I'm continuing my reposting of old fics (even though hardly any1 reads them lol). This one is not my best work, just a funny little piece about Allan and his brother, set in the days before Robin Hood.

Thanx to I Am The Lev for helping me spell thatcher (I wondered why Word kept complaining about that word. lol).

I'm good with nuns

"Are you sure about this Tom? Not being funny but look at this place! It's like a bloody fortress!"

"A fortress full of women my good man," Tom-a-Dale said with a glance at his elder brother. Allan seemed rather dishevelled, his hair scruffy and dark rings under his eyes. They had been running for days, haunted by the petty thefts and general roguish trickery that they were so very good at up till the point that they were found out. It was usually Tom's fault and it made it all the more important for him to prove himself this time.

"And they got gold these nuns? How do you know anyway?"

"Allan, do I ever lie to you?"

Allan gave Tom a sarcastic look. "Do you ever not lie?"

"Listen…" Tom sighed and put a palm on Allan's shoulder. "I'm a thatcher right?"

Allan snorted. Thatcher was a good, honest occupation, one that had guilds and masters and apprentices, and the a-Dales didn't do good, honest occupations. Tom could put a decent roof together because he knew how to take a decent roof apart.

"I'm a thatcher," Tom insisted. "And I got thatcher friends that have worked on this monastery. There is so much gold Allan… Even the books are made of gold in there!"

"Books made of gold…" Allan scoffed. "Not being funny but what do you need a gold book for? We can't sell it and we can't read mind you."

"So we take a chandelier!" Tom exclaimed. "Trust me! Anyway, we need a place to stay over the night. They say nuns are friendly…"

Allan moaned under his breath. This was such a bad idea, but they were on the run again, without money or food and with no roof over their heads. "Right," he said with a resigned sigh. "Best way into a fortress is though the door. I do not trust you to talk to a nun… I better do it."

Tom gave Allan a thump on the back. "That's more like it! When this is over we'll be bathing in milk and honey brother."

"Not being funny but you could need a bath," Allan mumbled and shuffled Tom's arm away from him. "Right, you stay 'ere, and I find a way in."

----

To be honest she wasn't a nun. Her clothes were grey so she must be merely a novice, and from what he could see she seemed like a decent-looking lass with a rather pale complexion. A lock of blond hair had made its way out from under the wimple as she sat crouched down in the monastery's garden, working with annoyed twitchy movements.

"… be blessed my… donkey. I had kitchen duty yesterday and the day before, but do they listen? No! No one listens… Aaah bloody turnips!"

Allan moved his hand trough the blonde hair and put on a cheeky grin. Here we go, he thought and started to swagger his way in between the low shrubberies. The novice cocked her neck and wiped her sweaty brow with a rather dirty hand, staring at the intruder.

"I haven't seen you before," she sneered. "Who are you? Should you really be here?"

"Allan-a-Dale at your service," he said and grinned. "I just thought perhaps you needed a hand that's all."

"Mother Superia will throw a fit if she finds you here," the novice said and stood up.

"Yeah? Better make sure she doesn't find out then."

The novice snorted at him. She was very young he realised, hardly more than 16 and certainly not in a very pious mood.

"Listen," he tried. "I'm just a poor traveller alright? I have no money, no food…"

"Oh bo-hoo."

"Yeah, so I was thinking… If I help you here… I could stay the night perhaps? Get a little something to eat."

"Take a job at a farm," she hissed. "If the abbess finds you with me I will have kitchen duty until I'm eighty."

"And that is bad is it?"

"Yes it is bad! It's all… turnips and… oh God how I hate it…"

"I don't know, sounds kind of nice to me… Close to the food, that can't be all bad." She glared at him. "Listen," he sighed and threw out his arms. "I'm an honest bloke. I don't have much in the world… Me and my brother, we struggle along. I'm not being funny but it's not easy you know! Not with his… impediment…"

"Impediment?"

"Yeah… He is a nice kid but he's dumb you see. Can't speak a word! Been that way all his life, no one has been able to help 'im… So I thought if I take up a job here, help the nuns a little… God may have mercy…"

The novice hesitated a little, and the trickster in Allan said 'aha, you hit the chord' and made a small victory dance.

"Are you sure he can't be cured?" the novice said.

"As sure as the fish can't walk."

"Hm… Listen… What if we take your brother to see the abbess?"

"What? Why?"

"Oh it's this thing she's got… We got this stupid Jesus figure you see, his wounds bleed. She's so convinced it's a miracle, she's always looking for ways to prove it."

"And you think she would like to try and cure my brother?" Allan exclaimed. "You think that would work do you?"

The novice snorted. "There's a leak in the roof… But it'll get me off kitchen duty. Go get him and I'll go tell her about it."

Allan ran off to the bush where Tom was hidden, brushing the dirt of one of the turnips that he had stuffed his cloak full of and taking a big bite. The sand crunched between his teeth as he chewed and but he was too hungry to notice.

