Sherwood Redux

[ChiefNerfHerder]

John Little lay in wait behind some shrubs. He was a hulking brute with a wooly beard and long shaggy hair. It was the summer and a soft breeze cooled of the skin left exposed by his rough forester's attire. He had been tracking the stag for hours now and it was almost his.

He was down wind from the beast, and that was well. After many nights spent sleeping beneath the canopy of the forest, he was gamey. He needed a bath badly and missed his weekly absolutions.

John quietly pulled an arrow from his quiver and set it silently against his string. It was illegal to hunt the king's deer, but he did not care. He and his three followers were already outlaws and sentenced to death, having been convicted in absentia. He pulled back bending his mighty bow with a quiet creak, sure that he would see the creature fall. Already he could taste it's warm blood on his tongue.

John had been convicted of the murder of a man whose wife he had been keeping company with. The death had been an accident. He had just been defending himself from the man's attack and hit him a little to hard with his meat hook hands. Still, he was guilty and had ran for it, rather than face the king's justice.

He waited silently for the breeze to die down as the creature ate some berries. As the breeze died, he took his chance.

 

[a_subtle_whore]

Linna was generally a woman of great patience. She had, after all, quietly ignored eager hands and unpleasant tongues for near enough a year after entering service under Lord Dulwray, consistently turning the other fair cheek, finding a thousand occupations that required the attention of her moss-green eyes in another room. It was only after the soft-handed liar actually attempted to lift her skirt that she felt compelled to act with some force, swinging a crockery mug hard enough into the space between small, surprised eyes to draw blood.

He was alive, after all, to judge by the infantile caterwauling at her hem, still drawing burbling, amusingly nasal breath. Yet there were many legal recourses at hand to a lord assaulted so by a woman, and a thousand more that thrived and writhed in the shadowy corners between legalities. Until she knew which he'd chosen, she'd made the forest her home.

Though it had been only three days so far, Linna had learned much. She'd found the best way to sleep in the boughs of a pine, lashing nearby branches together with the braided remains of her underskirt. It formed something rather like a hammock, and provided she moved but little in her sleep, had proven quite useful. She had also learned that men had great reason to favor breeches, and that, being generally inattentive creatures, they were unlikely to closely tend their laundry. Despite being a shade and a half too small for the pair she adopted, she gave them a happy home on well-turned legs and a pretty belt repurposed from her wimple. Though her outfit was now a confusion of finer cloth and traveler's leather, and though her raven-blued hair was immodestly bared in a fat, twining braid, there had so far been not one human mouth to voice complaint.

And, she thought, as she loosed the arrow from her bow, watching the point find a bloody but true home in the stag's throat, she had learned that one does not soon forget the competitive games of youth. Linna's skill with a bow had not diminished, though she had left the fields of childhood contest far behind. As the stag reared and staggered, she moved quickly, a short, dull-metal kitchen knife produced from her belt. She'd finish the beast and take what she could from it.

Hunger wore endlessly at patience, after all.

 

[ChiefNerfHerder]

"By the gods!"

John watched as his deer fell to another's arrow. He strode out of the brush to demand satisfaction only to discover a vision of a wild woman cutting into the carcass. She was like something from an old fairy story of a woman raised by wolves. John pulled back and simply stared.

John had seen many lasses with and without their clothing, but he had never seen a woman wearing make-shift breaches before. There was something about the sight which stirred him, though it was beyond scandalous. Surely she would burn as a witch if people saw her thus, or possibly not. It was hard to saw what would happen!

"You know lass, shooting the king's deer is punishable by death? He held his bow loose in his hands and made not threatening move toward her.

In the sky, the sun was starting to move downward, casting ever lengthening shadows across Sherwood Forest.

 

[a_subtle_whore]

If Linna had been less hungry, she might have stopped dismantling the deer long enough to respond. As it was, she saw no reason to take her bloodied hands from her work just yet, though she would oblige the man with a glance.

It was only so slightly that the muddy green gaze widened. Yes, he was a giant, but he doubtless knew that- he didn't need the tongue-tripping cower of a girl to introduce the information. Which was, for both their parts, fortunate, as Linna had never been very good at cowering. The smile she offered was genuine amusement, a half curl of blood-pink flesh.

