Vala sat cross-legged on Daniel's cot, staring at nothing in particular.

The prospects of finding Daniel seemed very bleak. Everything everyone had told her – that maybe the Ori kidnapped him, maybe they could find him, all the maybes – they all sounded like shots in the dark. Shots that couldn't hit anything even if the people holding the guns had any idea where to aim.

Vala had owned a dog once, when she was still a Goa'uld host. It had been a small black thing with curly fur and bright eyes that she used to carry in her arms. One day when she had left her palace-temple for some reason or another, it was killed and eaten by a hawk. But that wasn't found out until later, when a servant had found her pet's jeweled collar in the beast's nest. Her dog had been taken away from her so quickly and so suddenly, it was almost as if he had never existed. Not that Daniel was a dog – or in any way similar to one – but Vala found herself forgetting Daniel already. He had been taken so quickly. Despite being the in his office, in the middle of his books and clothes and everything that was Daniel on the surface at least…he still seemed only a vague memory that Vala was desperately trying to resurrect.

"I am not going to forget you, Daniel Jackson. You had better be alive and kicking somewhere and finding a way to get back home." Her words fell heavily in the silent room.

oooo

Three days had past, and Daniel was still a prisoner. His hands and feet had been bound – not with leather and not roughly, but firmly – and he had been put into a considerably smaller tent with a guard outside. He could hear men beyond the fabric, talking and performing daily tasks, but no one came into his tent except to bring him food or water or to take him out for a short while.

The three days gave Daniel ample time to think about his situation. Now that his immediate needs had been satisfied (nourishment, warmth, relative safety) he focused on more serious questions. He wondered what Mitchell, Sam, and Teal'c were doing to find him. He wondered if this planet really did have a stargate and if so, would these people know about it or take him to it? The man who seemed to be his guard and caretaker refused to answer any of his questions, let alone talk to him.

And the woman – who was she? She seemed very important to the man in green – Jonathan of the Hood. Could she possibly have anything to do with this little adventure Daniel had landed himself in? He hadn't had any migraines or headaches since his arrival on this planet. And he did find her in some sort of Stonehenge, which corresponded with Ancient legends…

Daniel snapped out of his contemplative mode as the tentflap was jerked open. The haggard face of Jonathan appeared. "Bring him," he ordered to Daniel's guard. The man came in and deftly sliced apart the restraints on Daniel's legs and hauled him to his feet.

All the men in the camp watched him as he stumbled by. Whatever they were doing – cooking, cleaning, sharpening swords or talking, they all stopped and stared. Their faces were unreadable masks. She must have died, Daniel realized numbly. He felt sorrow for her death, but also had an overwhelming feeling of "damn."

Jonathan brought him to the large tent again and pushed him inside, throwing Daniel off-balance and crashing to the floor. Before Daniel could attempt to get to his feet again a heavy boot descended on his head and held in him place. Daniel also felt the tip of an arrowhead brush his hair.

"Watch her die, Daniel Jackson," he growled. The woman's death-pale face rested only a few feet from Daniel's. He could hear the fatigue in the man's voice; he must have stayed with her for the past three days. Husband, maybe?

Daniel couldn't tell how long the two of them stayed there, he with his forehead being ground in to the ground and the other holding an arrow motionless above his head. They were there for so long that Daniel could actually see her breaths beginning to slow which, while a good change from her labored breathing before, were not exactly encouraging for her chances of life. I think this would be time to do something stupid…Daniel decided.

He rolled himself as hard as he could to the left, throwing Jonathan (who had one foot on Daniel's back) off-balance, and his arrow careening past Daniel's right ear into the ground. He let out a roar of anger and hastened to set another arrow, but Daniel knocked the bows out of his hands. Then there followed the frenzied hand-to-hand combat that only a geeky archaeologist and an experienced woodsman can achieve together. At least no one ever accused Dr. Jackson as being orthodox in his fighting technique. "Random" and "reckless" may be better descriptions.

As they were fighting, Daniel felt an odd feeling in his mind. It was a sort of amused anger…and it didn't really seem to connect with the rest of Daniel's emotions. Suddenly, Jonathan stopped fighting. Daniel barely retained a punch that had been aimed towards the man's face, and turned to see what he was looking at.

The woman was sitting cross-legged on the bed, arms folded, and was surveying them with a small (if annoyed) smile on her face. "Myrell!" Jonathan shouted, falling to his knees beside her and engulfing her in a gigantic hug. Jonathan's two armsmen finally seized the opportunity to pinion Daniel's arms to his sides. The woman – Myrell –directed her attention away from Jonathan and gave them a sharp look. They stared coolly back at her, but Daniel felt their hands loosen a little on his arms. The woman pried herself out of Jonathan's embrace and stood. She wobbled dangerously for a moment, but Jonathan steadied her. She stepped toward Daniel, gently cupped his hands in her own, and kissed them, which Daniel took as a sign of thanks. A moment later his thought was confirmed.

