Disclaimer--Actually, all the characters who have a real part in this ARE my inventions, but the Redwall universe, and all characters originally therein, were created by Brian Jacques. I am making no profit from this story and am only doing it for fun. Thanks!
***
"Everybody new HAS to tell a story. It's the rule," a young squirrel called Ash explained.
"Whose rule?" teased Trillium.
Several voices immediately shouted, "OURS!"
"But I really don't know any stories..."
Ash decided to interject. "Then tell us about how you got here and where you came from. That'll be good enough."
Trillium, the newest arrival at Camp Rivermoon gazed into the dancing flames. Her velvety brown eyes seemed to flicker with flames of their own as her audience settled around the fire early that spring. After a few moments of expectant silence, she spoke.
"If you want to know about how, or even why, I'm here, then I'd better start at the beginning. But, then again, that is where all things start..."
***
My mother never wanted me to become a warrior. It was too dangerous, she always said, for a young mouse to be going out and taking on the world. I loved my mother dearly, but just couldn't agree with her. I did, however, welcome her instructions on caring for wounds, cooking, and mending--a warrior must be self-sufficient.
My father taught me the art of war. I was the oldest child; he knew that he had to pass the family tradition on through me. By the time I was three seasons old, I was already well-trained in the use of the sling, dagger, and Claymore. It was the most beautiful weapon, with a masterfully engraved crosstree and an aquamarine set into the pummel. Just holding it sent shivers through my small body.
When I was stil very young, my mother sent me to gather hazelnuts. At the time, I was just happy to be out of the hot kitchen. I stayed out all day, and past sundown, playing games int he woods.
The moon was high in the sky when I got back to our comfortable cabin. The first thing I noticed was that smoke was no longer billowing from the chimney, which is strange. Where there should have been light and laughter, there was dark and silence. I drew my dagger as I approached the door.
I eased it open slowly, to keep it from squeaking on its old hinges. Nobody was there. I lit the small lantern that hung outside the door, and held it high, casting light into all corners of the room. I was horrified by what I saw.
Chairs were overturned, dishes smashed. The frying pan was on the floor, spilling batter across the wooden planks. The ornate lace tablecloth had been shredded, with no piece remaining as big as my footpaw. That was when the stench hit me, and I realized I had been holding my breath. The putrid odor went beyond uncleanliness. It was the stench of evil. I knew that stoats, rats, ferrets, and even a fox had been there.
That was when the Bloodlust first came upon me. It was a sensation of absolutely helpless power, as if I knew I would do anything at all, and would be able to stop myself. I tore into my bedroom, and found my father's sword sheathed and lying on my bed. I had to strap it across my back, since I was too short to wear it at my belt. Without a second thought, or maybe even a first one, I left the only home I had ever known, never to return.
I must have known where I was going, because soon I heard some beast ahead of me. I increased my pace to a full run, and tackled it. It was a rat.
"Quick now," I said, spitting the words as if they tasted bad, "If you want to live, tell me where the others and my family are."
"What others?" he replied nervously.
"The ones that took my family! I'll kill you if you don't tell me, NOW!"
"I've never seen your family. Please, have mercy. I would never take another creature," he whined pitifully.
My mind was made up. "You lie," I said, slicing him in two. "I'll see you in Dark Forest." The hilt seemed to be made for my hands, and the blade had never been lighter. I was still only a baby, but my first kill was much too easy.
I kept going at that same break-neck pace until I reached the River Moss, and just in time to see my parents and little sister going rapidly downstream in a logboat filled with vermin. I wasn't too late to get a good look at each face, and burn the memory into my brain. Then and there, I swore that I wouldn't ever let any evil go unchecked. It was not until much later that I realized what a big oath that was for a little mouse. But a warriormaid keeps her word, and I have kept mine.
Then I started walking. I have traveled more miles than I ever knew there were in the world, taken more strides than I thought possible. Yet I was only wandering for two seasons, last autumn and winter.
And since I left my home, I have learned. I don't know more than the tiniest fractio of what there is to know in the world, nor will I ever, but I can survive. I also learned to trust my instincts. I learned to judge character, and how to know who I should trust. All of these things sustained me.
At the end of that time, I came across a trio of stoats harassing a mole. Moles, of course, are goodbeasts, while stoats are rotten, so I had to help out. I would never have forgiven myself if I didn't. With a clean sidesweep and a short fight, two were disposed of and one fled.
Then the mole said, "Thank 'ee, guddbeast. Oi'm baint never seed one take on three afore. Moi name be Muddeep. Moight I arsk whot you'm be called?"
I know I was blushing to my eartips when I introduced myself. Muddeep invited me to Camp Rivermoon, and here I am.
***
What had been a blazing bonfire was now reduced to a few glowing embers.
"Well, Ash, now you know my story. It could have used a better storyteller, but you're stuck with me." Trillium smiled a sad little smile, and Ash wondered if it were just the dying firelight, or if her eyes were moist with unshed tears.
"Uh, look, Trillium--" Ash began, but the mousemaid interrupted.
"Just call me Trill, if you like. It's a lot easier." She flashed him a rare grin that lit up her entire face.
"All right, Trill. Anyway, d'ya think.. I mean, if, um, you wanted to..."
Muddeep came to the squirrel's rescue. "Wot zurr Ash be troyin' to say is you'm cud live 'ere if you'm loik, missie Trimilum." She tried not to laugh at the odd pronunciation of her name, but at the same time, she was taken aback.
"Oh, wow, I'd love to. I haven't had a home in so long. Thank you so much!"
