The long summer day was winding towards its close, and the sun's rays struck golden on the surrounding hills. Drowsy and languorous after their woodland trysting, Robin and Marian rode side by side in contented silence, enjoying the beauty of the forest around them.

Without warning, three soldiers on horseback appeared directly ahead of them in the road. Beneath the armoured helm worn by the lead rider, Robin recognized the blond hair and cruel eyes of Guy of Gisburne. In one fluid motion, Robin drew his bow and arrow from where they had been slung across his back, shouting at Marian to flee into the woods. But Marian had other ideas. Her own bow and arrow were already in her hands and drawn, aimed at the chest of the soldier on Gisburne's left flank. Marian loosed her arrow, and the man fell. Robin dispatched the man on Gisburne's right in like fashion, then wheeled his horse to confront Gisburne himself.

Too late, Robin saw Gisburne raise the crossbow from beneath his blue cloak. Robin swerved aside to avoid the shaft that hurtled towards him. It had been aimed at his heart, but lodged in his side instead. Robin tumbled from his horse and hit the ground with a jarring impact. Marian screamed in outrage and drew her bow once more, intending to kill Gisburne. Seeing the fury in her eyes, Gisburne knew he had no time to reload his crossbow, so he fled into the forest, leaving behind his dead companions and, he hoped, a mortally wounded Robin.

Marian was off her horse and kneeling at Robin's side as soon as she was certain Gisburne had fled in earnest. She saw in a glance that Robin was seriously wounded. She knew she had to get him back to the camp and safety, but he was losing consciousness fast, and she did not have the strength to lift him onto her horse. She must ride back to camp alone and bring help.

Tears staining her cheeks, she whispered, "Robin, love, I'm going for help. I'll be back with John, Will and Tuck as soon as I can."

With that, she kissed him hurriedly, then sprang to her horse and galloped away.




Robin was in great pain and drifted in and out of awareness. It seemed only a short time, though, before he heard a horse's hooves again. Surely, he thought, Marian could not have returned so quickly. Robin felt the stirrings of fear and knew that bleeding to death was not the only danger he faced here alone at the roadside. He looked up to see that it was Gisburne who had returned. The haughty knight dismounted and pulled his sword from his scabbard, advancing towards Robin with murderous intent.

Suddenly, a woman stood between Gisburne and Robin, a sword drawn in her hand, a leather buckler on her other arm. At first, Robin thought this was Marian, returned to rescue him, but then he saw that the woman's hair was raven-dark, like his own, and that she was older and more robust than the slender, young Marian. Her bearing was that of a warrior queen, a veritable old battleaxe in ancient armour.

The woman challenged Gisburne and engaged him in deadly combat. Gisburne parried her thrusts, but was driven back repeatedly. He stumbled, falling onto his back. At once, her sword tip was at his throat and her booted foot kicked his own sword from his hand.

"Get up!" the woman ordered. "Mount your horse and leave, now!"

Gisburne obeyed her without hesitation, fleeing once more into the forest.

The woman knelt beside Robin, examining his wound. Robin was weak from pain and loss of blood, but he managed to whisper "Thank you" to the woman, who smiled in return.

Careful not to disturb the arrow in his side, the woman slipped her arms beneath Robin's shoulders and knees. Astounded, Robin felt himself being lifted into the woman's arms, almost without effort. She carried him into the forest, and he rested his head upon her shoulder like a child.

Before long, the woman came to a grassy mound in a forest glade. She spoke a few words in a language that Robin did not comprehend, and a doorway opened in the side of the hillock. A faerie barrow, Robin thought, just before he lost consciousness.

When he awoke, Robin found himself in a small cottage, on a palette by the hearth. The old warrior woman was there beside him, removing his shirt and tunic to get a better look at his wound.

"What is your name?" Robin managed to croak.

"I have many names, my child," the woman said. "You may call me Morgan."

Through the haze of pain, Robin could see that Morgan's gnarled hands were wet with his own blood.

"I must remove the arrow, Robin," she said. "It will hurt."

So saying, Morgan broke the shaft of the arrow, and the jolt of pain sent Robin spinning back into oblivion.




When next Robin woke, the arrow was gone from his side and the wound was expertly bandaged with clean linen. His head was pillowed on something soft, and he looked up to see Morgan's face. He realized that he had been sleeping with his head in her lap, like an infant. Morgan looked younger than she had in her battle with Gisburne -- softer, rounder, and more matronly. She was now dressed in a fine woolen gown of royal blue.

"How are you feeling?" she asked in a voice that was gentler and more musical than he remembered.

