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.
