The guards pursued Little John throughout the woods of Nottingham, chasing him farther away from the prince's castle and, more importantly, his friend. As he fled as fast as his large frame could carry him, he was tormented by the sounds of his adversaries' heavy footsteps hot on his tail. Despite how long they'd been going - well over ten minutes - he had yet to gain more than a few feet of ground between himself and them.

Heaving mightily, John could tell that he wouldn't be able to go for much longer. He was built for strength, not endurance, after all.

But by the merciful fates, the chase had brought him to a thicker neck of the woods, where the lush vegetation grew thick and heavy. Thick enough to obscure anyone hiding within or behind them. His eyes darted around rapidly to find something large enough to hide even him. Gratefully, they soon came across a thick set of shrubs and bushes that would do just fine.

Little John jumped in, a little more thoughtlessly than he should have, given how some of the leaves ended up dislodged and scattered on the ground. He awkwardly scooped them up in a hurry, and right on time. The guards came into sight at that exact moment, their heads turning in search of their quarry.

Little John was just able to peek his eyes out to observe them, tightly grasping at the branches in anxiety.

"Wh-where'd he go?" one guard asked, his voice giving away his less-than-stellar level of intelligence.

"I don't know, spread out and find'im!" another shouted.

For the next few minutes, they did just that. The goons looked behind trees, in bushes, anywhere they could. Which meant that if John didn't get away soon, they would come across his hiding spot. He had to sneak away as soon as he could.

And yet as time continued to pass, he never got that opportunity. As the guards kept searching, they never provided any opening where he could slip out without being well within at least one of their lines of sight. He felt his breathing quicken as his window to escape got smaller and smaller.

As one of the guards started approaching his position, eyes clearly locked onto the bushes that housed the outlawed bear, Little John knew his time had just run out. He coiled himself up, preparing to either fight or flee as was needed. He was not at all looking forward to this marathon continuing.

"Guards! Guards, come quick!"

A loud yet wavering voice suddenly interrupted the scene, however, and got the attention of every guard in the area.

Little John peeked out to get a view of the commotion, and was quite surprised to now see the one and only Friar Tuck. He stood feebly, sticking out like a sore thumb among the hulking frames of the thugs now looking upon him.

"I was just out here to help find that no-good Little John," Tuck said in an exaggeratedly angry voice. "And I saw him go off in that direction there!" He pointed to the forest's south side ... in the near-opposite direction to where John actually was.

The concealed bear's eyes slowly grew as he realized that the friar was deliberately leading them in a false direction. He likely didn't know of Little John's true location, meaning he'd had to hope he was lucky enough to not accidentally lead them to him rather than away.

But nonetheless, a guard responded, "Very well, thank you Friar. Men! Onward, this way!"

His fellow troops followed his command, being led off in the specified direction. Little John undoubtedly considered his life saved at that moment. Still, he waited for another minute to make sure that the coast was clear, and that the enemy was far enough out of earshot.

Afterwards, he emerged from his hiding spot, unable to contain himself any longer. "Why, you crafty son of a bow!" the bear shouted enthusiastically.

Friar Tuck turned around with a startle and a yelp, prompting John to shush him before anyone heard.

"Oh, Little John! Well, it sure is a good thing I sent'em that way. For all I knew I could have been pointing right at you!"

Little John smiled at this friend with a dismissive wave. "Ah, no worries. You got me out of that rut, and that's what matters."

Friar Tuck's age had done nothing to wither his kindness. The badger had been one of Robin Hood and Little John's most trusted confidantes, often helping them out in giving money to the people of Nottingham. He primarily had history with Robin, but over time had found himself to be a sort-of father figure to the bear as well.

The two close friends remained silent for a few moments, the dread of what had happened back at the castle settling in between the two of them. Tuck had been witness to Robin's capture, and likely even worse …

Little John shuddered, his mouth growing dry at the burning question on his mind. Unable to prolong it any longer, he braced himself and said it.

"So … Robin …" he muttered. "What did they … is … is he …" John sourly made a throat-slicing movement with his finger, filling in the blank to his query.

