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A Modern-Day Fairy Tale 

Vladimir Pjetrovski, when he was still alive, was not only known as Just Vlad but also as the worst shot in the forest. At first some thought there was something wrong with his sight. There was not. Then it was said his fingers were crooked. They were not. Oftentimes his fellow men blamed his bow. His bow it was not, for Just Vlad was in possession of one of the best bows, and even arrows, a villain could have nicked from a wealthy landowner with a mistress, two bastards, and a bad ticker. How was it, then, I hear you ask, that someone who could not shoot for toffee became known far and wide as the best shot ever to have existed. It is a most curious tale indeed and it was not until the end of his life that people saw him for the true wonder of nature he was – as is, of course, always the case with true artists. This serves as yet another wonderful modern-day fairy tale of which I have the honour sharing with you, my esteemed reader.  

Notwithstanding the fact that it was not anywhere near the Forest of Sherwood our hero dwelled, it must have taken place around the same time and date a goody-two-shoes by the name of Robin of the Hood and his merry men was robbing wealthy men – and women – blind and giving away their riches. Evil tongues, some of which were cut off by defenders of Just Vlad’s reputation, spoke indignantly about Just Vlad and praised the true skills of this repugnant mister Hood. Alas, this cutting of the tongues did little to prevent the stories of Robin of the Hood to spread far and wide. They were proud of Robin even when he robbed them, too. He gathered fame as quickly as an immobile stone gathers moss. It spread like a rash in heat. So much so that the story of Just Vlad had soon been lost and forgotten.  

It was true, I guess, that his fellow hoodlums were not proud of Just Vlad as a bowman. Opinions on his true expertise were thirteen to the dozen and though his merciless band of thugs had often thought about getting rid of him, he had other skills they needed. Therefore, it was agreed, they could not get rid of the one was keeping the band together. He was the glue and driving force. Also, he was the only one who knew how to cook.  

Just Vlad was never raised to be a villain and if it had been for his father – and mother – he had grown up to be a baker so he could take over the family business when he came of age. Every day, his father showed him how to mix the dough, knead the dough, bake the dough and make dough by selling the best bread in town. Young Vladimir was mightily impressed by his father’s skills, and he would surely have become a very fine baker, indeed, had he not been to see the local shooting tournament. He knew what he wanted right there and then: he wanted to become the best archer in the whole wide world.  

From the money he had made helping his father in the shop, he bought his first bow and some arrows. He gathered up some local boys – and girls – who already knew how to shoot, and he formed a small band of brothers – and sisters – who went on daily hunting trips in the nearby forest where they would shoot rabbits and, when in luck, a small deer. Afterwards, they would share their catch equally, go home and enjoy a nice meal. Of course, Just Vlad never hit anything, but showed the proceeds of the day proudly to his parents.

It wasn’t until they all had grown up to be strong men – and women – that they went astray. They had grown tired of shooting game and turned to crime instead as the wages were better and the hours were good. Robbing travellers and making a small fortune doing so filled their hearts with glee. Having been banned by the villagers due to their crimes, they had built their own little fortress at the heart of the forest. Thirteen men – and women – lived together outside the law, and guarded what they had with their own lives.  

“Vladimir!” Said out Andrei. 

“Please, just Vlad.” 

“Just Vlad then. What wouldst thou say of robbing the count another time?” 

“Don’t be daft. The count has no thrill to offer. Let us think bigger, Andrei. The king,” he said, “now therein lies a true challenge. Let us rob the king instead.” 

The king knew that it would one day come to this, and he had always dreaded it. It was true, you know, that everybody around knew the whereabouts of these thugs, but nobody dared to come near for fear of losing an eye or their lives. Even the knights of the king steered clear of the band of brothers – and sisters. The king had always been afraid to upset them and tried to contain the evil rather than fight it. As long as they kept to their part of the land, he condoned it. Often, the king would send an unwelcome guest home along the route he knew the band would lay waiting to ambush the person. This put a smile on his face.  

Now, however, they wanted to bite the hand that fed them, and all embraced the idea, for the king had riches unbeknownst to men – and women. In his cellars there was gold beyond your ability to count. His rooms were filled with riches too much for a single man – or woman – to own. A whole village could feed themselves for years with the worth of just one of the jewels on his left hand. It was in that mild winter that Just Vlad earned himself the name of best shot in the whole wide world. Had his parents still been alive, they would surely have been proud of their son for the first time in his life.  

Andrei, Elena, Bogdan, Loana and Just Vlad packed their bags, and set out to the castle on their finest horses. They did not know the plan, yet trusted Just Vlad for he knew what he was doing as long as it was not about shooting an arrow. For he was, in their eyes, still a hopeless shot. Often, while hunting, a conversation like this would take place. 

“You missed by a mile, sir.” 

“Yes, but it was a good shot, though.” 

“You hit the tree, sir.” 

“Yes, and I am sure it deserved every inch of my arrow.” 

Leaving the others to hang their heads in despair. Once, in a tournament amongst the band of thieves, one said, 

“You missed the target, sir.” 

“Yes, but I didn’t hit it either. Which is even better, when you think about it.” 

And no matter how hard they thought, they could not see how this was even remotely better. Yet, Just Vlad smiled, and this kept them up all night thinking “Was there something he saw that they did not?” This was not what would later earn him the name of ‘best shot’. It was his final deed while robbing the king of his most valuable possessions.

While on their way to the king, they hunted for food. When Just Vlad missed the deer Elena remarked, 

“You’d even miss a dinosaur standing right in front of you.” 

“Yes, but I would miss it better than you, and therein lies the big difference.” 

After two days and three nights, they came to the castle. They managed to sneak in dressed as washer women – and men – carrying Just Vlad into the fortress in a basket full of their own dirty laundry. None of the guards suspected anything as the felons made their way into the cellars and loaded the most precious valuables into the basket.  

As they were making their way out, one of the guards noticed that one of the boobs of Andrei had fallen out of his shirt and he sounded the alarm. Quickly, they made a beeline for the gate chased by a dozen men – and women – armed to the teeth. Just Vlad was not able to keep up and just outside the gates stumbled on a hickory stump. He saw his friends getting away in the forest. Behind him the guards were closing in, and he had to think fast.  

He jumped up and got to his feet facing the oncoming guards. This is where opinions start to divert. For, you see, most of the people will agree that the next feat was the proof that Just Vlad was an excellent shot, whereas as the unbelievers – the heathens – keep on trying to convince the world that the single arrow theory was a blatant lie or even a trick to cover up some conspiracy. None of those stories, however, have been proven so far thus we cannot do anything but believe the few accounts that have been saved.  

Knowing that he was about to be caught, tortured, imprisoned and eventually hung, drawn and quartered, Just Vlad reached for his bow and arrow. With the courage of ten lions and the strength of a hundred bears he placed the arrow, aimed the shot and fired. The arrow ricocheted off the wall of the castle, the watchtower and a large stone behind him finally hitting him in the back. He fell down face forward onto the grass. One of the guards who was the first to arrive turned him around and Just Vlad stared right into the eyes and spoke unto him, 

“Remember, this was the day you almost caught Vladimir Pjetrovski, the best shot in the whole of the land … nay … the world.” 

“Ay lad, so you are. So you were, indeed.” 

He died right there and then. So endeth the life of Just Vlad and all lived happily ever after.