Even hardened outlaws long for the comforts of home. How the village of Sherwood (required in all Robin Hood movies to be burned later) was birthed.
Walls in the canopy.
Sometimes he could see walls; sturdy stone rebuking the elements, barriers hiding youthful undertakings and whispers. Even now, each rough-hewn rock that created his ancestral home could be summoned in his mind in fine detail. Each rock, that is, which is no longer his portion.
Presently, walls would be a miracle from God. Robin prayed for a warm, dry and sound structure to drop from the heavens to surround his reclined body. He knew why it did not occur. "One does not make something of nothing," his father would chastise, usually when duties were ignored. The current weather conspired with the non-nurturing Mother Earth to deprive him of sleep tonight. Approaching rain rode an impatient wind, twisting the overhead tree limbs into a frenzied dance. The branches looked as though they wanted to escape the turmoil. He could relate.
In his tired mind, Robin envisioned different trees; thicker limbs for a child's eye to seek new perspectives, slimmer ones acted as an unsuccessful deterrent for the mischievous. Early on, he'd discovered that one could avoid detection from the eyes of the world if one ventured to climb high enough. The leafy canopy would declare that he was the only soul on Earth.
At the moment, the spaces between the swaying limbs flashed white with lightning's spark. There arose an urge to climb these Sherwood trees, to stir the branches by his own hand. Perhaps he could rediscover his once abundant optimism. Or at least block himself from the concerned outlaw eyes he'd felt on him all night.
As the rain began a steady descent, Robin asked it to cleanse him of such childish impulses. He could no longer ignore duties. And youthful undertakings certainly did not include the blood spilt by his bow this day.
But still, he prayed for walls.
Another lightning strike ripped across the stormy sky and rain-dulled eyes saw a shape among the branches. A ghostly hint of a structure, almost as he requested in foolish prayer. And with the thunder, he caught his father's voice; "Something of nothing." Robin jumped to his feet, the watching men stumbling to his side in alarm.
"Walls in the canopy," he announced to their collective confusion. "We'll build a village in the trees."
