Tales of Redwall
Lord Brocktree
Episode I TheDays ofUngattTrunn
By
Jon von Nieda
Based on Lord Brocktree, by Brian Jacques
Fade In:
Days of UNGATT TRUNN
SCENE I - EXT. ON THE BEACH OUTSIDE SALAMANDASTRON - MORNING
The western shoreline is seen with waves gently brushing up against the sand. THE GRAND FARGORL, a blue furred ferret with a nose ring and gold sickle hook amulet walks towards the mountain of Salamandastron. The hares are seen going about their daily business.
She keeps her face covered and appears to be sizing up the defenses.
SCENE II - INT. – FORGE ROOM OF SALAMANDASTRON - DAY
Looking outwards from his window, LORD STONEPAW sits in his great chair. In one corner, his bed stands neatly made, unused now for a score of seasons. Clearly he is far too old. He draws his cloak tight against vagrant night chill and squints rheumily out to sea.
FLEETSCUT enters without knocking. He is a respectable hare creaks his way into the chamber. Leaning heavily upon a small serving cart. He pushes the cart forward and fusses hither and thither chatters constantly as he goes about his chores.
FLEETSCUT
Mmmm, no fire lit again, eh, m'lud? Catch your death o' cold one night y'will, mark m'words!
Sparks fly from the flint he strikes against a blade to shower onto dry moss and pine twigs. FLEETSCUT blows wheezily.
A small flame soon appears in the fireplace.
FLEETSCUT (CONT'D)
Hmmm, that's better, wot? C'mon, get this supper down. You've got to blinkin' well eat to live, y'know!
LORD STONEPAW
Leave me alone, FLEETSCUT. I'll have it later.
FLEETSCUT
No y'won't, sire, you'll flippin' well have it now! I ain't goin' t'the bother o' luggin' vittles from the kitchen to watch you let 'em go cold. Hot veggible soup an' fresh bread, that'll do you the world o' good, wot!
LORD STONEPAW
(Sighs with resignation)
Oh, give your tongue a rest. I'll take the soup. Bread's no good t'me, though. Too crusty—hurts my gums.
FLEETSCUT draws his dagger and trims the crusts from the warm oven loaf.
FLEETSCUT
No crusts now, wot? Dip it in your soup, m'lud.
LORD STONEPAW blows on the small spoonful clutched in his shaking paw and carefully guides it to his mouth
LORD STONEPAW
(Silent for a moment)
Huh, look at us. Me, Stonepaw, hardly able to hold a spoon with the same paws that used to lift huge boulders, and you, FLEETSCUT, doddering 'round with a trolley!
FLEETSCUT nudges his old friend.
FLEETSCUT
(Cackles)
Heh heh heh! Mebbe so, but I can still remember the days when I could leap three times as high as that trolley, aye, an' run from dawn to dusk without stoppin' to draw breath. Wasn't a bally hare on the mountain could even stay with my dust trail! Those were the seasons, wot! You, too, Stonepaw. I saw you lift boulders bigger'n yourself when we were young, you could break spears an' bend swords with your bare paws…
LORD STONEPAW
(Gazes ruefully at his paws)
That may have been, my old messmate, but look at my paws now, silver-furred, battered, scarred and so full of aches and pains that they're no good for anything!
FLEETSCUT
So what's the blinkin' problem? Everybeast has t'grow old, nothin' can stop that. We've had a long an' good life, you'n'me, fought our battles, protected the western coast against all comers, an' never once backed off from any fight. There's been peace now for as long as any creature on the mountain can remember. What're you worryin' about, sire?
LORD STONEPAW grunts, rises slowly from his chair, and joins his companion at the window. He stares out at the darkened waters.
LORD STONEPAW
Peace has gone on too long. Something inside me says that trouble such as these shores have never known is headed our way. I wished that we could live our days out without having to take up arms again, FLEETSCUT, but deep down I'm stone cold certain it won't happen. Worst part of it is that I can't even guess what the future holds.
FLEETSCUT
(Looks strangely at the LORD STONEPAW)
Sire, I know exactly how you feel. Matter o' fact, I was thinkin' those very thoughts this afternoon, and that's the general feelin' in the mess. Old Blench, the cook, said to me: 'Looks like evil comin' soon.' She says: 'See for yourself, there ain't a sight or sound of a single bird anywhere on land or sea!'
LORD STONEPAW
(Strokes his long silver beard thoughtfully) Blench was right, too, now you come to mention it. Where do you suppose all the birds have gone? The skies are usually thick with gulls, cormorants, petrels and shearwaters in late spring.
FLEETSCUT
(Shrugs expressively)
Who knows what goes on in the mind of a seabird? Maybe they know things we don't. Stands t'reason, though, sire,—why should they hang about if they know somethin' bad is due to come here?
