It is more direct," she admitted, easily. "But-" And this brought the haze of a smile back to her lips. "Not nearly as beautiful."

Or fun. Which her expression seemed to imply.


She turned the stallion toward the right direction, heading through the trees, at a canter now. Bound and determined at least to love this, for so long as she might have it within her fingers.

[the_seafarer]

"I've often found the direct road to be far more mundane," he agrees, smiling back at the hint of warmth he sees in her eyes, at the fondness in her voice.

It's true, for the most part: that's why Narnia, in general, doesn't have a lot of large byways and roads, though the Calormenes mourn the lack of easy travel by land. Besides, he's found it to be true in his life as well: the hard road is harder, but usually more interesting as well.

Kiseki follows the stallion through the trees, stepping easily and quietly as they go. "You know these paths well," Caspian comments, after a moment. "I dare say you have never needed the road."

[queenofmay]

"I could not agree to that, Lord Caspian," Marian said, her smile beginning to run away with her mouth, as she was looking at all of the trees that whipped past them. There is a brilliant ease to memories that far back.

"When I was younger than I should have been, to ever be roaming freely without my chaperone's, I got lost quite often for a while." She looked over, shadows and sunlight, darkening and brightening her in an endless weaves as they rode on through Sherwoods' afternoon.

"But, one has a habit of remembering well the terrifying places one can't get out, once they have found their way out of them. Especially if they manage to get out of them all on their own."

Which she had managed, at least half of the time.

[the_seafarer]

He can just imagine her, a curious, wayward child, so caught in wandering the woods that she lost track of where she was or ought to be, and the image makes him grin to himself.

It's hard to think of Marian as anything but at home in the forest, surrounded by deep shade and green, growing things.

"As long as you found your way back again, that doesn't sound too terrible," he points out. "I was never allowed to wander anywhere as a child, unless it was within the castle grounds, or unless I was accompanying my aunt."

He'd hated escort duty as a child, but done his best, been as polite to his cold Aunt Prunaprismia as possible, but it was distasteful. No one likes to be forced to spend time with someone who so clearly dislikes them.

[queenofmay]

After more than half her life in it, it would be hard for Marian to look anything but at home in this place. It was so much a part of who she'd been, who she was. One of the only things that never changed as everything else turned upside-down and inside-out.  

"I am uncertain 'allowed' ever came into it," Marian said. Then, or Now, as she considering the stallion and her supposed House Arrest. 

But her smirk softened with his other words. "Though now you have the ramble of worlds within worlds from your time to the improbable ends of so many others."

[the_seafarer]

"You probably had fewer guards," he tells her, but he's grinning, because in reality, Marian was probably a far more fearless child than he. He'd been kept in ignorance until the night Doctor Cornelius brought him to the tower to whisper the truth of his uncle's betrayal, content to daydream of old times that would never, he believed, arise again.

"But there was no place I could not go, later. And now, of course, there are all the worlds one could imagine."

It's unlikely he'll see much more of them other than Sherwood or Ambergeldar, but the options are there. "It's everything a sailor like myself could wish for."

That isn't quite true, but ... it's true enough.

[queenofmay]

She knows the way of those words, as though she said them herself. And she has said several variations of them over time. Especially because of Milliways, or friends therein. 

But she is content to let him have them, to only give a frank glance as they are spoken, and half a smile, that is far more half nodding. One did not speak of 'what more could be wished for,' without calling those first words into question. 

And some things were better left to still loving the day's sun that could be had. 


Instead of words, she lets her expression and smile become a mischievous challenge as she pressed her heels into the stallion more certainly urging them on to a slow run. 

[the_seafarer]

He sees her smile brighten just before she shifts in the saddle and the stallion pushes forward into a long stride that sends them both ahead, her hair bouncing on her back and shoulders, earning another, answering grin from him as he leans forward.

"Come on, then," he tells Kiseki, and clucks, digging in with his heels so the gelding breaks into a faster pace to follow.

[queenofmay]

Sherwood, in Marian's opinion, was made for this. 

Dodging and diving through the brush, trees with no pattern, leaves sliding and skittering every which way, and animals with them. Over hills that spring up, down through dips, and even right through a small stream, that caused her laugh as the stallion splashed in the far edge rather than making the whole jump in one. 

