Title: The Lute Maker's Daughter

Rating: PG13

Summary: Strangers are rare in Locksley, so when a brazen woman strolled into town, lute slung across her back, she attracted more attention than she bargained for...

Hello everyone! This is the first chapter of my very first Robin Hood fanfic. The character and story were concieved just after the first season, so there will be no spoilers or references to events taking place in the second season. This first segment is an introduction, and as such is quite short. Im expecting later chapters to be a little longer than this. I welcome comments and suggestions, if you have any. Thanks for reading, I hope you enjoy!

I suppose I should begin with a disclaimer: I don't claim to own these characters, who are based off of the BBC version of Robin Hood. No money is being made and no copyright infringement intended.

Enjoy!

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CHAPTER ONE

Wednesday should be market day, but not a soul was peddling his wares on this grey morning in Locksley. Despondent villagers plodded to and fro in the unpaved mud streets, exchanging neither smiles nor goods. Cowed by the ubiquitous armed guards, the villagers scurried on their ways, their eyes never leaving the ground in front of them.

All except one. She was reclining awkwardly on a hill, leaning against a leather pack, one knee up to support the grubby lute settled across her lap. She strummed lazily at her instrument as she surveyed the scene before her. A few of the citizens glanced curiously at her as they passed, for strangers were rare in Locksley, and women never travelled alone. She looked to be in her mid twenties. Her face was pleasant enough, neither ugly nor especially pretty, with an angular jaw and a sharp little nose. Her eyes and hair were dark, and her skin tanned like a peasant girl, yet she held herself with the poise of a lady.

The music was quiet but well played and melodious, accompanied by the woman's mellow timbrous humming. It was interrupted by a man's voice, curious and approving.

"That's not bad. Where'd you learn to play like that?"

The woman jumped slightly, shaken from her dreams as she strummed. "Oh. My Dad taught me. He made lutes, my dad."

The man, ginger haired with a spark of mischief in his blue eyes, threw himself down on the bank beside her. She noted he wore his hood up to shade his face, and eyed him with some suspicion. He seemed perfectly friendly, however, and genuinely interested in the lute.

"Yeah? My uncle played a tin whistle, but I never saw a lute this nice. Go on, play something else."

The woman half-smiled, and strummed a well-known melody, picking the notes out with her deft little fingers.

"Is there much trade in lute making? For your father?" The ginger-haired man asked curiously, talking over the tune.

"Not anymore. In lean times like this, even the nobles don't spend coin too freely, and music is a luxury few peasants can afford. He couldn't afford to keep me, so I've come looking for a job as court musician."

He laughed. "What, for the Sheriff? Listen, love, the man isn't likely to hire a woman or a musician, and even if he was you wouldn't want to work for him. If you know what's good for you you'll find a good husband to look after you."

She stopped playing abruptly, annoyed. "I neither want nor need a man to 'look after me'. If the Sheriff will not hire me then I'll find someone who will."

He shrugged. "What's your name?"

"I don't tell my name to shady strangers in hoods," she snapped, still irritated by his 'husband' remark.

"Look, I work for Robin Hood, alright? I'm passing out the latest loot, and you looked hungry, so I've brought you some coin," He told her impatiently, discretely pressing a small leather pouch into her hand. "So, whoever-you-are, take this to tide you over until you find a job or a husband, alright?" She had the grace to look abashed, and tried to return his pouch.

"I don't want charity. I mean, thank you and all," she added, a slight blush on her cheeks, "but save this for someone who needs it."

He was on his feet before she could force him to take the purse back. "You're far too proud for a musician. Keep it. We've been doing well lately, anyway." He winked at her, then tweaked his hood forward to more fully cover his face.

Hoofbeats rang through the air, approaching on two sides. The man jumped and whipped around to face half a dozen armed soldiers and one well-dressed noble with cold, black eyes. "Well, well," he sneered, drawing his sword. "I didn't think it would be this easy. You outlaws are getting careless."

Allan swallowed. "Sir Guy."