Thank you, Daniel Jackson. Her voice almost seemed to echo in the tent. Before he could reply Jonathan was leading her away. As they left the tent Daniel could hear the men outside cheering. I guess things are finally going to get better, Daniel thought with relief. At least, they might get as good as they could be when he was cut off from Stargate Command and Earth.

oooo

The more Daniel learned about Jonathan of the Hood, he saw how similar he was to old English legend; Robin of the Hood (a.k.a., Robin Hood) was the illustrious ancestor who had established Jonathan's house and lineage. Predictably enough, his rival ruled a city called Nottingham. It was funny, actually. But it would have been more enjoyable had he known how to get back home…he had questioned Jonathan about the presence of a Stargate on the planet, but he seemed to have no clue. "'Portal to the Heavens?'" Jonathan chortled, laughing at Daniel's progressively desperate attempts to find a stargate. "Perhaps you would be better off telling tales to little children than wasting time being my scribe!"

Needless to say, Daniel didn't broach the subject again. He had his hands full with Jonathan's library, which was the largest around unless you wanted to go to Nottingham. It was full of generations of information, all the way back to Robin Hood himself. Daniel hoped he would be able to discover if there was a forgotten stargate from there.

He also did an extensive background check on Myrell. Just curiosity, of course…and it wasn't easy to find out much about her. The most reliable information he got was from Jonathan's cellarmaster, who seemed to be in a perpetual state of tipsy-ness. One year ago she had been found in the Hood, naked as the day she was born (which the cellarmaster seemed to find quite intriguing). Her arrival had been heralded by a falling star, apparently. Jonathan's men had found her and he took her on as a servant out of charity. Then one day when Jonathan was out hunting, a band of Nottingham's men took them for a raiding party and attacked. Jonathan was nearly killed; but Myrell saved him.

"'E come back wit' 'is arm danglin' harf off, all bloody an' all, and not one hour la'er 'e's walkin' round 'appy as yer please," the cellarmaster explained enthusiastically. "Arfter tha', ol' Jon Hood treated 'er like a bloomin' princess, 'e did, an' 'e's all set out ter marry 'er! 'A course, 'e'll 'ave some time askin' 'her," he chuckled. "Why's that?" Daniel grunted as he helped the portly man roll a keg to the other side of the room. "Well, we carn't figure wot language she speaks, if she can at all," the cellarmaster said conspiratorially. "She's understandin' us all well enough, but she's said naught a word since she's been among us." Daniel thought about the day in the tent when she first woke up. I've heard her speak. Why can't anyone else?

The result of this mystery was that Daniel spent the majority of the next few days lurking in Jonathan's garden, where the cellarmaster said "Lady Myrell" often walked. The first day was rainy, but the second day he finally spotted her with a maid. He caught up with them and coughed quietly to announce his presence. Myrell and the maid turned, and Myrell smiled when she recognized him. "May I speak with you a moment?" he asked her, trying his best to ignore the look on the maid's face as she struggled to decide whether Daniel was crazy or just an idiot. Myrell studied him for a moment, and Daniel wondered if he had imagined her words and she really was mute. But then she made a quick shooing motion to the maid with her hand. The maid blinked in surprise, but curtsied politely and walked a little ways off, sneaking curious glances at the pair as they stood on the stone path.

"Forgive me if I am wrong," Daniel began, but…everyone says you are mute. That you can't talk. But I think they're wrong." Myrell gave him a sharp look. It was a calculating look, but interested. "Can you talk?" Daniel asked.

Myrell nodded.

"Great," Daniel said, smiling. Myrell smiled too. He waited. She didn't say anything. Then it struck Daniel; "Why won't you talk?"

Myrell's smile faded. She turned and walked away, back toward her maid. "Wait!" Daniel called, but Myrell's maid ushered her swiftly back indoors. Daniel stood alone in the garden, wondering what in the world was going on.

He was suddenly aware of a dull, throbbing pain in his head. He was getting a headache.

Sorry about not getting this up when I said I would. There were several factors, computer hogs and writers' block being among the foremost. But anyways. I think this one's my longest chappie on here so far…hope it's good, please tell me…:)…And the next chapter will be more exciting. I think. -checks outline- Yesh. Well, it's supposed to be exciting at least, I don't really know! I need reviewers like YOU to tell me! –smiles sweetly-

Oh, and heads up, the Atlantis characters will be making an appearance down the road…don't you love how they combined them last Friday? Lol, McKay, McKay…I think things would have been worse (in a funny way) if it had still been O'Neill instead of Mitchell. Pretty great all the same though :D lmol…