"Weak," he answered honestly.

Morgan unlaced the bodice of her dress, revealing firm white breasts, engorged like those of a nursing mother. She bent over Robin and lifted his head, whispering, "Drink, Robin, the milk will heal you." Robin's lips parted in startled surprise, but as her milk began to flow into his mouth, he latched onto the nipple instinctively, like a newborn. Morgan's milk was rich and sweet, tasting of honey and herbs and magic. Her skin smelled of clover and roses. Suckling at her breast, Robin was filled with long-forgotten memories of his own mother, who had died before he was even weaned. Morgan's milk was soporific, more powerful than opium in its ability to ease pain and heal the body. Robin drifted into a deep, long sleep, still cradled in Morgan's arms.

When he woke again, Robin felt stronger and more like himself. A young woman, barely more than a girl, tended the fire in the hearth beside him. She turned to face him and Robin was shocked to recognize Morgan's face, younger and more beautiful than she had appeared to him before.

"You've been tending me while I was sick?" Robin asked her hesitantly, slightly embarrassed.

"Yes," she said. "You've had a terrible fever from you wound, but you're healing nicely now."

"Fever," repeated Robin, relieved. "Yes, of course, I've had some very strange dreams."

"Dreams and reality tend to merge here," replied Morgan.

"Where is here?" Robin asked, "And who are you, Morgan?"

"Some call this the Summerland," she answered.

"The faerie realm?" Robin asked, remembering the secret doorway into the hillock in the forest. "Am I dead then?"

"No," Morgan said, smiling, "not dead, just resting."

"I must go back," Robin cried, "Marian will be crazed with worry and grief."

"Marian does not even know you are missing, Robin. Time passes differently here. Future and past trade places, and sometimes the present becomes eternity. You may take your time and heal, and your friends will not even realize that you were gone. Your stay here will take no more than the blink of an eye on the other side."

"Besides," Morgan continued, "you are not yet strong enough to leave."

Robin grimaced in pain, knowing that was true. "But who are you" he insisted, "and how did you know my name?"

"I'm your sister, Robin," Morgan replied.

"I have no siblings," Robin said. "I was the firstborn, and my mother died soon after."

"Well, to be precise, I'm your half-sister."

"Half-sister and a faerie?"

"Yes."

Robin wanted to scoff, but there was something so eerie about this woman, and this place seemed so strange and otherworldly, that he let her continue.

"Your mother Elsbeth met Oberon, the King of the Faerie Realm, while walking in the forest one day. They fell in love, and he brought her back here to be his bride. Elsbeth conceived, but as soon as she realized she was pregnant, she asked Oberon to let her return to the mortal realm and raise her child there. Oberon agreed. Elsbeth emerged from the faerie realm with no memory of her time here. Very soon after, she married the man you knew as your father, Ailric, neither of them realizing that Elspeth was already carrying a faerie child.

"Then you mean I am half fey?" Robin asked her skeptically.

"Look at yourself, Robin! You are no broad, blond Saxon! You have the height of your mother's people, yes, but you have the raven hair, fair skin, and delicate features of the Old Race. You have the lithe body and lightening grace of a pixie! How do you think you have escaped death so often unless you are a charmed being? Already the people say that you are not a man at all, but the spirit of the forest."

Robin looked into Morgan's grey eyes and her gamine face, so like his own, which he had seen reflected back from pools of still water. Her voice rang with truth and, although he was amazed, Robin believed her.

"You say we are siblings, but you have not explained your own parentage," said Robin.

"I am also Oberon's daughter," replied Morgan, "by Queen Igraine."

"Igraine?" gasped Robin. "King Arthur's mother?"

"Yes." Morgan smiled. "And Arthur was another such as you."




Through the days that followed, Morgan tended Robin as he recovered, and a bond of tenderness developed between them. To pass the time, Robin told her tales of his adventures in the greenwood, and Morgan regaled him with the true story of her time in Arthur's court.

Robin awoke one morning to find Morgan beside him in his bed. She was naked, and her soft skin pressed against his. Robin's body responded to her, and he kissed her warmly. Becoming more fully awake, he suddenly pushed her away from him in shock, shouting angrily, "No!"

"Robin," Morgan said quietly, "I know that you love me and that you want me".

"But you are my sister!" he exclaimed.

"I am only your half-sister, Robin, separated by centuries, and all the Fey are such close kin that it makes no difference."

"I cannot betray Marian," Robin insisted.

"Robin, there is no betrayal here. Marian is your mortal wife. Our love is something quite different and separate. I am the very spirit of the forest that you love so well. I am the earth to take your seed."