[the_seafarer]

Kiseki can't match the stallion on clear, level ground, but here, in the brush, he can keep up well enough. At any rate, she isn't difficult to follow, not when he can hear the pattern of hoofbeats ahead and the clear laugh that's muffled by a splash of water that foams about its hooves. Kiseki follows with a shake of his head, sending drops of water splashing on his belly and Caspian's legs and whatever slight shadow seemed to have fallen over them earlier is now lightened.

Which is how it should be, here in deep emerald woods, where trees might not speak, but still fill him with peace and delight.

[queenofmay]

This, here, is when she can forget. When she could, before, anything. Forget anything, outrace anything that tried to track her. When the green and brown became a soft blur at the edge of everything, when there was no other world, it was only this.


This endless expanse of trees that seem never to end. Only deeper and deeper in copses endless. This rich scent of summer, the filtered light. These passing seconds where she can remember, the joy and boundless freedom, that shivers as the edges as though to break from memories and envelope her again.

[the_seafarer]

She's right that it's a good ride to the village, but he can't mind the distance and even Kiseki seems happy for the chance to stretch his legs a little. All around them is the clear golden light as it sifts through the leaves, the scent of earth and damp bark and growing things. He'd be happy just to be here, in the forest, for however long his stay might prove to be, but eventually the trees begin to thin and traces of civilization can be seen, farmland opening up before them as the lands unfolds and the forest withdraws.

It's a small village, and clearly poor, but the land looks carefully tended and the houses, though shabby, are neat.

"I suppose this is our destination?" he asks, but the answer isn't needed: if this isn't a village in need of aid, he'll eat his boots.

[queenofmay]

Not that it has ever been perfect, that anything ever does or did, but that isn't what she sees when she looks at it. She sees a wedding that took place when she was so small she had to hold her father's hand, strung with more candles and flowers than is possible except to the conceptions of childhood. 

The man who lived there that lost an ear, that second spring. The woman knotted the most colorful fair shawls. Names, families  The children that she could probably still get all within a year or two.  The ones who've left. The ones who were dead. Barred. Outlawed. The certain houses that looked like they might not weather the next storm coming, no less the onslaught of winter snow in a few months time. 

Errant whispers that tug on Marian's heart, and narrow her gaze, even when she can hear the pride that rings in her tone. "Yes. Welcome to Nettlestone Village."

She slowed then to walk as they headed toward the houses. Eventually getting close enough, to choose pulling him to a stop to get down. As would be proper. Smiling to him, before she vanished over the side of the stallion, in a way that had nothing to do with the uncertain, hush whisper of her name as they got closer. 

[the_seafarer]

He follows Marian: this is her world, a village she knows, people she knows and who know her. The villagers come gathering around once the horses come to a halt and Marian swings down from her saddle to great them, her face alight and her voice soft and kind. These people love her, that much is clear, as much as they might love Robin for bringing them food and supplies.

More, mayhap.

He dismounts, landing lightly on his feet at Kiseki's side, and comes face to face with a boy about thirteen, face dirty and eyes wary. "Who're you?" the boy asks, and Caspian shakes his head.

"A friend. We've just come to drop a few things off for you."

A woman who could only be the boys mother comes up behind him, her face worn but kind, her hands twisting in a rough apron as she wipes them off.

"We weren't expecting anyone," she says, warily, but he tries to assure them that they don't need to be concerned: he is not here to tattle to the Sheriff.

"See?" he says, taking down one of the packages and opening it up to show bread and vegetables. "Just trying to help."

[queenofmay]

People she has not seen in ages, faces that were wary, because they know who she was by relation more than why she'd be here, because they know what has happened to the Old Sheriff and his daughter. Faces, still, that blossom like frost bitten flowers on hearing there is food and Robin's name.

Bags and boxes pulled down, to the surprised exclamations of many. Especially by children, whose smiles lack the embarrassed or ashamed relief of their parents. Who laugh, when their hair is tousled, and they are handed apples, running around under foot as though it is a fair and not simply a drop off. How it is, both to it's detriment and triumph.

Marian could only be pleased (headed toward a few of the houses further back, led by a waifish young girl with red hair, barely the height of her shoulder) as she glanced back to see Caspian clustered by some of the others still.The first was the baker they'd been told to seek out. The second, supposedly the house of a family where the mother was ailing.

