Emily
Robin Hood, a famous outlaw fighting injustice by making fools out of the Sheriff of Nottingham and Sir Guy of Gisbourne, sat under a tree in Sherwood Forest, to take a rest after a strenouous sword practice with his friends known as Merry Men. His hazel eyes were sparkling with mischief, his hair swaying gently in the light breeze. To be more precise, it was a dashing hairstyle, his pride and joy, and the reason for his nickname – “the hooded mullet”. It suited him perfectly, making him the most attractive outlaw in the shire.
Venison was roasting over the fire when Robin took a sip from the chalice, and, handing it to his companions, said – “Herne protect us.” On a full stomach he felt a new surge of energy and another idea entered his mind. “Let’s hold a little archery contest, shall we?” he suggested with a twinkle in his eyes. “We all know you’re the most skillful archer in England Robin, so spare us the effort.” said Little John, stretching out on the grass. “We stood no chance with you.” “Robin enjoys bragging left and right about his abilities”, Will Scarlet added ironically. Much pulled a silly face, Nasir said nothing as usual, looking intently around, and Friar Tuck, contented, was patting his full belly.
Robin, however, felt like performing some good shots. He reached out for his longbow, a playful smile danced on his lips. Fully concentrated, with one hand clenched on the handle and the other one gracefully drawing the bowstring, he sent an arrow at the distant target. Merry Men clapped their hands. “Well done, Robin. It was a great shot”, Little John exclaimed joyfully. Then another one and another. None of them missed. But while getting ready for one more splendid performance, a disaster struck unawares. In a mysterious way, Robin’s mullet got tangled in the bowstring. Seeing that, Merry Men burst out laughing. Panicked, Robin was doing his best to release his hair but in vain. It seemed to be firmly attached, as if by means of some magical power.
“Look at Robin’s hair!” John exclaimed rolling with laughter. “It’s got tangled in the bowstring!” “Is it a new way of shooting?” Much asked truly amused. Even Nasir, not often showing his emotions, couldn’t help but enjoy Robin’s struggles. Only Marion, his truelove, approached him with a symphatethic look. “Poor Robin, your beautiful hair has been ruined.” He looked at her with a glimmer of hope, as she got him out of trouble many a time before.”Oh, Marion, help me please”, he turned his pleading eyes at her. Having taken a look at Robin’s hair, she knew there was only one solution. “I’m afraid there’s nothing we can do, Robin. Your hair must be chopped off”, she said with determination. His eyes widened in fear, as if he just heard a prophecy of the end times that was to take place in a matter of seconds. Merry Men’s laughter was still echoing in the forest. “Oh no, please! Not my mullet!” Robin exclaimed with terror.
“It would be a disgrace to me! And what would Gisbourne say?” In his mind’s eye he could already see his nemesis in a blaze of glory, teasing him sorely. “I’d become a laughing stock.” Marion however, sensible and unbending, was about to stop that nonsense. “Do you want to go around with your hair tangled in the bowstring?” Having found small scissors in her pouch she was ready for action. Seeing them in Marion’s hand, Robin started to back away, tripping over tree roots. “Come here Robin. You know it can’t be helped. You aren’t going to run around with the bow stuck to your head, are you?”
Merry men had no mercy and started singing cheerfully,
“No more flicking here and there,
Robin’s gonna have short hair.”
Marion finally caught Robin, thrashing around and holding his hair in disbelief, desperate to do whatever he could to save his image. “Calm down Robin”, she was trying to comfort him. “You’ll still look great and be people’s hero no matter what.” Merry Men gathered around, with silly smiles playing on their faces. Robin closed his eyes, feeling that his fate had already been sealed. While Marion was snipping through his locks, he was trying, at all costs, to put aside terrible thoughts of the Sheriff and Gisbourne laughing at him, which was hard among his Merry Men, mercilessly dancing and singing their song. At last Marion finished the haircut and Robin saw long strands lying on the ground. Now, his mullet was just history. “Poor Robin”, Will Scarlet said, not sparing the sarcasm. “You’ve parted with your bow. From now on you won’t be united.” “You’ll remain our hero after all”, Little John patted his shoulder. “I like your hair Robin”, Much added smiling. “Now we look even more like brothers.” Marion took Robin’s hand to lead him to the nearby stream. “I’m not gonna look at myself”, he refused. “My career is over.” “Don’t be silly, it’s just hair” Marion started to grow impatient. Then, they all saw Herne the Hunter, the god of the forest, and Robin’s spirit guide. He looked troubled, his eyes however, sparked with hidden mischief.