Friar Tuck got the meaning behind the gesture. "Oh, thank the Lord , no … or at least, not yet. Prince John ordered him taken away instead. I haven't the slightest idea of what they plan to do with him …" The badger hung his head low. "But the prince did say he wanted the poor boy to have a more … memorable death …" He winced as the words left him.

John sighed, half in relief. Robin was still alive. That was the most important news for him, especially with how sure his demise seemed as he'd fled away … another huff escaped him as he recalled that he did indeed leave his friend and partner behind. There had been nothing he could do about it, but the thought sat uneasy in his stomach regardless.

But that was all said and done. Now, he knew he needed to act, and soon. If he didn't, he was sure that Robin would meet the fate that had been graciously delayed.

He'd promised his buddy he would come back for him, and Little John wasn't about to turn back on that now.Little John and Friar Tuck spent the next half hour discussing various different possible plans as to how to get Robin Hood free, based on where he could be held, what the plans for his execution were, and so on. In the process, the duo decided that they would work best on fuller stomachs. So, Little John offered up part of the stash of sweet berries he and Robin had collected, along with the fish Robin had caught earlier that day, roasted on a toasty fire.

"I can't say I've ever had fish quite this good," Friar Tuck said. "Many thanks for sharing it, son."

"Ay, it's not a problem. They got a nice helping by the river. Ol' Robbie can't get enough of them."

"Hmm, yes," the friar replied, glad to have at least a little levity injected into the moment as they replenished themselves. After all, once they finished, Tuck had plans to head back to the castle and attempt to gain some details as to Robin's current situation. The more information they had, the better chance they had at saving him.

"In any case," the badger said as he finished his helping. "I suppose I should be heading off right about now. Time is precious."

John nodded, though not with much noticeable certainty. It was bad enough that one friend had his life on the line. While Friar Tuck's mission wasn't dangerous on the surface, the exposure of his intentions could very well put him in hot water.

"Look," the bear said. "I don't wantcha to press too hard on them about this. If they catch on that you're double-crossin' them, you could end up no better than Robin."

Friar Tuck nodded in understanding. "Son, that young man's done much good for poor old Nottingham. If he needs my help, I'm happy to return the favor at the very least once."

"You sure? You ain't exactly got any means of defending yourself … er, no offense," he added.

Tuck just waved his friend off, dismissing his worries with a cheerful smile. "Oh, you don't need to tell me twice. But I insist, whatever I can do, I'm willing."

Little John's mouth curled upwards into an appreciative grin. Despite the risks, he knew he could depend on this older church figure for just about anything. He had a calm, level-headed demeanor most of the time, but few got the chance to see the more passionate side of him, a side that current circumstances seemed to be bringing out.

"I assure you," he continued, "I will be cautious. I know how to-"

A sudden rustling of leaves joined in on the conversation, alerting the two men to a new presence. Alarmed that they'd been exposed, they leapt up onto their feet, with Little John raising his weapon, prepared to attack.

But both were shocked to see that the new arrival was none other than …

"Maid Marian?!" John exclaimed.

Indeed, the female fox now stood before the duo, still clad in her highly recognizable pink dress. Her paws were clasped tightly together, and her marvelous eyes looked up at them with a blend of anxiousness, caution, sadness, and an angry tinge that neither of them were familiar seeing in her.

"Friar!" Marian shouted, rushing up to embrace her old friend. The two embraced as John looked on, with a few tears slipping through the female's fur. Amidst the crisis she currently faced, she soaked in the warmth of someone so loving and trustworthy.

"Marian, wha ... what're you doing out here?" Little John stammered as the two separated.

"I snuck away from the castle to find you. I was worried sick that those guards caught up to you."

"Snuck out?!" Tuck proclaimed. "My dear, the prince will not be happy should he learn about this."

Marian let out a deep, regretful exhale, looking down to her hands as they enclosed themselves within one another even more firmly. She knew the consequences of what she'd done; she'd always known, any time she had considered sneaking out to try and reunite with her dear childhood friend and love … And yet now that she'd finally done it, he was unable to grace her with the presence she'd desired for years.

"It matters not," she said softly. "I could not sit by while that wonderful man is tormented and sentenced to death."

"Robin?" John asked, answered with a shaky nod from the vixen. The bear approached her, calmly but still urgent for anything she could tell him. "Marian ... do you know what they're plannin'?"