LORD STONEPAW
(Smiles fondly at his old friend)
Why indeed? They have no duty to protect this coast and they can always build nests elsewhere. Leave me now, I'll talk to you on the morrow. There are things I must do.
FLEETSCUT bobs a stiff bow as he leaves the chamber, and pushes his trolley in front of him.
LORD STONEPAW makes his way to the secret chamber where countless other Badger Rulers of Salamandastron had gone to dream mysterious dreams. There is a supernatural atmosphere, though not unpleasant. Ranged around the walls of the inner chamber were lines of little carvings, telling of the mountain's history. Guarding it in fearsome armored array stood the mummified bodies, still in battle armor, of past Badger Warriors: Urthrun the Gripper, Spearlady Gorse, Bluestripe the Wild, Ceteruler the Just and many other legendary figures.
From his own lantern, Stonepaw lights three others on the walls. Then he takes a pawful of herbs from a shelf and sprinkles them into the lantern vents. The sweet-smelling smoke wreaths him.
He sits down upon a carved rock throne nearby and closes both eyes. Breathing in deeply, he enters into a trance.
LORD STONEPAW
If the gates of Dark Forest lie open for me soon, if the shadow of evil darkens our western shores, who will serve in my stead? My hares are scattered far and wide. Peacetime makes young warriors restless; they are gone questing afar for adventure. Only the old guard are left here with me on this mountain, dim of eye and feeble of limb, the seasons of their strength long flown.
His eyes began flickering. The herbal smoke swirls about his great silver head. He sits up straight, his voice echoes around the rockbound cavern.
LORD STONEPAW (CONT'D)
Where is the strongest of the strong? Who can be so perilous that a force of fighting hares will rise and follow that creature? Is there a badger roaming the earth brave and mighty enough to become Lord of Salamandastron?
SCENE III - EXT. MOSSFLOWER WOODS - DAY
DOTTI, the hare maid, walks straight into trouble consisting of DRIGG SLOPMOUTH and his brood, numbered thirteen in all. Nasty, vicious stoats every one.
DOTTI
(Nods amiably at the brood)
Good mornin', chaps an' chappesses. Not a bad old sort o' day for the time of season, wot!
A snigger rises from the stoats.
RANKFUR
Lookit wot we caught, DRIGG—a posh rabbit!
DOTTI
(Rounds on RANKFUR, haughtily)
Specifically incorrect, doncha know, my old stoatess. I'm a hare, not a rabbit. Now say it correctly after me. Lookit wot we caught, DRIGG—a posh hare.
DRIGG steps between them.
DRIGG
(Points to the traveling haversack)
Empty yer bag on the ground!
DOTTI
(Smiles sweetly at him)
Oh, I'd rather not, sir. It'd take me half the day to get the jolly old thing repacked, wot!
DULLEYES
Then tell us wot you got in yer bag, an' don't say it isn't nothin'.
DOTTI
(Chuckles reprovingly)
You mean don't say it isn't anything. Dearie me, I'll bet you never attended woodland school.
DULLEYES paws at a long dagger he wore hanging from his belt.
DULLEYES
(Snarls)
Just show us wot's in the bag, rabbit!
DOTTI
(Wags a paw at him)
There you go again with that rabbit error. Did I call you a stoat? Of course I didn't. It's obvious to anybeast you're an oversized toad. Oh, sorry, the bag. Here, you take it!
Then DOTTI swings the bag hard. A cracking noise as it struck the stoat's head, laying him out flat. She whirls upon the others, a perilous glint in her eyes.
DOTTI
I can forgive bad grammar and insults, but that was a good flagon of old cider, a gift for my aunt Blench, an' that oaf has just broken it with his head. Unforgivable! Ah well, there's only one thing I've got left to say to you lot… Eulaaaliiiaaaaaa!
DOTTI hurls herself upon the would-be robbers, laying about her with her bag left and right, leaping and kicking out fiercely with powerful, rangy footpaws. She holds her own, despite the number of vermin she was facing.
From the shelter of a broad beech nearby, LORD BROCKTREE, a large badger in his middle seasons, watches the melee. He chuckles quietly.
DOTTI accounts for three more stoats and is in the process of depriving the fat, frowsy one of her remaining snaggle teeth when DRIGG caught her footpaws in a noose. The haremaid is yanked off balance and floored as three stoats leapt upon her back.
DRIGG draws a sharp double-edged dagger and circles his fallen victim.
DRIGG
(Calling to those on top of DOTTI)
Get 'er on 'er back an' stretch 'er neck, so's I can get a stab in. 'Old 'er still, ye blitherin' oafs!
Stepping from his position behind the beech tree, LORD BROCKTREE enters in time to step in and help DOTTI.
DRIGG screeches in terror as he is lifted into the air and used as a club to knock the other stoats willy-nilly. His flailing paws sweep vermin left and right. The wind is knocked from him as his stomach connected with the back of another. Stars explode when his head cracks against the jaw of a hefty young stoat.
