Outlaw Guy

Fitting In

Author's Note: written for the prompt word colour

Fitting In

By the time he’s been living with the outlaws for nearly two weeks, Guy feels like a changed man.

He smiles more, snarls less. He’s learned to ignore Robin’s swaggering boasts and occasional childish behaviour, admiring instead the outlaw’s tenacity, his care for his people and his strong belief that good will prevail over evil; in this case, the Sheriff of Nottingham, Guy’s former overlord.

When Guy asked Robin whether he could carry out his threat to send a flaming arrow into the sheriff’s bedchamber, the outlaw gave him a firm no. Instead, Robin and his gang broke into the castle one evening, stole the Greek fire after Guy told them where to find it and had, or so Robin said, destroyed it.

They left Guy in the forest with Djaq, ostensibly to help the Saracen woman restock her herbal medicines. In reality, Guy knew Robin didn’t wholly trust him and Robin deemed the diminutive woman’s vial of skin-burning liquid, along with her dagger, enough to dissuade Guy from changing his mind about siding with the outlaws and revealing the whereabouts of their camp to the sheriff.

“We cannot risk Prince John marching on Nottingham with an army,” Robin explained when Guy asked why they could not keep the deadly black powder, “and kabooming the sheriff would definitely be considered an unnatural death.”

Guy conceded Robin had a point and let the matter drop, concentrating instead on working to gain the outlaw’s trust so he could forego wearing a blindfold every time he left the camp to help the gang with some task or other.

To be honest, it wasn’t difficult to warm to Robin and his men despite their, at times, irksome behaviour.

Little John, for all his gruffness and refusal to talk to Guy other than to utter the odd grunt, or to grudgingly offer up a simple courtesy, proved to have a heart as big as his person.

One day, having just finished using the ‘loo with a view’, as Allan called the slit-trench privy, and having successfully avoided wiping himself with poison ivy or a bunch of leaves covered in resident bugs, Guy had come across Little John cupping a ball of chirping feathers in his hands. Watching the big man stroking the quivering bird’s head and back and crooning soft words over it, reminded Guy of the sheriff and his twittering caged birds.

For a fury-filled moment, Guy wanted nothing more than to snatch the tiny creature from John’s tending hands and crush it between his gloved ones. “There,” he would snarl at the sheriff, as he plucked a madly fluttering bird from its perch. “This is what I think of your stupid birds and your ill-disguised digs at my failure to capture the Lady Marian’s heart.” And this, he thought, mashing his hands together, is what I’ll do to your stupid bald head if I’m lucky enough to get my hands on you. Squish, crunch, you’re dead.

“It’s fallen from the nest,” Little John told him, forgetting for a moment that he was avoiding talking to the newest member of Robin’s gang, the hated Guy of Gisborne. “Poor thing is helpless. I’ll take it back to the camp. Maybe Djaq can tend to it.” With that, John tucked the tiny bird into his shirt and strode away, leaving Guy with a bitter taste in his mouth for wishing harm on a defenceless creature and a strong desire to go charging into the castle, risking life and limb, in order to remove the sheriff’s head from his body.

Like John, Will Scarlett loosened his tongue as the days wore on, though he had yet to bestow Guy with a smile. Djaq continued to offer Guy the hand of friendship and whenever Robin was not around, he stuck to her side more or less continually. She even removed her vial after Guy repeatedly stung and scratched bare arms in order to reach a particular herb for her. He got on well enough with Allan, though Allan’s ribbing sometimes wore on him. Much mostly avoided him. This suited Guy well, although the dark scowls Much shot at him when Robin wasn’t looking were enough to give Guy heart palpitations every time he took a bite of food. However, after noticing how little thanks the man got for his cooking, Guy decided the best way to ensure Much slipped nothing fatal into his food was by praising him. It worked a treat. Not only did Guy get a smile with every plate of breakfast, lunch or supper, he also got a bigger portion than everyone else did.