AN: All right, so Will has a brain, but he follows orders. Almost like
General Longstreet in the book The Killer Angels. Woah! Way too much
English class. Back to the Lady Marian.
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I squatted behind the thick wall of shrubbery. Richard was beside me, squatting as well. The birds around us had once again begun singing. My thighs were beginning to ache from remaining in place so long. But the infernal fowl were behaving as they should. Robin noticed any infinitesimal disturbance in the woods; even if he could completely miss a sword held inches form his face.
There was a slight rustling in the trees down the road. Richard jumped, and there was a frantic tone to his voice as he began whispering questions. I pinched his chubby lips between her fingernails, a bit more viciously than necessary, to shut him up. And then I leaned forward to peer at our visitor.
Robin leapt downward from the branches of a tall yew. He landed on his feet, and dropped to one knee. Everything went quiet. The birds flew from the area, screeching as if some horrid ogre had begun attacking. Robin laid one ear to the earth and closed both eyes.
"What is he doing?" Richard whispered. I held one hand in front of my mouth to muffle the noise. "He is listening for the sounds of hoof beats, or footsteps."
Robin re-erected his head and peered around. No horses. He stood cautiously, as if something should soon attack. When no wild boar leapt from the bush, he began walking forward.
Richard gave me a hard kick, and I emerged from my hiding. I had somehow managed to cram my hair into a Norman helmet. The disfiguring metal nose piece gave me the appearance of an inhuman creature poised to strike. I had worn boy's clothes, with a tunic hanging so loosely that not even the most observant should tell I was no male. I removed the sword from its hilt. The metal gleamed maliciously in sunlight.
Robin jumped back, startled. "Good sir, what quarrel have you with me?" he asked nervously. I wantes so badly to smile and wave. But, good Lord, my poor father. I assumed the fighting position. "Stand and fight, outlaw scum!" I screeched. He HAD TO run. He WOULD run. This was all just a game, I told myself. It was all a game of knights in the Yard. Nothing was real. No one would die, and no one would murder. It was all pretend.
Robin raised his staff. Before I could react, he swung, and the staff connected with just the right angle.
My helmet flew to the road.
The metal clanged nosily as it hit earth. A mass of auburn curls cascaded from the metal confine, joyous to be free. I raced after the helmet to grab it. But it was too late. He had seen.
Robin froze. "Marian," he whispered, and the staff clattered noiselessly to the ground.
I gave up the pursuit of my helmet for lost, and stood. My emotions could not take the stress of watching his horror surmount. So I created a false reality for myself. God, I lost it. It was all a game. This was all just a game, I told myself. It was all a game of knights in the Yard. Nothing was real. No one would die, and no one would murder. It was all pretend. Somehow, I convinced myself. My mind reeled with my own mad convictions.
"Stand and fight me!" I screeched, marvelous villain that I was. Robin's eyes shifted. He shook his head slowly. "I cannot, Mari."
The hot rage surged through me. The fool! Run, you imbecile! I wanted to scream a warning, wanted to tell him it was not only I, but Nottingham's soldiers. But I could not. "Fight me!" I repeated. Robin shook his head. And everything I hated, everything I loathed, all boiled down into a single venom. It was all his fault - everything. My father was in jail. Will was an outlaw. I had secrets from my best friends. I hated him.
And I swung the sword. It connected with his stomach, and left a painful slice. He groaned with the sting of his wound. Maybe if he knew I would hurt him, it would force him into battle. But still he would not. I had even left a wide space between us, so wide he could reach the accursed staff if he wished to. I would not stop him.
I swung again. Please fight me, Robin. I will let you win. You can be the best knight, but fight me. He would not. So I struck again and again and again in my fury. He would realize I meant it soon enough.
Suddenly, he hit his knees, gasping violently, shoulders shaking mercilessly. This was when he got up, and all the blood went away. But he wasn't getting up. This was no game of knights in the Yard. This was reality. He was hurt, and I had his blood on my sword. My mind reeled. He was gasping when Richard came out of the bushes.
I was dimly aware of Robin's crying out when they bound his hands. Why was that? Oh, that was it, I had sliced his wrist. I had hurt him. "Robin!" I cried suddenly. He glanced upward to watch me. "I did it to save my father!" Richard laughed, and threw an arm round my shoulder. "Oh, Marian. That was the story we created for the Sheriff. Why waste such a perfect falsehood on the outlaw?" He kissed my neck, and my skin crawled with the feel of his vile lips. "Robin, he's lying!" I cried frantically. He turned away from me, and would not look back. The world dimmed as they gagged him.
