Not Always Second Best [Tag Allan]

[Kate Miller]

Kate stood at the edge of all the dancing, in-between her home and the table of food and drink – which was still going strong. In her hand she held a goblet, three quarters full, and neglected as she looked over the dancing swarm of villagers. Luke had won the competition? That she failed to believe, more like Robin, but never mind. Nobody else knew it, and neither did she, but she’d get it out of him later. If she didn’t drink too much and actually remembered to ask him. It put him in her father’s good graces - that was for sure. Winning the silver arrow.

She watched her sister now, she’d left her with him. The noble winner. Dancing off on her own to get around drink, she was thirsty and the last few weeks were catching up with her, she could do with forgetting the stress. Everybody had been coming to them in the last week for clothing and masks and outfits of all sorts. Everybody wanted to look their best, starving themselves more for their best clothes to be fixed or new ones altogether. Luke had been getting few up with her using him as her male model. The stress of it all made her careless, prodding him with so many pins, he was looking more like a pin-cushion than her best friend. Poor guy.

Once she had relinquished from the dancing, she’d spotted the outlaws all a little spread out, for safety she gathered, and made her way to Allan’s side. He’d come a close second, supposedly to Luke. Which had stupidly made him feel worse. Knowing he’d have lost to Robin would have been no surprise. He would have felt like he’d have come first, cause there was no denying who the better archer was. But to lose to the boy? Kate had to laugh.

”You know, looking at it won’t make it come back,” she laughed, no giggled, the drink starting to get to her head a little. Allan had been looking into the bottom of his goblet, she’d been watching he do it for the last five minutes, he didn’t seem to be moving to refill it.

”You know what else?” she asked, not waiting for a reply, ”I can’t believe you got beaten by Luke.” she smiled, looking out over the crowds, singling the youngest Scarlett out and pointing at him with her goblet filled hand. ”Maybe you really are a girl,” she paused slightly this time, giggling to herself, before looking up to see the reaction on his face, ”Alana.”

Every time she met him, he did more to reassure her that he was in fact, secretly, or not so secretly, a woman. He’s comforted Luke. She’d helped him, nay saved his hind, from the guard – the one she still didn’t know the name of. He’d been more than caring when he’d brought Luke back to Knighton to find her all a little beaten. Now he’d been beaten by the youngest Scarlett.

She flashed him a smile, before raising her goblet to her lips taking a long swig. She definitely wasn’t going home sober tonight.

[Allan A Dale]

Allan was pissed, in both senses of the word. He’d long before begun drinking Lord Mannering’s (Allan scoffed slightly at the name) ale, around about the same time he’d been soundly beaten by the youngest member of the Scarlett family.

If he’d been slightly less angry, and slightly less drunk, Allan would probably have realised that it had been Robin in those last final rounds, when he’d been soundly beaten and lost out on the silver arrow that the villagers sought after. As it was, he’d been staring at his empty goblet for a while now (he wasn’t sure if it had been five minutes or five hours) and wondering when he’d managed to empty the blasted thing. Weren’t they made to an adequate size anymore? He longed, briefly, for Rochdale and the Crown and Shuttle, and the large tankards of golden drink held within it’s small walls.

He sighed, shook the cup a little as if it would make some droplets clinging desperately to the sides fall down, ready to be drunk, but no such luck; he’d have to move in order to get some more, and he really rather wanted more - it was free, and it belonged to nobles; could there be a better offer?

He fiddled a little with his mask - a bunch of brightly coloured ribbons braided together to make a cover for his eyes, and the tiny tinkle of bells from either side irritated him slightly. When Will had suggested the idea, throwing the bundles of red and orange and green at his companion, it had sounded good. He was always claiming his mother had been a minstrel, after all. The reality of being a giant and rather loud target, however, had been a shock. How could he steal someone’s purse if every time he moved his arm, it sounded like the church was in session?

