Chapter One: People Are Strange When You're A Stranger
("People Are Strange" – The Doors)

Disclaimer: I do not own anything to do with Robin Hood. If I did, I'd have enough money to buy season one. But I don't, so please don't sue me.

Author's Note: First thing first. I am aware that there are, like, seven other stories in the Robin Hood section with the same plot, and I apologize for being repetitive. I'll try my best not to make this story like all the others out there. I'm sorry if you detect any familiarity, though.

Okay, enough of my trying to dazzle you with the use of big words. This story will be in the first-person point of view, as I wanted to avoid describing the character and how everyone feels about her. It makes me feel a bit like my character is a Mary Sue when I do that.

I apologize if any of the characters become OOC, too. If they do, feel free to drop a notice via review and tell me what I did wrong and how it would be better, and I'll try better next time.

Each chapter will be titled with the lyrics to a song, as I am unimaginative. Don't worry, I'll tell you the name of the song at the beginning of each chapter. Thank you, and enjoy!


I had no idea where I was or how I got there. All I knew was that it hurt.

I was vaguely aware of someone nearby, but as my eyes were squeezed shut in pain, I couldn't tell if it was a he or she, or if they posed a threat.

A slight sniffle prompted me to open my eyes. I quickly wiped at my eyes and tried to stop them from watering as I glanced around for the poor person I had accidentally landed on. It wasn't too hard to locate said guy, as he was sitting roughly about a foot in front of me.

He looked to be in his late twenties. He had five o'clock shadow, and short hair, about six inches or so. Apparently we had bashed faces, as he was clutching his chin and my nose was throbbing. His face was screwed up in pain as well, and I instantly felt compelled to give him a hug. Instead, I launched into apology mode.

"My gah, I'm so sorry!" I exclaimed, quickly crawling closer to him. "Are you okay? I didn't mean to hurt you! Ooh, I'm sorry!" As I babbled on with ceaseless apologies and promises to make up for hurting him, he slowly opened his eyes.

"You talk too much." The sudden sound of his voice startled me, and I quickly apologized for talking. His eyes shut again, and for the first time I noticed my surroundings. We were in a sort of wood. I was sitting on a soft carpet of grass, leaves, and dirt, and the only sunlight I could see was small shafts of light created by breaks in the canopy of leaves overhead. It was very pretty, but I had no idea how I ended up there. I distinctly remembered laying on the couch watching Doctor Who on BBC America, and then suddenly I was falling, and that was how I fell onto the man sitting across from me.

"You have an odd accent," he pointed out. I hadn't noticed that he had once again opened his eyes and had removed his hand from his nose. It then struck me that he was British. I loved British accents, although I couldn't understand what they were saying sometimes, and I wondered why on earth he was saying I had the weird accent, as we were clearly in California, where accents like mine dominated the majority of the population's speech.

"…Okay…" I shot him a confused look, wondering the status of his mental health.

"What are you wearing?"

"What's wrong with my clothes?" I asked, looking down at the jeans and plain black shirt I was wearing. It wasn't like I was a fashion disaster (although I couldn't care less if I was; I wasn't really into things like teen magazines and the latest clothing line from some French dude I had never even heard of). I looked over at the guy to see if he was one of those fashion-freak metrosexuals, but was surprised by his choice of wardrobe. He wore a pair of black pants and a gray, long-sleeved, hooded shirt. He was also wearing some kind of jacket, dark green in color.

All in all, he looked like someoe you'd spot at a Renaissance Fair. We sat like that for a while, examining each other's clothing with identical confused looks on our faces. I finally broke the silence.

"Why are you dressed like that?" I inquired, tilting my head to the side slightly. "Honestly, you look like you stepped out of the Middle Ages. You could be a knight at King Arthur's table or something." I grinned at him. He stared back.

"King Arthur?" the man asked, confused. It was my turn to stare.

"You've never heard of King Arthur." It wasn't a question. "Excalibur, the sword in the stone? You know, round table of knights, fighting dragons and all that jazz?" He shook his head. It shocked me, but I didn't press further.

"You're an odd girl."

"No, I'm Vicky." I stuck out a hand for him to shake.

"Lester." I grinned and repeated the name.

"Lesterrrrrrr." It was fun to drag out. I repeated it a few more times under my breath, even mimicking the British accent he said it with. "Well, Mister Lester," I said suddenly, standing up. "As I have no idea where I am, can you possibly show me the way to the nearest town?" Lester climbed to his feet, and I noticed that he was a few inches shorter than I was. I found it adorable.