He struggled furiously, but there were seven of them, and one bloody mess of him. Everything remained distant, until I heard a faint, agonized, bird call.
"That is their distress signal!" I screeched, before my mind registered the warning. Why did I tell? I could have been free from obligation if the other outlaws shot me. And Robin would be safe. But then my father would die.
My mind zoomed back into reality. Robin's face fell. I wanted to sob when he looked at me with that utter disbelief, but I held my expression. I had to save my poor, dear father, even if it meant sacrificing dear, dear, love of my life - stop it, Marian. As if. You have a job to do. "You!" I screamed, pointing to one of the puzzled guards. "Aye, milady?" he replied.
"Get a horse, and bring the outlaw to Nottingham castle. The sheriff will know what to do." He remained in position, staring stupidly at me for a moment. "Now!" I barked, and he hopped to. I did not need to look as he dragged Robin upward.
"Everyone, on your mounts," I roared, pointing to the remaining soldiers. "The others will be here in a matter of minutes, if not moments. Let's move!" Tears filled my eyes. I could not believe my own actions. Did I not have control over my own life? I had lost my ferocity and my independence. I had become the meek little maid they wished me to be.
They all leaped to their steeds and flew towards Nottingham. I paused to stare at a battered metal helmet that lay on the ground. I did not want to touch it. I wanted to burn it. But no evidence could be left. I placed my hands round its filthy silver crest. Traitor, turncoat, wretch. Traitor, turncoat, wretch. I nearly dropped it. It seemed to radiate my essence with that singularly vicious phrase. I silenced it by ramming the contraption on my head. They had known. The sheriff and Richard had known Robin would never hurt me. They had known I was the only knight in Nottingham that could defeat Robin Hood, since I would never be struck but his weapon.
We rode away, and Sherwood seemed to loom upon our party. It knew what we had done.
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Author's Notes: I'm sooo sorry Feye Morgan, but there is no way out (for Marian at least). Apologize to everyone for my tardy update, but I wanted to wait until Winter Break.
THANK YOU SOOO MUCH FOR REVIEWING!
I want to hug you all! But that would probably be more of a punishment. So, I won't. I have decided I like author's notes. The omnipotent power fills me with joy. *cue the evil cackle*
If you want to see the ballad I made this story up from, it's on my website. It's under Ballads. Kinda hoped it would be obvious and all, but you never know. I love twisting ballads.
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I squatted behind the thick wall of shrubbery. Richard was beside me, squatting as well. The birds around us had once again begun singing. My thighs were beginning to ache from remaining in place so long. But the infernal fowl were behaving as they should. Robin noticed any infinitesimal disturbance in the woods; even if he could completely miss a sword held inches form his face.
There was a slight rustling in the trees down the road. Richard jumped, and there was a frantic tone to his voice as he began whispering questions. I pinched his chubby lips between her fingernails, a bit more viciously than necessary, to shut him up. And then I leaned forward to peer at our visitor.
Robin leapt downward from the branches of a tall yew. He landed on his feet, and dropped to one knee. Everything went quiet. The birds flew from the area, screeching as if some horrid ogre had begun attacking. Robin laid one ear to the earth and closed both eyes.
"What is he doing?" Richard whispered. I held one hand in front of my mouth to muffle the noise. "He is listening for the sounds of hoof beats, or footsteps."
Robin re-erected his head and peered around. No horses. He stood cautiously, as if something should soon attack. When no wild boar leapt from the bush, he began walking forward.
Richard gave me a hard kick, and I emerged from my hiding. I had somehow managed to cram my hair into a Norman helmet. The disfiguring metal nose piece gave me the appearance of an inhuman creature poised to strike. I had worn boy's clothes, with a tunic hanging so loosely that not even the most observant should tell I was no male. I removed the sword from its hilt. The metal gleamed maliciously in sunlight.
Robin jumped back, startled. "Good sir, what quarrel have you with me?" he asked nervously. I wantes so badly to smile and wave. But, good Lord, my poor father. I assumed the fighting position. "Stand and fight, outlaw scum!" I screeched. He HAD TO run. He WOULD run. This was all just a game, I told myself. It was all a game of knights in the Yard. Nothing was real. No one would die, and no one would murder. It was all pretend.
Robin raised his staff. Before I could react, he swung, and the staff connected with just the right angle.
My helmet flew to the road.
The metal clanged nosily as it hit earth. A mass of auburn curls cascaded from the metal confine, joyous to be free. I raced after the helmet to grab it. But it was too late. He had seen.
Robin froze. "Marian," he whispered, and the staff clattered noiselessly to the ground.
