Hey, brand new story here! Yay! I just realised they'd finally made an actual category for BBC Robin Hood! Whoopee! So heres the story...
Much had once had a family. They had lived in a small village called Galeton to the south of Nottingham by over sixty miles.
As a young boy Much had had a difficult childhood. His father had hated him. He was useless in his eyes. That's how he actually gained the name Much, for that was not his birth name. His birth name was Madoc but his father often referred to him as 'our son, though he's not much,' which was gradually shortened to Much and it stuck.
His father had abused him terribly and his mother had stood by and done nothing even when Much was more bruise than boy. The child's face was constantly a mess and often neighbours commented on it, several tried to help, but they always met his father's fury and fled, leaving the poor child alone.
Much had a brother. He didn't remember much of him for he had been five when Much ran away but he hadn't born the brunt of his father's anger as much because he was too young.
At the age of ten, the young Much decided he'd had enough of his father's brutality and, wrapping himself in what little clothes he had, he left the small hut he'd called home for that first dreadful decade of his life.
He had headed north though he wasn't quite sure why, he just wanted to get as far away from his father as possible. Who knew what the man would do once he realised his eldest son was gone. If he ever found Much again the boy was sure he would kill him. He had felt guilty for leaving his little brother as he would probably experience a similar fate to Much but he had to get away.
The child found the Great North Road and began the long, hard slog along the dusty track. He had travelled for days with little water and no food, exhaustion overcoming his weak body; he had collapsed on the edge of the road.
It was at this point that Lord of Locksley, Earl of Huntingdon was travelling along the road on a horse from a meeting in London. He spotted the bundle of rags that was Much on the ground and took pity on the boy who was no more than a bag of bones.
The man picked the child up and placed him on his horses back behind him. The boy spent the rest of the journey to Locksley weakly holding onto his saviour's waist.
It was late and upon arriving at his home the Lord brought Much in, had him washed and dressed in clean clothes and then fed in the kitchen by his trusted servant, Adeline. The middle aged friendly woman took the skinny youth under her wing immediately.
Whilst the newcomer was finishing his fourth bowl of stew a boy of about eight appeared, barefoot, in the flagstone floored kitchen. He rubbed his vivid blue eyes sleepily and frowned at the boy sitting at the pine table.
"Who are you?" he demanded, "And what are you doing in my home?"
"Master Robin," Adeline laughed good naturedly at the child's boldness, "This is Much. He is to be a new servant here at Locksley Manor. He is your personal man, or boy, servant and friend."
"A servant, for me?" Robin struggled with the concept, "Why should I need a servant of my own. I have you and Thornton."
"Ah, but Much is also to be your friend. Your father knows you are lonely so he brought someone to be company."
"Ok," the tiny Robin considered this for a second, "You are my servant and my friend…Much." He spoke directly to the older boy.
"Er…" Much looked at the bright eyed boy nervously, "Yes, I am…Master."
"Master Robin, you should really be going back to bed now, what did you come down for?" Adeline asked kindly.
"Water. I came for a cup of water."
"Well, here you are and off you go."
"Is Much coming?" Robin queried.
"No, he is going to eat some more and you will see him in the morning."
"Yes, he should eat some more," the boy agreed, "He is very thin. Goodnight Adeline and Much."
"Night, Master Robin," the servants replied and Robin padded away.
Soon after that, in the days, weeks and months to come the boys became inseparable both as friends and as servant and master. Much took his job to look after his young master very seriously and always made sure he was home on time from the meadows and ate all his meals. He was fiercely loyal and no matter how many scraps Robin got into with the village boys he was always there in the thick of it, defending his master even at that young age.
The ten year old barely ever again spared a thought for the family he had left in Galeton. He didn't want to remember.
The young man pulled his hood over his head a stared through deadened eyes at the steady hustle and bustle of Nottingham's busy marketplace. He scowled at a smiling man yelling about his crunchy apples and beautiful pears and juicy blackberries. His dark brown eyes narrowed at the drunk men gambling on some tables outside an inn. And his heart clenched in envy at a man swinging his giggling daughter round in circles, blowing raspberries.
He hated happiness, joy, celebration and love. He had never experienced those things in his life and therefore, rather than crave them, he loathed them. They were what he despised – emotions. Good for nothing.
The man had come to Nottingham searching for a job. A job under the evil Guy of Gisborne he had heard so much about and he longed to meet the cruel and twisted Sheriff of the Shire. They were his idols. They were men of power that commanded respect and that's what he wanted. And the only way of getting respect he had known in all his life was to hurt and terrorise others. Usually those weak and defenceless.
Suddenly the cloaked figure heard a menacing voice and he looked up to see a tall, imposing leather clad figure towering over the man and the daughter he'd seen earlier. It was Gisborne.
"Well, well, well, Simon, we haven't been paying our taxes recently have we?"
"Sir Guy! Please! I do not have enough money to support my family let alone pay your taxes. How can I give you money if I have none?" the man pleaded.
"You have no money yet you seem to still have time to play with your daughter? A likely story. Arrest him," Gisborne signalled the soldiers forwards and they seized the struggling man.
"Please! My wife! My daughters!" the man cried out but was silenced by a club to the head from one of the guards.
"Take him to the dungeons," Gisborne ordered and began to leave.
The stranger saw his moment and darted out from the shadows to confront Gisborne. Guy was momentarily startled as a cloaked person stepped out in front of him and spoke.
"What do you want, whelp?"
"Sir Guy, I come from afar to become one of your soldiers in the battle against injustice."
"You are a street urchin, what would I do with you?" Gisborne sneered nastily.
"Sir, I can fight, very well. Would you let me become a soldier?"
"Let me see your face first. I need to see who I'm employing."
The man pulled back his hood slowly and revealed a young, angular face that was marred by a long thin scar curving from his temple to his check. The man could be no more than seventeen or eighteen years of age but he had a hardened look to his steel coloured eyes and strong wiry muscles beneath his clothing. Gisborne immediately came to a decision.
"How well can you really fight, boy?" the Man at Arms barked, "Fight one of my men here and if you beat him you may become a guard. Do you need a weapon?"
"No," the young man unsheathed a sword from beneath his billowing cloak and eyed up his opponent almost casually.
Gisborne's' guard sighed, Lewis. He doubted this would be much of a battle considering the boy way very small and thin and most likely had little experience.
"Give me what you've got then, kid," he grunted but was shocked when the boy leapt forward so fast he had no time to react. The youth knocked the weapon from his grip and the next thing he knew there was the cold edge of a sword at his throat.
"Impressive. Now. Kill him. Or don't you have the balls?" Gisborne laughed but halted as his guard fell, dead, on the ground, blood pouring from his slit throat. That did it. "I guess I'll have to employ you now, won't I? As I'm down a man. What's your name?"
"Eli."
What do you think? I've written the next chapter but I want you're opinion. Good? Bad? Not much is based on real fact about Much's past but some is. Review!