“Robin, my dear. I see some misfortune has happened. It’s interesting how our destiny guides our steps sometimes.” Robin remained silent, in no mood for preachifying. “I have another riddle for you” Herne said in a firmer voice, seeing his tenacity. “I want you to find out your greatest weakness.” With these words, he dissolved in the mist. Robin remained disconsolated. His friends let him alone and stopped teasing a little, seeing Marion’s pleading glances. As another skirmishes with the enemies were in store, there was no time for self-pity. Robin, with an offended face, rushed to rob the rich and give the money to the villagers, but at his sight, they froze bewildered. “Is it Robin Hood?” “What happened to his mullet?”, they were asking themselves in disbelief. Bad news however, has it to itself that travels very fast, so no wonder, that soon after everyone knew about the mishap with the bow. Sadly, even the Sheriff and Guy of Gisbourne, as Robin predicted, were outdoing one another in inventing the most offensive insults during the feast at Nottingham castle. “Have you seen that poor fellow, calling himself “the hooded mullet, Gisbourne?”, the Sheriff’s laughter was echoing through the chamber. “Now it should be “the tangled mullet”, my Lord”, was his brilliant answer. “Or rather “the hooded bowstring” if he likes to wear it on his head so much”, said the Sheriff, taking a sip of wine. At the same time, in Sherwood Forest, Marion was trying to get back the old Robin she loved. “Don’t take all those silly jokes to heart, they’ll stop soon”, she talked to him gently. “You’re the bravest hero, Herne’s son and people’s hope. And… my only love.” At those words, Robin softened a little. “Besides”, Marion continued, “your hair’s gonna grow back. Herne, who hid himself behind the trees to observe his chosen, was glad to know she was such a great support for him in this time of trial. It took Robin some time to accept his new look (he still refused to see his reflection in the stream, though), but every cloud has a silver lining. The villagers got used to their savier’s appearance and even Merry Men were bored with teasing. And when a year passed he finally regained his mullet, and with it his lost confidence. Everyone saw, to their immense relief, that Robin whom they knew in the past, came back. Once again, his joyful laughter echoed in the forest. Only the Sheriff and Guy invariably called him “the hooded bowstring”. It happened one day, that Robin and Gisbourne’s paths crossed again. After a fierce sword fight amidst the green of the forest, they found themselves wallowing in the mud. Both covered in stinky goo, both determined to defeat one another. You could hear the hoofbeat in the distance and then see the Sheriff rushing to catch our famous outlaw. Losing no time, Robin jumped into the nearby river and swam away, leaving Gisbourne at the mercy of his furious master. “Where is he?”, cried the Sheriff, hurling insults at his mentee. “I…I was attacked my Lord”, Guy was excusing himself in a trembling voice. “Attacked?”, the Sheriff roared. “Is it all you can say?”
Robin in the meanwhile, came out dripping with water, but happy to have outsmarted them both once more. And then, a feeling of unease came over him as he felt something weird on his head.
But only when he joined his Merry Men and noticed their startled look, did he understand something was up.
Having taken a closer look at his mullet, they all burst into laughter. Robin touched it carefully and, horror of horrors, it dawned on him it was all caked with nasty,
green, river plants. “Are you gonna take part in “Mr Forest elections?” Little John was laughing like a drain.
“It’s certainly a new fashion trend, we all know Robin likes to shine”, Will Scarlet added his ironic remarks. “Is it a camouflage, Robin?”, Much asked with a baffled expression. “No, my friends”, Friar Tuck joined the conversation. “He became a martyr to atone for his bad deeds.”
“That’s a great choice, Robin”, John laughed until he cried. “It matches your green outfit at least. “That’s enough!”, Robin blew his top. “It’s not funny at all! If you’d helped me with Gisbourne, it wouldn’t have happened”. Merry Men however, were so amused, they took no notice of his words.