"What?" said Robin. "You speak in riddles!"

"Not riddles, Robin, but mysteries. I am your mother, your sister, your lover and your second self. I am the Goddess, and you are the Horned God of the Forest."

Robin looked at her in amazement, but made no further protest.

"Marian will bear you no children," said Morgan. "She cannot. She is an Amazon, a daughter of Diana, an outlaw in Sherwood. A child would slow her down and endanger both your lives. Yet, you must have a son, Robin -- someone to take your place in the forest when you return to the Summerland forever."

Morgan reached out and touched his face, and Robin was so consumed with desire for her, that nothing else mattered. He began to make love to her as tenderly as his urgency would allow.

Robin dwelt with Morgan in the faerie realm for what seemed like weeks. As he healed, they began to take walks in the surrounding forest and to swim in the enchanted river that flowed past the cottage. They ate their meals of fruit and bread and nuts, sitting on a blanket on the river bank, serenaded by song birds. And they made love as frequently and as passionately as Robin's returning strength would permit.

One day, Morgan placed Robin's hand upon her stomach, and he could feel that it was more round than before. "The seed is sown," she said.

As Morgan's body began to blossom with her pregnancy, Robin's love for her grew even more intense. Fully healed from his wound now, Robin was determined to stay in the faerie realm forever with her and their children.

"Robin," Morgan said, as they sat by the hearth one night, "I feel the quickening."

Robin placed his hand on her belly and felt a soft kick. He smiled in contentment.

"They shall be quite healthy and strong," said Morgan.

"They?" Robin queried, bemused.

"The twins," Morgan replied.

Robin looked confused, and so Morgan explained. "All faeries are born as twins, Robin -- a boy and a girl, like you and I."

"But…" Robin began.

"Yes, I know, love. We were born of different mothers, in different centuries. It's just another mystery."

Robin laughed at the old jest between them. Everything was a mystery, here in this strange land.

"Robin," Morgan continued, "I think we should choose names for the twins before you leave."

"Leave!" he exclaimed. "I have no intention of leaving."

"It's time, my love. I must go to the castle of Queen Mab, the faeries' midwife, and you must return to Marian in the mortal realm."

The mention of Marian's name sparked a longing in Robin that he thought would tear him asunder.

"Morgan," he cried, "I cannot be without you."

"You will never be without me, love," she replied, "for I have been with you from the beginning. I am your other self; I will always remain in your mind and heart, in the depth of the forest, and in your love for Marian."

Again, Marian's name tore at his heart. "Still, Morgan," he said, "I cannot leave you."

"I know," she said, "that's why I must leave you."

"When?" he asked.

"Soon," she replied, "but not just yet."

"So, what will you name the twins?" Robin asked, trying to resign himself to her intended departure.

"The boy shall be Robin, after his father, " Morgan said.

"And the girl?"

"Marian -- your daughter and your wife; my child and my own self."

Robin was speechless.

"Just one more mystery, my love," whispered Morgan.




The next morning, Robin awoke and Morgan was gone. Sadly, he made his way to the faerie barrow. There was no need for magic words. The entrance stood open, gaping onto an earthen tunnel. Robin walked through, coming to an opening on the other side that looked out over Sherwood. As Robin began to step through the opening, he felt a strong surge of energy, an invisible barrier that he struggled to break through. Suddenly, he was on the other side, lying on the ground, feeling stunned, an arrow protruding from his tunic.

Marian was on the ground beside him, shaking and crying. Will, John and Tuck stood behind her, peering at him.

Robin sat up, feeling a bit dizzy.

"Robin," sobbed Marian, "I thought you were dead."

"No, love, just stunned from the fall, I guess."

"But the arrow wound," Marian said, pointing to the shaft that stuck ominously out of his tunic.

"It seems to have just grazed me," Robin said, raising one dark winged brow, surprised not to be oozing his life's blood onto the ground. He, too, had been certain that Gisburne's aim had been fatal.

"John, Will, carry him over to the horses," directed Marian.

"No need," said Robin, untangling the arrow from the cloth of his tunic and hopping nimbly to his feet. "I'm fine."

"Oh, Robin," Marian cried, "I thought I had lost you."

"Never, my love," he replied. "I lead a charmed life."

Robin drew Marian into a firm embrace and kissed her passionately as the merry men laughed in relief. Then all five friends mounted their horses and rode back toward their forest encampment.

As they rode away, Robin thought he heard a woman's voice saying goodbye to him from out of the forest. But, of course, it was just the whispering of the wind in the trees.