DOTTI scrambles upright swinging her bag but there was nobeast to strike
Vermin lie everywhere, those still conscious moaning aloud, nursing their injuries.
DRIGG still hangs, half dazed, from the paw of a mighty male badger, an immense double-hilted battle sword at his back. He tossed DRIGG aside like a discarded washrag.
LORD BROCKTREE
(Nods sternly at DOTTI)
I've been watching you awhile from behind yon beech. For a young 'un you were doing well, until they came at you from behind. Remember, if there's more than one enemy always get your back against a rock or a tree.
She kicks over a stoat who was struggling to rise.
DOTTI
(Addressing LORD BROCKTREE none too cordially)
Well you've got a bally nerve I must say, tellin' a gel how t'conduct her battles, while you sit hidden on the blinkin' sidelines watchin'. Are you sure it wasn't too much bother, havin' to jolly well get off your bottom an' help me out?
LORD BROCKTREE
(Shrugs noncommittally)
As I said, I thought you were doing quite well. If I'd thought you could have taken them single-pawed I wouldn't have stepped in.
DOTTI
(Smiles, scratches ruefully at her long ears) Hmm, suppose you're right. I lost my head a bit when that flagon of rare old cider got broken. Confounded stoat must have a noggin like a boulder. Never lose one's temper, that's what my old mum used t'say.
LORD BROCKTREE nods sagely, then carelessly steps on DRIGG's tail as the stoat tried to crawl away.
LORD BROCKTREE
She sounds like a wise creature to me. Pity you never heeded her words. By the way, my name's LORD BROCKTREE.
DOTTI
(Claps a paw to her cheek)
Oh my giddy aunt! I do apologize for speakin' to you in that sharp manner, sah. I didn't know you were a Badger Lord!
LORD BROCKTREE
(A ghost of a smile hovers around LORD BROCKTREE'S stern face)
No matter. You were upset at the time. What do they call you, miss?
DOTTI
(Does an elegant leg, half bow, half curtsy)
Dorothea Duckfontein Dillworthy at y'service, sah, but I'm generally called DOTTI, though my papa always said you could call me anything as long as you didn't call me late for lunch. 'Scuse me a tick…
RANKFUR slowly rises and prepares to make a run for it.
DOTTI reflattens her with a well-placed swing of her bag. Gestures at DRIGG's band.
DOTTI (CONT'D)
What do we do with this covey of curmudgeons, m'lord?
With a fearsome swish. LORD BROCKTREE draws his sword his great battle sword. It is almost as tall as himself, with a blade wide as two dock leaves.
A moan of fear rises from the STOATS.
Holding it single-pawed between the double hilt, LORD BROCKTREE swings the huge weapon, making the air thrum like a swan taking off into flight. It makes a loud whumping sound as he buries the point deep in the earth.
LORD BROCKTREE
(Dropping voice to a dangerous growl, addresses the cowed vermin)
I save my sword for proper combat with real warriors. Scum such as you would only dishonor its blade. But I will make exceptions if any of you are still within my sight by the time I have counted to three. Remember, I always keep my word…One!
DOTTI is bowled over in the mad scramble.
Before the Badger Lord counts further, DRIGG SLOPMOUTH and his wicked brood vanish.
DOTTI
(Chuckles)
By gum, that's what I should've done in the first place. Pity I didn't have a sword like this one. What a smashin' old destroyer it is!
Tugging with both paws, and unearthing the blade, she falls over backward under its colossal weight.
DOTTI (CONT'D)
Flamin' sunsets, sah! How d'you handle a weapon like this?
LORD BROCKTREE picks up his sword and twirls it in a warrior's salute before stowing it one-pawed across his broad back.
LORD BROCKTREE
(Nods seriously at her)
Strength, I suppose. They say I was born even stronger than my father, LORD STONEPAW.
DOTTI
(Flops her ears understandingly)
I know what y'mean. Beauty's always been my curse—they say I was born more beautiful than the jolly old settin' sun at solstice. That's prob'ly what made those blinkin' stoats attack me—somebeasts take beauty as a sign o' weakness, y'know. I say, did you mention that old LORD STONEPAW was your pater?
LORD BROCKTREE retrieves his traveling bag from behind the beech tree and shoulders it.
LORD BROCKTREE
I did. Why, do you know of him?
DOTTI pulls a face, then scuffs the dust with her footpaw.
DOTTI
I should bally well say so. I'm bein' sent to his blinkin' old mountain, Sallawotjacallit…
LORD BROCKTREE
Salamandastron?
DOTTI
Aye, that's the place. My aunt Blench is the chief cook there. I believe she's a right old battleaxe.
LORD BROCKTREE seats himself with his back against the beech tree. Then he unpacks provisions from his bulky haversack.
LORD BROCKTREE
Sit down here by me, DOTTI. D'you like oatcakes, cheese and elderflower cordial?
