"Remember WENN" and characters created by Rupert Holmes, copyright AMC,
Howard Meltzer, no infringement intended, etc. etc. etc., yadda yadda yadda.

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"Damsel In A Dress"
by Kevin Schultz

Lady Betty woke to find herself in bed, alone. Thank goodness! she
thought.

She looked around. Yes, she was still stuck in the castle, in the
bedchamber the Sheriff of Nottingham had imprisoned her in last evening.
The villainous swine had kidnapped her as she was riding to her home with
her servant girl riding alongside her. The sheriff's men had leapt from
behind the trees as she and young Maple had just crossed a tiny stream in
the forest. They had quickly subdued Maple and carried her off, with Maple
protesting loudly. Lady Betty had also decided not to go away quietly. She
quickly tossed her money-pouch at the nearest soldier's head, causing him to
fall back onto his rump. The other soldiers had laughed, but kept coming.
One caught hold of her horse, and another grabbed her leg, and dragged her
off of her horse. As she fell, she heard them all chuckle. One of the
soldiers, their leader, presumably, had nodded to the others and said,
"We've got her. Tie her up and take her back to the Sheriff." And so
that's what they had done.

Once she had arrived in the castle, the Sheriff had quickly found his way to
her, and had once again fawned all over her. Lady Betty had quietly ignored
his attempts to woo her. Finally the Sheriff had gotten the message, and
had his soldiers take her to the highest bedchamber in his castle, there to
spend the night. The Sheriff's parting words to her had been, "When next we
meet, it shall be our glorious wedding day!"

Lady Betty had been too tired to put up much of a fight after that, and had
allowed herself to be taken to the bedchamber in which she now found
herself.

As she looked around, she could see that during the night, someone had
entered and placed a beautiful wedding dress over on the table near the
window. Lady Betty got up out of her bed, and paced quietly over to the
dress. Yes, it was indeed a wondrous garment. "Hmph!" Lady Betty said,
smirking. "I shall never don those clothes for as long as I live."

"What a pity," a voice said from the doorway behind her. Lady Betty spun
around. The Sheriff stood before her. "I should hate to have to marry a
corpse."

"We cannot always have what we desire, Sheriff," Lady Betty retorted
quickly.

The smile on the Sheriff's face faded only briefly, but just returned just
as quickly as he replied in kind. "Indeed, we cannot. As you, yourself,
shall not have the hand of your beloved ne-er-do-well. For, even as we
speak, my finest soldiers are sweeping through the forest in search of him.
We shall have him momentarily, I am sure. Who knows?" The Sheriff
chuckled. "I may even ask him to be my Best Man!"

Lady Betty arched an eyebrow. "There is no way in heaven or in hell that my
beloved will *ever* do as you ask!"

The Sheriff nodded. "I am sure. I was speaking in jest, of course. I
would never ask him to be a part of the ceremony."

Lady Betty turned her back on the Sheriff. "Get out."

"You forget yourself, my Lady, this is my castle, you are my guest. *I* am
the one to give orders here." He turned to the doorway, and clapped his
hands. "Servants!" A quartet of young, scared-looking girls rushed into
the room. None of them dared look at the Sheriff. "I wish to be married
within the hour. Have the Lady Betty dressed and ready for the ceremony as
quickly as possible." The servants nodded, and moved towards Lady Betty.
"I will see you shortly, my sweet!" And with that, the Sheriff swept out
of the room.

The servant girls, tears in their eyes, moved towards Lady Betty. Lady
Betty eyed them closely. She could see they were terrified, and were merely
doing as they had been bidden by their cruel master. She knew that if she
fought and resisted them, a worse fate than changing a Lady's clothes
awaited them. So she sighed, and said, "I am ready."

*****

The huge cathedral looked impressive. Flowers of many different kinds lined
the pews, and giant tapestries and draperies lined the walls and the
ceiling. The windows high up along the walls let in beams of golden
late-morning sunshine. The guards stationed at the entry rather marred the
effect, though.

Due to the sudden nature of the ceremony, few invitations had been
delivered, much less accepted. Only a few people sat in the pews, most in
silence. The robed and hooded priest stood at the far end of the center
aisle in front of the altar, awaiting the imminent approach of the Lady
Betty. To the right of the priest stood the Sheriff, preening himself in
his glorious vestments. He had obviously put on his finest clothing for
this ceremony. A burly guard walked beside Lady Betty, clutching her arm,
refusing to let her get away.

"My Lady, you look absolutely splendid!" the Sheriff called from far across
the cathedral. Of all the impertinent cheek! How dare he shout at me, in
the middle of the ceremony no less! Lady Betty fumed.

