The Twist of Regret, The Oil of Tomorrow, "A Robin of the Woods Story."

The Twist of Regret, The Oil of Tomorrow

"A Robin of the Woods Story"

by John Pirillo

"It's only a bird's nest, Robin." Lady Marion told him, as she knit the sheep's wool into a blanket for her and he to lay upon during the winter months of their tree home in the Engloria Forest. Ever since he had returned from his ensorcelment by the evil Sheriff of Nottingham, he had been a different man. More quiet, less boisterous. His son, Robin of the Woods, worried even more so, but she never told Robin that, because she knew how proud he was of their son, and also how proud he was of being able to take care of them. The years that had separated them had been hard on all of them.

Even the trees had suffered from his lack of attention as the Nature Elves who tended them only trusted his word and his hands upon the woods they brought nourishment and life to. Even they had wilted somewhat and refused to sprout new leaves and flowers, thus depriving the honey bees of their precious nectar, and the birds and bears of their pollen and  honey.

"Yes. But look how well constructed it is, Mary." He told her,  his thick beard rubbing against her shoulder blade from behind as he raised his trophy for her eyes to see.

She examined it, but saw nothing unusual to remark about, so instead continued knitting.

Finally, he rose from beside her and frowned. "We will not be found so easily the next time, nor roused from our real homes!"

There was the crux of his problem. Worry. And not that it wasn't valid, but that he felt less than a man because they had been thrown out of their ancestral homes to live in Sherwood Forest, then even thrown from that as well by the evil magics of the Sheriff.

"Robin. We need to talk." She told him.

She put her knitting down, then patted the wood floor beside her. Their new home was barren of furniture, as it was the fifth time they had been forced to retreat from the ever advancing forces of King John and the meddlesome Sheriff.

He sat down, but she could tell he wasn't in a mood to listen. So you used the only magic she knew upon him. She kissed him on the lips.

It usually did t he trick and after their years and troubles together, he still loved her as much as she him. They were inseparable and she was quite sure had he truly died, she would have felt it and withered away from the loss, as much as the trees had from his touch.

"I love you so much." He whispered into her right ear, then blew softly, tickling her.

She giggled and shove him gently back. "When are you going to shave that nasty thing from your face."

"Yes, father. When?" Robin of the Woods demanded cheerfully, as he ducked through the opening into their living room, where they sat and then dropped to a squat facing them. He had his long bow held in one hand and a quiver of fresh arrows over his broad shoulders.

Robin gazed at his son with so much love and urgency, it hurt him. He had missed some of the best years of the lad's life, and he had no intentions of ever doing such again.

"Any word?"

Robin of the Woods shook his head, then loosened his grip on his long bow, letting it cock against the wall, and his bow to slide from his shoulder next to it. He shrugged his jerkin on a bit tighter and gripped his knees, placing his chin on them to watch them.

"Merlin says they are plotting."

"They are always plotting. Tell me something I don't know." Robin growled angrily.

Mary touched Robin lightly on his arm and he relaxed. He was so high strung these days. "What your father meant to say..." She looked into his eyes as she spoke. "Is that we were hoping for news of a different kind."

"And you will have it." Robin of the Woods told them, rising to his feet again, grabbing his long bow and quiver. "As soon as I do. I love you father. Mom!" He said with a nod to both, then exited.

"You've chased him away again with your anger, Robin!" She scolded Robin.

He sighed, then shook his head. "I just don't seem to be able to do anything right anymore."

"No, that's not true! I won't hear you admit such to your men either. They hate it when you do that. You are like a god to them."

"Even gods can make mistakes." Robin sighed.

"Yes, and so you must do better than that." She reminded him.

He gave her a quick look, then leaped to his feet. He stretched. "I think it's time I went outside for a little walk."

"He needs you more than ever, you know." Lady Marion called after Robin as he exited.

"And I him." Robin admitted.

Robin of the Woods sat cross-legged on a thick branch overlooking their camp below. His long hair was banded into a pony tail, to keep it from falling into his eyes. He smiled as  he watched Little John, Friar Tuck and Will Scarlett about a large fire, singing an ancient lullaby as their wives watched from the opposite side of the fire with their babies in their arms.

"It's something I treasure more than gold." Robin said as he settled beside Robin of the Woods.

"Aye. And I." Robin of the Woods admitted. "Every night I come out here to listen to them tell their tales, recall their ancient battles, remember..."

Robin of the Woods stopped, embarrassed.

Robin put a hand on his son's shoulder and gripped it firmly. "I missed them as much as they I. And I especially missed you, son."

Robin of the Woods looked at him. "Every night you were gone I did not give up hoping I would find you, rescue you. But every night I failed. I was ready to leave the woods forever at one point, forsaking everything that I loved and believed in."

"And yet you did not."

"No. Without Merlin's friendship it might have been different"

Robin nodded. "Merlin is a great friend to us all. But even he would say that your best friend is not him, or me, but your own soul, your own heart, your own willingness to do what is right, my son."

Robin of the Woods smiled at his father. Even though imprisoned for years and tortured, his spirit was strong, his eyes sharp and his arm still as strong as the thews of a small dragon. He felt such joy at the presence of his father at that moment, he thought he might explode. How could any son deserve such a good man, someone so willing to give up everything in life to preserve the life of those in need.

Robin of the Woods looked at him and he felt such love for his father and his father for him, that neither spoke for hours, but sat there humbly next to each other, enjoying the sanctity of their closeness and good spirited hearts.

The war for freedom in the woods and the land was far from over, but the battle to renew their friendship and love was being won.