DOTTI
(Plonks herself willingly on the grass)
Rather! I haven't eaten for absolute ages—almost an hour, I think. Mmmm, that cheese looks good!
LORD BROCKTREE
(Unable to resist smile at the hungry youngster) Well, there's plenty for two, miss. Help yourself and we'll exchange our stories, you first. Tell me, why are you being sent to Salamandastron?
SCENE IV - EXT. SALAMANDASTRON – ON THE BEACH – AN HOUR BEFORE DAWN
STIFFENER MEDICK, an old boxing hare, is just completing his daily exercise on the sands above the tideline. Though he was well on in seasons, Stiffener never neglected his daily routine. He had finished his dawn run, lifted stone and log weights, and was on to the final part of his duck and weave drill. Throws a final few combination jabs into the mist. Retrieving his champion's belt from a rock and began fastening it about his hard-muscled waist. His scarred ears pick up an unfamiliar sound on the ebbing tide. Batting at his nose with a loose-clenched paw, he jogged down to the water.
A narrow sailing boat, with its sail furled, was being rowed in by a dozen big rats, their fur dyed dark blue. A cloaked figure stood at its prow as it cut through the sea mist. As the keel scraped on the sand, the craft noses up onto the beach. Shipping their oars, the rats silently piled out and threw themselves prone upon the wet sand. Without a glance at them, a gowned and cowled figure used them as a bridge to reach dry land without wetting its elegantly shod footpaws, treading carelessly upon their upturned backs.
STIFFENER MEDICK stands his ground, ready for trouble. He nods toward the newcomer aggressively.
STIFFENER MEDICK
Ahoy there, mate, who are ye an' what do ye want 'ere?
One of the rats rises and walks over to face Stiffener.
He is a big, evil-looking creature, clad in armor under a tabard embroidered with a sickle hook insignia.
RAT CAPTAIN
(Heavy with contempt)Koyah! Creatures of the lower orders are not allowed to speak with THE GRAND FARGORL. Kneel before her and stay silent until I address ye further!
STIFFENER MEDICK
(Smiles dangerously at the RAT CAPTAIN)
I think you'd better kneel t'me, laddie buck A lesson in good manners wouldn't go amiss in your case.
STIFFENER MEDICK then gives him a smart whack to the jaw causes the rat to totter groggily. He clubs down with his left paw on the rat's shoulder, forcing him into a kneeling position. Suddenly the boxing hare is hemmed in on all sides by the swords of the other rats.
The RAT CAPTAIN looks toward the hooded figure, who makes a few gestures with its shrouded paws.
RAT CAPTAIN
(Turns back to STIFFENER MEDICK)
Nobeast ever raises paw to the Chosen Ones and lives. You are fortunate that THE GRAND FARGORL has spared your miserable life, for she wishes to deliver a message to your chief, he who rules the mountain. You will take us to him.
STIFFENER MEDICK is not about to argue with twelve blades. He nods to the cloaked figure.
STIFFENER MEDICK
(Turns to go)
Y'best foller me, marm. I'll take ye to LORD STONEPAW, though I doubt he'll offer yer breakfast if'n yore bound to keep actin' all 'igh an' mighty.
SCENE V - INT. PRIVATE CHAMBERS OF LORD STONEPAW – SALAMANDASTRON - MORNING
LORD STONEPAW turns from the fogbound view at his window, the old badger raised his hoary eyebrows at the absence of a trolley.
LORD STONEPAW
No breakfast today? Has Blench overslept?
FLEETSCUT
(Bows stiffly, grave-faced)
I think the trouble we were talkin' about has finally arrived, m'lud. Somebeast t'see you down at the shore entrance. You'd best get dressed for company.
Wordlessly, LORD STONEPAW allows his retainer to select a flowing green robe from the closet. He shrugs out of his nightgown.
FLEETSCUT climbs on a chair and assists his master to get into the robe.
FLEETSCUT (CONT'D)
Hmm. I'll get your red belt to go with that, an' maybe a war helmet an' javelin.
LORD STONEPAW
(Ignores the selection) Bring my white cord girdle. No helmet, it keeps slipping over my eyes. There's no need of a javelin, either.
He picks up a long ceremonial mace then surveys himself in a long copper mirror.
LORD STONEPAW (CONT'D)
Get Stiffener, Bungworthy, Sailears and Trobee. They can accompany me.
SCENE VI - EXT. ON THE SLOPES OF SALAMANDASTRON - MORNING
Now that dawn light was clearer and the mist had begun to disperse, one or two of the old hares watching from vantage windows in the mountain remarked on the curious appearance of the rats and their cloaked leader below.
Starbright
Stap m'whiskers, they're blue!
Fleetfoot
Must be somethin' wrong with your eyes, old chap. Whoever heard o' blue rats?
