Author: Insertusernamehere27 PM
Robin Hood was more than a legend. He was a man in love that fate destined to be one of England's greatest heroes. His Merry Men also had stories to tell as their dramas intertwine and add to the epic adventure as they band of unlikely heroes, make a changeRated: Fiction T - English - Romance/Drama - Chapters: 15 - Words: 54,471 - Favs: 3 - Follows: 2 - Updated: 04-19-13 - Published: 01-30-13 - id: 3096722
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Let us skip a few years. To the year 1190. Our second year of being outlaws.
Do not fret, I shall return to the events in between. For now, you need only know this, we are Robin Hood and the Merry Men, fighting against injustice at the hands of our new ruler, Prince John.
Sherwood Forest. Many call it mighty and majestic. We simply call it home. No matter what could possibly occur in my life, Sherwood will forever be considered my one true home. There is no place in all of England in which I can feel so at peace, despite the constant fight, pain and misery that tended to occur, For, once these moments passed, there was much happiness. And laughter. For I was around my true friends.
A new year brought about new promise. The sun rose of a peaceful forest. Only a small sprinkling of frost remained, despite the cold. This suited me fine. I had never faired well to the cold. But even I could not deny the beauty that it brought with it. Few of my precious green leaves about the trees survived the season but the few that could, positively sparkled. The crunch of underfoot brought about that wonderful feeling. The feeling of a good deed being done. For even in the cold of winter, we continued on in our quest to steal from the rich and give to the poor.
I still hate winter. The main reason of which the beginning of the year 1190 remains in my head was the uncharacteristically short winter. One strolling about Sherwood would never suspect the true time judging simply by sight.
On this particular morning, Sherwood was disturbed from the peaceful lull of the early morning by the sudden interruption of a carriage racing past. The sound of the wheels spinning was only deafened by the voice of the driver, yelling for the horses to go even faster. Two guards had been placed on the back ledge of the said carriage and they were clearly holding on for dear life. Not a thought was spared for them. Nor for the driver or the horses. For the carriage's inhabitant was a man named Sir Frederick and he was the typical example of rich and greedy Norman. Only one thing passed through his mind: the infamous Robin Hood.
It seemed that our legend preceded us. Little more than a name had created upmost terror in a man who had never laid eyes on an outlaw. This was soon to change.
Only one thing could overcome such fear in such a man. And that was love. And not the love we would all like to believe. The only love that kind of man was capable of is love of wealth. This should surprise no one. His only reason for the journey for Nottingham was to do with taxes as he had business with the Sheriff. The nature of this visit was never of interest. The only aspect of interest was the result. And the result, was a considerable amount of gold. This gold could help many a starving family. That was where we came in.
"Faster you fool," he yelled again and the driver obliged. It was obvious that nerves surpassed him if shaking hands were anything to judge by. They were sweaty too but he refused to rub them on his new coat, another example of the frivolous greed of the rich.
All thoughts rushed from his mind when he noticed the carriage slowing. "Did you not hear me?" he roared but it was apparent that it was continuing to lose speed until eventually them came to a complete stop.
Fredrick assumed the worst as he fumbled for the door. He drew himself to his full height as he stumbled out, hoping to intimidate any immediate threat. Initially, there was nothing. Only the restored peace of Sherwood. Looking back he saw his two guards. The ones he had instructed to be ready at any cost. They were tied to each other and gagged with a look of fear in their eyes. His driver too was bound and scared, still sitting in the driving seat. Fredrick quickly spun around, doing anything to find his attacker. The forest was eerily silent and seemingly abandoned.
I thought it would be rude to keep him waiting for a second longer, although I was rather enjoying watching his panic from above. With ease I swung down and gracefully leapt to the forest floor. The man's eyes widened in fear. "Who are you?" he whispered.
I majestically paused. "I am…Allen A Dale." I like to think that I am slightly intimidating but the look on his face told me otherwise. He slumped in relief and almost smirked at me. I knew that I had never been graced with those rippling muscles that made women sigh and men groan in jealousy. I had however been graced with golden hair that may have originally helped my appearance but now did nothing for appearing intimidating in appropriate situations. So I guess his initial confidence was slightly justified.
He laughed as he told me "you sir, chose the wrong man to mess with. I am a master of sword and am sure that I would best Robin Hood himself."
