Grrrrrrr. As those of you who are also reading my HP fic already know, the
internet at my house is down and is likely to stay down until the 16th.
Therefore, as I'm writing this, it is Friday, but it will not be up until
at least Saturday the 10th, when I will be at the library, where there are
computers with internet for people to use. *throws random, glass objects at
walls and such, stomps feet and screams in frustration* I hate when the
internet is down. It really sux, you know? It's like, all of a sudden,
computers aren't really worth much. My sister spends her time on a computer
editing pictures and stuff, making those funky little doll things you put
on websites, but I don't get the point of doing that. If I was going to
draw something, I would do it by hand. I just feel lucky that my dad's
computer has Linux as well as Windows 2000. Linux has many, many, many fun
little games to play, so I use his computer. It's, like, a Franken-
computer, and he's Dr. Frankenstein. It has a Dell flat-screen moniter, and
bits and pieces that he has found that work really really well. It's the
fastest computer I've ever used.
I'm babbling again, aren't I? Sorry. Just trying to express my frustration at the computer's lack of internet access. Grrrrrrrrrrr. I'll get on with the story now.
BTW, no shout-outs for a while. No internet, no shout-outs. I'll try to do a chapter that is just shout-outs while I'm at the library, but no promises. I really do appreciate reviews, and all my reviewers are wonderful!
However, from what I remember, one of my reviewers is a very good guesser. I think it was Black Pixie who guessed things, but I don't really remember and I'm sorry if I have the wrong person's name. So, I guess, one shout-out today.
Black Pixie or whoever-the-reviewer-who-guessed-things-is, you are really good at guessing things. Almost too good. How on earth did you guess who they all are? You're right about Alan the minstrel, and her parents. I know you guessed all of that a long time ago, but it wasn't safe to tell you until this chapter. In this chapter I am going to tell who they all really are. So read on, and feel proud of yourself for guessing correctly!
*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*
I woke slowly the next morning. Sunlight played across my room, beams falling on my bed, coming through the open window. I stretched luxuriously, reveling in the warmth of the morning sun on my bare arms. I threw off the heavy quilt that was my blanket, stood, and stretched again. I walked across my room to my wardrobe and opened the heavy oak doors.
I looked through my dresses. The reds and blues, I decided, were too vibrant and colorful for today. Blacks and grays were also out of the question; they were too somber and solemn. Finally, I settled on a dress of deep green (A/N: Lincoln green, anyone?) and a corset of soft brown doeskin. I slipped the dress over my head, settling it over the shift I had worn as a nightdress. I laced up the corset and looked around for my shoes.
The comfortable, leather moccasins I wanted were lying near the foot of my bed. I slipped them on and ran to my dresser, where a brush was lying near a book and a small box. I hurriedly brushed my hair and left my room.
I practically flew down the stairs and out through the kitchen, stopping to grab a chunk of bread and some cheese from the table where they were waiting for me. Cookie, the darling, knew I would want bread and cheese to take with me this morning, and had laid some out for me earlier, before she set about preparing breakfast for everyone else.
I ran to the stables and pulled open one of the doors. I called a cheery "Good morning!" to the still-sleepy stablehands, then continued to my horse's stall. She's beautiful, brown with a black mane and tail, and a white star and white socks. Her name is Kaitlin after a brave girl in an Irish ballad I once heard.
I quickly saddled and bridled Kaitlin, placing my bread and cheese into one of the saddlebags. I led her outside and shut the stable door behind me. I swung on, gripping the saddlehorn and swinging my right leg over.
She went slowly until we had gone outside of the gates, then she started cantering. I laughed and patted her shoulder. I hadn't been able to take her out the previous morning, it had been raining and I don't like riding in the rain. Which is strange, considering I love to be outside in the rain.
"Eager for a run, are we, girl?" I asked, leaning close to her neck.
She took that as a signal to go faster and broke into a full gallop. I took the reins, being careful to leave her her head. I guided her to the left, towards Sherwood Forest. The old road we were following still had puddles from the previous day's rain. She swerved to avoid them.