Starbright
I know, but, look, their fur is a sort o' darkish Can't tell what the dickens color that one with the cloak on is. Sinister-lookin' bod, wot?
BLENCH takes a final look before going off to supervise breakfast with her kitchen helpers.
Blench
Pink, blue or rainbow-colored, that lot down there look like trouble, you mark my words!
SCENE VII - EXT. OUTSIDE MAIN ENTRANCE TO SALAMANDASTRON - MORNING
The heavily robed figure of THE GRAND FARGORL stands immobile and mysterious.
The RAT CAPTAIN who had challenged STIFFENER paces up and down impatiently.
After a lengthy while, LORD STONEPAW and his retinue of four hares, all carrying javelins, appears.
The spokesrat swaggers forward while toying arrogantly with his sword hilt. Looks Stonepaw up and down.
RAT CAPTAIN
Are you the one in charge here? Speak!
LORD STONEPAW brushes past him as if he's not even there. Then he imperiously points a great gnarled paw at THE GRAND FARGORL.
LORD STONEPAW
(Demanding imperiously) Who are you and why do you trespass upon the western shore with armed soldiers?
Removing the cowl of her cloak THE GRAND FARGORL reveals herself dramatically.
THE GRAND FARGORL
(Haughtily of one used to being obeyed) I am Grand Fragorl to Ungatt Trunn, Ruler of the Earth. You are one of the inferior species, but he has given me permission to deliver his message to you.
LORD STONEPAW's hackles begin to rise.
LORD STONEPAW
(Growling) Inferior species, eh? Stand here talking like that to me, vermin, and you'll be crabmeat before the mist lifts fully. Aye, and your rats, too. If you have something to say, then spit it out and begone while I'm still in a reasonable mood. So, speak your piece now!
THE GRAND FARGORL draws a scroll from her robe.
Grand Fragorl
(Reading aloud)
Be it known to all creatures of lowly order, the days of Ungatt Trunn are here. All of these lands and the seas that skirt them are from hereon in his property. You have until nightfall to vacate this place. You must take nothing with you, neither victuals nor weapons. You will also leave behind you any serving beasts who are of use. This is the will and the law of Ungatt Trunn, he who holds the power to make the stars fall from the sky and the earth to tremble. Obey or die!
STIFFENER MEDICK
(Raises his javelin ready to throw)
Just say the word, m'lud, an' we'll give 'em blood'n'vinegar. Us lower orders are pretty good at things like that, y'know!
LORD STONEPAW
(Touches Stiffener's javelin so that it points down to the sand then heaves a sigh of resignation)
Deliver this message back to whatever lunatic scum you serve. Tell him that LORD STONEPAW of Salamandastron is accustomed to the blowing of windbags, as your master will find to his cost if he dares to land here. Now get out of my sight and take those blue-painted idiots with you!
Wordlessly THE GRAND FARGORL and her soldiers retreat to their boat and row off into the mists.
SAILEARS, a garrulous old female warrior, twirls her lance nonchalantly.
SAILEARS
Nice little parlay, wot. Well, is that it?
LORD STONEPAW shakes his grizzled old head then turns and stumps back into his beloved mountain.
LORD STONEPAW
I wish it was, friend. I wish it was!
SCENE VIII - EXT. MOSSFLOWER WOODS - DAY
LORD BROCKTREE listens with amusement.
DOTTI
Well, sah, what with one bally thing or another, I was always in trouble back home in the mideastern hills. If a confounded pie went missin' from a windowsill, or somebeast had bin at the cider store, guess who got the blinkin' blame? Me! Troublecauser, rabblerouser, scoff-swiper—I've been called all of those, y'know. Not t'mention frogwalloper an' butter wouldn't melt in me mouth. Fiddle de dee, I say, 'twas all because of my fatal beauty. They always pick on the pretty ones, I've already told you that. Anyhow, just after Grandpa's whiskers went afire an' some villain tore the seat out of Uncle Septimus's britches, my dear old parents made a decision. Here, cast your lordly peepers over this little scrawl!
DOTTI digs a tattered barkcloth letter from her armbag.
LORD BROCKTREE's dark eyes twinkles as he read it silently
Daphne Duckfontein Dillworthy (V.O.)
Dear Sister Blench,
Cramsy and I can no longer put up with Dorothea, so I am sending her to you. Your Badger Lord has our permission to deal with the wretch as he sees fit, short of slaying her; you also may do likewise. Please keep her captive upon your mountain until such time as she is civilized enough to live among decent creatures. Teach her to cook and other domestic skills. I know it is too much to ask that she be taught etiquette, deportment and other maidenly pursuits—she is a fiend in hare's fur, believe me. Sister dear, I implore you to take her off our paws while we still have a roof over our heads, which are gray with care and worry. I would be fibbing if I said Dorothea does not eat much. She is an empty sack with legs—her appetite would frighten a flock of seagulls. Grant her father and me this one favor, and you will have our heartfelt thanks, plus the beaded shawl Mother passed down to me and a flagon of palest old cider from Cramsy's drinks cabinet. Please write to let me know she has arrived safely, and if she does not return by winter I will take it that she has settled down to her new life. Cramsy sends his love to you, Blench. I remain your devoted sister.
