The Valley
By The Guest Calypso
Disclaimer: Aurora, Don Bluth Studios, and Fox Studios are the respectful owners of all 'The Secrets of NIMH' properties including characters and names. All Original Characters (OC's) and story-line belong to the writer The Guest Calypso and should not be used without explicit consent from the writer. This work of fiction is for entertainment purposes only and does not necessarily reflect the views of the writer; it is not used for monetary gain what-so-ever.
If, by some astronomical chance, Don Bluth (Or his legal department.) stumbles onto this work of fiction and enjoys it, I hereby give up all rights to him (And his studio) to use this story as the proper sequel that 'Secrets of NIMH' fans have been waiting 30 years for. It's fun to dream right?
Small print over, enjoy!
Chapter 1
It is the middle of summer at a farm deep in rural America. The corn fields have been plowed and the crops have begun to reach human knee height. To a field mouse however, it is a giant evenly spaced wilderness that stretches for as far as the eye can see in all directions. Within these fields the small woodland creatures forage for food, already preparing to gather what is necessary to survive the impending winter chill.
Among these creatures is a familiar field mouse. He is young, barely reaching his teens, scrounging for the hardy seeds that fall from the massive stocks above. The small satchel he is carrying is nearly full, and after grabbing a little more seed the young mouse is satisfied with his cache, heading towards his home; a cinderblock at the edge of the field, underneath a massive rock. The sun begins to set over the rolling hills of grass and trees as the young mouse reaches the rock and quickly surveys his improvised home; dirt had been packed and piled around the structure, covering up the holes and weather proofing for winter. A small metal chimney poked out of the growth that had camouflaged the home from curious animals. Light grey smoke lazily lolled out of it, signifying to the mouse that mother had begun the preparations for dinner in his return.
He scaled the roof with practiced precision, reaching the entrance to his home and pushed the wooden door open. Upon stepping within the dwelling and closing the door behind him the sounds of laughter and idle chatter greeted his ears. "I'm home everybody!" He announced, un-shouldering the heavy bag within the entranceway.
"All right, Martin's back!" Someone squeaked, followed by cheers from others out of sight within the kitchen. The now revealed Martin stepped into the kitchen carrying his parcel, immediately becoming swarmed by his two younger siblings; Timothy, his younger brother and his younger sister Cynthia, whom wasn't much older than Timothy. "Hey Tim, hey Cynthia, you guys hungry?" Martin greeted, dropping the satchel roughly into Timothy's outstretched arms, while Cynthia rummaged through the bag; inspecting Martin's gathering skills.
"Hey ma." Martin then greeted a slender light brown mouse wearing a red shawl with an idle hand wave. His mother couldn't return the gesture; she was occupied with fixing stitching on the side of a homely dress on Martin's older sister Theresa, who was fidgeting as she stood with her arms outstretched from her sides on the table, sighing uncomfortably. "First of all young man; I'm your 'Mother', not 'Ma'." Mrs. Brisby corrected her eldest son softly, holding a threading needle between her pursed lips. "And hello you to you too, Martin, how did foraging go?"
"Pretty good considering how many others are out gathering stuff for winter." Martin answered seemingly unaffected by his mother's correction. "Hey Sis, you're still getting your dress resized?" He added with a snarky tone. Theresa shot Martin a look, sticking her tongue out at her brother. "She wouldn't still be in this position if she just held still." Mrs. Brisby sighed, finishing a stitching then clipping the extra string off with her teeth. "Sorry mother, but it is taking forever to resize my dress." Theresa protested.
"Well then you should stop growing so fast young lady, then I wouldn't have to keep doing this." Mrs. Brisby said with a warm smile. "And don't be so smug Martin, your next for a refit."
Martin waved off the returning smug look Theresa had given him, tugging on a corner of his tight-fitting shirt so it would come lower over his gut. "So mom, what are we going to do for Cynthia's birthday?"
