Second to none but Robin himself. First to raise the staff, last to leave the field. The gold he takes from the crown never sees his own pocket.
Past the old oak line, the camp sits low and quiet, marked only by a leaf on green cloth. Here recruits trade plough handles for quarterstaffs, and Little John breaks down every man who thinks size alone wins a fight.
No one holds a weapon in Robin's name until John has put them on the ground at least once. It is less a lesson than an introduction.
Every purse taken from the sheriff's convoys passes through Little John's hands before it reaches the villages. He counts twice, trusts no one's memory less than his own, and answers for every coin that leaves the chest.
It is not a hoard. It is a promise, kept in gold, waiting for the next family that needs it more than the crown ever did.
No one in Nottinghamshire remembers Little John arriving. Some say he walked out of the trees fully grown, quarterstaff already in hand. Sherwood kept the truth to itself, as it does with everyone who enters and chooses to stay.
Where Robin plans, Little John holds the line. He trains the band's newest hands on the quarterstaff, guards the treasury by night, and is the last face a corrupt tax collector sees before the road home gets considerably longer.
What is certain is the bridge. A stranger crossed it once, refused to yield the plank, and was answered blow for blow until he was dropped into the stream below, laughing. Robin pulled him out. Neither of them left the other's side again.
Robin plans every raid three moves ahead and trusts John to close whatever gap the plan leaves open. Where one leads with strategy, the other leads with strength — and together they turned Sherwood into something the sheriff can no longer ignore.
Fast, sharp-tongued, and the only one who still argues with John and occasionally wins.
Blesses the raids, tends the wounded, and keeps the band honest about who they're stealing from.
Turns every one of John's fights into a ballad before the bruises even finish forming.
Across the treeline, the sheriff's seat watches every road into Sherwood. Tax convoys leave its gates at dawn. Little John watches them from the shadows, staff in hand, leaf on his cloak.
Every coin taken from the crown's wagons is one coin closer to the villages that built this forest — and one step further from the castle that tried to take it all.
Robin crosses a narrow plank and meets a giant who won't step aside. The fight that follows ends in the stream, and in a friendship neither expected.
Little John takes charge of training every recruit who joins the band, and the outlaws' numbers begin to grow into something the sheriff can no longer ignore.
John fells an oak across the forest road and the crown's tax convoy meets Sherwood's answer for the first time. It will not be the last.
The reclaimed gold needs a keeper who won't be tempted by it. Little John takes the chest, and the villages start getting their due back.
The camp is larger, the treasury fuller, and the leaf still flies over Sherwood. Little John hasn't lost a fight since the one that started it all.
Follow the leaf, learn the staff, and stand with those who take from the crown and give to the people.