Were the words expected to fill me with fear? They still make me laugh to this day. Acknowledging him seemed frivolous so I just stared beyond him and waited. He feared to follow my gaze as I said calmly, "Well here is your chance."
For this time when Frederick turned, he unmistakable looked upon the face of Robin Hood.
This was not the same boy I had grown up with. His transformation astounded even me as he grew. One day, he was my childhood best friend. The next, he became the hero. The kind that made terrifying guards into trembling fools and beautiful women swoon. But once again, more on that later.
Frederick meanwhile, became quite the amusing spectacle, fumbling for his sword with the little ounce of movement that his fear allowed him. Robin had to hold back laughter as he watched. I was simply bored. Finally, the poor bloke had his sword in his trembling hand. "Really?" Robin asked. In one word he seemed to say, 'do you really think you can fight me?' He sighed and said, "if you insist," and one swift motion, drew his own sword. The ringing sound form the hilt seemed to echo for miles. I had never seen the eyes of a man become so wide in panic. I considered myself quite the hero as I spared him the fight, stooping to pick a rock form the forest floor and hitting as hard as I could on the back of the head.
"Quite a brave man really," Robin noted, putting his sword back in its sheave.
"The best today," I agreed at I jumped into the carriage to retrieve our spoils.
Robin of course would never dream of helping. Somehow, in the years of his transformation, he had gained an intolerable ego. This ego became almost unbearable at many a time. Times like now, when he considered himself so high above me that it would be impossible for his to help. Well, it could be that. There was also the chance that he was far too deep in thought to notice. This happened a lot. Whatever the reason, he remained outside of the carriage, leaning slightly on the high point of his bow, as he thought aloud, "You know, sometimes I wish for a decent fight. Nothing to the death of course, but at least something for a little excitement."
I shook my head at my friend. One day, that ego of his would get him killed. He was never one who was happy in peace. He longed for the fight. And as we have learnt, this attitude often had disastrous consequences. Letting out an impressed whistle, I called out, "pretty good loot though." It took many a heave to even get the chest to the door of the carriage. My struggle clearly amused Robin. "Well you could help," I grumbled.
It took both of us, moving at practically snail pace, to slowly lug the chest back to camp. All the while, I secretly agreed with Robin as I wished things could become a tad more exciting. We had been outlaws for a whole year at that point and the novelty was beginning to wear off. Much had been accomplished. A gang of trusted men had been formed. Taxes had been stolen back form the Sheriff and rightfully returned back to the people. The ransoms on our heads could change the poorest of families into being richer than the Sheriff himself. But this mattered not, for no one would dream of turning us in. The people positively loved us.
But the initial excitement over what we were doing was fading. I had obviously forgotten the term 'be careful what you wish for.' In the years to come, I would many a time wish for the simple times of how we believed that a few stolen taxes could save England. Little did I know that things were about to change.
We were the last ones back to camp, an oddity in itself. Whenever tasks paired or grouped me with Robin, I knew that the results would reflect. What we lacked in time, we made up for in spoils of course. Little John initially thought to brag, thinking himself the unnamed champion of the day. All thought of that was gone when he saw what we carried. I was happy to wipe the smirk from his face, asking "how much did you get then Little John?"
He threw a small pouch at Robin's feet, glaring at me all the while. "Well isn't that adorable?" I said happily.
"Let me carry that for," he said in the gruff voice, easily lifting the trunk that Robin and I had struggled over for a great portion of the morning. This act would not have sounded so impressive if one knew Little John like we did. For he was little more than a giant. He was almost seven foot tall, and wide to boot. Not in fat, as I like to say but in muscle. This, accompanied with scraggily dark hair and beard made for quite an intimidating man. The true secret of Little John was how misleading his appearance was. In all honesty, he was probably the most docile of us all. Save for the times when he was angered. During these time, he easily lived up to his reputation, and became far worse. But we felt safe, knowing that these times only came when someone he cared for was in danger. And as much as he hated to admit it, he cared for us. Therefore, we saw the kind and gentle Little John a lot more than the angered giant.
I may have silenced John's bragging momentarily but there were plenty more Merry Men to take his place in this action. Much was the next to think himself great. "Luke and I were the first ones back!" he said proudly. Such an act was another oddity around camp. Much was not normally the best at things to say the least. It was not from lack of trying. The little runt was just all too easy to make fun of. The trouble was, it was all too easy to make fun of the little man.
