Robin Hood, the famous outlaw who fought injustice by making fools out of the Sheriff of Nottingham and Sir Guy of Gisbourne, sat under a tree to have a rest after a strenuous sword practice with his friends known as the Merry Men. His hazel eyes were sparkling with mischief and his hair was swaying gently in the light breeze. It was, to be more precise, a truly dazzling style, his pride and joy, and the reason for his nickname 'the hooded mullet'. It suited him perfectly, earning him the title of the most attractive outlaw in the shire.

  Venison was roasting over the fire when Robin took a sip from a chalice and, handing it to his companions, said "Herne protect us." As they were gazing upon dancing sparks, resembling little elvish fairies, they felt the magic of the moment. Silent and thoughtful, they went through their rite. It was Herne, the mysterious god of Sherwood Forest, clad in stag antlers, who had chosen Robin for his champion. "You're meant to be people's hero", he once said. "It is your destiny."

  On a full stomach, Robin 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 puckish smile. "We all know you're the most skillful archer in England, Robin, so spare us the effort", Little John said, stretching out on the grass. "We stand no chance with you." Robin likes bragging left and right about his abilities", Will Scarlet added ironically, as he had a reputation for being quick tempered and having a ready tongue. Much pulled a silly face, Nasir said nothing as usual, looking intently around, and Friar Tuck, contented, was patting his full belly.

  Robin, though, felt like performing some good shots, so ignoring his friends' snarky comments, reached out for his longbow. A playful smile danced on his lips, as he was, like Will Scarlet rightly noticed, in the mood for showing off. Fully concentrated, with one hand clenched on the bow's handle and the other one gracefully drawing the bowstring, he sent an arrow at the distant target. The Merry Men clapped their hands. "Well done Robin. It was a good shot", Little John exclaimed joyfully. Then another one and another. None of the arrows missed, flying between the trees with loud whizzing. "That was brilliant", Much looked at his 'elder brother' with admiration. Robin smiled proudly, taking a bow like an actor on stage.

  Yet, while getting ready for one more splendid performance, a disaster struck. In a mysterious way, Robin's mullet got tangled in the bowstring, much to the Merry Men's delight. Seeing his surprised and frightened look, they laughed boisterously, as befits a comedy audience. 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!", Little John whooped rolling with laughter, "It's got tangled in the bowstring!" The others followed suit, busting a gut. "Is it a new way of shooting?", Much asked genuinely amused by the sight. "You must teach me that Robin." Even Nasir, not often showing his emotions, couldn't help but enjoy those struggles.

  Robin's face fell when, despite his best efforts, his lovely long dark hair remained stuck to the bow. He was a pitiful sight and all his high spirits flew away like the arrows he shot with such ease.

  Nearby, a beautiful red-headed girl was looking dreamily at the brook that was murmuring quietly, as if inviting her to have fun. She sat on the grass, and was soaking up warm sunlight, filtering through the trees. It was Marion, Robin's true love, and a member of the group. Now, hearing the Merry Men's hearty laughter, she was wondering what new mischief the boys came up with.

  She got up lazily to move back to her friends, and what she saw, left her stunned. Robin was yanking at his hair like crazy to the accompaniment of the Merry Men's guffaw. "Oh Marion help me please", he turned his pleading eyes at her, with a faint glimmer of hope, as she had got him out of trouble many a time before. Although he tried to protect her, she was brave and ready to stay by his side even in danger, which she had already proven.

  Now, she approached him with a sympathetic look. "Poor Robin, your beautiful hair has been ruined", she said with concern. But hearing unabated laughter behind her back, and seeing Robin's long face, she found it somehow hilarious herself.

  Having given it a closer glance, 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. "Oh no, please! Not my mullet!", he 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", he was still unable to believe what had just happened.

  Marion, however, sensible and unbending, was about to stop that nonsense. "Do you want to go around with your hair tangled in the bowstring?", she asked, ignoring his desperate cries. Having pulled out small scissors from her pouch she was ready for action. Seeing them in Marion's hand, Robin started to back away, tripping over tree roots, with the bow dangling down his head. "Come here Robin!", Marion ran after him. "You know it can't be helped. You aren't going to walk like this with the bow stuck to your head, are you?"