”You know, looking at it won’t make it come back,” a light and familiar voice mocked him, and he lifted his head to see Kate (or, he assumed it was Kate, as he didn’t know anyone else from Knighton well enough for them to approach him) in her pretty blue dress. He gave her a quick once over and had to stop himself from nodding in approval; she looked good.

Before he could retaliate, she continued by mocking him further. Wasn’t it bad enough he had to remember being beaten by Luke? Did he have to be reminded of it? He was sorely tempted to see if he couldn’t drink the memory into oblivion (and he was only really angry because he’d wanted to give the arrow to the crowds, and also partly because of the money he’d lost in their little bet. And, if he were completely honest about it, because Will would be bragging about it for weeks. How was he supposed to get any respect now?) and pretend it hadn’t happened the next day.

Allan gave Kate a pointed look. ”Not being funny, but if I’m a damsel in distress does that mean you’re my big manly hero?” He put his goblet down on the table for a moment and made his way to Kate, taking hers off her and settling it down too, before wrapping an arm around the back of her neck and draping the other across her front, as if waiting to be swept off his feet. He put on a high pitched voice. ”Oh, Karl, take me away from this evil place so we can live happily ever after and I can raise your dashing children!”

He let go and picked up a part of her skirt, raising it slightly so the bottom of her legs were bared but she was still more than decent. He held the cloth against his arm, as if checking the quality of the fabric. He shook his head and tutted. ”Although I shall have to find better fabrics for my gowns. Blue just isn’t my colour.”

He let go of the skirt, grabbed her hand and dragged her to the refreshments table, getting them both another drink. He held his new goblet high in a toast.

”Here’s to getting completely and utterly plastered, my good sir,” he grinned at Kate before taking a swig. He wasn’t going to be insulted by her calling him a girl. ”I think I’d make a bloody good woman, thanks. At least, I know I’d want to shag me if I was a bird, so if I were actually a bird there’s a good chance men would want to shag me.”

(OOC - sorry for excessive use of the word shag. I promise Allan will be a more friendly and less sweary drunk in future posts…)

[Kate Miller]

He looked ridiculous. She had to stop herself from giggling more – her father was going to have a field day If he found out about all this. Never mind. He’d be too distracted by taking the silver arrow from Luke for using himself. ”Not being funny, but if I’m a damsel in distress does that mean you’re my big manly hero?” Kate smiled and giggled some more – she really needed to stop that. She grinned madly and nooded. ”That’s me. Kate Miller. Alana A Dale’s. Big. Manly. Hero.”

His next act made her burst into giggles more. Alana A Dale. And Karl Miller. Hang on a minute!”Karl?” she questioned as his arms and hands made their ways around her. She eyed them an looked back at him laughing. She was not even going to attempted lifting him for the floor. ”Take me away from this evil place so we can live happily ever after and I can raise your dashing children!”[/i] Well as long as you raise them, feed them, do whatever it is that needs doing. Okay!”[/b] she was drunk. Or rather getting there. She went to ‘run’ to her house before turning back and laughing some more.

His hands now made their way to picking up her skirt. She may have been tipsy, but what the hell was he playing at? She went to swat his hands away, but he stopped at a decent height so she refrained. ”Well on my wage it’s all your gunna get, so like it or lump it, Alana!” she smiled, now having her skirts dropped and being lightly pulled over to the drinks table, her other goblet sitting forgotten he passed her another.

”Here’s to getting completely and utterly plastered, my good sir,”[/i] Kate couldn’t agree more, raising her new goblet – “”My Fair Lady!”

”No denying it. You have all the features right there, give or take a few things.” she said with a snort of a giggle and a rather large swig on her ale. ”I’m certain that many a girl – sorry woman, would take you right here. Right now.” she was far to out of it to really care about what it was she was saying. She knew fully well what it was she was saying – but she felt no embarrassment over it. It was the truth after all. Why deny him of it.