We came this way nearly every morning. Along the old road, then turning east towards Sherwood, entering the forest by a small game trail rather than the road.
She slowed as we approached the forest and the turn we would take to find the game trail. We turned off the main road and found the game trail we had claimed as our own. Soon we were entering the green, leafy darkness of the forest. Kaitlin was just trotting now, following the familiar trail to a small stream with a conveniently placed flat rock, just right for a seat.
I soon dismounted and tethered her near the stream so that she could graze as well as drink. I knelt by the stream and splashed the icy water on my face, then took a drink myself. I stood and took my bread and cheese out of Kaitlin's saddlebags, then sat on the flat rock. I was relaxing, enjoying the fresh morning air and babbling of the stream, when I heard a voice call out and noise in the underbrush.
"My lady," called a semi-familiar voice. Crashing noises followed.
I jumped up and whirled around. Alan the minstrel came out of the trees and brushed himself off.
"Good morning," he said cheerfully, twigs and leaves stuck in his hair.
"Good morning," I replied, seating myself on the rock again. "You gave me a start."
"Did I? I appologize," he said, coming forward and looking around. He sounded so sincere that I smiled and moved over to make room for him to sit on the rock beside me. "Is that horse yours? She's beautiful," he said, gesturing at Kaitlin and seating himself on the rock.
"Yes, she's mine. Her name is Kaitlin," I said. "Would you like some bread and cheese?"
"After the brave little Irish girl?" he asked, amusement in his voice. "No, thank you, I have some with me." He opened a pouch at his waist and withdrew a hunk of bread and some cheese.
"Yes," I said simply.
"This is a beautiful spot," he said, looking once more at our surroundings.
"I discovered it two years ago, just after I got Kaitlin," I replied. "Ever since, it's been my favorite place to come, in the mornings, or when I need to think."
We munched in silence for a while, then he stood up. "I have to go, I promised your parents that I would play for them after breakfast," he said, bowing and stuffing the remainder of his bread and cheese back into the pouch.
"I'll walk back with you," I said, also standing. "My parents might worry."
I put the rest of my bread and cheese into Kaitlin's saddlebag, then I untethered her and led her back to the trail, where Alan the minstrel was waiting. Under the morning sun, I noticed something I had overlooked the night before. His dark hair was streaked with gray, which meant that he was at least as old as my father, and maybe older.
We walked slowly back to my parent's house, talking and discussing debating about our favorite ballads and stories. We arrived just after everyone was finishing breakfast in the Great Hall. I bid him goodbye for a while, then I took Kaitlin back into the stable and into her stall. I cared for her, dawdling a little as I brushed her free of the burrs and grasses she had somehow picked up in the forest. I filled her water bucket and filled her food trough full of sweet hay and oats. As I left, she stopped eating long enough to whinny at me and lip my shoulder. I patted her nose and left the stable.
I walked back to my room and brushed my hair again, a little slower this time. Then I went downstairs and seated myself to between my mother and father in the Great Hall. Beautiful harp music filled the entire hall. I listened and got lost in the stories of King Arthur and his Knights of the Round Table, stories of fair maidens and dragons, and stories of Robin Hood and the Lady Marian. Everyone applauded as Alan the minstrel stood and bowed.
Almost everyone left the hall as he approached the table Father, Mother and I sat at. He kissed Mother's hand again, and, at her invitation, sat beside her. Father stared at the grain of the wood in the table as if he had to do something that he was dreading. He took a deep breath, gulped, and took another.
"Mariel, my dear, we have something to tell you," Mother said gently, taking my hand. "Will wants to be the one to tell you, but he's having a hard time. We always knew the moment we would have to tell you this would come, but we have tried to delay it as much as possible. Last night, we realized it could not be delayed any longer. We only realized that because of Alan's arrival here. Perhaps, Alan, you would like to tell her your real name before we tell her anything else?" she said, directing the last remark to Alan the minstrel.
"My name," Alan the minstrel said, "my full name is Alan-a-Dale."
