Hey guys! Thanks to everyone who has reviewed. It really meant a lot to see how much people like my stuff. And I'm really, really sorry that I haven't posted anything in a while, but I've been a little busy with my first semester of college and a small case of writer's block. But anyways I finally finished this chapter, and I'm posting it in two parts so it's a little bit easier to figure out. Again, thanks for reading and reviewing and enjoy!

JLF

------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

Princess of Thieves

J. L. F.

Chapter One

They watched the small figure crouched over the horse's neck riding through the forest. But they only watched the rider for a few moments before their eyes shifted to the two bulging saddlebags. The rider was shabbily clothed, but that was becoming a common occurrence now. Anyone with a half a brain wouldn't dare come through the forest dressed richly. No one was that foolish. At least not now.
But this rider apparently wasn't as intelligent as he first appeared, else he would have thought to disguise the saddlebags as cleverly as he disguised himself. They were all anxiously awaiting the signal to pounce on him and take his goods. It would be a short fight and there would be great profit for them all. The rider would never know what hit him.
The flaming arrow arched out of the trees and across the path, leaving a faint trail of light in the burgeoning darkness. It landed at the horse's feet, causing the mount to rear back and throw its rider. He fell hard and stayed on the ground, huddling in his worn cloak. The men streamed out of the forest and converged on horse and rider. They quickly had the goods and were about to reenter the forest when they heard a strange noise coming from the fallen rider. It sounded suspiciously like laughter. But not the hysterical laughter you might expect from a panicked noble. It was light, musical, and genuinely amused. Every man turned to stare at the huddled figure as his small body shook with laughter. Then the laughter abruptly ceased as the rider jumped to his feet and threw off the cloak. The men expected to see one of the sheriff's men acting as a lure, but they got quite a shock when they looked full upon the person standing before them. The rider was nothing more than a small wench with long, curling hair the color of a raging fire. Half of the men stared in open-mouthed shock while the other half grew angrier by the minute. They had been duped by a girl, and a tiny one at that.
Trouble was about to erupt and the girl was grinning like a wildcat. She seemed oblivious to the growing tension surrounding her. Then he came out of the trees.
Most people, especially nobles, would've been frightened by just a glimpse of him. He was a legend in his own right and his mere presence would usually dissuade any rebellious acts. But this mere slip of a girl didn't even flinch. Her bright smile never once faltered and that surprised them most of all.
Her lack of reaction caused some confusion for him. He moved forward slowly and gracefully, never losing his air of effortless poise and rugged fierceness. His cold expression and steely blue-grey eyes chilled even his own compatriots, but as he let this wench see the full extent of his distaste she only smiled more brightly.
"Good. You came. I would've been most disappointed had you not."
"What are you doing here, girl?" he asked contemptuously.
"Isn't it quite obvious? I'm here to join you and your men."
Her bold statement was met with many bawdy answers, but he silenced them all when the remarks seemed to only fill her sculpted features with wry amusement and not fear. She stared down one of the loudest men until he finally looked away, his cheeks reddening slightly. She turned back to him, one brow arched delicately as she regarded him.
"You can't actually be serious."
"I'm quite serious. And I'm good, too. There's money and jewels in those bags. Why don't you check?"
He moved over to the men holding the sacks she'd been carrying and motioned for them to open them for his perusal. She hadn't been lying. He turned back to her slowly and immediately recognized the '"I told you so" look on her face. He'd had that same look on his face a number of times.
"So you brought us something to buy your way in?"
"No, I stole it. From a rich noble a little ways up the road. He's still there, probably wallowing in the mess he made. There are more goods on him, but I didn't want to seem too…presumptuous."
"Well, there's no threat of that, is there?" he said, inciting laughter from the more intellectual men. "How do we know you're not a spy sent from Prince John?"
"Because Prince John is an inept idiot who would never even think to send a spy. Now the sheriff would think of something like that. But even he wouldn't be smart enough to send someone as unassuming as a woman, even one like myself. He would never believe that there existed a woman who could successfully infiltrate your band. That is where the two of you are quite similar. You both look down on woman. You mistakenly think we are weak and inferior. I'm here to prove you and everyone else who thinks like that wrong."
"And just how do you intend to do that?"
"Pit me against one of your best men. Or yourself, if you're feeling brave enough today. If I win, I'm in. If I lose, I'll be on my way. Is it a deal?" she asked, her voice turning serious as she put out her hand to him.
