[Lady Elena Lawley]

((I hate titling threads. Just FYI)).

"Go faster!"

The young woman's laugh echoed against the trees, the joyful peal leaping back and forth from forest to hill. She twisted her head to grin at an older man riding a chestnut gelding behind her, then leaned forward in the saddle and gave her horse his head. The grey leapt forward as if he was just as happy to be racing in the August sunshine, and both lady and horse glided along the country path as if they were winged. The man following barked a laugh as well and leaned forward, racing along just so he and his lady rode neck and neck. The rest of the gallop was silent; no more words or even laughter to interrupt the sound of the churning hooves until all at once the girl reined to a stop. She bent to pat her horse's neck and then slipped down to the earth, pausing only to ground-tie the gelding before she shook her own black mane away from her face. Elena's expression was one of pure joy as she whirled to look at the grizzled guard following, and she skipped forward to throw her arms around his neck.

"Aelf! That was the best run we've ever had!"

The weathered Celt returned the smile and the embrace, putting his lady away from his neck a moment later with a look of pure pride. "You're getting better. Give it a little longer and you'll be ridin' like a Celt-no one would ever know the difference. Just remember to keep your heels down; it'll make a world of difference."

She simply nodded, then moved to her saddlebag and whipped out a little leather-bound volume, thumbing through the pages before she sank down to sit in the deep grass of her favorite grove. "Won't you sit down now? It'll be more comfortable-and nothing ever happens-"

Aelf was shaking his head before she'd even finished the sentence. "Nay, m'girl, I may be old but I'm just as comfortable standin' as sittin'. Anyway, you're of an age to wed now and need more protection than ever." His eyes were gentle. "You just pick up where we left off. I want to hear what happens next-I have to give you credit; your hero is fascinating."

She beamed at him, then bent her head down and started to read.

"Ugh, I don't like this part. Well, I won't skimp on you. Ahem.

She and that ripening soldier will be married,
The Danes' great protector has declared,
Hoping that his quarrel with the Hathobards can be settled
By a woman. He's wrong: How many wars
have been put to rest in a prince's bed?
Few. A bride can bring-"

Aelf interrupted, his eyes still scanning the trees despite the sudden tightening of his hands on the hilt of his sword. "Never mind that bit. We're out here to forget that sort of thing. Just move forward, lass."

Elena gave him a grateful smile, and then flipped the page. "Well, starting here, Ingeld gets angry and it all starts up again..."

[Rhys Merrick]

Men moved fast and quiet in the trees surrounding the pair. In Rhys opinion, they were shaping up to be some of the greatest soldiers Adesia would ever know. The only problem was their acute lack of honor and integrity. These men did not owe loyalty to any king, nor Rhys. They were here under their own choosing and would leave just as easily. As to their lack of honor, many a deflowered maiden could attest to it. Chivalry was dead in the forests of Ashton, which could explain by the raven haired beauty traveled with a seasoned guard. A lady could never be too careful with her virture, Rhys thought from his perch on a felled boulder. It was, perhaps, the only remanants of the mountain that once stood, worn down to nothing but rolling hills.

With swords drawn, the criminals awaited Rhys' command. Though they did not see him as their keeper, they did have the intelligence to notice him as a leader. He knew more of noble ways than any of the dirt poor peasants, and he had far more learning than any of them could have hoped to achieve. They trusted his judgement, to a point. Still, when blood lust overtook them, even Rhys could not call the hounds of hell back. He was a part of their little band of thieves, but also held seperate by hid own violation. He cared not to be apart of their murderous ways, hoping to retain some ghost of the man Viviane had once loved. Visions of this ghost, however, were fleeting as of late. Rhys was changing and not for the better.

Rhys narrowed his smokey grey eyes, seeing the slight movement of the lady's companion. They had lost the element of surprise, yet he was not worried. A few of them may die today at the end of the grizzled man's sword, but their numbers would be enough to overpower the old Celt. Rhys shifted his attention to the beady eyes that stared at him impatiently. With a slight inclination of his head, the dirty thieves let out a war cry and rushed from the trees to meet the noble in battle. Rhys, in a half hearted manner, sent up a prayer that no blood would fall.

After the initial attack, Rhys moved from his perch and approached the woman and her guard, who was now surrounded with swords pointed at him to keep him subdued. A couple thieves lay on the ground, clutching wounds that the Celt had delivered. A cold grin turned the corner of Rhys mouth up, but his eyes turned stony as he met the ladies. "M'lady.." He bowed low, mockery in ever movement he made. He straightened. "I hate to interupt such a sweet recitation of Beowulf, but tales of heroes will not fill my men's bellies."

Rhys stepped closer, his eyes boldly traveling her form, looking for anything valuable. "Do you have anything of value to me, fair lady?" He asked, his words suggestive.

[Lady Elena Lawley]

The laughing maiden vanished the instant Rhys' thieves burst from the trees, and in the chaos that followed the girl became a Valkyrie. She kept out of Aelf's way, maneuvering around him to provide just enough distraction so he would have time to deliver blows that would not soon be forgotten. For all their effort, however, the pair was hopelessly outnumbered and it was only a minute before Elena was separated from her guard. Aelf stared at his charge with the eyes of a man being branded; Elena stared at the mocking thief with the cold eyes of the stars. She kept herself straight and tall-stubbornly slipping back into an icy mask that betrayed nothing but boredom. To act arrogant would be idiocy among this group; to act frightened-a signal that she was vulnerable and ripe for attack. Elena had enough presence of mind to understand that letting her terror show would become a fatal mistake, and so she stood before the robber with queenly composure. Cold. Remote. More stone than woman, and...