I gasped and jumped up. I was too shocked to speak. Alan-a-Dale? Alan-a- Dale, Robin Hood's minstrel? Surely not. Thoughts chased around my mind. Alan-a-Dale? Surely this was too good to be real. It couldn't be. Alan-a- Dale? What? How? Why? I already knew who. Alan-a-Dale? I stared at the minstrel, disbelieving.
Mother pulled me back down into my chair and bit her lip. "Now for the part that your father and I have to tell you," she said finally. She stared down at the wooden table top, just as my father was doing. "Will, tell her. Tell her now or I'll do it."
Father swallowed hard. "Mariel, we," he tried and broke off, then swallowed again. He tried again. "Mariel, we are not your real parents."
I jumped up again and this time, Mother (or whoever she is, I am no longer sure) let me stay standing. "If you aren't my parents, who are? I don't understand," I cried. "If this is a joke, it is not funny. And it isn't the Fool's Day, so I don't understand why you're telling me this."
"Mariel, we'll explain as best we can," the woman-who-may-not-be-my-mother- I-am-no-longer-sure said desperately. "We are really your foster parents. Your real parents are those two you have long admired."
My mind raced. Who did she mean? Who have I long admired? I looked from the man I had once thought was my father to the woman I once thought was my mother to the man who claimed to be the famous Alan-a-Dale.
"Your parents," the man I once thought to be my father said, almost choking on the words, "are, indeed, those two whose tales you love to hear."
I stood stock still. Did they mean—?
"Yes," the woman I once called Mother said heavily, "your parents are the bold Robin Hood and the Lady Marian."
*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*
Hahahahahahaha! *evil chuckle* And that's it for this chapter! Haha, cliffie! Evil, I know.
I thought about ending it one sentence early, ending with "Did they mean—?" but then I decided that would be too mean and evil. I don't like cliffies too much personally, but this one should give you something to think about while we all wait for the internet at my house to be fixed.
I have a sad thing to tell you, and a happy one. Sad thing first.
Sad thing: Even if you review, that will not make me put up another chapter quickly. It couldn't. Reviews won't fix the internet at my house, sadly. Sad sad sad.
Happy thing: I'll pester to go to the library, and I might be able to update at school next week. I'll beg my teachers to let me use the internet during lunch or something. Another happy thing: I really do love getting reviews from people! And I do try to update more often than I do! It's Friday as I'm writing this all up, I told you all that before, so as of right now, I have this chapter, two for my HP fic, and one for my Ella Enchanted fic. So on Saturday there will be at least four new chapters from me to all of you guys.
Please review, even though I won't know for a while. I love getting reviews from all of you wonderful people!
I'm babbling again, aren't I? Sorry. Just trying to express my frustration at the computer's lack of internet access. Grrrrrrrrrrr. I'll get on with the story now.
BTW, no shout-outs for a while. No internet, no shout-outs. I'll try to do a chapter that is just shout-outs while I'm at the library, but no promises. I really do appreciate reviews, and all my reviewers are wonderful!
However, from what I remember, one of my reviewers is a very good guesser. I think it was Black Pixie who guessed things, but I don't really remember and I'm sorry if I have the wrong person's name. So, I guess, one shout-out today.
Black Pixie or whoever-the-reviewer-who-guessed-things-is, you are really good at guessing things. Almost too good. How on earth did you guess who they all are? You're right about Alan the minstrel, and her parents. I know you guessed all of that a long time ago, but it wasn't safe to tell you until this chapter. In this chapter I am going to tell who they all really are. So read on, and feel proud of yourself for guessing correctly!
*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*
I woke slowly the next morning. Sunlight played across my room, beams falling on my bed, coming through the open window. I stretched luxuriously, reveling in the warmth of the morning sun on my bare arms. I threw off the heavy quilt that was my blanket, stood, and stretched again. I walked across my room to my wardrobe and opened the heavy oak doors.
I looked through my dresses. The reds and blues, I decided, were too vibrant and colorful for today. Blacks and grays were also out of the question; they were too somber and solemn. Finally, I settled on a dress of deep green (A/N: Lincoln green, anyone?) and a corset of soft brown doeskin. I slipped the dress over my head, settling it over the shift I had worn as a nightdress. I laced up the corset and looked around for my shoes.