"Why not? We could all use some entertainment," he answered as he ignored her outstretched hand, clearly seeking to slight her. "But not here. We wouldn't want any…unfortunate surprises, now would we?"
"Of course not," she said cordially, turning her back to him as she headed towards the forest.
Everyone understood the semblance of her actions. She was boldly proclaiming that she didn't fear him in the least. It was an incredibly foolish…and brave thing to do.
His eyes turned to steel in an instant at her action. "Wait! A blindfold for the lady," he said sharply. "We wouldn't want to suddenly find the sheriff's men surrounding our camp tomorrow." One of the men handed him a dirty rag. He moved closer to her and proceeded to tie the cloth over her eyes. She remained motionless as he did this, her still body betraying no outward signs of fear. This show of bravery and defiance only helped to increase his growing fury at her audacity. He tightened the knot harshly. She didn't whimper as most women would have. No, she joked about his harshness instead, making a joke of him. And when he pushed her forward sharply, she barely stumbled, seeming almost unaffected by his ministrations. She let out a burst of laughter and then moved forward on her own, not tripping or running into anything, as if she were not blinded at all. He followed behind her, a cold and scheming gleam in his eyes.
They quickly came upon a clearing in the woods. The men gathered around, ready for anything, especially a fight. They all knew who he would pick to fight the foolish girl. The man he chose would not hurt her too much, but he would make sure she learned her lesson.
He untied the makeshift blindfold and left her standing alone in the middle of the clearing. She stood with her feet apart, her shoulders squared, ready to face whatever, or whoever, he threw at her. She didn't even falter when, with a slight hand motion from him, a tall, well-muscled man walked into the center of the clearing to stand directly across from her. In comparison to him, she looked small and frail. But she just gazed up at him and smiled knowingly, almost smugly. The man carried two staffs, one of which he threw to the girl. She caught it and twirled it expertly, moving into a fighting stance. She didn't seem to notice that her head barely reached his chest or that he was at least three times her size as she looked up at him expectantly, waiting for the sign that would mark his attack. When she saw it, she countered swiftly and smoothly, moving away from him with all the grace of the finest dancer. He had planned to use his strength to bear down on her and thus wear her out, but she was too smart and well-trained for such a ploy. Every trap he used, she quickly disarmed. All of her attacks were quick, lightning fast, and very sporadic. She seemed to not want to expend all her energy on strong attacks, but to use it instead on quick defenses and small, relatively meaningless strikes. But her style seemed to be wearing on the burly man, for he looked as if he was beginning to tire. It was then that she really began to attack. Her moves were like nothing the men had ever seen before. Even he looked surprised by her clear ability. A collective gasp went up among the spectators as she landed a devastating blow to her opponent's midsection. She then brought her staff under his legs, sweeping him off his feet. She then, with another elegant and sweeping move, halted the staff just before his chin. He looked up at her dazedly, as if he couldn't believe that she had felled him. She moved the staff away and then put her hand out to help him to his feet. He stared at her hand for a moment, beginning to realize the import of his failure and her gesture. He had just single-handedly allowed a woman to join their ranks. But more importantly he had failed him. Now he would have to face him and the men knowing full well that he had allowed all of this to happen. Yet in her face and posture he saw kindness, comfort, and even regret for her actions. He knew that she wanted to join them more than anything, but she hadn't wanted to humiliate or disgrace him. And now she seemed to want to make it up to him.
Any other man would've risen to his feet unaided and ignored her proffered hand, as if she were a leper. But he didn't. Another even stronger collective gasp went through the men as he took her hand and rose to his feet. Her face veritably lit at his clear gesture of acceptance, even friendship. She hadn't expected that. When he was standing, however, he did not release her hand.
"You fought well. I'd like to know the name of the woman who has bested me," he said in his deep, rumbling bass that struck a cord into the very heart of her.
"My name is Rhiannon."
"And my name is—"
"John, I know," she answered, interrupting him. "Though why they ever called you 'Little' I'll never understand," she said excitedly, inciting a laugh from him.
"My father's name was also John. It was easier for everyone if I was called 'Little' John. And at the time, it fit. After that it stuck with me."
"Is it all right if I simply call you John? The rest just does not fit anymore."
"Of course, that is if I can call you Little Rhiannon." At his comment her face darkened ominously and he quickly remembered that she was still holding her staff. He ducked swiftly as she swung it at his head and then backed away, finally releasing her hand. "Only joking. I would never dream of doing such a thing."
"Good," she replied icily, though her eyes were shining with laughter.