"I'm not quite sure yet." His mother said, growing distant; her hands slowing down for a fraction of a second in their task, her deep blue eyes peering into infinity as she began to ponder. Without so much as a warning, Cynthia came dashing into the room overhearing her name being used in the conversation. "Watcha' all talkin' about?" She said with an innocent demeanor.
"Nothing Cynthia dear, start getting washed up for dinner, I'm finished with Theresa's dress and we'll start as soon as everyone is ready." Mrs. Brisby quickly interjected before Martin could reply with any spoilers for Cynthia's birthday. Everybody exclaimed including Theresa, who mumbled 'finally' under her breath as she climbed down from the table. Mrs. Brisby began to prepare dinner for everyone, cooking the ingredients Martin had brought home. Dinner had come and gone with only one incident; Timothy had flicked a corn seed at his older brother, after a round of laughter and mild scolding dinner passed without anymore incident. Everyone finished, and then prepared for bed.
Mrs. Brisby helped little Cynthia prepare for bed, however Cynthia was anything but ready to sleep. "Hey momma, did you remember tomorrow is my birthday?" She asked as her mother untied Cynthia's signature ribbon from around her torso, the excitement barely contained in her whispered words. "As a matter of fact, I did remember." Mrs. Brisby said enthusiastically, her daughter's happy and care-free disposition was contagious as she helped Cynthia into bed and tucked her in.
"Do you know what I want the most for my birthday?" Cynthia said, pulling the cloth blanket up under her chin and snuggling deeper into the mattress.
"I have no idea, what would you like?" Mother said, resting her elbows on the side of the bed and lacing her fingers together, resting her head upon them.
"I want to know who daddy was."
Mrs. Brisby had a hard time trying to sleep that night, her mind still reeling from the request from Cynthia on her mind. "I want to know who daddy was." Cynthia's words rang in her thoughts clear as a bell.
Me too, Mrs. Brisby muttered to herself. After tossing and turning, for what felt like a small eternity trapped with nothing but her racing thoughts, she gave up trying to sleep. Quietly she slipped out of her large bed. For the first time in a long while, she noticed just how big and empty the bed was with only one body to occupy it. She reached for her signature shawl, tying it securely around her neck. Silently she checked each sleeping being as she made her way towards the kitchen, pulling blankets to cover shoulders and giving extra affection where it seemed necessary. Satisfied everyone was still deep within slumber; their mother crept into the kitchen.
The kitchen was bathed in the pale light of the moon through a small window over the sink. Mrs. Brisby made her way to the smoldering fireplace, poking the embers in the waning fire absent-mindedly, remembering the olden memories of all the things she remembered of the late Jonathan Brisby.
It made her smile remembering all the strange little things Jonathan had known; she found it so peculiar at how much he knew for just a field mouse. On several occasions she would prod him and ask how come he had known so much. His defense was always the same; 'I watched the humans.' She would fire back with 'Why would you want to get that close to a human?'
Jonathan would shrug, saying simply; 'I was curious.'
Mrs. Brisby had to cover her mouth to stop from giggling out loud and waking the household. She thought it was so strange at the time, but now looking back she was incredibly grateful he had taught her things like how to read and write, among other things.
She continued to watch the fire crackle in its dull orange glow, the small shower of sparks rose from the embers in lazy circles, compelled to rise out into the cold night air through the chimney. She drew her shawl tighter around her shoulders; it was her most treasured material possession, given to her from her husband on the first week anniversary of their marriage. If there was a list of things Jonathan was best known for, a hopeless romantic would have been near the top of the list.
She missed the hopeless romantic so much, but she refused to grieve anymore, she was beyond that stage. Now it was time for some answers.
For as long as they were together, Mrs. Brisby found it odd that Jonathan knew so much of the human world. Yet, whenever she would bring up the subject of his writing and reading skills, his knowledge of food storage, furniture construction and knowledge of 'electricity', he would dodge the question or joke to evade any sort of answer to her questions. After a while, Mrs. Brisby just accepted the fact that there were some things Jonathan wasn't comfortable about discussing yet, when he was comfortable to speak about it, Mrs. Brisby would be more than willing to listen and understand. But he never got the chance. Mrs. Brisby became a widow, raising a family on her own and still void of any answers.
