Robin Hood - English

The rustle of leaves in Sherwood Forest is the only music I need, and the ancient oaks are my castle walls. My name is Robin Hood, and this deep, green forest is my home, a sanctuary for me and my band of Merry Men. We live here not by choice, but because the world outside has become a place of greed, ruled by the cruel Sheriff of Nottingham and the unjust Prince John while our good King Richard is away. They tax the poor villagers until they have nothing left, not even a crust of bread for their children. That’s where we come in. We decided that if the rich won't share, we'll help them. This is the story of how we fought for what was right, the legend of Robin Hood.

One sunny morning, a notice was posted: the Sheriff was holding a grand archery tournament in Nottingham. The prize was a single arrow made of pure gold. My men warned me it was a trap. 'He knows you’re the finest archer in all of England, Robin,' said my loyal friend, Little John. 'He wants to lure you out.'. He was right, of course, but I couldn't resist the challenge. I disguised myself as a simple farmer in a tattered cloak, my face hidden in shadow. I walked into the bustling town square, where colorful banners snapped in the wind. One by one, the Sheriff’s best archers took their shots, but none could match my skill. For my final shot, the crowd held its breath. I drew my bow, listened to the wind, and let the arrow fly. It split the arrow already in the bullseye right down the middle. The crowd roared. The Sheriff, furious but bound by the rules, had to present me with the golden arrow. As he handed it to me, I threw back my hood. His face turned pale. 'It's Hood.' he shrieked. Before his guards could move, my Merry Men, hidden in the crowd, created a diversion. In the chaos, I slipped away, the golden arrow in my hand, and we vanished back into the safety of the greenwood. We didn't keep the arrow, of course. We sold it and used the gold to buy food and blankets for the poorest families in the nearby villages.

Our adventures weren't just about outsmarting the Sheriff; they were about giving people hope. The stories of our deeds were not written in books at first. They were sung as ballads by traveling minstrels in cozy taverns and told around crackling fires on cold nights, spreading from village to village. People heard about the outlaw in Lincoln green who stood up to injustice, and it made them feel a little braver. For centuries, my story has been retold in countless ways—in books, plays, and exciting movies. It has inspired people to believe that one person, with courage and good friends, can make a difference. The legend of Robin Hood isn't just a tale from long ago; it’s a reminder that still whispers through the trees today: always stand up for others, be generous, and fight for what is fair. And that is a story that will never grow old.