Maid Marian: How is it, that a once-arrogant young nobleman has found contentment, living rough with the salt of the earth?
Robin of Locksley: I've seen knights in armor panic at the first hint of battle. And I've seen the lowliest, unarmed squire pull a spear from his own body to defend a dying horse. Nobility is not a birthright. It's defined by one's actions.
Maid Marian: It's interesting to hear you say that.
Robin of Locksley: I didn't. My father did.
Maid Marian: Did the holy quest erase your hatred of him?
Robin of Locksley: I don't know. All I know is that our last words in this world were spoken in anger. I was lost after my mother died. My father too, and for a short time he found comfort in the arms of another woman, a peasant woman. I thought he was betraying my mother's memory.
Maid Marian: So he gave her up?
Robin of Locksley: For the love of a twelve-year-old by who would never forgive him.
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