  The Merry men had no mercy and started singing cheerfully,

  "No more flicking here and there,

  Robin's gonna have short hair."

  Marion finally caught him as he was thrashing around and clutching 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." The Merry Men gathered around, with silly smiles still playing on their faces. Robin closed his eyes, feeling that his fate was sealed.

  The anticipation for what looked inevitable was growing. Entertaining for some, it was the worst nightmare for him. While Marion was snipping through his locks, he was trying, at all costs, to put aside the terrible thoughts of the Sheriff and Gisbourne laughing at him, which was made harder by his Merry Men, mercilessly dancing and singing their song.

  The whole forest joined in the chant. The wind was dancing in the treetops, and the brook was whispering its secrets to those who were willing to listen. "Look at Robin", it seemed to hum.

  Although Marion was really tender, Robin was on pins and needles, wishing it was over. When she finally finished the haircut, he saw the long strands lying on the ground. Now, his mullet was just history. Even then, the Merry Men didn't stop making fun.

  "Poor man", Will Scarlet didn't spare 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, winking at his companions. "I like your hair Robin", Much added with a sincere smile. "Now we really look like brothers." But Robin didn't share his view at all. No matter how much he loved him, and all of his friends, he couldn't deal with the loss. He felt like a king who lost his crown.

  Marion took his hand to lead him to the nearby stream. "I'm not gonna look at myself", he refused angrily. "My career is over." "Don't be silly", Marion started to grow impatient, "it's just hair." Yet, he was stubborn as a mule and let go of her hand like a grumpy boy who wasn't given a sweet.

  He imagined the whole Nottinghamshire mocking him as if it weren't his courage and good heart that everyone admired. He was sitting with his head down, not in the mood for talking.

  It started to get dark and soon the forest was shrouded in the moonlight. The trees were rustling quietly, as if they didn't want to bother the hero, lost in his sad thoughts. Or maybe, their whispers were carrying his name in their soothing melody "Robin, Robin, Robin".

  A soft mist spread around and they all saw a figure emerging from it. The stag antlers growing out of his head told them it was Herne the Hunter, the god of the forest. He came closer and looked at Robin's miserable face. Though he wasn't smiling, his eyes, if you looked carefully, sparked with hidden amusement.

  Everyone felt a whiff of magic in the air, as always in Herne's presence. Emanating an aura of mystery and serenity, he touched Robin's shoulder. "Robin, my dear", he started softly, "I see some misfortune has happened. "It's interesting how our destiny guides our steps sometimes." Even now, Robin remained silent in no mood for moralizing. "I want you to solve a riddle", Herne said in a firmer voice, noticing his defiance.

  Every so often, there was a challenge for Robin to take up, invented by Herne, and now another one awaited. "This time, your task is to find out your greatest weakness." He said nothing more and dissolved in the mist.

  The following day, Robin still didn't feel any better, but at least his friends left him alone and stopped teasing, seeing Marion's pleading glances. As more skirmishes with the enemies were in store, there was no time for self-pity. The hero, with an offended face, sprang into action.

  It happened soon, that a tax collector working for the Sheriff was travelling through the forest with a few men, and Robin saw a chance to regain the money previously taken from the villagers.

  After a fierce fight, they were all sent away empty-handed and Robin made his way to the village with the loot. But at his sight everyone froze bewildered. "Is it Robin Hood?" "What happened to his mullet?", they whispered among themselves.

  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 had 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 filled the chamber. "Now it's 'the tangled mullet', my Lord", Guy replied brilliantly. "Or rather 'the hooded bowstring' if he likes to wear it on his head", the Sheriff scoffed, taking a sip of wine.

  His biggest wish was to capture 'the king of Sherwood' but, as you can easily guess, it was Robin who always won. You could say the Sheriff messed with the wrong outlaw.

  At the same time, in the 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 was talking to him gently. "You're the bravest hero, Herne's son and people's hope. And... my only love", she added, looking into his eyes with affection. At those words, he softened a little, realising he must have been a real pain in the neck. "Besides", Marion added tenderly, "your hair's gonna grow back".