”You know Alana, you could have it made. A good hus- wife. Children. But yet you’re an outlaw. Well everything’s a choice I suppose.” She may have sounded slightly sober in saying that, maybe it was her sober mind talking, but she really wasn’t. She was too far away from being too far gone – not having enough self-control not to simply press her lips to his, and do what it was he was saying people wanted to do. But no. She hadn’t quite gotten there. Yet.

[Allan A Dale]

”Karl?” Allan rolled his eyes. What, he wasn’t allowed to turn the tables?

”You’d prefer Keith?” he asked, raising an eyebrow. He then laughed, sloshing a bit of ale about. ”Ha, they shall be the best fed children in the shire! I’ll have you know I’m a bloody mean cook even if I am a lousy shot!”

Allan was pleased to receive the compliment from Kate, and finished his beer with relish. He was sufficiently drunk enough to agree with her, but then paused for a moment and thought about how bad that would look. If he could have seen himself, he would have laughed; he looked a right state and was blatantly drunk. ”But,” he eventually said, raising a hand and sticking his finger in the air. ”I don’t think everyone else would be happy. It’s a bit public innit?”

Allan sobered a bit as he heard those familiar words - everything is a choice. No, it’s not. Not everything is a choice. It’s not all black and white, he thought to himself, fairly sure he hadn’t said it aloud. He tried to keep himself happy. ”I still have time yet! I still have time for a lot of things!”

He grabbed Kate’s hand once more, sploshing a little ale from his glass, and with a tinkle of his bells he began to drag her towards the wildly dancing crowd. ”Would my lord honour me with a dance?” he asked, twisting his hand so he was directly across from her and tried to twirl her around. In his enthusiasm, he forgot he was holding a mug and let it go flying into the crowd, hitting someone on the head but no one would ever know who had let go; there were too many masked people around. He laughed loudly as he span her again, weaving in and out of the crowd of people as they danced the night away, spying Will a little way off and giving a wave, unsure if the carpenter had seen him.

[Kate Miller]

Keith? was he kidding? She’d take Karl. She voiced her thoughts before laughing at him. “Oh come on, you were an incredibly close second. It’s not like war impresses anybody. Besides, it doesn’t take an arrow to get to a woman’s heart.” She he’d make a good father. He seemed to have the calm air about him, kid-ish enough to play and have fun, and with the right amount of seriousness to punish his kids, but never too harshly.. Kate’s father had lacked that quality.

She giggled again when he mentioned people not liking him, and his rendezvous partner, if they started in the middle of the square, ”You know what I mean!” she laughed as he argued against her, he still had time. In the terms of their time though, well, she according to her father and common doing, should be married off and at least expecting her first child if not bore it already. She shuddered at the thought. She wasn’t ready for that, no matter how much her father wanted it. She did not.

”Would my lord honour me with a dance?” she smiled, and took a firm grip of his hand. ”As long as fair lady would like a dance, I shall not deny her of it!”

She squealed as he pulled her into the dancing, her goblet falling from her hand the ale over the grass, twirling with a sudden odd comfort in the fact that although drunk, they were dancing. She’d wanted to dance with him, but she had never really been a dancing person. Not until today, she’d never really had a chance. With Sebastian as lord, maybe they’d have more events in the village. Or maybe after today he would just plainly forget his villagers and absorb himself in the Sheriff’s sadistic world.

As Allan - now no longer a woman - twirled her around, his wooden goblet flying high into the air long forgotten, much like her own, waving to somebody as they passed - probably another member of the gang. She lopped her hands out, one going to his shoulder, the other his waist, like her mother had always told her. She let him lead, her mother taught her that too.

Or maybe, in their little game, Allan really was still the woman, and Kate should be leading. But he seemed to have the power, he was definitely a man. At least for the moment.

She giggled, the drink going ever more to her head as they circled, weaving in and out of the other dancing couples. She saw Luke and Sarah out of the corner o her eye, and smiled.

