Romance, adventure, thrills and plenty of spills. Is a city girl gone rogue finally a match for Allan. A/OC other characters inc.
Please R&R and be gentle, this is my first ever posting, criticism is v. welcome though, doing this instead of studying doesn't seem as bad if it improves my writing skills. That counts as study right?
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It was the beginning of a very slow day for one Allan A Dale, worse even than every other day, for Allan's life wasn't the most enviable to begin with.
You see Guy of Gisborne, his boss.. cough.. Blackmailer… cough….. Mortal enemy.. Cough.. Only ally left….. ahem had screamed at him for falling asleep at his post the day before and, as a consequence of that, Allan was presently sitting in the damp, dark, disgusting dungeon, "guarding" the prisoners.
It was a mighty task fair enough, what with the prisoners consisting only of one weak, frail old man, imprisoned after admitting to a crime which his nine year old son had committed, the theft of a loaf of bread, and one waif like young woman, who lay under a pile of dirty blankets/rags, humming to herself and rocking ever so slightly over and back, the look of childish joy on her face giving her an insane quality. It was a challenging job indeed, due in full only to the mind numbing boredom which accompanied it.
And the guilt.
Oh, the guilt, the elephant in the room that Allan struggled with was fantastic at rearing its head if his mind was allowed to idle for too long, a fact which had lost him quite a few nights sleep lately, and a fact that made his current task unbearable. The guilt over his traitorous past, coupled with his close proximity to those that his actions and greed hurt the most, was slowly (ever so slowly for it wasn't past noon yet) making him lose his mind.
He craved action, he craved movement and noise and distraction. Not being funny but he's Allan A Dale folks. He craved friendship even more though. Allan A Dale was lonely and he was even beginning to lose his sense of humour, sometimes he even wondered if he would end up as insane as his company. Allan needed a friend but he had none left, that he'd made sure of. One thing he knew but is that he wasn't going to make any here.
Now a thing about the dungeon, THE thing, that every person who had ever stepped foot into it has hated the most, was the silence. That heavy, meaningful, ominous silence that seeped through your body and chilled you from the inside out, sending painful shivers through your bones.
It also made it very hard to organise an escape without being detected.
Most of the time at least.
And this was were our little waif, Isobel, was in luck, because her current jailer was less than dedicated to his work to say the least. In fact, she wasn't sure if he was even awake anymore. His eyes were open but they held no focus and looked clouded, almost as if he were blind.
He had a kind smile and quick walk, as if he was always impatient to go somewhere. It made him so out of place in the cells, where everything was ancient, creaking and stiff, and where the air was stale and putrid. She couldn't take her eyes of him. He reminded her of why she had come to the countryside to begin with, he was everything that London society was not, he seemed so ……… unproper.
Also he was prone to break into song every now and then, breaking the silence for a minute or two, clearing the air just a little bit. Giving the place at least some sign of life.
Maybe she would knock him out quickly and painlessly, she liked him after all.
The pain etched on his face was his only marring quality in Belles eyes.
Closing her eyes to him, she returned to the task at hand. Crafting the metal in her hand into a lock pick. It was almost time now.
When the clock strikes noon, she thought,
when the clock strikes noon.
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"Gisborne!" Sour in both tone and appearance, the Sheriff barged into his servants quarters, throwing the heavy doors open with surprising strength. He would blame Gisborne later for his tiring himself out, for such is the way of Vasey. Nothing is ever his own fault.
"Gizzy! Would you care to explain to me why there is only two people in our dungeons? Hmmmm…."
Gisborne rose from his seat and abandoned his whiskey on the table, his third glass of the night, and stood tall to address the annoying little man. He was not pleased at being pulled from his recluse.
"Well Gizzy. Why is there only two prisoners? Why is your best boyfriend the one guarding them? And why, pray tell, are you hiding in your bloody bedroom with a bottle of malt while this is being allowed!?"
Spittle shot from the fun-size dictators mouth as he screamed in Gisborne's face.
"Sir. I am punishing Allan, he has been far too rebellious as of late and I believe that the dungeon will break him finally and permanently."
"And there is no one to arrest, every one has paid their taxes in full and no one has broken the law, I can't invent anymore false charges!"
"YES! YOU! CAN!"
The defiance melted into defeat on Gisborne's face and he bowed his head to his master.
"The prince is sending an observer to check if we, WE Gisborne, not I, WE are handling the outlaw problem, and presently, there are only two prisoners, of the vulnerable variety I might add, in chains and the outlaw infestation is worse than ever! And! AND!…. The only two criminals that you have managed to apprehend are being kept captive by an ex-outlaw whose resolve to our cause is just less than desired!"
The Sheriff turned pumice with the exertion of his rampage, and with the blood vessels swelling in his eyes, he half resembled a gasping fish.
"Fix it Gisborne! Find Hood.." Vasey gags as he spits out Robins name. "Or fill the cells so full that our visitor won't notice that he's not there and I DON'T CARE what you have to do to do it."
As the sheriff stomps away, Gisborne lifts his glass, surveys it, fills it full and drains it in the space of half a minute, before jogging after the sheriff.
It was going to be a long day.
He closed the door just as the grandfather clock behind him struck twelve.