Its here! The final
installment in my trilogy!! Its a oneshot- and... hopefully it's
okay. I hope you all enjoy! It is a most peculiar feeling to
lose a limb. When Allan had finally awoken from his fitful rest he
found his leg had been cut below the knee. He, of course, had
panicked, for when you awaken with a part of yourself missing- there
is little else you can do. He found himself in the care of Matilda-
which meant he must be far away from Nottingham and Gisborne; this
gave him comfort, at least knowing his former friend could not harm
him here. It was not long after his awakening that hurried footsteps
were heard in the streets and a gang of outlaws burst into his room,
panting for breath and letting off wide smiles, they welcomed him
back to the real world and left him to rest as his eyelids once again
began to droop. When next they opened, two of his comrades
sat by his bed and he lifted an arm to wake them. Aware that he had
not spoken in what seemed an eternity, he quietly asked them what had
happened. They had been expecting this, he could tell by their hidden
sadness. They told him that he was a hero and begged him to leave it
at that, but something about the way they had spoken made him shake
his head and demand the truth- he had lost time, memories- a leg...
he needed to know how this all happened and hesitantly they complied. As the weeks went by and he grew stronger, he was allowed out
of bed with someone by his side. Will, the carpenter, had made him a
pair of crutches to use-made them out of the best wood; soft, yet
solid, with smooth grips and padded tops. He was grateful, he was,
but he could not escape the bitterness of his situation. It was all
very well being happy he had survived, but they did not have to give
up their former life, they could continue. They did not have to rely
on others for things to be done, they may as well have let him die
and remembered him as a strong man who died honourably. Once he told
them this and they had voiced their shock, they had been unable to
hide their sadness and spoke reassuring words that fell upon deaf
ears. Their looks of sadness and pity made his stomach feel heavy, he
neither wanted or needed it. He also felt guilt as he thought
of the poor in Nottingham, who was helping them while the gang was
here? So again he had shouted, he had shouted and he had thrown
things- you are thinking of just one man, I am thinking of the poor
of Nottingham! You are wasting your time here with me- you should be
helping them, else I lost my leg for naught. He had screamed until
his throat was raw and his eyes were dry. And they had watched in
shock. He had found himself eventually in the arms of a man, the
miller's son turned manservant, he held him as he let out his
feelings and frustrations, never trying to stop him, only listening
and holding him. It was only after this point that he began to look
up. Months had now passed since the incident and Allan had
taken it upon himself to fetch goods from the marketplace now he was
a bit healthier, his bruises were gone and all that remained of his
experience were a stiff hand, a missing leg and shortness of breath.
To his embarrassment this flared up as he passed by a woman selling
dresses- as he tried to take in air in large, violent gasps she led
him away from prying eyes and rubbed him on the back in the hope that
he would relax and once again breathe as he should. Although she felt
pity, she did not show it on her face, aware by looking at the man
that he had received little else of late and might not appreciate it.
After a few minutes he calmed and buried his face in his hands,
hastily wiping the tears that had made their way down his face as he
had become worked up and he gave the woman a grateful smile. She
asked if he would be fine on his own, as she had left her business
unattended and he nodded. Her heart went out to him as he regained
his spirits and hobbled off down the street, one so young should not
be placed in such a state. This woman had another surprise
later in the day as the man from earlier on shyly approached her and
handed her a (slightly crushed) flower and inquired her name. For the
first time since her late husband passed away, she giggled. Roana.
She could feel her face warming up and as she then asked his name, he
in turn changed to a deeper shade of pink as he stuttered out his
name. She saw himself mentally kick himself as he stumbled over his
words, and this made her giggle all the more. He smiled at her and
bid her good day. Until next week, Allan a Dale. He had
stuttered... Why had he stuttered? Allan a Dale was good with the
ladies, ask practically any woman you know and she'll tell you, he
did not stutter, he did not blush and he did not give flowers... and
yet, he had done all of these things. When he had returned to the
house he shared with Much, the other man had taken the goods and
looked at his face. He had, with a small smile, asked what had gotten
into him that made him be so quiet to which Allan had no reply. He
thought for a while before recalling the events to his friend, who
broke out into a massive grin. Someone is in love. Love, after two
meetings? Surely not! The other man was quite adamant and instructed
Allan to invite her to eat at their house. So he waited, he waited
the everlasting week that never seemed to end and went back to the
market with another flower, but the flower was quickly on the floor
as he saw a man grab at his beautiful Roana and saw her slap him
which the stranger did not take to kindly. Allan a Dale with his eyes
seeing red brought one of his supporting crutches to trap the man.
That is no way to treat a lady, and found himself on the floor,
crutchless and penniless. My hero, she had called him, let me take
you home. And so it was with broken pride, that Roana found herself
at a tiny, cosy house. Upon arrival another man gasped and took one
of his friend's arms and invited her in. You must be Roana. Surprised
that the man had spoke of her, she nodded. *wipes tear* its over. this trilogy is finished
*sniff* aaaahhhh.... let me know what you think pleeaasseeeeee.