”I’d never take you for the dancing type!” she laughed as she swung around, giggly and laughing, generally enjoying herself. ”I mean outlaws in general. Didn’t think you’d care for a dance!” she smiled once more, and tilted her head slightly, wary whether in al the movement she would be able to rest it upon his shoulder. Or whether in all their franticness that it would be pointless as it would be thrown from there as soon as it were placed.

[Allan A Dale]

”It might not impress anyone, but it bloody well smarts,” he replied gruffly, the wound to his pride easing a bit from her comments. He was pleased that she wanted to dance after all though, and it was only after we’d waved to Will that he remembered he was a lousy dancer.

He gulped. Hopefully he could fake it. Besides, in the crowd no one was REALLY dancing, it was more swaying and shuffling feet. He could do that, right? Of course! He was great with the ladies; he could do this easy.

He was even slightly more worried when she seemed to be letting him take the lead; apparently their game was over, it was back to reality for the pair. Thankfully, he was drunk enough to think he could handle anything at the moment, so it didn’t matter that he hadn’t led a dance in his life (and he wasn’t going to think about the one time he’d gone dancing because the memories were horrific and would probably make her think he really was a woman).

As she whirled back towards him, back into his arms, he chuckled and carefully began moving his hands lower than was entirely appropriate.

”Outlaws are full of surprises, lass!” he laughed, and continued shifting his hands, but suddenly he was jolted from behind and he stumbled forward, whacking his chin against Kate’s head (and some part of his head wondered when it had gotten that close to him) before he regained his balance. Seeing stars and rubbing his chin, he looked around until his gaze met Kate’s.

He shrugged, grinning.

”Who knew dancing could be dangerous?” he joked, and then wondered if it really was such a good idea for them to stay there. If he were honest, he was hungry and could do with another drink. Mead, perhaps. He hadn’t had mead for a good while (meaning about an hour) and it was one of his favourite drinks (as were most alcoholic beverages).

”Come on… Karl!” he cried, briefly forgetting her real name and walking forward, towards the food table and parting a now angry pair of dancers. ”What we need is a drink and a good song!”

(OOC - omg drunk people? Hard. *never been drunk*)

[Kate Miller]

Kate whirled and twirled and ‘danced’ in all directions. She’d most definitely forgotten all of her father’s stupid little rules. No touching the ale. Check. No talking to any men. she wasn’t talking, she was dancing… so to speak. In a very odd way. Nobody else was properly dancing either, just swaying and moving their feet slightly. And she may have be drunk, but she noticed the wondering hands. She merely giggled some more and put her own hands around his was it, the only position where she was comfortable at her height – without her arms being yanked out of their sockets every five seconds that was.

When his head whacked into hers, she yelped in a slight pain, before bursting out into complete hysteria. One of his hands moved then, rubbing his chin, the part of him she assumed had gone into her. He smiled at her, when his gazed caught hers. She stopped herself for laughing – for all but a moment – and grinning back. Ear to ear. As wide as wide could be. So she most probably would be remembering less than none of this party in the morning, but hey, she was having a good time.

”Who knew dancing could be dangerous?”[/i] Kate let ou a short laugh then – compared to the rest of her pitches – and smiled at his comment. Dancing wasn’t usually this dangerous – but tonight it was: ”It’s like, extreme dancing!” she commented.

It soon being forgotten, with the mention of her, new, name, he took her off towards the table of food and drink. ”What we need is a drink and a good song!” Kate brightened at the idea of another drink, alcoholic or otherwise – her father would already be pissed with her for drinking, so what difference would another drink make? And a song? ”You are a minstrel after all, Alana!” she laughed as she reach out for yet another goblet, lifting it to her lips, swigging down a gulp.