  Herne, who hid himself behind the trees to observe his champion, was glad to know she was such a great support for him in this time of trial. He believed that thanks to her judgement and the right approach, his 'son' would become the same person as before.

  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 savior's appearance and the Merry Men got bored with teasing. And when a year passed he finally regained his mullet,

  as well as his lost confidence. Everyone saw, to their immense relief, that Robin whom they had known 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'.

  After some time of relative peace, Robin and Gisbourne's paths crossed again. Guy was riding through the forest with his men to the Nottingham castle, and when he stumbled on the outlaws, decided to seize the opportunity to catch them himself. Yet, his ability for rational thinking left a lot to be desired, so some misfortune was to be expected.

  The Sheriff, knowing Gisbourne's tendency to look for trouble, rushed to take matters into his hands. Guy was carrying an important letter and no one knew what could happen when he was involved.

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  Robin, seeing his 'old friend', stood in his way. "Nice to see you, Gisbourne", he said in a mocking voice. "It's getting dark soon and I guess you're scared of darkness. Shouldn't you be in your bed now?" The Merry men, with their longbows ready, were cracking up, hidden in the bushes.

  "Catch him!", Gisbourne shouted to his men, trying to save his face. The outlaws and soldiers, darted across the clearing to charge into each other. Arrows whizzing and swords clashing filled the forest.

  After a bitter fight, Robin and Gisbourne found themselves wallowing in the mud, covered in stinky goo. Both were determined to defeat one another, which wasn't easy in those circumstances.

  As this was happening, the Sheriff headed out in search of his right-hand. You could hear the hoofbeat in the distance and then see him galloping with anger written all over his face.

  Losing no time, Robin jumped into the nearby river and swam away, leaving Gisbourne at the mercy of his furious master. "Where is he, you fool?", the Sheriff was hurling insults at him. "I...I've been attacked my Lord", Guy was excusing himself in a trembling voice. "Attacked?", the Sheriff was roaring. "Is it all you can say? I can't leave you alone for a minute!".

  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 realised something weird about his head. But only when he joined his Merry Men and noticed their startled look, did he understand something was up. Having viewed his mullet, they all burst into laughter and tears streamed down their faces. Robin touched it carefully and, horror of horrors, it dawned on him it was all caked with nasty, green, river plants.

  "Are you showing up for a fancy dress party?", Little John was laughing like a drain. "You'd be a nice elf." "It's certainly a new fashion trend, we all know Robin likes to shine", Will Scarlet added with a smirk. "I know!", Much exclaimed excitedly as if he just discovered a secret. "It's a camouflage!" "No, my friends", Friar Tuck joined in the conversation. "He became a martyr to atone for his bad deeds." "That's a great choice, Robin. At least, it matches your green outfit", John couldn't help teasing. "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". The Merry Men, however, were so amused, that they took no notice of his words.

  Robin had no intention whatsoever to hear that any longer. He dived into the stream, trying to wash those awful plants away, 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) flattering at all.

  "Marion, what shall I do?", his eyes were full of despair. He couldn't believe something like that happened again. He hadn't enjoyed his hair for long and another ridiculous adversity took place. "Let me see, I'll try to remove it", Marion said in a soothing voice. Sadly, as with the bowstring, his hair was damaged beyond repair. The plants stuck tightly and there was no remedy. "Robin, I'm really sorry, but I'm afraid you have to get another haircut", she stroked gently his face.

  Hearing this, he jumped like a scalded cat. "No way!", the echo carried 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.

  The Merry Men, on the other hand, found the situation truly amusing. "Being 'the hooded mullet' isn't your destiny, man", Will Scarlet snickered. The rest of the companions seized the moment. 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. Yet, when Marion realized it was hopeless, she reached for the scissors, paying no attention to his objections. "Be still Robin", she just said, and before he knew it, she started cutting his beloved hair. He could only hear the familiar crunching sound. Once again, his mullet disappeared.

  And then, when the last strand found its way to the forest floor, they all felt the magic floating in the air. It could foreshadow only one thing - Herne's appearance. He stood before them, emerging from the mist, clad in his stag antlers and a long deerskin coat.

