Spoiler
Story background: I was IMing my friend the other day, and she told me to write a really random story. I was thinking about this poem at the time, and started writing a spoof on it. I did nothing to this version except delete the Me/My friend captions and her comments, so it's still the on-the-spot improvised make-it-up-as-you-go version. 
Comments are welcome!
Comments are welcome!Once upon a time, there was a young man. He was in love with an innkeepers daughter, and wanted to marry her.
The only problem was was that he was a highwayman. One does not have to be terribly intelligent to know that, regardless of a man's status in society, to have a daughter married to a criminal like so would bring shame for generations.
He still managed, however, to occasionally make visits to her windowsill. Each time he was reminded of how lucky he was to have her returned affection.
For a long time this relationship continued in such a secretive fashion.
After their most recent meeting, when the Highwayman was on the road to his next prize, he heard of a sort of chaos at the inn. He turned around that very moment and galloped back.
The young woman during the raid on her home had been tied to a bedpost. Her wrists were bound tightly with solid rope, her waist cinched close to the slice of wood.
In a daze, she wasn't quite sure how or when the gun was secured to her ribcage in such a way that if the trigger happened to be pulled she would die instantly.
Her dizzy trance was broken quickly at the sound of hoofbeats echoing from miles away as only they could on a clear, cold night such as this. She looked out the window to the hazy predawn light. Foolish, dear man that he was, she simply could not let him do this. But how could she prevent him, man that he was, from storming the inn where the soldiers were keeping them all hostage? If she yelled a warning the soldiers would, without a doubt, investigate and shoot him.
If she didn't, the Highwayman would for sure be killed anyway.
As quietly as she could she started wriggling against the twines that held her.
As the hoof beats drew closer, her movements grew more frantic. She grew heady as her breathing increased, and she swooned.
At last, she held the trigger beneath her finger.
She gulped back her tears
One more time she looked out the window, perhaps to catch one last glimpse of her love.
Her shaking finger tightened ever so briefly on the small slice of metal that could do so much, change so many things, so easily.
She let out an audible choke.
She couldn't believe what she saw through her blinding tears.
She quickly blinked them away, just to be sure.
But yes, her eyes, though smeared with salty grief, had not fooled her.
Coming over the rise, into view, was no dark black stallion, no erect rider.
It was a pair of schoolboys, who had snuck out with their tin can stilts. They were racing eachother down the road. Watching them stumble and right themselves with a practiced air was such an unexpected sight that she laughed aloud.
She sank down towards the floor, as far as her bonds allowed. Her sore wrists tangled painfully in the ropes.
She winced, and tried to stand up, but the new position the twine had taken against her flesh prevented an easy maneuver.
She pulled at the ropes a bit, back and forth.
The soldiers thundered up the stairs.
The young woman stood terrified under the men's shadows.
The one in the front reached out and tore the gun from the bonds as easily as if it were straw that bound her.
He turned to the other men.
They looked panicked as they untied her and warned her with a smack across the mouth that she was to keep silent about this incident.
With that the rode off on their horses.
It was barely a moment later that a familiar and beloved young man on a black horse rode over the rise, followed by friendly soldiers.
The young woman could barely contain her squeal of joy as she rushed downstairs and into the arms of the highwayman.
The soldiers approached them.
"Where did the other soldiers go?" She pointed them in the right direction, and most of the men rode off in pursuit.
The one who had spoken to her turned toward her again, and said, "Your young man is brave indeed. He came to us for help even in the face of arrest for his crimes, but in his honesty he has possibly saved many lives. In the name of the King I pardon him of all crimes to this point."
The highwayman turned to the young woman. They looked in wonder at each other.
He turned back to the soldier. "Well, that's no fun, now, is it?" He asked him, and knocked him over the head with the butt of his rapier.
He then raided his purse and pockets, grabbed a very surprised young woman around the waist, hoisted her up in front of him on the horse, and rode off into the sunrise.