”Teach me a song then, oh great minstrel!” she beamed as she grabbed a handful of - well she could really see what it was, but it tasted good. ”Teach me something I never knew!” she said with a quick raise of her eyebrows – though hidden by her mask, it moved, and dislodged slightly. Oh how she wished to take the damn thing off. The Worst bit about a masquerade – after the dancing – was the masks!

[Allan A Dale]

He was pleased to see Kate hadn’t fallen over or anything, and that she wasn’t annoyed; in fact, she was laughing quite loudly. Allan would normally have noticed the stares they were getting from some of the other dancers, but he was a little preoccupied.

”Extreme dancing? We could probably make money out of that!” he joked as they headed back towards the tables. He sipped carefully at his ale; some part of his mind realised he’d already drunken a bit too much and that he’d probably have a ridiculous headache in the morning, but if he was already doomed to a monstrous hangover, then why not just have a little more? What difference would it make? he thought, unaware he was echoing Kate’s sentiments. He raised his goblet high and gestured wildly.

”The finest bard in the land!” he boasted. ”Second best to no man!” As an afterthought, he added, ”Or woman.”

”Teach me something I never knew!”[/i] she asked as she ate. Well, then, there was a challenge. The only problem was that he didn’t know what she had heard before; he hadn’t known her long enough to divine such things. Yet. But no matter. He was feeling sprightly and decided the best course of action would be to create his own. He drummed up a familiar and overused tune in his head, and began tapping it out on the tabletop so Kate would recall the tune. He repeated it a few times, giving himself a moment to think. What could he focus his ballad on? What possible topics hadn’t been put into song before? He wanted to be original, after all. There was a lady to impress (or was she a man? His beer hazed mind wasn’t entirely sure anymore, but then he didn’t really care either; he was enjoying himself).

He stopped the drumming, clapsed his cup with both hands, and began to almost-sing in a rather awful and loud voice.

“When as the Sheriff of Nottingham was come, with mickle grief,” he began, putting an emphasis on the word mickle and swinging his arms about in a dramatic fashion. ”He talked no good of Robin Hood, that strong and sturdy thief!”

To add a bit of fun and relief to the song, he did a very small, brief jig, singing ”Fal lal dal de!” as he did so. He stopped for a moment, looked at Kate, waiting for approval to continue.

(OOC - and so begins the butchering of awesome ballads...)

[Kate Miller]

”The finest bard in all the land! Second Best to no man.” Apart from Luke…”[/i] she mentally added, not that she believed as much, but In her current state of mind, rational thought was hard to come by. ”Or woman”[/i] she smiled at that, she’d been taken into consideration, but it made her laugh a little too.

The matter with all the drinking, was the fact that tomorrow morning, when everything went back to how it should be, she wouldn’t be able to think, her head would be pounding, and she most probably would only hazily remember half of this evening, and none of the remains. After this though, it would probably be a good thing. She was most likely making the biggest fool out of herself, and in all honesty she probably didn’t want to remember it.

She just hoped her father didn’t notice too much. Or that when she made her way into the house later that night he either wasn’t there or if he was she managed to keep her composure so he didn’t notice her – at the moment – slightly drunken state. Or he was too drunk to care. But he wasn’t a happy drunk – not a giggly drunk like she was. He was the other end of the scale, he was a violent drunk. There was no escaping that side of him when he was under the influence of anything – even immense happiness.

Allan was drumming a beat on the wooden table, a common tune, she could not completely place. She couldn’t really remember a lot of things – not in this state of mind. He stopped the beat, and began to sing. She let out a short burst of laughter, rather a lot quieter than those that preceded it. He wasn’t a born singer – he should never give up his thieving day job to become a bard. She had never heard the song before – nor did she believe had anyone.

”You’re making this up!” she laughed as he apparently paused for her approval. ”But by no means stop, oh great slightly drunken minstrel of mine!” she smiled before taken another large gulp of her slowly disappearing half full goblet of ale. It tasted vile, she didn’t really enjoy the stuff, but it made her feel good. It allowed her to lose herself for all but a moment, and forget the hardships of the day. She wished she could have had the release more – especially when her father made his strike. Alas she did not. She just had her well, and her ‘collecting water’ duty to use to escape from it.