Luke liked to say "there is not much to our Much," and this is rather true. Never before had I seen such a small man. And he enjoyed complaining. A lot. It took much restraint to hold ones self back when he was in one of those moods. But somehow, we made it through. It helped to focus on the idea that eh was in fact a good man, beneath that annoying exterior.
"It was only because I could not bear to be around him a moment longer," Luke retaliated to Much, causing much laughter around camp. This was perfectly in character for him, always the dark joker.
"Laugh all you want" Much yelled at everyone "you're all just jealous that I beat you for once. Whose pathetic now aye?"
"Still you" Luke said. Always the joker.
An outsider would have panicked as what appeared to be another Luke stepped towards us. "Everyone stop your cruelty and come eat," he called. These words always had a positive effect around camp.
"At least one brother is nice," Much muttered. He spoke the truth. Despite twins, Mark and Luke were extremely different, uniting only in their love of helping others. Luke would never admit to this though, claiming to be in the Merry Men for the adventure of it all. Having twins in the ranks served us well in those early days. It took many a month before the Sheriff noticed that they were not the same man. Both had dark brown hair and dark beards, all worn in the same style. They enjoyed looking the same. We did not. Especially in early days of attempting to tell them apart.
And so followed the usual meal routine that ended in a near battle every day. The goal, obtain the largest portion of food.
"I'm bigger than all of you so I need to eat more" Little John said as he swooped in the grab the plate. Whether he ate more or not, he seemed to grow regardless.
"Growing bones need more food" Benny said as he swiped it. Whether he ate more or not, the opposite happened. Benny was our youngest member, barley over seventeen years of age and the only Merry Men he was superior too in height was Much. We all anxiously awaited he day he would be required to shave.
"Growing bones are easily broken" John said menacingly and the lad quickly gave him back the plate. I may have stated that John was mellow, but food was one of his weak points and we all knew better than to cross it. We still tried.
All off the commotion did well in re-waking Thomas, who grunted out, "I need it. I'm sick." No one paid any heed to him. There was nothing natural about his so-called 'sickness.' Night after night he could be found at his beloved tavern, drinking way more than his fill. The trouble was, when he was in a normal state, he was a skilled fighter. And his heart was in the right place. If he took the time to cut that greasy brown hair and trim the horrid beard, he would appear halfway decent and be taken seriously. Something about him told the world that he had no wish to be taken so. So his comment was ignored. And he was far too feeling nauseous to actually fight anyone for something that he didn't really wish for.
Luke tried his best to simply snatch without any form of excuse. Matthew was faster. Saving the plate he called over, "come and eat Will! You have no need to train this early."
Such words had no effect on Will. Mornings were for training. Helping the poor was considering training. Everything was training. All in an effort to kill the Sheriff. The man who had killed his Father. "No time," he said simply. And once again his sword was flying, attacking with a mad passion. His poor partner had a different view. Roger only participated in such antics as he thoroughly disliked spending more time around us than he had to. The reason for why he joined the Merry Men was never extremely clear. I suppose that he had the same spark in all of us that demanded we care about others. He was now faced with the two things he hated most, facing injury against an overly determined Will, or spending time with us. For once, we won. But it was a hollow victory. He saw in silence, clearly bored and uncomfortable. The little hair he possessed was smothered down with sweat and the day had barley begun. You see, he was always thoroughly ashamed at his bright red hair and trimmed it as short as possible. This only succeeded in making it stand out all the more.
As you can see, the Merry Men were a rather impressive bunch.
Robin and I had far better things to do. Though Robin's ego often made him just as proud as every other man present, he was a leader when it counted. And plans were to be made. And when there were plans needed, I was needed. I did mention that I had the thinking powers that no other possessed. So times called for us to think of the night ahead. We needed nothing fancy at that time. There was plenty of loot from the day that had to be passed around where it was truly needed. Looking over my records, I could see the villages and the time frames of our last visits. It was obvious that Locksley needed us the most. Between the pair of us, we had different routes planned as we divvied out the areas.
From what we could see, lunch had been a rather peaceful ordeal. Little John had scared them in line and everyone seemed to have finished with minimal injury. Thomas was the only one who had ended up too close for John's liking and now nursed a quickly forming bruise. "Right lads," Robin said and everyone was instantly at attention. It never failed to amaze me to see the transformation of the group when Robin commanded them. Everyone went from a bunch of confused fools so those fearless outlaws, praised around England. "Everyone partner up. The North side is where most of the houses are so I suppose that two pairs best work together there. The others can have a point each. There shouldn't be too many guards tonight so I don't want so see a single injury." He was looking at Much as he said this. We all were.
