Summary: A RWBY universe adaptation of "Of Mice And Men" by John Steinbeck.

Disclaimer: Original novel is © John Steinbeck.

Thanks to these people for editing: Durandal, Not Cheese, Notavirusyet, ArDeQ'm

Of Rice and Ren

RWBY

The light climbed on out of the valley, and as it went, the tops of the mountains seemed to blaze with increasing brightness.

Nora said softly, "I didn't forget, you bet, God damn. Hide in the brush and wait for Ren." She pulled her hat down low over her eyes. "Ren gonna give me hell," she said. "Ren's gonna wish he was alone and not have me bothering him." She turned her head and looked at the bright mountain tops. "I can go right off there and find a cave," she said. And she continued sadly, "—and never have no pancakes—but I won't care. If Ren don't want me . . . . I'll go away. I'll go away."

And then from out of Nora's head there came a woman with a stern expression. She had a riding crop and wore a purple cape. She stood in front of Nora and put her hands on her hips, and she frowned disapprovingly at her. And when she spoke, it was in Nora's voice. "I told you and told you," she said. "I told you, mind Ren because he's such a nice fella and good to you.' But you don't never take no care. You do bad things."

And Nora answered her, "I tried, Glynda, ma'am. I tried and tried. I couldn't help it."

"You never give a thought to Ren," she went on in Nora's voice. "He's been doin' nice things for you all the time. When he got a piece of pancake you always got half or more than half. An' if they was any syrup, why he'd give it all to you."

"I know," said Nora miserably. "I tried, Glynda, ma'am. I tried and tried."

She interrupted her. "All the time he coulda had such a good time if it wasn't for you. He woulda took his pay and raised hell in a pancake house, and he coulda set in a pool room and played snooker. But he got to take care of you."

Nora moaned with grief. "I know, Glynda, ma'am. I'll go right off in the hills and I'll find a cave and I'll live there so I won't be no more trouble to Ren."

"You just say that," she said sharply. "You're always sayin' that, and you know sonofabitching well you ain't never gonna do it. You'll just stick around and irritate the hell out of Ren all the time."

Nora said, "I might just as well go away. Ren isn't gonna let me make any pancakes now."

Glynda was gone, and from out of Nora's head there came a gigantic pancake. It sat in a giant pan in front of her, and it was covered in maple syrup all over and lightly dusted in sugar. And it spoke in Nora's voice too.

"Tend pancakes," it said scornfully. "You crazy bastard. You ain't fit to put the syrup on no pancake. You'd forget it and go hungry. That's what you'd do. And then what would Ren think?"

"I would not forget," Nora said loudly.

"The hell you wouldn't," said the pancake. "You ain't worth a greased jack-pin to ram you into hell. Christ knows Ren done everything he could to jack you outta the sewer, but it don't do no good. If you think Ren's gonna let you tend pancakes, you're even crazier than usual. He ain't. He's gonna beat hell outa you with a stick, that's what he's gonna do."

Now Nora retorted belligerently, "He wouldn't. Ren won't do anything like that. I've known Ren since—I forget when—and he ain't ever raised his hand to me with a stick. He's nice to me. He isn't gonna be mean."

"Well, he's sick of you," said the pancake. "He's gonna beat hell outta you and then go away an' leave you."

"He won't," Nora cried frantically. "He won't do nothing like that. I know Ren. Me and him travel together."

But the pancake repeated softly over and over, "He gonna leave you, ya crazy bastard. He gonna leave ya all alone. He's gonna leave ya, crazy bastard."

Nora put her hands over her ears. "He ain't, I tell ya he ain't." And she cried,

"Oh! Ren—Ren—Ren!"

Ren came quietly out of the brush and the pancake scuttled back into Nora's brain.

Ren said quietly, "What the hell are you yelling about?"

Nora got up on his knees. "You aren't gonna leave me, are you, Ren? I know you aren't."

Ren came stiffly near and sat down beside her. "No."

"I knew it," Nora cried. "You ain't that kind."

Ren was said, "Ren."

"Yeah?"

"I did another bad thing."

"It doesn't make a difference," Ren said, and he fell silent again.

Only the topmost ridges were in the sun now. The shadow in the valley was blue and soft. From the distance came the sound of men shouting to one another. Ren turned his head and listened to the shouts.

Nora said, "Ren."

"Yeah?"

"Aren't you gonna give me hell?"

"Give you hell?"

"Sure, like you always did before. Like, 'If I didn't have you I'd take my fifty Lien—'"

"Jesus Christ, Nora! You can't remember nothing that happens, but you remember every word I say."

"Well, aren't you gonna say it?"

Ren shook himself. He said woodenly, "If I was alone I could live so easy." His voice was monotonous, had no emphasis. "I could get a job and not have a mess." He stopped.