"Well, how fortunate for you, then, that it was my arrow wot killed him. And further fortunate for the man atop the throne that he has naught else to worry on excepting deer. It must be grand, so, to rule a country where no one goes hungry or knows injustice he could redress." Her accent was broad and soft around the edges, a country patois through and through. Still, there were few country girls who had so raw a wit to wrap around reviews of kingship. It seemed, perhaps, that this wild one spent some time considering more than her feet outlined against the sky.

She looked back to the stag dismissively and tossed her braid back over her shoulder. If all this one was good for was goggling and holding the grass down, it would be charity to let him have what she left.

 

[ChiefNerfHerder]

John found himself amused by the wild woman. She dressed a deer as neatly as anyone he'd seen. It only took her minutes to empty the cavity of the internal organs.

"Well, as long as your know your breaking the law, O.K. I've no great love for the King's laws either. At least allow me to assist." John waited until she was done, and then tied the deer's front feet together with a rope and threw it into a tree. With easy, practiced strokes, he skinned the beast, being careful to keep large sections of hide in one piece. Maybe the lass would take next to wearing the deer head over her own. It would not make her any more outlandish.

John stepped back. "There lass. I am sure you could have managed, but I don't like standing around watching others work without throwing my hand in. I hope you enjoy your ill gotten gain." He knew that it was a fair catch. She deserved what she had felled by her own hands.

John cleaned his hands with leaves and then cleaned his hunting knife with a cloth. The sun was definitely setting now, and he needed to get back to his men. "Are you sure your O.K. out here by yourself?"

 

[a_subtle_whore]

It was with a small offense and a greater gratitude that the girl stood back and allowed John his space, a veil of curiosity drawn over her eyes as she observed his work. He was neat at it, and quick, the certainty with which his hands worked the blade drawing equal parts admiration and concern from the well within her stomach.

"I hadn't been aware there was an option other than on my own. You're the first thing I've seen move on two feet since I came." Though nowhere near presumptuous enough to think he'd throw his lot in with a girl dressed like a mummer's fool, Linna was curious to meet anyone else who'd made this wood a shelter. Well, anyone else minus the man who was now short one set of breeches. He might have words for her, provided he could recognize his garment so altered by the decidedly feminine frame of hip and rump and lush thigh.

If only now she could find someone smaller and equally careless with what they left to dry, she'd be able to replace the dark green rawcloth corset that formed the second half of her outfit. It was nice to have her shoulders bare to the sun, and she found the freckles that had begun to multiply there a pleasant contrast to milk-pale flesh, amusing herself as she drifted toward sleep with what constellations she could invent in the small-writ galaxy on her flesh.

 

[ChiefNerfHerder]

"I've a camp, truth to tell. I'm a bad man you see, and outlaw. Your welcomed to come with me if you will, but I can't promise you any feather beds. I don't know from where you come, but it gales me to see a woman on her own in the forest."

He was finished skinning the deer now and laid the hide at her feet.

He knew that he and his men were outlaws, but they were honorable. All, but him, did not deserve their status. He was a murderer, it was true, but the others had all tried to steal food or coins to survive.

(sorry if it's short, but I was unsure of where else to go with it)

 

[a_subtle_whore]

"A bad man and a worse liar." The smile that crept over Linna's lips was bright, surprisingly unguarded, a moment of true amusement. "Does telling girls that you're an outlaw work for you, as a general rule? If I wasn't beginning to understand that outlaws are oftimes victims of circumstance, I'd hear my mother call for me just now."

Still, Linna was eager to find others like her, men and women who had been forced to seek a more lonesome existence when society grew intolerably unkind. She folded the hide carefully in on itself, sparing the sleek fur from unnecessary blood. "How many at your camp, and will you make me begin on an untrue foot and tell them it was you who won their dinner?" The dark-haired, frank-eyed girl teased him, stretching to stand tall before him. Tall was, of course, a title she wore much less easily than the giant, the fullest extension of her neck bringing the crown of her dark head to the center of his chest.