Signed,
Daphne Duckfontein Dillworthy.
LORD BROCKTREE turns his head aside and wipe his eyes on a spotted kerchief, to keep from laughing.
DOTTI surmises that he was wiping away tears and nods sympathetically.
DOTTI
Sad, ain't it, sah, the woeful tale of a fatal beauty. I say, did you get chucked out by your parents, too? You'll forgive me sayin', but a chap of your size must've taken some bally chuckin', wot wot?
LORD BROCKTREE
(Pats his young friend's paw)
No no, 'twas nothing like that, DOTTI. I was restless, just like all Badger Lords before me. It grieved me to leave behind my young son. Boar the Fighter I named him. A badger's son is his pride and joy, when he is a babe. But he must grow up, and it is a fact that two male badgers cannot live together in peace, especially Badger Lords, for that is what Boar will grow to be one day. So I had to observe the unwritten law. I left Brockhall and began roaming, to follow my dream.
DOTTI
(Carefully stows the letter back in her bag) Beg pardon, sah, but what dream is that?
LORD BROCKTREE unshoulders his battle blade he begins whetting its edge on a smooth rock, even though it looks as keen as a razor.
LORD BROCKTREE
A vision I see in my mind's eye, sometimes when I'm awake, or other times when I sleep. It must have been the same picture that other badgers have dreamed. A mountain that once shot forth flames and molten rock, older than time itself, its fires now gone. Waiting, always waiting for me on the shores of a great ocean. I could not describe the way to Salamandastron, for that is what I know the mountain is called, nor could I draw a map of the route. But something in my brain, my very heart, is guiding me there.
DOTTI
(Interrupts perkily) Oh, sooper dooper, sah! I'm glad you know the flippin' way. I haven't got a confounded clue, only that it's someplace down on the western shores. Oh, beg pardon, sah. Didn't mean to butt in on you. Bad form, wot?
LORD BROCKTREE
(Smiles at his young companion, then ruffles her ears indulgently)
We'll find it together, young 'un. You're right, 'tis on the western shores. In my dreams I've seen the sun setting in the seas beyond the mountain. But my feelings tell me that the place for which we are bound will have great need of a Badger Lord. One who will not shrink from evil and cruelty, a warrior ready to stand and fight!
DOTTI
(Chuckles and interrupts again) Well, your jolly old feelin's have no further to look than yourself, sah. You look like the very badger t'do the job, an' y'come ready equipped with that bloomin' great monstrosity y'call a sword!
LORD BROCKTREE squints one eye and peers down the mighty blade, its deadly double edge keener than midwinter.
LORD BROCKTREE
Aye, I think it will have its work well cut out when the time comes. That face, the one which visits and disturbs my slumbers…I have seen nothing like it, the face that turns dreams to haunting nightmares!
DOTTI
(Shudders visibly)
Great seasons, what face is that, sah?
LORD BROCKTREE
Nothing I want to talk more about, young 'un. Now, no more questions, please. We'll make camp here. There's a brook beyond that tall elm yonder—you go and fill this bowl with water while I get a small fire going. Come on now, DOTTI, stir your stumps. You'll have to shape up if you want to travel with me!
DOTTI springs up and grabs the bowl from LORD BROCKTREE's big paws.
DOTTI
(Salutes smartly in a comical manner)
Brook beyond tall elm! Fill bowl with water! Yes sah! Three bags full sah! Goin' right away sah! About turn, quick march! One two hup!
DOTTI struts off, trips and sends the bowl flying. She catches it clumsily and grins back at Brocktree.
LORD BROCKTREE watches.
DOTTI (CONT'D)
Good wheeze, sendin' me for water, wot? If you'd told me to light a fire I'd have prob'ly sent the whole forest up in flames. Not too clever at fires, doncha know!
LORD BROCKTREE
(Takes out his tinderbox, murmurs to himself)
At least she can't flood the forest with a single bowlful o' water, but who knows? Ah well, at least she's company for a lone traveler.
SCENE IX - EXT. MOSSFLOWER WOODS – DUSK
Flickering shadows from the fire hovers about the woodland glade; somewhere close by a nightjar warbles in the branches of a sycamore.
DOTTI
(Scrapes a wooden ladle around the empty bowl then licks it clean)
Confounded good soup that was, sah. Can all Badger Lords cook as well as you do? Mebbe you'd best fire my aunt Blench an' promote y'self to head cook when we get to Salamathingee, wot?