Until the events that happened six months ago.
When Timothy got sick, Mrs. Brisby took it upon herself to save her son's life. What started as a simple trip to Mr. Ages' home within a hay-baler turned into a harrowing adventure involving several close calls with the cat Dragon, the farmer's plow, a visitation to an owl that, despite the overwhelming fear of getting eaten, was instrumental to helping her find the colony of strange rats that could move her home to the lee of the stone, saving Timothy from the bitter early spring chill, and the destructive path of the Farmer's plow.
Despite how far-fetched Mrs. Brisby had thought finding a colony of odd rats that had a strange affinity for Christmas lights to save her family had sounded, she undertook the quest, desperate to do anything to keep her family safe. Then she learned of another world she wasn't even aware of by meeting Justin, Nicodemus and the rats of NIMH. And learning through the incredibly old and wise Nicodemus, the love of her life and the father of her children, was from NIMH himself. Nicodemus explained that, because of what they had gone through at NIMH, the rats and the surviving mice did not age normally, in fact the aging process had been slowed considerably.
Jonathan was afraid that, while she would grow to old age, Jonathan would remain young, only to watch his beloved wither away in front of his eyes. Everything had become so clear at that point; all the nervous glances, all the dodged questions were because Jonathan was terrified for their uncertain future together, Jonathan feared that she would push him away, or leave him because of the terrible burden he was being forced to bear.
In all honesty she would still accept him, no matter what, even if their time together would have been fleeting. She wanted so many more answers, she wanted to know more, and Nicodemus and Justin both seemed to be the most knowledgeable of her enigmatic late husband; she wanted to know where he had originally come from, what he was like and most importantly; what he had done for the rats that made his name so common-place. Sure Jonathan had helped the rats escape, but there surely must have been more than just that, even the Owl knew Jonathan Brisby.
But it seemed fate was against her. Nicodemus had been killed by the traitorous Jenner, who then attacked her after she warned the colony of NIMH's arrival next day to capture them all. But that was trite compared to Jenner's reaction to The Stone. He seemed to become consumed by a lust for that stone, and the power it kept within, only with the courageous actions of Justin, and Jenner's henchmen Sullivan was he finally stopped.
She was more than grateful to have given it to Justin; the power it held was far more than what the humble field mouse Mrs. Brisby could comprehend, and because of that she felt a lot safer knowing that something with such capabilities was kept with someone as pure of heart as Justin. He was more than capable of protecting it from someone who could cause harm far better than she. But still, Mrs. Brisby wondered; how will Jonathan's children, and his widow, learn more about him? Everyone who had ever known him had packed their things and left for the safety of Thorn Valley.
Just as she was thinking of Thorn Valley, she had an epiphany. Thorn Valley; everyone that had the answers was at Thorn Valley!
Perhaps it was time to make a surprise visit to Thorn Valley; everyone was now old enough to make the trip safely, and this was a perfect birthday present for little Cynthia. What better birthday present than a family vacation out of the house?
The log crackled in its fireplace, drawing Mrs. Brisby from her thoughts. Sure Cynthia could learn more about her father from her siblings or her mother, but knowing Cynthia it just wouldn't be enough, she had after all very bright, just like her father. So Mr. Brisby finally reached a conclusion in her mind; they all would travel to Thorn Valley, tomorrow.
Mrs. Brisby nodded to herself, pleased with her plan. She stood from her place in front of the fire. Her thoughts now calmed enough she could now finally go to sleep, making her way back towards the bedroom, without waking anybody else, she climbed back into the large empty bed, untying her shawl to hang on the corner bedpost. But paused before hanging it in its resting spot; with all the reflecting this evening, she just couldn't bring herself to let it go. She drew it back, holding it close as she pulled the covers up and settled into the soft cotton. You hopeless romantic, the kids miss you, I miss you. We all miss you.
Slowly Jonathan Brisby's widow drifted into sleep, holding her shawl close. For what was left of the fleeting night, the mattress didn't seem so empty.