Love Goes On And On

More Than Life Itself

Manolo and Joaquin had set up camp in Sherwood Forest. Since they were outlaws, they never settled in the same place twice. Manolo was cooking by the fire while Joaquin hung their clothes up to dry. 

While Manolo cooked, his mind wandered to Maria. He hummed a song to himself, imagining he was singing for her and playing his guitar. How he longed to sing for her again. 

Joaquin looked over his shoulder to see Manolo daydreaming. He rolled his eyes and said, “Hey, how's dinner coming along, lover boy?”

Manolo didn't hear him and continued to fantasize. 

“Manny. Manny! Manolo!” Fed up, Joaquin chucked a shoe at Manolo’s head.

“Ow!” Manolo exclaimed, “Joaquin.”

He shrugged, “It's not my fault your head's in the clouds. A certain little lady is on your mind.” Joaquin smelled smoke, “Manolo!”

Manolo realized the pot was boiling over. The two men scrambled to put the fire out. They grabbed a damp blanket off the line and smothered the fire out with it.

“Ay.” Manolo rubbed the back of his neck bashfully, “I'm sorry, Joaquin. You're right, I was thinking about Maria.”

Joaquin chuckled, “Why don't you just marry her already? It's better than you feeling sorry for yourself.”

“I haven't seen her in years. I can't just walk up to her and propose.”

“Why not? You storm the castle, sweep her off her feet, serenade her with your melodious voice. She'll love it.”

Manolo leaned against a tree, “It wouldn't work out. I've thought about it over and over again, and it wouldn't work. What do I have to offer her?”

Joaquin smelled a spoonful of the burnt stew and winced, “Well, for one thing, you can't cook.”

“I'm serious, Joaquin. Maria isn't just anyone. She lives in a castle, her uncle is the king.” He sighed in dismay, “She's a high quality woman.”

“What's the big deal? She's got class.”

“The big deal is I'm an outlaw. She doesn't deserve a life always on the run. She'd have no real future with me.”

Joaquin looked at his heartbroken friend sadly. Before he could say anything to reassure him, they heard Friar Tuck who had stumbled into their camp. Friar Tuck was a round, balding man in his late fifties, a good man of the church.

“Oh, for heaven's sake, son.” He said, “You're no outlaw. Why, someday, you'll be called a great hero.”

Manolo chuckled, “Heroes? Well, Joaquin, it seems like we've just been pardoned.”

“Huh.” Joaquin mused, “I mean, you can't be pardoned if you haven't been arrested yet.”

“All right, laugh, you two rogues.” Friar Tuck said, “But there's gonna be a big to-do in Nottingham.” Friar Tuck tasted some of the stew, coughing and gagging at the taste, “Well-done, ain't it?”

“Hey, Manolo here is a quality cook.” Joaquin said, making Manolo smile sheepishly. 

Friar Tuck chuckled, “Well, old Prince John's havin' a championship archery tournament tomorrow.”

“Archery?” Joaquin scoffed, “Manolo could win that with a hand tied behind his back.”

Manolo chuckled, “Oh, please, I'm not that great.”

“Sure you are.” 

“Well, thank you, but I doubt we're invited.”

“No, but there's somebody who'll be very disappointed if you don't come.” Friar Tuck said.