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Sure as day follows night, I reckon night follows day as well. Good King Richard, him who restored justice and dignity to this country…well, he didn't reign for more than a year before he took off on yet another far-flung adventure. That's all well and good for this Holy Grail he's lookin' to find, I suppose, but for us poor folk in Nottingham, it means more toil and hardship.
Without his big brother's watchful eye, the rascally ol' Prince John slithered his way out of chains and back onto the throne. Once there, it didn't take him two shakes of a serpent's tail to get back to his old tricks: taxes for any that'd breathe and jail for any who'd bat an eye. Now the best among us – those who might stand against the Prince– are common criminals yet again. The good Friar, Lady Kluck, that one dog with a broken leg…all behind bars.
And what about Robin Hood, champion of us little folk? Depends on who you ask. The children don't believe he's dead. They say that Prince John's proclamation is a bunch of malarkey, that a tattered green hat don't mean a thing, that if the Phony King really had killed Robin Hood, he'd have had the body displayed from the castle worlds.
But poor Marian…she's not so sure. The last time I seen her, she was dressed in mourning, with a face that just 'bout broke my heart. "I haven't seen my husband in two months," she told me. "If he still was still alive, I know that no number of armed guards would be able to keep us apart."
Myself, I'm just trying to play my lute and keep my beak out of trouble. Secretly, though, I side with the children. Might be a touch foolish of me, but I believe Robin Hood's out there somewhere deep in Sherwood Forest, trying to figure out how to turn the tables the Phony King and rescue his True Love.
Oodelally.
"Rob, ol' buddy," muttered Little John, "we've had our laughs, but this might actually be the end of the road for us."
Robin Hood and Little John were perched on the upper boughs of a tall pine tree, trying to be skinnier. On the forest floor below, Prince John's army had the tree surrounded. Countless archers squinted and pointed, hoping for a clear shot of the two outlaws. Pachyderm foot soldiers collected dry brush and heaped it at the base of the tree, and the corpulent Sheriff of Nottingham himself carried the torch that would soon incite the pile. To Little John, it seemed a hopeless situation.
"I just wanted to say," John continued, his heavy voice tremulous, "that I consider you my very best friend."
"Hmm," said Robin, thoughtfully. "Well, you'd be in my top five list of good friends as well. Wait…six. Top five or six. Although…are we saying of all time here, or in recent years?"
"I'm being serious here, Rob," growled John. "This might be…"
"Oh, you're terrible at being serious, my good fellow. But if you can't manage to be merry, perhaps I can at least get you angry. That would serve us better in the approaching fight more than seriousness."
"Easy for you to say," said Little John, though a smile had returned to his face as well. "You're a much smaller target for those arrows." He ruefully patted his great belly.
Far below, the Sheriff raised his torch and looked up with a smirk. "Last chance, Robin Hood! Are you gonna come down and face us or are we gonna have to smoke you out?"
Robin gave a cheerful wave. "Oh hello, Sheriff! Didn't see you there…I don't suppose any of you chaps have a ladder?" At this, the archers fired another round into the trees above, but all arrows were deflected by the lower branches. "Now seems a good moment," said Robin, as the archers began reaching for their quivers. "Tally-ho, Little John!" And with that, he leapt off his sturdy bough, grabbed a spindly one, and let his own weight bend the branch down. He dismounted like a gymnast, landing on the head of a guard and relieving the creature of his sword.
"A pox on ya', Rob," rumbled John, whose considerable girth precluded any such maneuver from him. He began to lumber his way down, while Robin Hood, back against the trunk, attempted to hold off the entirety of Prince John's army by himself.
"KILL HIM!" howled the Sheriff. "Everyone attack the bandit!"
"My good chap," panted Robin, as he parried the blows of three foes at a time, "this hardly seems sporting. Can some of your men perchance be on my side for a spell? Just for fairness' sake, you understand. I'll take the big ugly fellows over there…trust me, you won't miss them."
At this, four nearby Rhino guards glowered and began to charge. Knocking aside their comrades, the Rhinos converged on Robin, who awaited them with a smile on his face. At the last moment, Robin leapt up, swung himself around on a branch, and landed to safety. All four Rhinos collided with the old tree, and the trunk split with a resounding crack.
"Jiminy Christmas," said John, who was still only halfway down. The old pine creaked and complained as it teetered for a half-second. Then it toppled. John heaved his great bulk away from the falling tree and hit the ground rolling like a furry cannonball, scattering weapons, wagons, and Vulture Guards.
"About time," said Robin, tossing John a spear with one hand and blocking a thrust from a crocodile with the other. "I thought you were going to let me do this all by myself. No respect for punctuality…I'm dropping you to my top fifteen closest friends."
"Listen, smart guy," asked John. "Is escape anywhere in this plan of yours? Or did you only prepare a series of wisecracks?"
The two stood back to back as the army encircled them. Crocodiles leered, Rhinos lowered, and the Sheriff of Nottingham loaded a bolt in his crossbow. Robin shrugged and looked at Little John. For the first time that hour, his voice was serious.
"Little John, I know that Fate is not so cruel to deny me a chance to see my Lady Marian again. How we will escape, my good friend, I know not, but I have great faith in the power of love."
At this, an explosion of light tore across the forest sky. An enormous flying object, as shiny as silver, came hurtling at the army, lightning dancing across its surface. Only by flattening his flabby lupine body to the ground did the Sheriff avoid being struck by the speeding carriage. It hit the ground and spun into a patch of saplings and bushes, flattening some and getting horribly wedged between others. Stuck, the mysterious object made such tremendous roaring noises that even the bravest Rhinos covered their ears.
"Retreat!" the Sheriff gurgled in panic, but his terrified army had anticipated the order and was fleeing in disarray. Robin Hood and Little John took the opportunity to scamper away into the growth of the deep forest, crying "Long Live King Richard" as they departed.
In the space of a minute, the animals had cleared. The object tried one last time to free itself, with a furious roar and a spinning of its wheels, but it was no use. The bright beams streaming from its front died. A hatch opened upwards with a hiss, and out stepped an old man in a lab coat, who surveyed the landscape with alarmed eyes.
"Great Scott!" he exclaimed.
