Robin saw the blade begin to fall and reacted instinctively. In less than a second he had grabbed a knife from his boot and released it, letting it spin towards the sheriff. He knew he could not hit the Sheriff directly, so aimed for the sword.
Sure enough, a dull thump echoed as it hit the hilt of the sword, causing the direction it travelled in to change, missing Arthur by less than a hands breadth.
A collective gasp went up from the villagers as the Sheriff turned to Robin, and they all subconsciously backed away to give them room.
Robin stayed where he was, as a range of unidentifiable expressions crossed the Sheriff's face.

Th Sheriff felt his sword swerve in his hand and tightened his hold on it, ensuring that it was not renched from his grip.
Feelings of disbelief and anger coursed through him.
Disbelief that such a lowly peasant would dare strike out at him, and anger that he had been shown up by the self same peasant.
He turned to search for the face of the knife thrower and his eyes settled on the young lad at the front of the crowd. His first thought was that he was young... too young to have the gall to do something like that.
The second thought was that the young lad looked faintly familiar.
The third thought that ran through his head was that there was no way he knew this insolent young whelp and no matter his age, he would be punished.
The Sheriff jumped down off of the raised platform and walked over to Robin. He could not help but be impressed by the Lad's fortitude, as he neither ran nor flinched. "You," he said in a deep voice, relishing the fea that swelled through the villagers. Obviously they all cared for the boy, yet another proof that caring was a disadvantage. "How dare you have the gall to do this to me," he continued, "before I punish you for this insolence, tell me, Why?"

Robin looked at the man in front of him, and realisd something.
"You know," he said in a carefree voice, "aside from the clothing, you could be one of us. I see nothing that singles you out."
A hand hit the side of his face and he was thrown to the floor. Yet, he could not supress the laughter that inexplicably erupted from his mouth.

"Why, you insolent little whelp," the Sheriff shouted, before striking out at the boy in anger.
He was about to continue, about to show him why he was different, why he had been granted such power, but was halted by the sound of laughtr coming from the lads mouth.
"What amuses you, you..." words escaped him. The insolence, the nerve, the guts.
Despite himself, he was impressed by the nerve of the young lad, not that it would stop him from dealing out whichever punishment he saw fit.

Robin was still laughing as he answered the question.
"I am amused because I obviously struck a chord within you, What have you to hide, Sheriff?"
He said the word in a derisive tone, showing his doubt at the position and casting a shadow on his abilities.
He knew that the Sheriff was a man in love only with power, and knew that such an insult would outrage him.
This, he knew from experience, would mean he made mistakes in judgement, giving him more room to manouever. He knew where this confrontation was going. The only way to save Arthur was to take responsibility for the crimes and the only way to be taken seriously was to admit who he was. It didnt mean he couldnt have fun riling the Sheriff whilst doing it.

The Sheriff grabbed Robin by the neck of his top and literally threw him nearly the whole lenhth of the raised platform.
He was once again given a reason to respect the lad as he crawled to his knees, refusing to give in.
He refused to be shown up again, however, and ensured the lad's cooperation, albeit it being unwilling, by pinning him to the floor.
"Captain," he called to one of the soldiers, enraged at the awed expressions on their faces, knowing that they were not in awe of him but rather of the boy at his feet. The captain's expession cleared as he replied,
"Yes Sir?"
"Get me a length of rope. Its time this disrespectful lad learns the consequences of attacking someone like me."
The Sheriff turned to look at the youth he had pinned down and was forced to let go as a searing pain shot across his cheek.

Robin fell to the floor at the edge of the platform and groaned as the wind was knocked out of him.
How far had he been thrown? The entire length of the...? The thought was cut short as he caught sight of the knife he had thrown at the Sheriff. Disguising his movements, he rolled over, blocking the Sheriffs view of the knife, and grasped it, slipping it up his sleeve hilt first.
He was just in time, as the point of the blade had just vanished beneath the cuff of his shirt when the Sheriff pinned him down on his back, holding his wrists together. He momentarily panicked, thinking that the blade would be discovered, but the moment passed as the Sheriff turned his head towards the group of awestruck soldiers.
Big mistake, Robin thought to himself, and worked the blade free, relieved to find it long enough for what he had in mind. He whipped the blade across as the Sheriff turned back to face him and was plased to see that the pain caused the Sheriff to relinquish his grip on him. He rammed the knife into the wooden edge of the platform, trapping the Sheriffs sleeve and turned to look at the villagers.

Most wore expressions of shock and awe, and a few were smiling. However, their faces fell as they realised what these actions had meant for Robin.
He refused to acknowledge their looks of sympathy and gratitude, instead turning to look at the Sheriff.
"You accused him of hunting?" Robin asked the Sheriff. "Well, let me put your accusations to rest. It was I who hunted, I who killed the rabbits. The things Arthur was found with are mine. He didnt know, None of the villagers knew. And I will tell you something else they didn't know."
He paused to let the thought sink in, and saw the Sheriffs acceptance of his confession, before revealing the one thing he knew would draw all attention away from Arthur and the other Villagers.
"I am the Hooded Bandit, Sheriff. And as nice as ths has been, I'm afraid I have to be going."
Robin took one last look at the crowd, nodded to Arthur, in acceptance of the silent gratitude that eminated from him and ran. He ran towards the only place he knew would hold a chance of ecape for him. He ran towards the trees. He heard the Sheriff shoutng orders for the soldiers to follow him and knew that Arthurs misdeeds had been completely over-shadowed by hs revelation. He grinned and ran faster, deeper into the dark tangled forest that was Sherwood.

The Sheriff saw the truth in the eyes of the youth and knew him to be telling the truth.
As the lad turned and ran towards the forest, the Sheriff struggled to pull the knife free and shouted for the captain to gather his men and pursue the outlaw, for that was now what he was. He turned to the villagers.
The Sherrif was unsure as to whether the confesson about the hunting was true or not, but he reasoned, he had got what he came for.
He spoke to the crowd.
"It appears that my conclusion was incorrect. My apologies."
He walked over to where the men had left their horses and mounted his own with the practised air of a proffessional rider. He ordered the remaining soldiers to round up the horses and lead them to the edge of the forest path, to await the arrival of their comrades. He took one last glance to savour the fearful looks of the villagers and rode off. That was as it should be. They should fear him. And before long, the death of the hooded bandit would take away their last dregs of rebellion.
Prince John would like to hear this report.

Robin was shook out of his memories by Little John.
"Hey Rob," he murmured, concern etched on his face, "You okay? You were out of it there."
Robin shook his head to clear it and forced a smile.
"Yeah, I'm good." he replied and turned to look at the young buck he had shot. "So," he said to John, starting to jog over to it. "Steak or Stew?"