But tonight she could forget. And she would forget. She would also most probably forget the entire content of the evening past the competition. And she’d be lucky to remember that. She did hope that she remembered her time now though – she wouldn’t – but she hoped she did. She was happy, and she couldn’t really say that for a lot of times of late.

[Allan A Dale]

Allan wasn’t offended that Kate had laughed when he started singing - in fact, he hadn’t actually noticed. He was a bit too focused trying to come up with the words. He decided to create a ballad for Robin, partly because there was always going to be some before this mission of his was over, and partly because, at this masquerade, what could anyone do if he sang about the humiliation of the Sheriff? It would lead to the reveal of the guards, alerting the others to their presence, and Allan was fairly confident he could escape unharmed and unhindered. He was unrecognisable - he was wearing a gaudy mask!

He just grinned as she accused him of making it up, and was happy to continue. He untied the bells from his mask (or, a few of them - some had become extremely tangled up) and started shaking them to add some music to his tune.

”So unto London-road he past, his losses to unfold, to Prince John, his lord, who did regard, the tale that he had told.”

Allan jumped to the side, as if addressing someone next to him and, in effect, creating two characters. He added a slightly gruffer voice for his next line, changing as the character stopped speaking. Of course, he’d never heard Prince John speak; hadn’t even seen him, or even really realised he existed until he’d joined Robin and the gang. It was all guesswork, but then Kate had never seen the man either so what was the point worrying about it?

”'Why,' quoth the prince, 'what shall I do? Art thou not sheriff for me?” he said, making sure to sound slightly outraged as he asked the Sheriff if he was, indeed, serving him. “’The law is in force, go take thy course of them that injure thee. Go get thee gone, and, by thyself, devise some tricking game for to enthral yon rebels all; go, take thy course with them!’”
He jingled his bells some more and started walking around Kate. He’d always hated seeing those side show minstrels who stood in place, never seeming to get into their art; you always became part of your art, you had to be one with your content! It was the first rule of being a thief, after honour amongst thieves (which wasn’t really so much a rule as a tradition).

”So away the sheriff he returned, and on the way he thought of the words of his king, and how the thing to pass might well be brought.” He couldn’t resist the jibe at Vaysey’s plans to put John on the throne, and partly said it because he couldn’t think of what rhymed with thing apart from king.

(OOC - that last point? Yup.)

[Kate Miller]

Kate laughed as he untied the bells from his mask, starting to ring them. She took up pattering her fingers over the top of the table. If he was going to make it up on the spot, then so could she. She wasn’t a bard, she would never sa as much, she was a seamstress from Knighton that had a wee bit too much to drink. But sing she would, and a laugh she was have.

”For within his mind he imagined that when such matches were, those outlaws stout, without all doubt would be the bowmen there” she muttered her new added lyrics when he was done. Bringing up her volume as she finished, growing a little bit more confident. He couldn’t complain about how bad she was when it came to singing; he was so minstrel after all. If he was going to be moping about ‘Luke# beating him, then at least she could take that to her advantage in her part of the song. Teasing she did.

”So an arrow with a silver head, and shaft of silver white, who won the day should bear away for his own proper right. Tidings came to brave Robin Hood un the green-wood tree: ‘come prepare you then, my outlaw gang, we’ll go for the sport to see!’” she laughed slightly. They drawn a slight crow by this moment, they’d been singing for a few minutes, quite badly admittedly. People were laughing. with them rather than at them, Kate preferred to think.

The pair continued to sing, and ‘play’ their music. They’d gotten rather into it, ignoring the questions on their sanity that came when they began to dance. Kate took his hand and twirled under his arm, stopping with a laugh before continuing with the song.