"Go on," said Nora. "And when the end of the month comes—"

"And when the end of the month came I could take my fifty lien and go to a . . . . cat house—" He stopped again.

Nora looked eagerly at him. "Go on, Ren. Aren't you gonna gimme more hell?"

"No," said Ren.

"Well, I can go away," said Nora. "I'll go right off in the hills and find a cave if you don't want me."

Ren shook himself again. "No," he said. "I want you to stay with me here."

Nora said craftily—"Tell me like you done before."

"Tell you what?"

"About the other huntsmen an' about us."

Ren said, "Huntsmen like us got no family. They make a little stake and then they blow it in. They ain't got nobody in the world that gives a hoot in hell about 'em—"

"But not us," Nora cried happily. "Tell about us now."

Ren was quiet for a moment. "But not us," he said.

"Because—"

"Because I got you an'—"

"And I got you. We got each other, that's what, that gives a hoot in hell about us," Nora cried in triumph.

The little evening breeze blew over the clearing and the leaves rustled and the wind waves flowed up the green pool. And the shouts of men sounded again, this time much closer than before.

Ren took off his hat. He said shakily, "Take off your hat, Nora. The air feels fine."

Nora removed her hat dutifully and laid it on the ground in front of her.

The shadow in the valley was bluer, and the evening came fast. On the wind the sound of crashing in the brush came to them.

Nora said, "Tell me how it's gonna be."

Ren had been listening to the distant sounds. For a moment he was businesslike. "Look across the river, Nora, and I'll tell you so you can almost see it."Nora turned her head and looked off across the pool and up the darkening slopes of the Gabilans. "We're gonna get a little place," Ren began. He reached in his side pocket and brought out Gambol Shroud; he snapped off the safety, and the hand and gun lay on the ground behind Nora's back. He looked at the back of Nora's head, at the place where the spine and skull were joined.

A man's voice called from up the river, and another man answered.

"Go on," said Nora.

Ren raised the gun and his hand shook, and he dropped his hand to the ground again.

"Go on," said Nora. "How's it gonna be. We gonna get a little place."

"We'll have a cow," said Ren. "And we'll have maybe a pig and chickens . . . . and down the flat we'll have a . . . . little maple forest-"

"For the syrup," Nora shouted.

"For the syrup," Ren repeated.

"And I get to make the pancakes."

"And you get to make the pancakes."

Nora giggled with happiness. "And live off the syrup of the land."

"Yes."

Nora turned her head.

"No, Nora. Look down there across the river, like you can almost see the place."

Nora obeyed him. Ren looked down at the gun.

There were crashing footsteps in the brush now. Ren turned and looked toward them.

"Go on, Ren. When we gonna do it?"

"Gonna do it soon."

"Me and you."

"You . . . . and me. Everybody is going to be nice to you. There isn't going to be any more trouble. Nobody's going to hurt nobody nor steal from them."

Nora said, "I thought you were mad at me, Ren."

"No," said Ren. "No, Nora. I'm not mad. I've never been mad, and I'm not now. That's a thing I want you to know."

The voices came close now. Ren raised the gun and listened to the voices.

Nora begged, "Let's do it now. Let's get that place now."

"Sure, right now. I have to. We have to."

And Ren raised the gun and steadied it, and he brought the muzzle of it close to the back of Nora's head. The hand shook violently, but his face set and his hand steadied. He pulled the trigger. The crash of the shot rolled up the hills and rolled down again. Nora jarred, and then settled slowly forward to the sand, and she lay without quivering.

Ren shivered and looked at the gun, and then he threw it from him, back up on the bank, near the pile of old ashes.

The brush seemed filled with cries and with the sound of running feet. Jaune's voice shouted. "Ren. Where are you, Ren?"

But Ren sat stiffly on the bank and looked at his right hand that had thrown the gun away. The group burst into the clearing, and Pyrrha was ahead.

She saw Nora lying on the sand. "Got her, by God." She went over and looked down at Nora, and then he looked back at Ren. "Right in the back of the head," she said softly.

Jaune came directly to Ren and sat down beside him, sat very close to him.

"Never you mind," said Jaune. "A guy's got to sometimes."

But Blake was standing over Ren. "How'd you do it?" She asked.

"I just did it," Ren said tiredly.

"Did she have my gun?"

"Yeah. She had your gun."

"And you got it away from her and you took it and you killed her?"

"Yeah. That's how." Ren's voice was almost a whisper. He looked steadily at his right hand that had held the gun.

Jaune twitched Ren's elbow. "Come on, Ren. Me and you are going to get a drink."

Ren let himself be helped to his feet. "Yeah, a drink."

Jaune said, "You had to, Ren. I swear you had to. Come with me." He led Ren into the entrance of the trail and up toward the highway.

Pyrrha and Blake looked after them. And Pyrrha said, "Now what the hell do you suppose is eating them two guys?"

Of Rice and Ren Fin