  "I see you're suffering another misfortune", he turned to Robin with sympathy. "But know that suffering makes us stronger." Robin thought otherwise and didn't feel like listening to philosophical speeches, not by a long shot. It struck him as puzzling that each time he wasn't in the mood for friendly gatherings, Herne paid him a visit, as if he wanted to chitchat over a mug of ale.

  "Do you remember what I asked you the last time, in similar circumstances, when you lost your priceless mullet?", he continued, with a bit of irony. "You still can find the answer." Having said that, he vanished, leaving everyone baffled, as they expected him to give Robin a clue this time.

  In any case, the outlaw had too much on his plate now to engage in solving riddles. He tried hard to hide his new hair under the hood, but, as is so often the case, soon the whole shire was buzzing with rumours. The Merry Men teased him savagely while the Sheriff and Guy gave him a new nickname - 'the hooded algae'.

  "I wish I'd seen him with those plants in 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." As long as they were unable to catch their 'favourite robber', mostly due to Gisbourne's impulsiveness and unwise decisions, the only comfort was poking fun at him.

  Marion, on the contrary, was really tender and supportive, although she lost her patience from time to time, seeing his unreasonable behaviour. Now, they were sitting by the bonfire, listening to wood crackling and fading birdsong in the distance. The trees were casting long shadows in the moonlight, making them resemble eerie fairy-tale creatures.

  "You don't understand how I feel", Robin was indulging in self-pity. "I was known as '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. He knew Marion was right, but couldn't help thinking it would be much easier if he didn't look so... ordinary.

  Herne, watching them from behind the trees, was pleased to see Marion being so understanding in Robin's hour of need. Yet again, time healed the wounds, and when a further year passed, his mullet grew back even more beautifully than before. Everyone who met the outlaw, discerned his former charm and cheerful disposition, as if nothing bad had ever happened. But those who think happiness can last forever, must be sorely mistaken.

  Some time later, in one of the cities in the shire, a horseback riding competition was to be organised. Many daredevils wanted to compete to showcase their abilities and become famous. Soon after the arrangements started, the event was on everyone's lips.

  When the news reached Robin, he wished 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. It wasn't wise for him to flaunt himself in front of the Sheriff, still, he considered it a golden opportunity to thumb his nose at him. "You must be careful, Robin", Little John advised. "The Sheriff's biggest desire is to catch you. You'd better not push your luck." All the Merry Men agreed it was indeed a bad idea. Even so, Robin didn't mean to take it to heart. He had already imagined himself as the winner, holding the main trophy in his hands, flicking his mullet in full glory.

  Finally, the long-awaited day came. The spectators flooded into the city to admire courageous and handsome riders. The streets were buzzing with excitement, merchants' calling out and the clatter of hooves. Both nobles and villagers, were crowding to take the best seats, all of them in a great mood, cheering and waving at their favourites. The grooms were busily saddling up the horses, which were standing in a row and swishing their tails impatiently, while the participants gathered together, observing each other in silence and focus. Among them Robin was waiting, bold and convinced of his high chances of winnining.

  The route, however, was long and tricky, with one rule being to draw a random horse, making it impossible to predict what lay ahead. Despite this, the hero remained unafraid, sending his charming smiles around like a noble prince.

  The Merry Men blended in the crowd, keeping a sharp lookout, with their swords at hand. The riders, too, were ready, waiting for a herald to blow his bugle.

  At last they set off, amidst the deafening cheers. Robin mounted a beautiful chestnut palfrey and got off like a shot, with his hair flowing in a headlong rush. At first everything went smoothly. 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 his luck, he had another think coming. Not suspecting anything, he cantered into the forest, nimbly avoiding the trees. Little did he know, though, that his horse, brilliant in open spaces, got spooked by obstacles ahead. In next to no time, it started kicking, unseating poor Robin with a loud neigh. 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. Along with his well-tended mullet. As luck would have it, a lot of thistle grew around, and when he emerged, his hair was lovely embellished with its balls.

