A/N: This version of Robin Hood and the portrayal of its characters belong to the BBC. The character of Elsie belongs to me.

-Prison-

A cell can be defined as a small room like in a convent or a prison. It is an appropriate term used to describe the minute lodgings provided for those seeking shelter at the abbey. A cell in Kirklees Abbey was small to say the very least and it was modestly furnished, containing nothing more than what was needed for a life devoted to God. It had no ornate decorations to clutter the limited amount of space provided by the abbey. A simple cross had been nailed to one of the walls to be used during times of meditation and prayer. The lone artifact hung above a narrow table, whose purpose was determined based on the room's occupant. A strong wooden bed flanked the wall opposite the only window to the outside world and a trunk, for storing those few personal items, sat at the foot of the bed. For a person unaccustomed to such a simple lifestyle, the monastic bed chamber might feel very much like a prison. It is funny how two very different places can be fused into one – when circumstances allow.

A cool, sweet breeze fluttered in through the open window, countering the stream of sun light which warmed the tiny room. The cool air danced lightly against Elsie's cheek, drawing her attention away from the book she had been aimlessly flipping through. Looking up from the pages, she inhaled the fresh wave of air, letting it fill her lungs. It felt wonderful to finally get some air circulating through the stuffy little room. Tossing the book aside, Elsie followed the flow of air to its source. She stood on the tips of her toes, leaning over the windowsill to catch a fuller view of the sea of budding trees that was Barnsdale Forest. Propping her head up with her hands, she gazed out across the treetops. After a few minutes she closed her eyes, letting the sun's rays warm her face. Soft gusts of wind sent the loose strands of her hair into a whirl, tickling the backs of her hands as they cupped her cheeks.

In her mind's eye she brought forth the image of a forest. She imagined herself in the middle of that forest, surrounded by trunks of giant oak trees, with a bow gripped tightly in one hand. Strapped to her back was a quiver filled with arrows, and she could almost feel the weight of it pressing against her. She could feel the ground, uneven beneath her feet as she began to run through the wood. The low branches from shrubs and small trees nipped at her arms and legs as she hurried forward with no real destination in mind.

This vision of herself in the forest frequented her dreams both at night and during the day throughout the long, bitter winter season. It was always the same. She was always alone.

It was this constant isolation; it was being cut off from a world that she longed to be a part of which brought about such vivid images into her dreams. It was the circumstances under which she had come to be at the Abbey of Kirklees that plagued her view of her life in the monastery.

For the second time in her twenty years of existence, Elsie had been cast aside 'for her own protection.' But she knew it was more for the sanity of her arrogant older brother than for her safety; this time was different than the last. When she had been sent away the first time to live with the Earl of Wycombe, it had been a practical decision. A twelve year old girl with no parents and a brother running off to war could not be left to manage the family estates, especially when corruption lingered in the shadows.

Her brother returned from the crusades, but is still involved in a war. He and his band of outlawed men have rallied against the injustice that has seeped into the framework of this country. Robin Hood, he calls himself now. He takes from those who deserves to be taken from and gives back to the people from whom every last coin has been pillaged by taxation. Robin and his men are well respected and loved by the poverty stricken villagers of Nottingham and its surrounding area. They have come to breathe his name as though he, himself, were the King of England.

Elsie's heart ached with a desire to be a part of the rebellion, to find a deeper purpose for her own life. She wanted to fight alongside her brother for her king and for her country. Robin, however, would not allow it. It seemed he did not want to be responsible for her; he could not have his mind clouded with brotherly concern when he was putting the lives of others on the line. Elsie had tried to change his mind, but his decision would not waver. The abbey was her only option, so she had no choice but to make her peace with being sent away once more. Deep in the place closest to her heart she reconciled with his ruling; knowing that not long before she had returned to his life, Robin had suffered a great loss which brought his whole world to an end. Elsie knew that it would take a long time for those wounds to heal, and if her exile meant easing that pain, then Elsie could do no more than find refuge at Kirklees Abbey until the king returned to the shores of England – whenever that may be.

Elsie's eyes popped open at the sound of voices, drifting up from below. There was some commotion near the gatehouse. Leaning forward to investigate, Elsie cursed the angle of her window; whatever was taking place occurred in front of the gatehouse and was, therefore, blocked from sight. She sighed and pulled her head back into the tiny room. With any luck it would be some traveler seeking shelter, who might be able to give her some sort lived entertainment. Her one saving grace was the stream of visitors at the abbey, because they always had some exciting reason for the journeys and their tales were often a good source of news from around the country.

Supper would not be for another couple of hours, so Elsie had to wait to see if there were any new faces at abbey.

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