The door was open, and she was handing things over, as she'd watched the woman's eyes widen. Marian glancing over her shoulder to catch whatever everyone seemed to be all at once. The sound of racing hooves, and the cloud of dusts just barely warning of the black uniformed riders who came barreling down the forest road, bursting from the trees.

[the_seafarer]

This is something he's been missing: Milliways has its share of attractions, but it's good to be out and among people he doesn't know, trying to lend a hand and help ease their burdens. The children cluster around Kiseki and the stallion, giggling as Kiseki nuzzles at tow-headed curls and dark braids, and he crouches to talk to them, giving them the responsibility of carrying food back to their parents, who put it away and then come to speak to him, to shake hands and thank him and Marian.

He can see her, off near some of the houses, and her smile is bright and clear -- she's like some lovely messenger among these poor villagers, bringing a little ease and hope wherever she goes.

He's looking in her direction and so he sees the way one of the men she's with pushes her unceremoniously into a house and shuts the door when horses come thundering out of the forest road and into the village, carrying men in uniforms and mail who clearly mean ill. There's no time to mount, but pushes a child who had been frozen at Kiseki's side back towards his mother, before staring down the guard as they pull their horses to a halt.

"So," the lead man sneers, "Robin's men are here after all. Whose horse is that, boy?"

"Mine," answers Caspian, without looking towards the house where Marian is hiding. "I mean no harm."

[queenofmay]

About as unceremonious as one could get, and so surprisingly, it choked her from breathing and managing to shout, Run! The hammer of her heart not as loud as the door, not even when she's looking up from the graceless pile of fallen with the woman who'd originally been in the doorway.

"What do you think you are doing?" The heart was a hummingbird, located moving from the center of her chest to her throat.

"I'm sorry, ma Lady," the man said, still leaning against almost the whole of the door. He was listening, listening, stock still, like a rabbit ready to run before wolves. Maybe a third smaller than John.

"Let me out of here. Now," Marian demanded, approaching him. Thinking she'd gone through larger men to get what she had to. She couldn't just stand here.

"You think they wouldna recognize you, too?" was the wheeze from the woman behind her, getting up with the help of a bench.

Too. Even when she knows -- she has no mask, no cape and disguise, no weapons; none that they would know, none anywhere near -- it's that word that blisters worse. That sends her past a chair, to the window. Not to break it. They would recognize her at the furthest distance even. The Sheriff's prisoner. Somehow escapred. And her father.

But. Caspian. Caspian. The name like a knife in her heart. Shinning like the sun on his bright hair. Surrounded by six of The Sheriff's guards. Too. Except it had been a lie. That he was one of Robin's Men. And she was one of the only people who would know that. Not including anyone else in the now deserted village.

And maybe she could manage the man at the door to her side.

But she could not take down six of them, unarmed.

[the_seafarer]

He hears the last door shut somewhere behind him -- that's good, at least the people are inside. The Sheriff's men ride in a slow circle around him and come to a halt so that he's surrounded: one man, hands open, with two nervous horses by his side.

"No harm, is it?" The lead man leans forward, leather creaking as he leers at Caspian. "Seems to me like you've been spreading some bounty what isn't yours."

"Is it a crime to bring food to starving people?" he asks, mildly, and the man chuckles.

"It is in these woods. Seize him!"

That last is barked to the men flanking Caspian, but he's quick, draws his sword and swings as one of the guards comes at him. There's a flash of metal and a bright gash of blood, and the man yells in pain, holding his injured arm to his chest as Caspian stands with his back to Kiseki, eying the men around him and looking for a weak spot.

In the end, it's Kiseki who betrays him: he's a horse trained for pleasure rides, not warfare, and he panics at the sound of clashing iron and his master's blade shining near his head; rearing, he tries to bolt, and Caspian reaches for the bridle, turning his back on the Sheriff's men only to feel a sharp shock to the back of the head. Pain flashes dully behind his eyes before everything goes black and he crumples to the ground, sword clattering from his unconscious hand, Kiseki dancing nervously as a Sheriff's man grabs his reins..

The guardsman dismounts and walks over to prod his inert body with a toe, then nods at the others, who quickly sling him over Kiseki's back and tie him there. "The other one, too," the man says, looking at the stallion and remounting his own dancing horse.

"We'll find out soon enough who he belongs to."