The shy fox turned on her heels, not wanting to face the outlaw as she begrudgingly told him what she had learned since being separated from Robin.

"Execution by archery competition, to commence tomorrow morning. With Robin as the target! Th-they've already spread posters around, and are holding tryouts for entry as we speak!" She pressed her fists against her forehead, and Friar Tuck was quick to wrap an arm around her shoulders. "Oh, I can't even fathom the horror of such a thing!" she sobbed.

Little John's expression hardened. He grumbled quietly, pacing in a circle, kicking stray pebbles as he took this news in. "Tryin' to beat him at his own game, eh? Oh, no, that won't do at all."

He then clasped his fist back around his sword. "Where's he being kept?"

"In the deepest depths of the dungeon," Marian whimpered. "And I've never seen the security be so tight for a single prisoner. Guards are stationed everywhere, and each one is subject to thorough inspection before being allowed in or out!"

The two males shot looks at each other, wondering what this would mean now. It seemed that attempting to break Robin out with any traditional kind of plan would be a suicide mission from what Marian described. And yet he would be in there for the duration of his captivity up until the villainous tournament!

John paced around again, stuck in a series of looping, aimless thoughts. He came up with a plan just as quickly as he shot it down, taking mental laps and growing more frustrated and afraid the more limited he realized his options were.

If they couldn't get to him before the tournament … that meant …

Friar Tuck eventually had to state the obvious conclusion. "John … if we're to save Robin Hood, then we must do so … during the tournament."

John let out a furious grunt. He knew that the friar was right; their only chance was in attempting to play into Prince John's twisted game in hopes of one-upping him there. But having such a narrow opening, let alone allowing his best friend to linger in his prison for a whole afternoon and night, made him feel sick.

"How're we gonna do that, huh?" he said to Friar Tuck. "There'll be guards and archers everywhere, and Rob's still not gonna be easy to reach. That prince is surely gonna want a challenge for everyone."

He sat himself down on a log, feeling deflated. "Not to mention the numbers. All those archers'll want his head, and we got no one else who can help us."

Friar Tuck contemplated the outlaw's words, staying quiet as he allowed him to vent out his frustrations. He knew that Little John wasn't planning on giving up, not in the slightest. His golden heart ensued that he would do whatever it took, even if he were likely to fail. But the odds did look grim, and he couldn't blame the bear for being so on edge about this.

But that was when the demure voice of Maid Marian spoke back up. "I will."

Both heads shot towards her. She was still looking down at her feet, nervous about the bold proclamation she had just made.

"You?" Little John said.

Steeling herself, the vixen finally rose her head to look both gentlemen in the eye, her own pupils brimming with a soft-spoken yet clear resolve the likes of which the friar hadn't seen in her in years.

"Yes," she declared, more confidently this time. "I will."

Little John had never truly met this woman, but he knew how much she meant to Robin. But even after wanting to believe that Robin meant just as much to her, and hearing it confirmed in her declaration of love back at the competition, he couldn't say he had expected her to volunteer for such a task. But looking at the hardening expression on her face as she awaited what he would say, she didn't seem ready to back away.

Marian scoffed at the bear's lack of a response, crossing her arms firmly. "I don't see what other choice you have," she scolded defiantly. "Surely there must be something I can do here."

"... Actually ... there just may be," Friar Tuck jumped in.

All eyes diverted to him, seeing a growing grin on his wrinkled face as his eyes glowed in some sort of realization.

Seeing this new spirit emerge from within the fox he'd known, he was taken back to a time from years ago. A time when Marian was not a matured maiden, but a carefree, happy teenager. A time when she had proven to possess a certain skill, one that she had since laid to rest and hadn't picked up since.

It spawned an idea in the badger's head. With Marian working alongside them, they just may have the missing piece they needed.Many days passed since Robin's memorable encounter with that young raccoon girl. The way she looked at him with those wide, innocent eyes, and the way she clung to him with a level of gratitude the he was unable to truly comprehend, all remained burned vividly in the mind and heart of the young fox. As did the trail of disconcerting thoughts that continued to fester and grow. They hadn't been born on that day, but they did begin spreading faster than they had before.