"Now, kindly don't rush all at once to partner with me," Much said, mocking himself, but only slightly. Everyone rushed in the opposite direction. And I do mean rush. There was quite a scramble. I considered years of friendship and loyalty to take precedence and knew that Robin would most likely pair with me. This wish had nothing to do with Much. I am not too cowardly to admit that I am one of the less skilled members of the Merry Men. If I had not been Robin's friend, I dare say that I would not have joined. Therefore, there is a definite safety quality in being close to someone so skilled. There was little more than a small nod between Matthew and Luke and it was obvious that they were in a pair. Roger appeared to have forgiven Will over the particularly rough training of the morning and stood beside him. Once Thomas snatched Benny's wrist, Little John knew it was over. He was now partnered with Much. He groaned in defeat as everyone else triumphantly rose and prepared all that was needed.
Locksley was everyone's favorite village. It's where most of the men grew up and most still has family there. When we went to Locksley it my understanding that John and Much had an agreement. "We go in together and then split. I don't care where you go but keep your mouth shut and I won't insult you for a week."
"Make it a month" Much tried to banter.
"A week" John said, looking as menacingly as he could manage.
"A week it is" Much agreed and ran off as fast as he could.
And then John was alone to walk about the village he had once called home. He took his time as he wandered about. Having been given the East area, all drop offs were made very quickly. Much knew the ones John wished for him to do which meant for even less work for John. All the while, he enjoyed the memoires of those happier times.
Being one of the older Merry Men, John could remember well the reign of King Henry, Father of King Richard and Prince John. He recalled sitting in the very spot he walked past now and seeing him for the first time. Quite a crowd had gathered to see how their King had honoured their small town with such a visit. But John had others things on his mind. Initially, these were thoughts of his Father, Walter Little. This man never had a thought for things of ambition. There had been love between the pair but not as much as he would have liked. The Locksley graveyard appeared in plain view and John wondered if he should stop to honour his Father. But there were other things for him to do on that night. He paused for a moment and muttered a silent prayer in respect for his Father's soul. No tears were spilt but respect was always plentiful.
Moving on, he reached the town well, an area that held far more significance for him. As he passed, he stooped down to pick up and forgotten doll. It was good to see that this place still catered to young children's playtime. John hoped that it was more innocent play than his own childhood. Shrill screams of children filled his memories as he saw a group of young boys running amuck, encouraged by a few girls who sat giggling to the side. Their target was a young girl of seven. Even then, she was larger than the other children. This was not why they teased her. Children were fickle you see, and a certain image of beauty had been long since pressed in their minds. This girl did not fit the standard. To these children, she was plain ugly and they let her know, mainly with words but there was always the occasional stone of stick. John never saw that. He saw the most beautiful girl in the world.
Even back then, John had been tall for his age. And still extremely intimidating. With a stick in his hand, he stormed over to the children, intent on the lesson that was about to be taught. Fear was apparent in their faces as John put on the angriest face he could muster and shouted, "Leave her alone or face me!" There was no need to tell them twice. Each child bolted away, a few in tears.
The only two remaining were John and the girl. And I think it was fair to say that John had never been more nervous in his life. Words betrayed him as he stood in silence, gazing at her. She made no attempt to talk to him, but rather just stared right back. It wasn't fear, as John was used to. John had come to hate that look. Whenever she deemed to use it, it was near impossible to tell what she was thinking. The poor oaf was still struggling with his next move. He now wondered if he scared her and thought to drop the stick. Looking down at it, he saw that there was still a small stem with a few leaves growing off it. In a feeble attempt to be romantic, he plucked the steam and offered to it. She meanwhile, was trying to figure out if he was being cruel to her. She was not used to this sort of treatment. She gingerly took the stem from his and couldn't hold back the giggling any longer. She felt so grown up and loved it. Happily, she put the stem behind her hair, thinking to decorate her hair. John chuckled in response and he and Amelia were quickly friends.