I gave up the pursuit of my helmet for lost, and stood. My emotions could not take the stress of watching his horror surmount. So I created a false reality for myself. God, I lost it. It was all a game. This was all just a game, I told myself. It was all a game of knights in the Yard. Nothing was real. No one would die, and no one would murder. It was all pretend. Somehow, I convinced myself. My mind reeled with my own mad convictions.
"Stand and fight me!" I screeched, marvelous villain that I was. Robin's eyes shifted. He shook his head slowly. "I cannot, Mari."
The hot rage surged through me. The fool! Run, you imbecile! I wanted to scream a warning, wanted to tell him it was not only I, but Nottingham's soldiers. But I could not. "Fight me!" I repeated. Robin shook his head. And everything I hated, everything I loathed, all boiled down into a single venom. It was all his fault - everything. My father was in jail. Will was an outlaw. I had secrets from my best friends. I hated him.
And I swung the sword. It connected with his stomach, and left a painful slice. He groaned with the sting of his wound. Maybe if he knew I would hurt him, it would force him into battle. But still he would not. I had even left a wide space between us, so wide he could reach the accursed staff if he wished to. I would not stop him.
I swung again. Please fight me, Robin. I will let you win. You can be the best knight, but fight me. He would not. So I struck again and again and again in my fury. He would realize I meant it soon enough.
Suddenly, he hit his knees, gasping violently, shoulders shaking mercilessly. This was when he got up, and all the blood went away. But he wasn't getting up. This was no game of knights in the Yard. This was reality. He was hurt, and I had his blood on my sword. My mind reeled. He was gasping when Richard came out of the bushes.
I was dimly aware of Robin's crying out when they bound his hands. Why was that? Oh, that was it, I had sliced his wrist. I had hurt him. "Robin!" I cried suddenly. He glanced upward to watch me. "I did it to save my father!" Richard laughed, and threw an arm round my shoulder. "Oh, Marian. That was the story we created for the Sheriff. Why waste such a perfect falsehood on the outlaw?" He kissed my neck, and my skin crawled with the feel of his vile lips. "Robin, he's lying!" I cried frantically. He turned away from me, and would not look back. The world dimmed as they gagged him.
He struggled furiously, but there were seven of them, and one bloody mess of him. Everything remained distant, until I heard a faint, agonized, bird call.
"That is their distress signal!" I screeched, before my mind registered the warning. Why did I tell? I could have been free from obligation if the other outlaws shot me. And Robin would be safe. But then my father would die.
My mind zoomed back into reality. Robin's face fell. I wanted to sob when he looked at me with that utter disbelief, but I held my expression. I had to save my poor, dear father, even if it meant sacrificing dear, dear, love of my life - stop it, Marian. As if. You have a job to do. "You!" I screamed, pointing to one of the puzzled guards. "Aye, milady?" he replied.
"Get a horse, and bring the outlaw to Nottingham castle. The sheriff will know what to do." He remained in position, staring stupidly at me for a moment. "Now!" I barked, and he hopped to. I did not need to look as he dragged Robin upward.
"Everyone, on your mounts," I roared, pointing to the remaining soldiers. "The others will be here in a matter of minutes, if not moments. Let's move!" Tears filled my eyes. I could not believe my own actions. Did I not have control over my own life? I had lost my ferocity and my independence. I had become the meek little maid they wished me to be.
They all leaped to their steeds and flew towards Nottingham. I paused to stare at a battered metal helmet that lay on the ground. I did not want to touch it. I wanted to burn it. But no evidence could be left. I placed my hands round its filthy silver crest. Traitor, turncoat, wretch. Traitor, turncoat, wretch. I nearly dropped it. It seemed to radiate my essence with that singularly vicious phrase. I silenced it by ramming the contraption on my head. They had known. The sheriff and Richard had known Robin would never hurt me. They had known I was the only knight in Nottingham that could defeat Robin Hood, since I would never be struck but his weapon.
We rode away, and Sherwood seemed to loom upon our party. It knew what we had done.
*** *** *** *** *** *** *** *** ***
Author's Notes: I'm sooo sorry Feye Morgan, but there is no way out (for Marian at least). Apologize to everyone for my tardy update, but I wanted to wait until Winter Break.
THANK YOU SOOO MUCH FOR REVIEWING!
I want to hug you all! But that would probably be more of a punishment. So, I won't. I have decided I like author's notes. The omnipotent power fills me with joy. *cue the evil cackle*
If you want to see the ballad I made this story up from, it's on my website. It's under Ballads. Kinda hoped it would be obvious and all, but you never know. I love twisting ballads.
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