***
Okay, that concludes part One of the story. Much more to come, if there is an interest in what happens to Trillium and Ash next.
***
"Everybody new HAS to tell a story. It's the rule," a young squirrel called Ash explained.
"Whose rule?" teased Trillium.
Several voices immediately shouted, "OURS!"
"But I really don't know any stories..."
Ash decided to interject. "Then tell us about how you got here and where you came from. That'll be good enough."
Trillium, the newest arrival at Camp Rivermoon gazed into the dancing flames. Her velvety brown eyes seemed to flicker with flames of their own as her audience settled around the fire early that spring. After a few moments of expectant silence, she spoke.
"If you want to know about how, or even why, I'm here, then I'd better start at the beginning. But, then again, that is where all things start..."
***
My mother never wanted me to become a warrior. It was too dangerous, she always said, for a young mouse to be going out and taking on the world. I loved my mother dearly, but just couldn't agree with her. I did, however, welcome her instructions on caring for wounds, cooking, and mending--a warrior must be self-sufficient.
My father taught me the art of war. I was the oldest child; he knew that he had to pass the family tradition on through me. By the time I was three seasons old, I was already well-trained in the use of the sling, dagger, and Claymore. It was the most beautiful weapon, with a masterfully engraved crosstree and an aquamarine set into the pummel. Just holding it sent shivers through my small body.
When I was stil very young, my mother sent me to gather hazelnuts. At the time, I was just happy to be out of the hot kitchen. I stayed out all day, and past sundown, playing games int he woods.
The moon was high in the sky when I got back to our comfortable cabin. The first thing I noticed was that smoke was no longer billowing from the chimney, which is strange. Where there should have been light and laughter, there was dark and silence. I drew my dagger as I approached the door.
I eased it open slowly, to keep it from squeaking on its old hinges. Nobody was there. I lit the small lantern that hung outside the door, and held it high, casting light into all corners of the room. I was horrified by what I saw.
Chairs were overturned, dishes smashed. The frying pan was on the floor, spilling batter across the wooden planks. The ornate lace tablecloth had been shredded, with no piece remaining as big as my footpaw. That was when the stench hit me, and I realized I had been holding my breath. The putrid odor went beyond uncleanliness. It was the stench of evil. I knew that stoats, rats, ferrets, and even a fox had been there.
That was when the Bloodlust first came upon me. It was a sensation of absolutely helpless power, as if I knew I would do anything at all, and would be able to stop myself. I tore into my bedroom, and found my father's sword sheathed and lying on my bed. I had to strap it across my back, since I was too short to wear it at my belt. Without a second thought, or maybe even a first one, I left the only home I had ever known, never to return.
I must have known where I was going, because soon I heard some beast ahead of me. I increased my pace to a full run, and tackled it. It was a rat.
"Quick now," I said, spitting the words as if they tasted bad, "If you want to live, tell me where the others and my family are."
"What others?" he replied nervously.
"The ones that took my family! I'll kill you if you don't tell me, NOW!"
"I've never seen your family. Please, have mercy. I would never take another creature," he whined pitifully.
My mind was made up. "You lie," I said, slicing him in two. "I'll see you in Dark Forest." The hilt seemed to be made for my hands, and the blade had never been lighter. I was still only a baby, but my first kill was much too easy.
I kept going at that same break-neck pace until I reached the River Moss, and just in time to see my parents and little sister going rapidly downstream in a logboat filled with vermin. I wasn't too late to get a good look at each face, and burn the memory into my brain. Then and there, I swore that I wouldn't ever let any evil go unchecked. It was not until much later that I realized what a big oath that was for a little mouse. But a warriormaid keeps her word, and I have kept mine.
Then I started walking. I have traveled more miles than I ever knew there were in the world, taken more strides than I thought possible. Yet I was only wandering for two seasons, last autumn and winter.
And since I left my home, I have learned. I don't know more than the tiniest fractio of what there is to know in the world, nor will I ever, but I can survive. I also learned to trust my instincts. I learned to judge character, and how to know who I should trust. All of these things sustained me.
At the end of that time, I came across a trio of stoats harassing a mole. Moles, of course, are goodbeasts, while stoats are rotten, so I had to help out. I would never have forgiven myself if I didn't. With a clean sidesweep and a short fight, two were disposed of and one fled.
Then the mole said, "Thank 'ee, guddbeast. Oi'm baint never seed one take on three afore. Moi name be Muddeep. Moight I arsk whot you'm be called?"
I know I was blushing to my eartips when I introduced myself. Muddeep invited me to Camp Rivermoon, and here I am.
***
What had been a blazing bonfire was now reduced to a few glowing embers.
"Well, Ash, now you know my story. It could have used a better storyteller, but you're stuck with me." Trillium smiled a sad little smile, and Ash wondered if it were just the dying firelight, or if her eyes were moist with unshed tears.
"Uh, look, Trillium--" Ash began, but the mousemaid interrupted.
"Just call me Trill, if you like. It's a lot easier." She flashed him a rare grin that lit up her entire face.
"All right, Trill. Anyway, d'ya think.. I mean, if, um, you wanted to..."
Muddeep came to the squirrel's rescue. "Wot zurr Ash be troyin' to say is you'm cud live 'ere if you'm loik, missie Trimilum." She tried not to laugh at the odd pronunciation of her name, but at the same time, she was taken aback.
"Oh, wow, I'd love to. I haven't had a home in so long. Thank you so much!"
***
Okay, that concludes part One of the story. Much more to come, if there is an interest in what happens to Trillium and Ash next.