Walking a little further, John saw a tree just beyond the well. He believed it to be the tree from which the stick had fallen. Many years later, while he courted Amelia, he never gave her flowers. Rather, he would pick leaves from this tree and arrange them as delicately as was possible for an oaf like him. She loved them and displayed them with pride, no mater how confused it made others. To her, it was the most romantic gesture possible.
That tree was also where he had proposed. Having barley gotten the question verbalized, Amelia had leapt at his in an embrace with such force, that it had sent the two flying backwards onto the ground. John had managed to hit his head rather hard on the trunk of the tree, forcing Amelia to accept his proposal much later, when he regained conciseness. This made her the only person to have successfully defeated Little John in such a manner.
John lingered by the tree, wanting to stay where the good memories remained. But the walk had to continue.
The tavern may have been a happy place for Merry Men such as Thomas but John had never liked to go there. He had always hated the effect that drink had on an average man.
He remembered walking home one night, hoping to surprise Amelia for her birthday. The tavern door had slammed open and three guards staggered out. One had been one of those children who had long ago taunted Amelia. The others were new drunken idiots. John had walked on, sighing at the obvious low standard that was enforced when hiring new guards for the palace.
But something had stopped him. That something was a young woman that the guards were dragging along with them. Any fool could see that she was struggling and clearly terrified. But thanks to the influence of too much ale, the guards took little notice of her cries and laughed off what they did notice.
A nearby house was being rebuilt at the time and John reached for a large chunk of wood as he approached them. "I think the lady wants to be left alone," he said, politely enough but his tone should have shown the men that he meant business.
But they still laughed. "Get out of the way you bastard," one said, glaring at John.
"Yeah!" agreed the second. "The lady clearly wants to come with us, don't you love?"
She screamed in response and he covered her mouth with his hand.
"Just because your own wife is hideous, it doesn't mean that you get to spoil our fun!" The third said, showing John that he had clearly not changed since childhood.
John didn't give them time to respond, rather swinging his weapon and sending the third man flying. "Duck!" he said to the woman who obliged quickly. The man holding her was not quick enough and he was forced to let go of her to nurse the strong blood flow running from his nose. Another blow from John saw the man sprawled on the ground by his friend.
The remaining man called out and John thought nothing of it. All his attention was on making the third man suffer.
What poor John didn't realise, was that this day was the recruiting of many new guards for the palace who had chosen to celebrate together. Alerted to the trouble of one of their own, John was quickly surrounded by about twenty men. He could have fought them, but then they each pulled out swords. John's plank was no match.
The next place on John's memory walk was the town square. This was where he had been sentenced.
He had barley heard the words of the current Sheriff as he listed his crimes. He was too busy watching Amelia, clearly heartbroken and sobbing.
Certain words were impossible to hear. Murder being the main one. He had never meant to hit the men so hard. John had always found it hard to control his strength when he became angry.
Naturally the other guards present had lied on behalf of their friend. They said that John had attacked blindly with no motive. That the lady had been going willingly with the men and they had barley looked at John before he savagely attacked them in cold blood.
The next events were a blur. John remembered running. He wasn't sure how he had broken free but he knew that he had to get out of there. As much as he liked to deny it, fear had controlled him. He still wondered if Amelia had believed the claims made against him.
In all his years of being an outlaw, he had never had the courage to see her. Instead, he stole, leaving whatever spoils he had on her doorstep.
But each night in Locksley, he fought the same inner battle.
The need to see her again.
Finally he was at the house. Their house.
Tonight would be the night, he promised himself over and over again
But tradition took precedence as his fear owned him.
As long as he never saw her, John could pretend that she would be happy to see him.
Leaving money by the door, he turn to sneak away.
His plan was foiled when he turned to see her standing behind him.
Then followed what must have been the most awkward silence of his life. Her tears eventually broke it.
"Um, Sorry…I was um…well…I should go." He managed to sputter out and turned to leave.
To his surprise she stopped him. Continuing his surprise she kissed him.
Meanwhile Much was struggling without a partner. "I'll show them," he muttered to himself. He grew rather tired of constantly needed a partner. The idiot always had this delusion that he was actually talented. His task had been one small section of Locksley. There were plenty of shadows and minimal guards. Only Much could find difficulty in such a task, even on his own. His only hard task was avoiding the guards and he was rather good at avoiding people. The one positive quality that the man possessed was stealth. So he easily made it around his assigned houses without being seen.