”Some cried red jacket, another cried brown! and the third cried, brave yellow. But the fourth man, sure, said blue azure, in this place has no fellow” Kate stopped dancing now. She wanted to see the look of realization on his face as he finally understood that it wasn’t Luke – the carpenter, but Robin – the archer, that had beaten him.

“For that was Robin Hood himself, for he was clothed in blue; At every shot the prize he got, for he was both sure and true. So the arrow with the silver head and shaft of silver white. Brave Robin Hood won, and bore with him For his own proper right.” She stopped there. He could carry on all he pleased. She really didn’t care – as long as he cheered up (not that he was all that bothered by it any more by all reckoning) and realized that it was really him that had won the contest. Robin had the unfair advantage as a bowman at war for five years.

[Allan A Dale]

Allan was enjoying himself too much to really be paying attention to the people who were starting to whisper and laugh at them, pointing as they flung themselves around messily in front of the refreshments table. He was enjoying himself, dammit, so sod them!

He was pleased that Kate also got into it, and they took turns coming up with new verses that became increasingly more silly and ridiculous. Allan was a little surprised to see Kate stop dancing, but after a few moments her words finally registered.

Man in blue? he mouthed, confused, for a moment. It seemed to have some relevance, and he too stopped dancing just in order to figure it out. He listened as Kate finished her turn, and decided to leave it there. He was too busy trying to fight the alcohol induced haze clouding his thoughts in order to get the hint she was dropping. Who did he know was wearing blue today? Luke, of course; Allan’s mood began to sour at that thought, but he realised that Kate wasn’t referring to the lad.

And then it hit him.

Robin.

Brave Robin Hood. She’d been saying it the entire time. He wondered if anyone else had realised, too.

Allan started dancing again, excited. That meant he had won! HE had won the bet, he had proven he was the best archer in the group, after Robin! At least, he had to himself. And so what if he’d lost a few coins to Luke and Will? He had his pride and dignity back, and the next time Much tried to tease him about it, he’d just get a knowing smile. That always weirded him out.

Allan ran over and hugged Kate, then took her hands and swung her around. He was so pleased. He stopped swinging her, and then realised they had spectators. Had he been less drunk, he would have been more embarrassed, but as it was he simply waved at the crowd, gave a small bow, and dragged Kate away once more. It was becoming a bit of a habit.

He stopped near Knighton Hall for breath and grinned at Kate.

”Thank you.”

[Kate Miller]

The poor guy looked confused. That made Kate smile, and giggle a fair bit more. She should probably stop drinking. But she was parched the first thing she reached for happened to be more ale. When his face lit up she realised it was probably a good plan to put her cup down. In the mood he was in, and the slightly drunken state, he would probably do something excitable.

It was as it turned out a good idea. He picked up with the dancing – a solo – before running towards her happily and hugging her. That was a slightly shock to start with. He wasn’t exactly the tallest of guys but he was a good five inches - if not more taller - than her, her being rather short. As he clung to her for a moment she drew her arms around him, hugging him back. Her chin resting awkwardly angled on his shoulder. The smile on her face visible through the fading light of the night.

When he drew away grabbing her hands – always a slightly odd comfort since she’d met him and he’d be there stopping her father from doing what he did. They danced over-exuberantly – him swinging her to and thro. He appeared to have forgotten the crowd that had gathered around them. They were all looking on them questioningly – obviously not quite as drunk as they were. When he waved them off, she laughed and she too waved, offering a small courtesy before finding herself being dragged off away from the crowd.

He was taking her way towards the Hall. Quite why she didn’t know. It wasn’t like it needed explaining, but it was a strange and random movement. Maybe he wanted away from the crowd, but they were exactly in a frame of mind for talking. Maybe he wanted to check out on the new Lord of the manor. Whatever it was he was grinning down at her again when they stopped. ”Thank you.”[/b] her brow knitted. What had she done?