Some of these plaguing thoughts revolved around his own self-worth. Why didn't he give the impoverished child more? Why hadn't he offered her to stay with him and his family? Why didn't he tell her to wait while he gathered more supplies from his luxurious abode and pass them on to her?

Yet when he shared his brief but touching tale with Winstone and Lord Locksley, he was given the same unsatisfactory answers with which they had provided him whenever he brought up the issue of the rich and the poor.

"It is a shame. It truly is," Lord Locksley said solemnly. Robin could tell his father was being sincere, but it did little to calm the frustration he felt at the words. "But Robin, you can't just lend out everything that you possess. Where would that lead you? And even more, what of the others who have little to nothing?"

It was a sentiment that had occurred to the teen. He wasn't so naïve to think that he alone could make everything right, at least from his position and status. But surely some difference could be made.

"All of your good deeds, and so few would be saved," Locksley added.

Winstone's opinion sat no better within Robin. In fact, Robin would dare consider himself disappointed in his sibling's seeming lack of not only empathy for the situation, but acknowledgement that it was even an issue at all.

"It will be taken care of," he would say dismissively. "Brother, it is not our place to question the order of things. We live to serve the system, and serve it we shall."

"Well if that's the case, then why hasn't it been fixed yet? How could this even happen at all?" Robin fired back, a bit more sternly than he was used to when addressing his older brother.

"These things aren't perfect," Winstone said. "But Nottingham has endured for generations like this. Its people persevere, trusting in the powerful to keep the sacred order."

Robin huffed and, not wanting to partake in this conversation any longer, stormed off to his room. As he did so, he contemplated the state of his relationship with his brother.

Things had been changing between the vulpine siblings. Where the children would once spend hours playing, laughing, talking, and relying on each other for anything and everything, the bliss of their brotherhood felt like it was eroding as they grew up. Robin still looked up to his brother and what he aspired to be, but the metaphorical shining armor he always saw on Winstone was beginning to rust. Small chinks were forming, and Robin didn't know what it meant for them.

Surely, it was understandable that their paths would diverge, as life's plans gradually revealed themselves to all who neared and reached adulthood. Winstone's path was to take him through a life of servitude as a glorious warrior, perhaps even for the king himself. And Robin's path … well, he wasn't entirely sure. His aspirations were growing foggier by the day. He still practiced his archery, honing this and other skills and maneuvers while continuing to perform his various duties for the friar. However, it all seemed rather … purposeless. What was he contributing in the grand scheme of things? What was to be his life in a decade's time?

He poured out these worries and woes to Marian, who was always willing to lend an ear and help ease his racing mind. She was not only growing more mature and wise as the months and years continued running their course on her, but physically, she had blossomed more beautifully than Robin could have imagined. Fading away was the little girl whose beauty the little Robin only subconsciously admired, and in its place was forming what he knew would be a stunning adult vixen. Further, Robin was beginning to see signs that maybe, perhaps, the ever-growing love that he felt for her was returned. He wondered if the almighty friendship the two currently shared had a chance at becoming something deeper, something more …

But whatever lay in store for them, one thing remained certain: in these challenging adolescent years, she was the one constant that he could hold on to. It didn't matter that she didn't have any answers for his many questions; it was just nice to have her on his side.

But then, one day, the doubt and confusion that Robin was experiencing was struck with its first spark of true anger.

It had been announced that a new Sheriff had been brought in, and on one partially cloudy day, Robin and Winstone were taken to meet the recruit for themselves. To Robin's delight, Marian and Sir Fugali were in attendance as well, two more additions to the welcome party at the manor Locksley, all looking forward to greeting this new addition to their government.

The Sheriff turned out to be a skinny, slender wolf of deep, dark grey fur. He sported a burgundy tunic, onto which the sacred star that showed off his new position lay sewn in, large and proud for all to see. The look was completed with puffy, stripped, pink and purple sleeves, and a cap with a similar pattern, albeit with red and pink as its color palette.

The being walked in a waltz, clearly happy to be where he was and almost looking like he himself was in possession of the manor. A glint of mischief lurked in his eyes, and although it appeared perfectly harmless, something about it elicited a faint tingling in the back of Robin's neck. The wolf was accompanied by his own father, a noble who had a reputation for being just as lazy as he was oversized, and one who looked all too proud to be showing off his accomplished son.