LORD BROCKTREE
(Hoods his eyes in mock ferocity)
If I do become head cook I'll make sure that you get lots of sticky, greasy pots to wash, young miss!
DOTTI
(Rummages in her bag)
If the scoff tastes as good as that I'll lick 'em all shinin' clean. Least I can do is to render you a little ditty to aid your digestion, sah." The badger folded his paws across his stomach. "Aye, that'd be nice. Carry on." DOTTI peered into the bag as she rooted around in its interior. "Oh corks, half the beads have fallen off this blinkin' shawl the mater gave me for Aunt Blench. It's absolutely soaked with cider, too. Aha! Here's me faithful old harecordion. A few of the keys'n'reeds are stickin', but that cider may have loosened 'em up a touch. Right, here goes, pin y'ears back and get ready for a treat. Wot?"
The instrument DOTTI plays on sounds like ten chattering squirrels swinging on a rusty gate. She plays and sings blithely.
LORD BROCKTREE squinches both eyes shut as she sings.
DOTTI
(Sings in a voice worse than a frog trapped beneath a hot stone would have been a great injustice, to both frog and stone)
I am but a broken-hearted maid
My tale I'll tell to you
As I sit alone in this woodland glade
Yearnin' for a pudden or two.
I hi hi hi, si hi hi hi hi hiiiiiing!
DOTTI (CONT'D V.O.)
Whack folly doodle ho, whoops cum whang
The greatest song my grandma sang
Was to her fam'ly of twenty-three
Ho dish up the pudden, save some for me!
'Twas made from fruit an' arrowroot
Hard pears an' apples, too, Some honey that
the bees chucked out, That set as hard as glue, Some comfrey leaf an' bulrush sheaf
An' damsons sour as ever
She stirred the lot in a big old pot
While we sang 'Fail me never.'
When all of a sudden Grandma's pudden,
Burst right out the pot
Round as a boulder, not much older,
Fifty times as hot! It shot down the road
laid out a toad,
An' knocked two hedgehogs flat Splashed in the lake an' slew a snake,
An' the frogs cried 'Wot was that?'
Oh deary me calamity, oh woe an' lack a day,
Without a pudden to my name I'll sit an' pine away…awaaaaaay Whack foholly doohoohoodelll daaaayeeeeeee!
DOTTI makes her ears stand rigid on the last note to add effect, then flutters her eyelids dramatically. Then squeezes the harecordion finally shut when its bellows shot forth a stream of old pale cider, right up her nose. She sneezes, then curtsies awkwardly.
DOTTI (CONT'D)
Whoo! That cleared my head. Shall I sing you another of my ditties, sah?
LORD BROCKTREE
(Demurs) No, DOTTI, please. You must save your voice for another evening. Now you should get some rest. Here, take my cloak.
DOTTI settles down with the cloak swathed around her like a huge collapsed tent.
DOTTI
(Sighs)
Funny thing, y'know, my voice has that effect on many creatures. You should thank the stars that you were born just a plain old Badger Lord. That's the trouble with bein' a fatal beauty with a voice that's too fine t'be heard more than once a night. Hmm, it affected my dad so much that he said once in a lifetime was sufficient for him. Good job you ain't like him, sah. At least I can sing to you once every night, wot!
LORD BROCKTREE
(Turns his back to her, winces)
Well, perhaps not every single night. Don't want to strain a beautiful voice, do we?
DOTTI
(Closes her eyes snuggles down in the cloak)
Let's just say I'll sing to you whenever I feel up to it. Good night, Brocktree sah. I say, can I call you Brockers?
LORD BROCKTREE
(Stifles any argument based on the tone of his voice)
You certainly cannot, miss. Huh, the very idea of it! Brockers! Good night!
SCENE X - EXT. MOSSFLOWER WOODS –- morning
Morning sun breaks cheerfully down upon the little camp, the twittering of birdsong causing DOTTI to poke her head out of the cloak folds. Blue smoke rises in a thin column amid the dappled sunshadows cast by trees in full spring leaf. LORD BROCKTREE is turning oatcakes over on a flat stone, which was laid upon the fire he had rekindled.
LORD BROCKTREE
(Shakes his head reprovingly)
Dawn has been up two hours, miss. Are you going to lie there all day?
DOTTI yawns, stretches and lollopes over to the fire.
DOTTI
(Helps herself to hot oatcakes and mint tea, sweetened with honey. Mutters to herself)
It's the confounded beauty sleep, that's what 'tis. My mater was always sayin' to me when I came down late for breakfast, 'Been takin' your beauty sleep again, m'gel.' I say, these oatcakes are spiffin' when they're hot. Well, sah, which way do your voices say we go today, wot?
LORD BROCKTREE
(Recovers his cloak and bundles it into his haversack) I think we should follow the course of that brook, where you got the water from. Sooner or later it'll bring us to a stream.