"Yeah, I suppose." He picked up a gray bag off the ground, identical to the one I had at home. "This yours?" I frowned, took the bag, and opened it. Indeed, it was mine; I recognized the red binder and the near mint copy of The Zombie Survival Guide that I carried everywhere. Closing the flap again, I slung it over my head. I had begun to concoct an idea on how I got here: somehow, one of my friends had slipped me some sort of drug (I hadn't yet figured out how they got in the house), and dragged me out to the forest, perhaps dropping off my bag as well. It seemed like the kind of trick that Desiree would pull, as I had once watched an episode of Man vs. Wild with her and commented on how cool I thought it'd be if I had to survive in the wilderness like Bear. It hadn't crossed my mind that she'd actually drug me and drop me off in the forest, though.

"- by the way." Lester was saying. I hadn't even noticed that he had started talking.

"Huh?"

"You're in Sherwood Forest." I stopped dead in my tracks and stared at the back of Lester's head.

"Excuse me, what?"

"I said, 'You're in Sherwood Forest.'" He repeated patiently. "You don't catch on very fast, do you?" I ignored the last bit.

"Sherwood Forest, as in home to Robin Hood and his Merry Men? Guy of Gisborne, Sheriff of Nottingham, all that?"

"Don't know about the 'Merry Men' bit, but other than that, you've got it spot on." Lester noticed that I had stopped walking, and began backtracking towards me.

"What year is it?" I demanded. Last time I checked, Sherwood Forest was in the UK, on the other side of the world. Even if Desiree did have the money to afford two round-trip plane tickets, she wouldn't use it to bring me all the way to England. No, she'd go to Italy like she always wanted.

"Eleven ninety-two," Lester answered, giving me a worried look. "Why?"

"… You're full of crap." Something about the way I said it seemed to amuse him and he laughed. "It's not funny! I must be getting punk'd or something. Pretty soon Ashton Kutcher is going to run out in his stupid trucker hat and tackle me."

"I have no idea what a kutcher is, but it is obviously distressing you," Lester noted, still looking at me amusedly.

"Just… take me to the town or wherever we were headed," I said warily, not certain where it was he was taking me exactly. Lester shrugged and started off again, looking back every few minutes to make sure I hadn't stopped short again.

I couldn't be in 1192. It was against the laws of physics, right? I never really paid attention in science class, but I was positive that time travel was against the laws of something. "I don't even have a flux capacitor," I commented dryly. Either Lester hadn't heard or he was pretending like he hadn't, as he didn't respond. We walked along in silence, him focusing on getting to our destination and me trying to figure out if I really was in Sherwood Forest or if it was a load of lies.

Wanting to get my mind off the thoughts of time travel and not having anything better to do, I began rummaging through the messenger bag slung over my shoulder, while simultaneously taking care not to trip over anything. After a few minutes of searching (and being stared at by Lester), I pulled out an anklet that a friend had given me. It was a simple thing, crafted out of silver and decorated with polished blue stones. I hardly ever wore it for fear of breaking it, but I liked to look at it.

I should've known what would happen next, but it caught me totally off guard.

Lester whipped his whole body around, dealt a blow to my jaw, snatched the anklet, and took off. I stood dazed for a few moments, trying to register what had happened. As soon as I did, though, I bolted off after him. The two of us together probably sounded like a herd of buffalo, the way we were crashing through the undergrowth. I personally couldn't care less about the amount of noise I was making; I just wanted the anklet back.

"You stupid Brit," I called at Lester's retreating back. "Give it back!" For one so small, he was rather nimble, and he obviously knew this place better than I did; he wove in and out of the trees, dodging bushes and jumping over roots as if he were Tarzan. My Converse kept getting caught under roots, my clothes getting snagged on low branches, and I fell more than once. Needless to say, Lester got away.

"Yeah, that's right!" I shouted to no one in particular; Lester would be too far away to hear me by now. "I'm glad we dumped your tea in the Boston River! If I ever see you again, I will… stab your eyes out with a fork!" It was a dry threat, as I would never dream of doing anything so violent. Frustrated, I let out a loud yell. Here I was, in God knows where, not knowing where to go, and to top it off, a kleptomaniac three inches shorter than me stole an anklet given to me by a friend. I no longer felt the urge to hug Lester.

Something moved up ahead and, without thinking, I darted towards it, sure it was the thieving midget. It only became apparent to me that it wasn't when someone jumped out in front of me, making me bash my nose in for the second time that day. As I, of course, wasn't expecting it, the blow knocked me backwards, and I fell back onto the dirt. A quick wipe of my nose revealed that it was bleeding.

"Oh, mother humper, you have got to be kidding me. Freaking A!" I pinched my nose shut and tipped my head back, once again trying to stop my eyes from watering. I didn't even notice that I was slowly being surrounded by men.

"Well, Much, assaulting girls now?"