  On top of that, someone recognised him as the wanted robber and relayed it to the Sheriff that his enemy was enjoying himself right under his nose. Furious, he immediately went after him with his men. Robin was running as fast as his legs could carry him, tripping over his own feet.

  "Catch him you fools!", the Sheriff roared. "I want to see him in the dungeon!". Humiliated, with thistle entwined in his mullet, Robin was thinking frantically about what to do.

  Who, however, if not his Merry Men, could get him out of trouble? Taking advantage of the commotion, they grabbed some horses not used in the competition and rushed to their leader's rescue.

  The event turned into a desperate pursuit. The Sheriff's people were galloping hectically among the confused participants, together with the Merry Men, trying to catch up to Robin in the chaos. Luckily, the outlaws reached him first, and by a neck outpaced the soldiers. Robin jumped onto the horse ridden by Little John and they all dashed towards Sherwood, escaping from the mad Sheriff. They only heard his curses behind their backs.

  "How could you let him escape?", he grumbled over poor Guy's head, livid with rage. "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. 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, you may be right", he said in a calmer voice. "Robin Hood, or, should I say 'the hooded thistle', is over now."

  Meanwhile, Robin and his friends found themselves safe in Sherwood, after the quick and exhausting escape. He looked like the embodiment of mayhem and despair, with his hair in a total mess.

  Now that they were out of danger, the Merry Men vented their anger on him. "It was foolish, Robin!", Will Scarlet said, losing 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. "You should never have thought about taking a risk just for a moment of glory", Will Scarlet spoke again. Robin kept his head down, realising the seriousness of his actions. "I'm sorry", he said remorsefully. " I made a terrible mistake."

  Everyone clustered to embrace their leader, happy that they were safe and still together. Marion flung her arms around his neck to kiss him. Now that the dust had settled, they all glanced at his mullet and started laughing. "I guess I need a haircut", he said, touching the prickly balls on his head with a smile. "Definitely", Little John admitted with a grin. "You'd only attract insects."

  This time, Robin didn't escape Marion's scissors and patiently underwent the process. When she finished, everyone ruffled his short hair, glad that it didn't change him as much as before. He even agreed to see his reflection in the water. "Well, I guess it isn't so bad after all", he said, beaming.

  At dusk, all his friends sat by the bonfire, revelling in the warm breeze and the smell of resin. Then, Robin felt someone's touch on his shoulder. When he looked back, he saw Herne the Hunter smiling mysteriously, as if he was hiding a surprise gift behind his back. "My dear Robin", he said softly, "How nice to see you in a good mood."

  He looked at the dancing sparks, waiting for Robin to speak. The lingering question asked so long ago still left unanswered. Robin stood up, and without hesitation said, "It was my vanity and overconfidence that made me weak and vulnerable." Herne nodded approvingly, with a warm smile.

  At the very same moment, as if touched by a magic wand, Robin's locks returned on their place. Everyone looked at him in amazement, and he himself was no less surprised.

  But that wasn't the end of astounding things to happen. "There's something I must tell you", Herne confessed with sparkling eyes. "It was me who caused all those unfortunate events." Robin, Marion and all the Merry Men widened their eyes even more bewildered. "I used my power to tangle your hair in the bowstring, then stick the river plants to it, and finally I unhorsed you during the competition."

  Robin was listening to those revelations with his mouth open, thinking it was just a dream and he'd surely wake up any second now, when Herne's voice roused him from his reverie again. "I hope you liked the horse I had chosen for you", he didn't hide his amusement. "But why did you do that?", Robin still couldn't believe what he had 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 see how you face challenges. And I must admit, this time you passed with flying colours."

  "Now I understand", Robin accepted Herne's motives without demur. "But why did you give me my mullet back too?", he still didn't get over the shock. "I wanted to reward you for admitting your mistakes. And also... I think it suits you", Herne said, winking at him. "It took me some time to change my approach", Robin smiled a bit embarrassed, "but third time lucky."

  Everyone laughed heartily, feeling they are all stronger now than ever. "I know you'll remember this lesson", Herne was certain he doesn't need to worry about his champion any more. "I will", Robin solemnly promised. "Nothing's forgotten. Nothing is ever forgotten."