This way, Aelf wouldn't have the torture of seeing her cry.

Elena straightened her shoulders and kept her gaze fixed on Rhys', bluegreen eyes squarely meeting grey. He wanted to play games. She wouldn't give him the satisfaction. "Our horses and their tack. The saddlebags have a little food and some gold, but I doubt enough to feed such a motley crew. A ring." The girl slipped the little ring off her finger and tossed it into the grass, not turning her gaze away to see if any of the band stooped down to pick it up. "Aelf's sword." She had a dagger; but there was no way in heaven she was going to reveal that to this man. "My girdle. A hair comb. My dress-if you can manage to get that somewhere where it can be sold without ruining it with dirt."

The girl smirked lightly, arching her brow. "And the copy of Beowulf, of course. But since you, sir, knew what I was reading-I'm rather more inclined to leave that as a gift. Here. A thousand happy returns." She stooped to pick the book up and flung it at him, revealing an arm undoubtedly made strong by the guard now encircled by swords. "And that's the complete inventory. Nothing else is for sale."

Unless, of course, it wasn't their intention to let Aelf go. Elena prayed that her riches would be enough to satisfy, and lifted her other eyebrow. "My father's horse, the dapple-that's Galahad. You'd better find him a good master."

[Rhys Merrick]

Rhys found himself regretfully pleased with the young lady. She would both of a sound mind and a stern spirit. He regarded her cool composure with a lazy smirk. As she listed off the items he might find of value, even having the audacity to fling some of them in his direction, he watched as the men scrambled to be the first to pick up the ring. The book, however, was of no use to the illiterate thieves. The began to collect the goods from the horse, one even moved to take the dapple horse for his own. It was Rhys cutting gaze that made him drop the reins, however. The horse was his, a message he made clear.

The prize that truely caught Rhys attention was the mention of the lass' clothing. He reached forward, boldly guiding his hand over the fabric of her dress. "As much as this frock would fetch..." He began, his hand coming to rest at her hip in a gesture of fimiliarity that was not his to make. "...I believe in stripping no man, or woman, of their dignity. No matter how they may deserve it." He told her, making it clear he did not believe her innocent of the crimes of vanity. Rhys had yet to meet a noble lady who did not consider herself above those who worked for her. Many had too high opinions of their morals, as well, since he found nobility lacking in that aspect.

With his gaze fixed on the blue-green flames that danced in his lady's, Rhys spoke to the men. "Divest the guard of his weapons. Tie and place him on the horse. Send him back in the direction he came." There was a noticable lack of the lady in his instructions. The thieves cast each other curious glances, but did as they were bid. After the old Celt was bound and mounted, a man slapped the horse's rump and sent it galloping. By this time, Rhys was mounting the lady's Galahad and dragging her up to sit before him. For a man who never made a move without a plan, Rhys began questioning his reasoning for keeping the strong willed maiden. She would bring trouble, he knew.

Other's must have been thinking the same, for they eyed him with confusion. Kidnapping was not a game Rhys usually played. And yet, it was the only explanation for the lady's presence. Rhys did not answer their looks, not liking his decisions questioned, but spurred the animal beneath him into a run, leaving the thieves behind. When they had finally made it to his camp, he slowed the panting horse and dismounted, pulling the lady off as well. "A lady as fine as youself should fetch a pretty ransom." Rhys said, perhaps more to himself than her. "Or perhaps your precious Aelf will save you." He taunted, feeling frustrated by his own actions.

[Lady Elena Lawley]

Elena remained silent as they rode; not willing to terrify her poor horse by screaming. It would have been satisfying to see Galahad throw the thief, but not so satisfying to break her own neck that way. Not only that, she was enraged. The young Lawley had enough sense to not speak to an enemy when all she could think of was how wonderful it would be to wring his neck. She would say something he would make her regret, and held as awkwardly as she was it would be a danger to try to move. Rhy's arm was the only thing keeping her from falling to the earth, and she knew it. For all of that, she couldn't help but hate him. The vulgar touch to her hip; the judgment in his eyes; the way he'd shamed her Aelf-all of it made her ready to kill him. How dare he condemn her? He didn't know her. She could faintly understand robbery. People were poor; they needed to eat. She could not understand, nor tolerate, the condescension he was using towards her. He, the thief, accusing her of crime-a crime horrible enough to make her deserve stripping and perhaps worse.

The girl ground her teeth as his arm tightened around hers and ripped her to the ground, and then he was taunting her again. Rather, he was taunting Aelf, and that was much worse. Elene stared up at him coldly, then put her head to the side and gave a thoughtful nod. "...Yes, perhaps he will save me." She didn't add that he had numbers now, and a location, and the ability to track a snowflake in a blizzard; nor did she add that the worried guard would fight like a lion for 'his girl;' nor did she mention that in mounting the horse and moving to camp Rhys had made a very fatal mistake. Elena had no idea how many bandits had actually been in the woods with this stranger as opposed to how many remained in this camp, but she figured that the forests of Ashton weren't vast enough to support a force much larger than the one she'd seen. At this conclusion, she allowed a cold glint to enter her eye. "Or, perhaps I will save myself!"

She moved like a snake. One minute she'd been standing there, docile as a dove; the next, her hand was wrapped around a stiletto and whistling towards Rhys' face. Elena didn't care if she killed. She wanted only to hit-it would be enough to slow this man down; enough to let her slip into the trees and hide until Aelf brought a party along to rout the thieves. Enough would be enough.