”What for?” she asked still confused but smiling all the while. She was far too drunk to be grumpy. Give it a few hours when she got tired, then she’d be grumpy, sleep deprived and looking for a bed. Her bed. (Never intending to be sleeping anywhere else of course.)

”What’s with the dragging towards the Hall anyway?” she asked, letting out a long breath. Too much running. Too much energy being used far to quickly. She could do with a sit down. Or at least some sweet food.

[Allan A Dale]

"What for?"[/i]

Allan smiled at that. It was kind of cute. And he had really appreciated the fact she'd told him rather than let him brood; he knew he was a sore loser and also knew it could have provided all of his friends with some amusement for a time, but she'd saved him the lack of dignity and now he could plot his revenge on Robin. A non-harmful one, of course... Perhaps he would fill his boots with dirt or dung, when he was asleep. That would probably satisfy his inner devil, temporarily.

”For letting me know,” he replied, leaving it at that. She knew what he was talking about and didn’t particularly want everyone else to know. He rubbed the back of his head; he’d gone this way because it was the easiest route out of the crowd, and for no other reason. Although, now that they were here, he could snoop around a bit and see if he could find anything interesting about their lovely new friend, Sebastian Mannering. He didn’t know if the man was back inside yet, but either way one could tell a surprising amount from a person’s personal belongings and how they were laid out. He wasn’t sure about this new lord; his brief time in the castle had allowed him to hear all sorts of rumours about men and women of nobility from across the land, and this particular one had been rather hard to find out about. He suspected people he knew nothing about.

”Fancy going to take a look round t’hall?” he asked, gesturing with a thumb and waggling his eyebrows. It would be an adventure! A dangerous adventure, and probably a quickly ended one as they were both certainly not going to be any good at sneaking around, but it would be an adventure nonetheless.

[Kate Miller]

”No worries,” she smiled , before looking over at the building. The last few months that had been spent designing and building it would certainly pay off now.

”Come on!” This time it was Kate’s turn to drag him. Grabbing his hand she sprightly ‘legged it’ towards the stables of the Hall. Having seen it built, nosed around as the builders had worked their magic, was certainly paying off now. She could navigate her way around the house with a great ease and not worry about it.

She gently pushed the door to the stables open, it led directly into the kitchens of the house. Which would probably be the better way in than directly into the living quarters of the house. That way they could at least get a look of it from the inside even if Sebastian was there.

The horses were in the stalls. They whined and ate their hay, nothing out of the norm. Kate ran her free hands fingers along the face of one of them as she passed. She couldn’t ride. She wished in some way that she could. But she’d never really been in the position to learn, they didn’t have a horse. And she didn’t think they ever would get one.

She gently pulled Allan in the direction of the kitchen door. She could see let alone hear the kitchen staff. Why aren’t they out enjoying the party? Either way, they wouldn’t care that a couple of peasants, well a peasant and an outlaw, were looking around. Unless Sebastian was home. Even then it would be for their own protection that they would shoo them out.

Kate merely smiled as she walked through the kitchen, taking the outlaw directly towards the main room of the house. Stopping before she reached the door she checked through the crack. ”Damn it!” she muttered. He was back. Not out partying with his peasants. The kitchen staff started muttering and ushering Kate and Allan out of the Kitchen. "Alright, we're going!" Kate's brow creased. Well if they could get into the house, they could at least play a little game of ‘who is he?’ Sebastian Mannering. New Lord of Knighton. Who the hell are you?

She spotted the outside door that lead from the kitchen and headed towards it. On the other side there was a window that looked directly into the main living area of the house. She stopped just before it. Looking gingerly through the window, decidedly out of sight of the Lord. His back was to her. She turned back round to Allan and smiled. Biting on her lip to stop herself from giggling too loudly if at all. She dropped his hand, the coldness grasping it, and turned back to see what her Lord was up to.