Robin dived into the stream, trying to wash those awful plants off, but they didn’t seem to come off. Even Marion couldn’t help chuckling, seeing his desperate attempts and miserable face. No matter how nice he looked in his green tunic, green shirt and tight green trousers, green hair wasn’t (to put it mildly) the best style to wear. “Marion, what shall I do?”, Robin’s eyes were full of despair. “Let me see, I’ll try to remove it”, sounded Marion’s soothing voice. Sadly, as with the bowstring, his hair was damaged beyond repair. “Robin, I’m really sorry, but I’m afraid you have to get another haircut”, Marion stroked gently his face. Hearing this, he jumped like a scalded cat. “No way!”, the echo was carrying his cries. “I’d be disgraced forever! People forgot about the incident with the bowstring but will never forget this”, he hid his face in his hands.
Merry Men were just waiting for it. Ignoring their leader’s grief, they started to sing the old song.
“No more flicking here and there,
Robin’s gonna have short hair.”
“There must be the way to fix it”, he was clinging on to the last piece of hope. But Marion reached already for the scissors paying no attention to his objections.
“Be still Robin”, she just said, and he could hear the familiar crunching sound.
Once again, his mullet disappeared. And then, when the last strand found its way to the forest floor, Herne the Hunter stood before them, emerging from the mist. “I see you suffer another misfortune”, he said with sympathy. “But know that suffering makes us stronger”, he considered to give his chosen an invaluable lesson. Nevertheless, Robin thought otherwise and didn’t feel like listening to physological speeches in this time of misery. “Do you remember what I asked you last time, in similar circumstances, when you lost your priceless mullet? You still can find the answer.” Having said that, he vanished.
Robin was trying hard to hide his new hair under the hood, but, as is so often the case, soon the whole shire was buzzing with rumours. Merry men teased him savagely and the Sheriff and Guy gave him a new name – “the hooded algae”.
He was staring into a bottomless pit of despair, much to the Sheriff and Gisbourne’s delight. “I wish I’d seen him with those plants on his hair”, the Sheriff was imagining Robin covered all in green. “He must have looked like a big frog.” “Yes, my Lord”, Gisbourne agreed. “He escaped but at least paid for his impudence.”
Marion was really tender and supportive, although she lost her patience once in a while, seeing Robin’s unreasonable behaviour. ”
“You don’t understand my feelings”, he complained. “I was “the hooded mullet”. Admired and respected. Now everyone’s laughing at me.”
“You think too much about your hair”, Marion was looking for a way to soothe his wounded pride. “You were chosen by Herne himself to oppose evil, to help the poor and helpless. That’s what really matters.”
Robin just sighed, missing his long locks blowing in the wind anyway. But again, it was time that healed the wounds, and when another year passed, Robin’s mullet grew back even more beautiful than it had been before.
Everyone who met our outlaw, discerned his former charm. But those, who think happiness can last forever, must be sorely mistaken.
Some time later, in one of the cities in the shire, the horseback riding competition was to be organised. Robin decided to take part, as not only was he the best swordsman and archer (although one may doubt it after the bowstring mishap), but also a splendid rider.
“You must be careful, Robin”, all Merry Men agreed. “The Sheriff’s biggest desire is to catch you. You’d better not push your luck.”
Robin however, didn’t intend to take his friends’ advice to heart. He already saw himself as the winner, holding the main trophy in his hands, flicking his mullet in full glory.
On this important day, everyone wanted to admire courageous and hansome riders. Both, the nobles and the villagers, were crowding to take the best seats, all of them in great mood, cheering and waving at their favourites. Among them Robin was waiting, bold and convinced of his own
excellence. The route however, was long and tricky, and one of the rules was to draw a horse, so no one really knew what fate had in store. And yet our hero was unafraid, sending his charming smiles around.
At first everything went smooth. Robin mounted a beautiful chestnut palfrey and got off like a shot. He was galloping through meadows and hills, taking the lead, as if he was born in the saddle. He leapt over the stream and rushed forward like a whirlwind, leaving the others behind. But if he believed nothing would stand in his way to win, he had another think coming.