Finally, silently, Lady Betty reached the altar. The guard still held her
arm firmly. The Sheriff noticed that, and frowned at the guard. The guard
let go of Lady Betty and moved stand by the first row of pews.

"My Lady, I cannot tell you how privileged I feel at this moment," the
Sheriff said, grinning hugely. His eyes glinted with the fervor of a man
about to achieve his life's ambition. "I am anxious to begin. Shall we?"

Lady Betty turned slowly to the Sheriff. She looked at him quietly, fuming
inside. Saying nothing, she turned her head away, and stared forward at the
altar.

"You will look at me, My Lady, when I speak to you!" the Sheriff growled.
He reached out his left hand to grab her jaw --

--and his hand was suddenly skewered by a long, thin arrow!

The Sheriff spun around, clutching his hand, screaming in agony. "Guards!"
he managed to spit out. "Find him! He's here! Stop him!" One of the
guards rushed to help the Sheriff with his wound, one stayed close to Lady
Betty, who was looking around fervently, and the rest of the guards ran
about, confused.

"Hiya, Betty!" a voice cried out. One of the guards shouted, and pointed up
at one of the windows high up in the wall.

"Sorry I'm late... did I miss anything?" shouted Scott of Sherwood, boldly.
The guards rushed towards the window in which Scott's body stood framed
against the sunlight. Scott slung his bow over his shoulder, grabbed a
nearby drapery, and with a quick jump out of the window, swung himself over
the oncoming guards, and let go just as he reached the altar, landing nimbly
on his feet next to Lady Betty. "Got held up in traffic. You wouldn't
*believe* what I had to get through to make it here in time."

The priest at the altar swung back his cowled hood, and beamed at Lady
Betty. "Hello, Lady Betty!" said Friar Mackie.

"Scott! Mackie! I'm so pleased to see you both!" Betty cried, so happy she
was nearly in tears.

Scott turned to Mackie. "Father?"

Mackie nodded. "Yep, I gotcha covered, boss." He reached under his robes,
and produced two gleaming swords. He flipped one to Betty, and kept the
other for himself. "Time to go to work, kid," he said to Lady Betty.

Lady Betty nodded, as she and Mackie turned to face the guards, who by now
had recovered themselves and were rushing back at them.

Scott, meanwhile, had jumped over to where the Sheriff had cowered,
clutching his left hand. "I don't think the Lady Betty is particularly fond
of you, Sheriff," he said. "And frankly, neither am I." He held his sword
out before him. "Shall we?"

The Sheriff stood up, grimacing. He unsheathed his own sword, held it out
before him, and said, "Why not? I'll enjoy despatching you. I've been
looking forward to it for far too long!" With that, he lunged at Scott, who
easily parried the attack.

"Get used to disappointment," Scott chuckled as he spun and angled in for an
attack. Their swords clashed, the sunlight from the windows gleaming on the
silver blades. "Ya know, Sheriff," Scott said, conversationally, as he
continued duelling, "I have just one thing to ask of you. You're not gonna
like it, though."

The Sheriff, tiring from his struggles against Scott, growled, and said,
"What? Say it, you foolish devil!"

"Well, don't say I didn't warn you," Scott said. "But instead of dancing
here with you, there's another person who I'd much rather spend my life with
on the dance floor. And I think she'd rather dance with me, instead of you.
Perhaps you know her, she's right over there." Scott pointed behind the
Sheriff.

The Sheriff spun around, to find Lady Betty right in front of him, sword in
hand. He could see his guards lying on the ground behind her.

Lady Betty's eyes narrowed, as she leaned in towards the Sheriff, and
said...

"May I cut in?"

Lady Betty's sword flashed quickly, the sunlight glinting brightly. The
Sheriff grimaced, spun, clutched his stomach, staggered to the first row of
pews, and collapsed. Friar Mackie rushed over, holding his sword as he
checked the Sheriff. "Yep, that about does it, folks," Friar Mackie said.
"He's dead."

Lady Betty and Scott both dropped their swords, and rushed towards each
other. They embraced, and held each other close. "Oh, Scott," Lady Betty
breathed.

"Betty, Betty, Betty..." Scott murmured as he hugged her close. They
paused, looked at one another.

Their eyes met. Time slowed. Scott began to lean towards Lady Betty, his
lips about to touch hers...


---Betty's eyes snapped open. The thunder that had woken her was still
rumbling outside her bedroom. She sat up quickly, and looked around. "Oh
no!" she cried. "It's the Barbican! No, no, no, no, no!!"

Quickly she shut her eyes again, jumped back under her covers, and squeezed
her eyes shut as hard as she possibly could. "Back to sleep, back to sleep,
back to sleep, back to sleep, back to sleep..."

~~~The End~~~