The comfortable, leather moccasins I wanted were lying near the foot of my bed. I slipped them on and ran to my dresser, where a brush was lying near a book and a small box. I hurriedly brushed my hair and left my room.
I practically flew down the stairs and out through the kitchen, stopping to grab a chunk of bread and some cheese from the table where they were waiting for me. Cookie, the darling, knew I would want bread and cheese to take with me this morning, and had laid some out for me earlier, before she set about preparing breakfast for everyone else.
I ran to the stables and pulled open one of the doors. I called a cheery "Good morning!" to the still-sleepy stablehands, then continued to my horse's stall. She's beautiful, brown with a black mane and tail, and a white star and white socks. Her name is Kaitlin after a brave girl in an Irish ballad I once heard.
I quickly saddled and bridled Kaitlin, placing my bread and cheese into one of the saddlebags. I led her outside and shut the stable door behind me. I swung on, gripping the saddlehorn and swinging my right leg over.
She went slowly until we had gone outside of the gates, then she started cantering. I laughed and patted her shoulder. I hadn't been able to take her out the previous morning, it had been raining and I don't like riding in the rain. Which is strange, considering I love to be outside in the rain.
"Eager for a run, are we, girl?" I asked, leaning close to her neck.
She took that as a signal to go faster and broke into a full gallop. I took the reins, being careful to leave her her head. I guided her to the left, towards Sherwood Forest. The old road we were following still had puddles from the previous day's rain. She swerved to avoid them.
We came this way nearly every morning. Along the old road, then turning east towards Sherwood, entering the forest by a small game trail rather than the road.
She slowed as we approached the forest and the turn we would take to find the game trail. We turned off the main road and found the game trail we had claimed as our own. Soon we were entering the green, leafy darkness of the forest. Kaitlin was just trotting now, following the familiar trail to a small stream with a conveniently placed flat rock, just right for a seat.
I soon dismounted and tethered her near the stream so that she could graze as well as drink. I knelt by the stream and splashed the icy water on my face, then took a drink myself. I stood and took my bread and cheese out of Kaitlin's saddlebags, then sat on the flat rock. I was relaxing, enjoying the fresh morning air and babbling of the stream, when I heard a voice call out and noise in the underbrush.
"My lady," called a semi-familiar voice. Crashing noises followed.
I jumped up and whirled around. Alan the minstrel came out of the trees and brushed himself off.
"Good morning," he said cheerfully, twigs and leaves stuck in his hair.
"Good morning," I replied, seating myself on the rock again. "You gave me a start."
"Did I? I appologize," he said, coming forward and looking around. He sounded so sincere that I smiled and moved over to make room for him to sit on the rock beside me. "Is that horse yours? She's beautiful," he said, gesturing at Kaitlin and seating himself on the rock.
"Yes, she's mine. Her name is Kaitlin," I said. "Would you like some bread and cheese?"
"After the brave little Irish girl?" he asked, amusement in his voice. "No, thank you, I have some with me." He opened a pouch at his waist and withdrew a hunk of bread and some cheese.
"Yes," I said simply.
"This is a beautiful spot," he said, looking once more at our surroundings.
"I discovered it two years ago, just after I got Kaitlin," I replied. "Ever since, it's been my favorite place to come, in the mornings, or when I need to think."
We munched in silence for a while, then he stood up. "I have to go, I promised your parents that I would play for them after breakfast," he said, bowing and stuffing the remainder of his bread and cheese back into the pouch.
"I'll walk back with you," I said, also standing. "My parents might worry."
I put the rest of my bread and cheese into Kaitlin's saddlebag, then I untethered her and led her back to the trail, where Alan the minstrel was waiting. Under the morning sun, I noticed something I had overlooked the night before. His dark hair was streaked with gray, which meant that he was at least as old as my father, and maybe older.