 

[ChiefNerfHerder]

"Aye, I'll tell them the truth, for they accept you the easier for it." He thought for a moment. "There's three in my band, besides myself, and all are men. I promise you that none will give you an unkind word though, or I'll know the reason."

He grinned. "As for your mother calling you, I say ignore her. After all, don't I have an honest face?" He gave the woman his best innocent look. The fact was that he was not all that innocent, but he had never force his attentions upon an unwilling party. Every woman he had slept with had ask him to their beds and he had obliged them, because it was only polite to do so. This woman truly had nothing to fear from him.

John's own mother had been but a lass of eighteen when a bastard had forced his attentions upon her. John had little love for such men, and hated his own bastard of a father, whoever he might be. The very thought of such actions brought up the bile from his stomach.

"Now trust me lass and come to where its safe."

 

[a_subtle_whore]

It was growing dark, and Linna hadn't known the warmth of a fire in so long that she thought her bones would crack in the night. Though this man's "innocent face" was only half as convincing as a wolf's denial or a rabbit's wisdom, she had to submit to the superior wisdom of company. There were raids on the King's forest, she knew, as many had taken to the cover of its thick canopy to escape taxes they couldn't pay or penalties they'd rather not face.

"All right. I'll stay at least long enough to warm my hands and share this bountiful dinner. But I'll caution you not to pull such unaccustomed grimaces- some witch might see fit to freeze it on your face, and then you'd never bed a sober maiden again."

 

[ChiefNerfHerder]

John laughed and schooled his face to its accustomed visage. With his knife he cut down the deer, carrying it over his shoulders, after wrapping it in a oiled cloth. The walk back to camp lead through the darkening forest and did not take long. As they approached the fire, the moon was already rising.

Around the fire sat a minstrel wearing a dark green tunic and plucking at tune out on a lute. Two scruffy men sat beside him, and it was apparent that they were twins. Both had thick beards and smelled like wild animals.

"Evening lads. This here's... this here's the lass what shot this lovely deer I be hauling. You best be making her welcome." He realized that they had not been formerly introduced. "I'm John Little, but folks call me Little John. This here's my minstrel Alan-A-Dale and the brothers Sam and Dan. Finer fellas you'll never meet."

 

[a_subtle_whore]

She wasn't one to protest the man's selection of heavier work. Linna knew her skills, and helfting a stag over one shoulder like it was a sleepy child was not among them. Better to let those who could have at it than protest something that couldn't be changed, and civil manners were a lesson she'd learned fully, if not always with the best execution. After all, there were a thousand ways to deal with the unwanted advances of an employer, and perhaps her selected method could have been more subtle.

It just couldn't have been more satisfying, was all.

Linna bowed her head for each introduction as she moved closer to the flames, warming her hands and face with a soul-deep relish. Though her costume was laughable, there was more than enough firm young flesh available to the eye to keep male critics quiet on the question. If anyone was going to see the breech-dressed girl strung up a witch, it would be the wives and sweethearts who knew their own waists to be not quite as trim, their own hips not quite as masterfully turned.

"It's a pleasure, Sirs. I'm called Linna, if you were to need something nicer than 'ay, look sharp, wench'."

 

[ChiefNerfHerder]

John grinned. The lass had a sassy tongue about her, but she was amusing. "We won't be calling you wench. As long as your here you have the same rights as the rest, though I am in charge. We're banded together to do what none of us could do alone. That is to survive." John knew it was not true. He could survive well enough on his own, but the same was not true for his serf born men. They needed him, more than he needed them.

John's twins set about building a spit over the fire and then started to roast the venison. As time went on, the smell of cooking meat filled the camp. John's mouth watered. His frame had grown a bit thin and he was ready for a solid meal. Still, it would take hours of cooking and tending from the twins to finish the job. John and Alan both pulled out their bed rolls and down for some sleep.

It was a beautiful summer night and stars twinkled through the canopy of the forest and into the clearing where they were camping. John watched the signs in the sky and wondered what the future would bring for his little band and his land. He wished for an England where all men and women felt as free as he did, but the nobles' excesses and whims had only grown worse with King Richard absent.