The Immortal Gazette: Robin Hood – The Legend of the Thieving Do-Gooder
The fire crackled merrily in the grand hall, casting long shadows as Loki, Alice, and Rumplestiltskin sat comfortably—if you could call Rumple’s brooding manner comfortable.
Alice was nestled in her chair, boots kicked up on the armrest, while Loki lounged in the most relaxed and infuriating way possible, an apple in one hand and a dagger idly flipping between his fingers. Rumplestiltskin, as always, sat upright, keenly watching them both with suspicion.
Alice smirked at Rumple. “You’ve been awfully quiet tonight, old man. What’s got your mind so tangled?”
Rumplestiltskin leaned forward, fingers steepled. “I was just thinking about a man. A thief. A rogue. A legend.”
Loki perked up. “Oh, are we finally talking about me?”
Alice rolled her eyes. “No, Loki, not you. He said legend.”
Loki clutched his chest dramatically. “Alice, that hurts. I am the most legendary.”
“Arguable,” Rumplestiltskin muttered. “Tonight, my dears, we discuss Robin Hood.”
The Origins of the Hooded Bandit
“Ah, yes, the prince of thieves himself,” Alice said, stretching lazily. “Stealing from the rich, giving to the poor—classic tale.”
“But was he real?” Loki interjected. “Or just another glorified criminal someone wrote a few flattering ballads about?”
Rumplestiltskin wagged a finger. “Ahh, there’s the question! Robin Hood is one of those figures who exists somewhere between history and myth. The earliest references to him pop up in 13th and 14th-century ballads, but was he a real man, or just an idea? Well, depends on who you ask.”
Alice twirled a lock of hair between her fingers. “And let me guess—some say he was just an outlaw, a merry troublemaker with a bow?”
Rumplestiltskin nodded. “Exactly. Some of the earliest ballads don’t paint him as a noble hero—they show him as a straight-up outlaw, defying authority and causing chaos. No mention of a noble background, no grand cause. Just a man who was very, very good with a bow and enjoyed causing problems for people in charge.”
Loki grinned. “Sounds like my kind of guy.”
Alice snorted. “Of course it does. You do love a good bit of mischief. But I like the version where he fights against corrupt nobles. It makes for a better story.”
Rumplestiltskin raised an eyebrow. “Oh, don’t worry, my dear. That version came later. Over time, storytellers polished his reputation. They gave him a tragic backstory, a noble heart, and a righteous cause—robbing the rich, helping the poor, and making Prince John look like a complete fool.”
Loki chuckled. “Oh, Prince John. Now there’s a royal embarrassment.”
Alice snickered. “A whiny little king who taxed people into misery while his big, scary older brother was off fighting crusades? Yeah, not exactly a threat.”
Loki smirked. “Honestly, if a bunch of peasants and outlaws with sticks and arrows were my greatest concern, I’d start rethinking my rulership.”
Rumplestiltskin sighed. “Prince John was, indeed, not the most competent leader. But it made for a perfect backdrop to Robin Hood’s legend. Here was a man, a thief with a cause, standing up for the people, striking fear into corrupt nobles, and becoming the hero of the oppressed.”
The Merry Men and the Lady of the Forest
Alice sighed dramatically. “And, of course, let’s not forget Maid Marian—because every rogue needs a lady love.”
Loki smirked. “Ah, yes, the classic will-they-won’t-they couple. I imagine she spent half her time rolling her eyes at him.”
Rumplestiltskin chuckled. “Actually, in the earliest tales, she wasn’t even that important. Some versions barely mention her at all.”
Alice gasped in mock horror. “Blasphemy! A dashing rogue must have a lady to pine for.”
Loki chuckled. “Or to keep him humble.”
Rumplestiltskin shrugged. “She became more prominent later, especially in romanticized versions. By the time the 19th and 20th centuries rolled around, Maid Marian had become the perfect counterpart to Robin—a strong-willed, capable woman who could handle a sword just as well as any of his Merry Men.”
Alice grinned. “Now that’s more like it.”
Loki waved a hand. “And speaking of the Merry Men—ah, the band of misfits! Little John, Friar Tuck, Will Scarlet—”
Rumplestiltskin smirked. “Each one a character in their own right. Little John, ironically not little at all. Friar Tuck, the drunken priest who fought almost as well as he prayed. And Will Scarlet—”
Alice interrupted. “The fashionable one, let’s be real.”
Loki laughed. “Every band of misfits needs a dramatic one.”
The End of a Legend?
Rumplestiltskin leaned back. “Now, here’s where it gets interesting. The end of Robin Hood’s story varies. In some versions, he disappears into legend, forever young and undefeated. In others, he dies—betrayed by an ally, weakened, and left to fade into history.”
Alice crossed her arms. “I hate those endings. Just let the man run off into the sunset.”
Loki sighed. “It does fit the tragic hero motif. All great legends have a dramatic exit.”
Rumplestiltskin smirked. “Oh, but don’t worry—he never really fades. Because Robin Hood isn’t just a man. He’s a story. He changes with the times, adapts, and is retold again and again.”
Loki gave a slow clap. “Well done, Rumple. Very poetic. You should be a storyteller.”
Rumplestiltskin scowled. “I am a storyteller, you imbecile.”
Alice stretched. “Alright, so lesson of the night—Robin Hood: part rogue, part hero, possibly a real guy, definitely a timeless icon.”
Loki smirked. “And an inspiration to charming tricksters everywhere.”
Rumplestiltskin rolled his eyes. “Yes, Loki, I’m sure you would have fit right in.”
Alice grinned. “But would he be Robin Hood—or Prince John?”
Loki gasped in mock offense. “How dare you.”
The fire crackled as laughter filled the room, Robin Hood’s tale settling into the air like the embers of a story that would never truly fade.
🖋️✨📜🖤
