Hey gang! So in my wanderings through the Internet in my (very little) free time I stumbled upon one of my favorite subjects to study: Robin Hood. To give you a little bit of my background on the subject I've read most of the original ballads, I have several books on Robin and his men both fiction and non, I've appeared in two stage adaptations of the legends, seen most of the movies (My favorite still has to be Errol Flynn), and I follow the TV shows almost religiously. (Obsessed much? Maybe. But if this scares you, you should see my pirate collection : P ).

Obviously I read as much as I could before dashing off to another rehearsal, but I found a little tid bit the fascinated me. Alan a Dale had a girlfriend. Having depicted a similar character in one of my shows I was delighted to find that she did indeed exist in the ballads. So I dug deeper into the legends, and found that though she did exist, not much was said about her. The historians couldn't even agree on a name for her between Mildred and Ellen.

So what's the meaning of this little anecdote? The girl intrigued me so much that I decided to give her a chance to tell her story. She is not to be confused with a Mary-sue seeing as she is canon and I'm doing my darndest to give her some personality while not deviating too much from medieval expectations. So if any of you spot the sue-ness let me know and I will either justify it in facts at the beginning of the next chapter or revise it.

Disclaimer: This story borrows heavily from BBC's Robin Hood/as many facts as I can dig up about her/the play I was in last year. Hopefully it will all blend

Prologue

Hate. That was the only word Ellen could muster for her current situation and the feelings she had towards her captor. Yet, it seemed to kind of a word. She glared at him from under the gauzy fabric and kept her fists clenched firmly at her sides.

To the outside observer they would have looked like a perfectly happy couple, they made the traditional scene quite pretty. Her flowing dress had been made of gold fabric and was simple in shape with little decoration to show off the woman wearing it. Her copper unruly curls had been tamed for the moment; hiding them under the long golden veil and wreath of tiny yellow flowers that replaced the wimple she normally wore.

He wore dark breeches that tucked into shining black boots with his knightly spurs, a mockery of chivalry itself, gleaming from being freshly polished. A black shirt layered with a black and navy vest with silver clasps reflected his personality perfectly, she thought. His sword belted by his side and undoubtedly several dagger hiding on his person were there to remind her and whoever was watching that he was ruthless. His graying hair was neatly brushed away from his face and his beard had been trimmed. It was his eyes that terrified her the most, intent and calculating. They were the perfect compliment to each other; him a dark figure of power and her, a "shining beacon of the people".

Under the shimmering fabric, Ellen's eyes were red and puffy from lack of sleep and crying. Her skin was three shades lighter than her normal pale complexion, making her almost the same color as one might imagine a ghost. That is if ghosts had freckles, tear stains, and a permanent look of absolute terror on her face.

"Shall we begin milord?" The monk before them wore an earth brown robe and cowl that hid his face and showed his humbleness. Monks were to show their humility in everything, including adornment. This one, though, had gotten a hold of a pair of boots. This was an egregious expense and proved once again in Ellen's mind that everything in this castle was false. Yes the cold stone was real, but this was no place of safety or defense. She shivered involuntarily, and not from the cold.

"Why this is not a blushing bride at all!"

Ellen looked up confused, and then stifled a gasp.