"Tom," he called out, spitting little pieces of turnip all over his brother's annoyed face. "Good news is I found a way in, right?"

Tom smiled happily and then a thought hit him. "But then what is the bad news?" he said and Allan put a comforting hand on his shoulder.

"You're dumb, mate," he grinned.

----

The two men was greeted by a group of nuns spanning across most ages and sizes, all dressed in the same unflattering clothes. There was a smell of smoky and vaguely flowery incense and a fat woman stepped up to them with an aloof expression in her face. It was an altogether absurd experience, the two dishevelled and quite undoubtedly male rouges being greeted into the monastery that they were planning to rob. Like sheep giving the wolves a grand tour around the pasture, Allan thought as a nun with a monotone and slightly nasal voice showed him the chapel. It was practically bathing in glimmering, sparkling gold, catching the flames from the candles, golden chandeliers, golden icons, even a very thick golden book. He could hear Tom drawing his breath beside him and Allan gave him a light shuffle to remember to keep his mouth shut.

"Ah and here is the crown jewel," the abbess said and led them up to the bleeding Jesus. It was a fairly plain wooden statue, the ribs sticking out like a washboard and the eyes two pained cracks. As so very often the point of these statues seemed to be to make them look as unpleasant as possible, and Allan tried not to wince at the sight of the open gash in his side. It was wet as promised, so he glanced up to the ceiling for the source. Tom gave him a shuffle and nodded at a crack in the roof with a wide grin. Allan shrugged. You believe what you want to believe, that was a truth as good as any. They stood for a while as the abyss prayed in front of the statue and Allan saw Tom get increasingly anxious. Finally they seemed to be done.

"My child," the abbess said and put two fingers on Tom's forehead. "With God's help you can be healed. All you need is faith."

Tom flashed the abbess a cheeky a-Dale grin, and Allan gave him a warning look, shaking his head. Not yet you fool, he mouthed silently but it was very hard to get any sort of good advice across to his little brother.

Tom opened his mouth. "You know I can fix that leak for you," he said. "I'm a thatcher."

If looks could kill… Well that would have been a very bad day for the a-Dales. Now they found themselves in a room filled with nuns who slowly realised that they had been conned.

"The Lord be praised!" Allan exclaimed nervously. "It's a miracle! He can talk!"

The abbess was turning read, her big bosom rose and sunk in steady, barely restrained furious movements. Tom took a firm grip around Allan's arm. "Now…" he said, backing slowly out of the chapel. "Run!!!"

----

"Why!" Allan was pacing across the glen while his brother sat slumped down by a tree trunk. "Why couldn't you have waited until we had at least a night in a real bed!? A plate of warm food!?"

"Well… Look at it this from the bright side… We still got turnips. And what do we need a gold book for anyway?"

Allan threw out his arms in a resigned gesture, picking up a turnip from a pocket in his cloak and plunging it at Tom. He was hungry. He was tired. They had been standing in a room full of gold!

"Not being funny…" he whined. "I'm not being funny but mum must have living off sheep skulls when she expected you. Well, at least I didn't have to lie…"

"What do you mean?"

"You are dumb!" Allan exclaimed.

Tom's response was interrupted by the sound of creaking branches and they reached for their swords. The nose came closer until a young woman tumbled into the glen, her clothes grey and white under the dark blue cloak. Allan only gawped as he recognised the young novice from the garden.

"Wha…?" he said and lowered his sword.

The novice brushed the twigs and leaves her clothes. "Do you have any idea how much trouble you got me into?!" she sneered.

"Yeah, well… Sorry…" Allan said and shrugged his shoulders at Tom.

"I'll never get out now!" she said. "So you will help me. You oweme!"

"We will?" Allan said.

"We do?" Tom added puzzled.

"Yes. You will get me away from here. I want out."

"Well," Tom smirked. "You may be in luck… The only thing we do better than get in is get out again."

"Shut up Tom," Allan scoffed and turned to the novice. "Not being funny but you look like you pretty much have taken care of that bit yourself, mind you."

"I can't do it on my own!" she said. "Anyway I brought some stuff that we might need."

"Stuff what stu…" Allan was interrupted half way through the sentence by the novice starting to pull out item after item from her cloak.

"Food…" she said and pulled out bread and pies. "Blankets… Oh this is for lightning a fire. Men never think about stuff like that..." she continued and then she opened up the other side of the cloak and picked out a large gold candlestick. "I though we might need this too," she said as the item fell down to the forest floor with a thump, followed by some smaller gold objects. "Now you better get started," she scoffed and sat down leaning to a tree. "You're on kitchen duty."

Tom and Allan shrugged the shoulders at each other and walked off into the forest to collect fire wood. As soon as they had put enough distance between them and the novice to be able to talk in private, Tom turned to Allan with a quizzical look. Allan glanced off to the girl who sat with a her lips in a sour pout, still dressed in the pious clothes of a holy woman, and shrugged his shoulders.

"What can I say," he said. "I guess I'm good with nuns."