Robin Hood grows restless in his new life, but he's found a way to keep some of his best skills sharp- not so much for his waistline, however. Enjoy!
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Victory in the name of justice was as sweet as Robin had imagined. He had saved the people of Nottingham and Sherwood from the tyranny of the Sheriff, Prince John had been locked away where he couldn't do any more harm to the people of England, and Good King Richard had returned to the throne, punishing the wicked and rewarding the righteous.
How lucky for Robin that charming rogues that robbed from the rich to give to the poor apparently landed amongst the righteous. After years of living as an outlaw and living off banditry, he was now Robin of Locksley, Earl of Locksley, his right hand man, Little John, was Sheriff of Nottingham, he had married Maid Marian and the two were now deliriously happy, all was well— as perfect and complete a happily ever after ending as anyone could wish for.
And into a year of happily ever after, Robin was utterly, utterly bored. He had a certain talent for leadership, and many of his traits translated well into being an Earl— Locksley and Nottingham were prosperous, safe, and happy, but good governance involved a lot of tax documents, legal documents written in tediously old languages like latin, and hearing out increasingly petty quarrels between neighbors about whose cow had knocked over whose fence.
Robin wanted to do a good job for his people— but he was also praying for a release. Marian had picked up on her husband's restlessness, and encouraged him to keep up his archery, but shooting arrows across a target range just wasn't the same without robbing a corrupt bishop or vexing Prince John and stealing his tax money.
Late one night, Robin was staring up at the rich curtains that adorned the bed he shared with Marian— the fine silk cost more than all his worldly possessions just a year ago. He was not opposed to comfort— nights with feather pillows and clean sheets was far more preferable than a damp forest floor. But he just wished he had something else to add a little thrill. Without knowing what to do with himself, the fox picked himself up and started wandering down to the kitchen— maybe a crust of bread or a few slices of cheese with a bit of ale would help.
When he reached the kitchen, however, he froze— their excellent cook, Goodie Madge, was still up. Robin pressed himself against the wall out of habit, and instantly began plotting a way to swipe the food right from under Madge's nose. His cunning instincts returned to him in an instant; he moved like a ghost, snatching away a large amount of fresh cuts of meat, bread, and ale, just to see how much he could get away with— he chuckled quietly as he snuck past a guard with his prize— and it tasted all the better for the effort.