Not suspecting anything, he cantered into the forest, nimbly avoiding the trees. Little did he know however, that his horse, although brilliant in open space, got spooked seeing obstacles in front. In next to no time, it started kicking, unseating poor Robin with a loud neighing.
He did a spectacular flip in the air and landed in the bushes. Thankfully, he got out of it unscathed and only his pride was severely injured. And… his well-tended mullet. As luck would have it, a lot of thistle grew around and when Robin emerged, his hair was lovely embellished with its balls. In the meantime, the Sheriff heard that Robin enjoyed himself right under his nose, and furious went after him with his men. Our hero was running as fast as his legs could carry him, tripping over his own feet. “Catch him!”, the Sheriff was roaring, “To the dungeon with him!”.
Humiliated, with thistle entwined in his mullet, Robin was thinking frantically what to do.
Who however, could get him out of trouble if not his Merry Men. They took some horses not used in the tournament and rushed to their leader’s rescue. Robin jumped onto the one ridden by Little John and they all dashed towards Sherwood. They only heard Sheriff’s threads behind their back. “How could you let him escape?”, he grumbled over poor Guy’s head, hot under his collar. “He’s tricked us again and it’s all your fault, Gisbourne!” “But at least he learned a lesson my Lord”, Guy was trying to excuse his own inefficiency. “His mullet is full of thistle balls and everyone saw it. He’ll never regain people’s respect again. He’s over and won’t get away with it this time.” Although Guy’s reasoning was usually flawed, the Sheriff had to agree. “Yes, Gisbourne”, he said in a calmer voice. “Robin Hood, or, should I say “the hooded thistle”, is over now.”
After this quick and exhausting escape, Robin along with his friends, found themselves safely in Sherwood. He looked like the embodiment of chaos and despair, with his hair in total mess. “It was foolish, Robin”, Will Scarlet lost his temper. “You exposed us all to risk.” “What if we hadn’t been able to help you? Did you think of the consequences?”, Little John joined in scolding. “And you left Marion unprotected”, Friar Tuck added reproachfully. “I’m sorry”, Robin kept his head down. “You’re all right. I made a terrible mistake.” Everyone gathered around him, happy they were safe and still togeher. John glanced over Robin’s mullet and started laughing. “I guess I need a haircut”, Robin touched prickly ballls on his head with a smile.
“Yes”, Will Scarlet grinned. “Hedgehog’s look is definitely not your style.” This time, Robin wasn’t escaping Marion’s scissors and patiently underwent the process. When she cut the last strand of his mullet, everyone ruffled his short hair, glad it didn’t change him as before. Suddenly they saw Herne the Hunter emerging from behind the trees. “My dear Robin”, he started softly, “How nice to see you in a good mood.” Robin then remembered the question which was still unanswered. “It was my vanity and overconfidence that made me weak and vulnerable”, he said with a smile. “Excellent”, Herne praised his chosen, feeling a great relief.
Suddenly, as if touched by a magic wand, Robin’s locks got back on their place. Everyone looked at him in amazement, and he himself was no less surprised. “I must tell you something”, Herne said with a mischievous smile. “To be honest, it was me who caused all those unfortunate events.” Robin, Marion and all Merry Men widened their eyes even more bewildered. “I used my power to tangle your hair in the bowstring, then to stick river plants to it, and it was me who unhorsed you during the tournament. I hope you liked the horse I chose for you”, Herne wasn’t hiding his amusement. “But why?”, Robin couldn’t believe what he just heard.
“You were chosen to fight injustice, help the poor and give hope to those who lost it. You’re brave, generous and loyal to your friends. But a little humility doesn’t hurt. I wanted to test your willingness for sacrifices and and see how you face challenges. And this time you passed with flying colours. “Now I understand”, Robin accepted Herne’s words without demur. “But why did you give me my mullet back?”, he still didn’t get over the shock. “It’s a reward for admitting your mistakes. And… I guess it suits you”, Herne winked at him. “It took me some time to change my approach”, Robin smiled a bit embarrassed, “but third time lucky.”
“I hope you’ll remember this lesson”, Herned added, in truth certain he can trust him. “I will”, Robin solemnly promised. “Nothing’s forgotten. Nothing is ever forgotten.”