We walked slowly back to my parent's house, talking and discussing debating about our favorite ballads and stories. We arrived just after everyone was finishing breakfast in the Great Hall. I bid him goodbye for a while, then I took Kaitlin back into the stable and into her stall. I cared for her, dawdling a little as I brushed her free of the burrs and grasses she had somehow picked up in the forest. I filled her water bucket and filled her food trough full of sweet hay and oats. As I left, she stopped eating long enough to whinny at me and lip my shoulder. I patted her nose and left the stable.
I walked back to my room and brushed my hair again, a little slower this time. Then I went downstairs and seated myself to between my mother and father in the Great Hall. Beautiful harp music filled the entire hall. I listened and got lost in the stories of King Arthur and his Knights of the Round Table, stories of fair maidens and dragons, and stories of Robin Hood and the Lady Marian. Everyone applauded as Alan the minstrel stood and bowed.
Almost everyone left the hall as he approached the table Father, Mother and I sat at. He kissed Mother's hand again, and, at her invitation, sat beside her. Father stared at the grain of the wood in the table as if he had to do something that he was dreading. He took a deep breath, gulped, and took another.
"Mariel, my dear, we have something to tell you," Mother said gently, taking my hand. "Will wants to be the one to tell you, but he's having a hard time. We always knew the moment we would have to tell you this would come, but we have tried to delay it as much as possible. Last night, we realized it could not be delayed any longer. We only realized that because of Alan's arrival here. Perhaps, Alan, you would like to tell her your real name before we tell her anything else?" she said, directing the last remark to Alan the minstrel.
"My name," Alan the minstrel said, "my full name is Alan-a-Dale."
I gasped and jumped up. I was too shocked to speak. Alan-a-Dale? Alan-a- Dale, Robin Hood's minstrel? Surely not. Thoughts chased around my mind. Alan-a-Dale? Surely this was too good to be real. It couldn't be. Alan-a- Dale? What? How? Why? I already knew who. Alan-a-Dale? I stared at the minstrel, disbelieving.
Mother pulled me back down into my chair and bit her lip. "Now for the part that your father and I have to tell you," she said finally. She stared down at the wooden table top, just as my father was doing. "Will, tell her. Tell her now or I'll do it."
Father swallowed hard. "Mariel, we," he tried and broke off, then swallowed again. He tried again. "Mariel, we are not your real parents."
I jumped up again and this time, Mother (or whoever she is, I am no longer sure) let me stay standing. "If you aren't my parents, who are? I don't understand," I cried. "If this is a joke, it is not funny. And it isn't the Fool's Day, so I don't understand why you're telling me this."
"Mariel, we'll explain as best we can," the woman-who-may-not-be-my-mother- I-am-no-longer-sure said desperately. "We are really your foster parents. Your real parents are those two you have long admired."
My mind raced. Who did she mean? Who have I long admired? I looked from the man I had once thought was my father to the woman I once thought was my mother to the man who claimed to be the famous Alan-a-Dale.
"Your parents," the man I once thought to be my father said, almost choking on the words, "are, indeed, those two whose tales you love to hear."
I stood stock still. Did they mean—?
"Yes," the woman I once called Mother said heavily, "your parents are the bold Robin Hood and the Lady Marian."
*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*
Hahahahahahaha! *evil chuckle* And that's it for this chapter! Haha, cliffie! Evil, I know.
I thought about ending it one sentence early, ending with "Did they mean—?" but then I decided that would be too mean and evil. I don't like cliffies too much personally, but this one should give you something to think about while we all wait for the internet at my house to be fixed.
I have a sad thing to tell you, and a happy one. Sad thing first.
Sad thing: Even if you review, that will not make me put up another chapter quickly. It couldn't. Reviews won't fix the internet at my house, sadly. Sad sad sad.
Happy thing: I'll pester to go to the library, and I might be able to update at school next week. I'll beg my teachers to let me use the internet during lunch or something. Another happy thing: I really do love getting reviews from people! And I do try to update more often than I do! It's Friday as I'm writing this all up, I told you all that before, so as of right now, I have this chapter, two for my HP fic, and one for my Ella Enchanted fic. So on Saturday there will be at least four new chapters from me to all of you guys.
Please review, even though I won't know for a while. I love getting reviews from all of you wonderful people!