Lord Locksley stepped up in greeting. "Hello, good sirs! It is a pleasure to meet our new sheriff at last. I am Lord Locksley," he said as he reached out his hand for a shake. The two wolves obliged, with the young Sheriff politely stating, "The pleasure is all mine, I insist."

His voice held a small, sneaky tinge to it, one that didn't help the off-putting feeling that Robin was experiencing. Everything seemed mostly alright regarding his presentation and demeanor. So why did the young fox not feel comfortable in his midst?

"Boys," Lord Locksley called. "Come say hello."

Winstone did so instantly and eagerly, vigorously shaking the wolf's hand and offering all the praise and congratulations he could come up with. The Sheriff chuckled at the young man's enthusiasm, which inexplicably drove a slight chill down Robin's spine.

Robin was slower to step up, constantly eyeing the new Sheriff with a mild suspicion.

"Come on now, boy, I don't bite," the Sheriff said, amused.

With much hesitance and ears slightly folded back, Robin did allow his hand to be grabbed and shaken.

"See now, that wasn't so hard," the Sheriff laughed. "I think we'll get along mighty fine."

The teenaged fox raised an eyebrow, but cautiously responded, "Yes. I-I think so too."

Out of the corner of his eye, he could see Winstone looking at him rather crossly. Robin groaned internally, as he could already tell that he'd get a talking-to from his sibling for the possibly embarrassing image he was giving them in front of this authority figure.

But Robin's attention focused back onto the Sheriff, as he himself seemed to now have his gaze locked on to the eyes of Maid Marian.

As the wolf made his way over to the vixen, he seemed to suddenly be in a trance. When he reached her, he practically crooned, "Well, well, who do we have here?"

He gently took the fair female's hand, and both Robin and Sir Fugali felt their faces harden. Marian herself looked somewhat wary, although she clearly tried to hide it as the Sheriff asked, "To whom may I have this honor?"

As he kept his near-hypnotized glance at her eyes, Marian awkwardly stammered out, "Oh, uh … M-Marian, sir."

"Marian," the Sheriff breathed out, sighing happily as though he had just taken a gulp from the most refreshing cider known to Nottingham. "Mmmm … a fine name for a fine lass."

Robin could feel the growl forming in the depths of his throat, and summoned his willpower to keep it contained. He looked at Marian, and saw her looking right back at him, in search of some visual comfort. Gratefully, the Sheriff did eventually turn away to greet her father, leaving the two foxes to silently ponder over their new law enforcer.

Concerned as they were, however, neither of them realized that this day would mark the formation of the dark clouds that would one day mar their lives. They would be born looming in the distance, but would soon make their way over to them, spilling out their contents, altering the terrain, and washing out the last debris of their childhoods.

And neither of them could have predicted where they would be years into the storm.Robin Hood (1973) belongs to Disney.Well, this certainly didn't take as long as Part 2, did it? Though because I'm now writing this on my own, the hardest part of the chapter was honestly getting my bearings as to how I would plan the whole thing out.

We finally catch back up with Little John, seeing him escape the guards, reunite with Friar Tuck, and even end up working alongside Maid Marian. I honestly don't have much to say about it, except that I hope it all felt consistent with the movie, as it's some of the most back-and-forth dialogue I think I've done in a single chapter. Or maybe not. It felt like it.

But this was also the first time in the story where I wrote the entire flashback portion. Trying to keep it tonally in line with not just Robin Hood, but AchromaticStallion's setup for these scenes, was honestly easier than I thought it would be. But it certainly helped that even though this is no longer a collab, his ideas are still largely present, and will continue to be for most of these scenes in the rest of the fic. With his permission, I will be doing my best to keep true to what his vision for them was, as he definitely had fascinating ideas for Robin's origins.

While there's no time spent with our tied-up outlaw, be assured that we'll get back to him next time. However, that won't come out for a bit. Don't worry, the wait won't be nearly as long as between Parts 1 and 2. But because I was initially supposed to only write half of the fic, I feel the need to not make this a top priority in getting uploaded as much as some other stuff I want to do. But again, it won't be as long before Part 4. But until then, I hope you like this, and thank you to everyone still reading!

Oh, and Happy Fourth of July! :D