You've undoubtedly heard the tale of Robin Hood, but what if I was to tell you they got it all wrong?
First of all, Robin is female.
{All characters other than my own belong to J. R. R. Tolkien}
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She was 4 years old when she experienced death for the first time.
The man was a broad, stocky fellow who would at first seem raw and rough around the edges, but his warm, auburn rimmed eyes indeed windowed his light hearted soul. He was most definitely hostile when it came to the protection of his family, as every father should be, but remain on his good side and he'd be the kindest fellow you'd ever meet. With sun kissed skin and dark cocoa hair, he looked just like any other human villager, but he truely did hold a heart of pure gold.
His name was Malcolm Hood, husband to Vlidia Hood.
When it comes to opposites attract, the two were a perfectly moulded cliché. Vlidia held a fire which burnt brighter than most, as she refused to be disrespected. In no way was she cruel, but the inhabitants of the town knew not to cause a hassle with the ones she held dear. The lady was built to be rather petite. Jet black hair cascaded down to her small waist, accompanied by sapphire eyes, sharp enough to cut diamonds. She was a true beauty.
With a heart of gold and the face of an angel, the two held an inseparable bond. There they sat, watching with admiration as their two children played the usual game of guard and thief.
The little girl giggled as she swung around her wooden sword, a steel bucket sitting loosely atop her head and obstructing her vision. She had taken on her fathers broad structure and rich brown locks, along with his tender, amber rimmed eyes. Her brother, on the other hand, shared his mothers sharp features. With a thin body and raven hair, he had also inherited her piercing, light teal eyes.
As the couple watched with love in their hearts, they also shared a hint of despair, as the father was limited in time.
It had started only two weeks earlier with a slight pain in the chest. Not thinking anything of it, the father had continued on with his duties, only realising the intensity of the situation when he had laid down to sleep the next night. Although being unable to identify the cause of pain, he knew that he was diseased. His body became weaker with every dawning day, simple activities draining all of his energy. His heart felt as though it was constantly being pierced by a blunt blade, the horrific sensation intensifying with every small movement. Although, his fear was not for his life, but for the absence of a fatherly figure to guide his children as they grew.
Then months passed, and as each day went by, the fathers eyes would slowly lose their lively vibe. This was all until one dreaded morning, when he couldn't even bring himself to leave his bed. With skin as pale as the dull lit moon, and hands as cold as the ice capped mountains, he was on his final breaths. Not only did his heart wrench out of agony, but also for his precious, innocent children.
"Daddy! Daddy get up!" The little girl ordered cheekily, running up to the side of his bed. For once she had awoken before him, and she couldn't wait to rub it in his face.
Her small hand reached up and grabbed his, a hint of shock running through the child as she felt how cold his palms were, but she shook it off as she tugged at his large body. The fact that he wasn't reacting disappointed her, but a grin spread across her face as she thought that her daddy was playing.
Jumping on his bed, the little girl sat on his chest and thumped her hands down, trying to wake her sleeping giant. But his reaction caught her off guard, as he heaved in pain and knocked the child off his aching body, howling in agony. The little girl sat in the sheets, shocked at the fact that she had just hurt her daddy.
Vlidia came rushing in, worry written all over her face as she observed her sickly pale husband. Slowly stepping forward, she knelt beside the bed in which she would no longer be sharing with the man she loved. The young boy with the raven hair also ran into the room, checking to see if his father was okay.
With eyes as dull as a faded fire, the man looked upon the face of his precious daughter, placing her soft hand in his. It was an unusual sight for the little girl, as she had never seen a man so strong become so frail. Death was not a concept that her mind had grasped, therefore she thought he must be recovering from the flu.
"My love..." Vlidia cooed in a hushed tone, a tear trickling down her washed out cheek. The father meekly turned his head to face his wife, then laid eyes on his distraught son. Being a few years older than the little girl, the boy knew all about death. His friends had experienced the passing of loved ones, but never did he think this time would come.
The father opened his mouth to reassure his children and weeping wife, but no words came out as he was too weak to speak. Vlidia simply placed her hand on his cheek, her gentle touch comforting the father as he took his last breath.
He wished he could've had the strength to tell his children and wife how much he loved them. He wished he could've told them how precious they were, and to never let the negativity of their peers bring them down. He wished he could've told them to never change, as the sparks burning in each of their souls brought a happiness to the man in which he yearned for others to experience.
And as for the little girl, her whole world just got flipped upside down. The person in which she had taken her first steps with, spoke her first words with and experienced the joys of life with had just been brutally ripped from her delicate, little hands.