Any sane person would have returned to the sanctity of our meeting point but Much didn't feel the need. It was at times like these when he wished he had a ladylove to steal away into the early hours of the morning. Or even friends outside of the gang. He considered visiting home, but he never particularly liked his family. Sherwood wasn't the only place where people liked to tease him.
He was always the runt. No matter where he was. Add on the four handsome, smart, brave, tall brothers that Much was stuck with and you can see why he never liked his childhood. So he decided to miss the family reunion. They would only laugh at him. Even in his proudest moment, none of them had believed his bravery and continued to laugh.
But at least that moment of bravery had freed him from his family and resulted in living a life of freedom.
Much's Father owned a mill but Much was never one for hard work. Still he picked a great day to decide to work late. A year ago, his brothers were all busy with lady friends or normal friends and other important things that he didn't possess. So you cant exactly say that Much 'chose' to stay late. But the point is that he was there. So there he was, staying late in the mill trying to lug very heavy bags of flour around. Well, in his opinion they were heavy. He's always been a bit of a weakling. Robin had been given a tip that Prince John was smuggling gold through the Locksley mill so he went to inspect the possibility.
He gave Much the fright of his life, leaping down from the rafters. Robin observed his opponent, taking in the shaggy blonde hair, miniscule stature and slightly pudgy stomach and felt secure at the lack of threat.
"I don't wish to trouble you sir," Robin had said, being very polite as per usual, "but I do require that you stop being a traitor to your own people and hand over any gold that you are hiding for the traitor, Prince John."
So as you can tell Much was quite confused. All he was holding was a bag of flour and the famous Robin Hood was asking him for gold.
Quickly thinking of something to say that wouldn't get him killed he sputtered, "I assure you sir, there is only flour in here."
But being Robin Hood, he didn't believe him.
"Kindly stop wasting my time and hand over the gold, there's no need for violence"
By now Much was starting to panic. There was no weapon for him in sight and even if there were it wouldn't do him much use. He had no idea what he was doing.
Some say Much's next act was bravery, some say stupidity.
I prefer stupidity.
Without thinking, he threw the entire contents of the bag of flour in Robin's face.
I don't think that Much had ever been so scared in his entire life.
To his surprise, Robin started laughing. He didn't know what to make out of it. He had heard so many stories about the mighty Robin Hood, slaughtering guards by the dozens. It had to be explained to him that these were over exaggerations. Robin never kills unless he has to.
But Much didn't know that at the time and was quickly trying to think of the best way to plead for his life. All he could do was stand there frozen.
He was further amazed when Robin told him, "you've got guts. I'll take your word about the flour". Or something along those lines at least. Robin was choking on all the flour in his mouth by that point.
Much ran into family while running to the well to get him some water.
"You'll never believe it. I was guarding the mill when Robin Hood showed up and he wanted to fight and I was ready but than I didn't have a weapon so I couldn't so I just threw a whole bag of flour in his face and he was impressed but now he's choking and I've got to get him some water!" Much said, at great speed and without pause. Stopping to catch breath, he waited for expected praise.
And then they all laughed.
"Much you shouldn't be drinking so much ale when you're working" his father said as he wiped tears from his eyes.
Their laughter disappeared when they got home to find Robin, still choking.
Much had forgotten about the water.
Thankfully, a brother snapped in action and supplied Robin with the desperately required water.
When Robin left he once again commended Much on his bravery.
The look on all his brother's faces was one I think Much shall cherish forever.
It then struck him that he couldn't let Robin leave without him. This event would soon be forgotten and he would go straight back to being the disappointment of the family. Robin Hood himself had commended him and surely would not turn him away from joining his gang. Much thought that is he was in a gang of England's most famous outlaws, none of his brothers could look down on him again.
So he ran after Robin. And he didn't run often.
Robin was nearly out of the village but he caught him. It did however take him quite a while to regain his breath so he could finally talk to him, but managed to sputter out that he wanted to join the gang.
Robin looked at him, very amused. "Ok, I'll try you, but I warn you. In my gang we do a lot of running."
Much tried not to groan.
Robin continued "I think we'll start training you now. To get back to camp you'll have to run as I only have one horse."
And so his torture began.
And so did ours, as we had to listen to the complaining about the torture.
I continues now. Even when he is alone, Much could still be found complaining, currently about Little John and his abandonment.
He was so busy complaining, he never had time to notice the approaching guards.
Is it any wonder that he got stabbed?