DOTTI rescues the oatcakes just in time as Brocktree doused the fire and breaks camp. She stuffs items in her bag and hopskipps behind him. She then slops mint tea about and bolts oatcakes as she breakfasted on the move.
LORD BROCKTREE douses the fire and broke camp.
DOTTI
Question, sah, why are we lookin' for a stream?
LORD BROCKTREE
(Without looking back) Streams always run to rivers, rivers run to the sea. That way we find the shoreline and follow it south. Sooner or later we'll come to the mountain on the west shore. Save your breath for marching, young 'un.
SCENE XI - EXT. MOSSFLOWER WOODS – midmorning
DOTTI is hungry, pawsore and had nearly talked herself out, though to no effect.
EXT. MOSSFLOWER WOODS – DOTTI's POV
All she sees is the badger's broad, cloaked back with the great sword slung across it in front of her.
EXT. MOSSFLOWER WOODS - midmorning
DOTTI
(Stumbles and barks her footpaw upon a willow root as they followed the meandering brook)
Yowowch! Ohh, I've gone an' broke a limb. The pain's shootin' right up to my bally eartips!
LORD BROCKTREE gives no reply, either sympathetic or otherwise he merely trudges onward.
A ladybird lights on DOTTI's shoulder)
DOTTI (CONT'D)
(Lamenting to the ladybird)
Might have to borrow that big sword an' chop off me blinkin' footpaw. If I find the right piece o' wood I should be able to carve another to hop along on. Breakfast was ages ago, ages an' ages an' ages! I'll bet lots of poor beasts die of starvation, havin' to walk along for days'n'days behind big rotten ole badgers who never say a flippin' word!
LORD BROCKTREE bites his lip hard to keep from chuckling.
DOTTI
Now if I was a badger I'd talk all the time, in fact I'd make it me duty to talk to nice friendly haremaids. Oh dearie me, I'd say, hurt your footpaw, Dotti? Here, let me cut it off with my sword. You can ride up on my back until I find a log to chop up an' make you a new one.
LORD BROCKTREE halts without warning.
DOTTI walks straight into his back, still chunnering to herself.
LORD BROCKTREE
(Turns) There's the stream up ahead, missie. You can sit on the bank an' cool your paw in the water. That'll make it feel a lot better, and while you do that I'll get lunch ready for us.
With a deft motion LORD BROCKTREE draws his great battle blade.
LORD BROCKTREE (CONT'D)
But I can always oblige by doing as you wish. Here, hold out your footpaw an' I'll chop it off!
DOTTI
(Shoots past him for the streambank, Yelling)
Yah, I'd chop both your bloomin' great footpaws off if I could lift that sword. At least it'd slow you down a bit. Lord Paw-whacker they should've called you!
DOTTI softens as she sits cooling her footpaws in the shade of a tree, letting the soothing stream work its magic as she ate lunch.
LORD BROCKTREE gathers some early berries and mixes them with chopped apple and hazelnuts from his pack, which made a delicious fruit salad with a syrup of honey and streamwater poured over them. He gives her dock leaves and waterweed he had collected along the streambank.
LORD BROCKTREE
If your paw's still sore, bind it with these. That will fix it up.
DOTTI
(Takes the badger's face in both paws, murmers) Look straight at me, sah, pretend I'm thankin' you. Now don't look over, but there's a willow overhangin' the water the other side o' the stream. Don't look! There's somebeast in there watchin' us!
LORD BROCKTREE
(Straightens up, winks swiftly at her)
Oh, right. I'll look further down the bank, see if I can find you some bigger dock leaves. Sit an' rest, I'll not be long.
LORD BROCKTREE strides off down the bank. He disappears around a bend.
DOTTI takes care not to stare back, she acts as though she is completely unaware of the presence of an eavesdropper. She takes out the harecordion out of her bag and places it in the warm sunlight to dry out and dangles her footpaws in the clear, cool current, the haremaid hummed a little tune to herself, flicking the odd secret glance across the stream.
DOTTI pauses – Thinks to herself: I am completely alone, a tranquil setting such as this would have been the ideal place to while away the sunny spring midday.
The peace is short-lived.
Amid sudden howls and roars the overhanging willow seemed to explode in a shower of leaves and twigs. Foliage scattered across the stream surface as two burly forms smashed through the tree cover and crashed heavily into the water. DOTTI hurled herself into the stream! Whirling her bag aloft.
DOTTI
Hang on, sah, I'm comin'! Eulaliiiiaaaa!
SCENE XII – EXT. WESTERN SHORES – SHIP - AFTERNOON
Off the coasts a heavy fog persists. The afternoon had not fulfilled the morning's promise. Beneath a dirty white sky, layers of mist sat unmoved on a still sea, its oily waveless swell lapping tiredly against the hull of a large barnacle-crusted ship, whose single sail hung furled.
A small boat hove alongside. A canvas sling is lowered silently from the ship. THE GRAND FARGORL climbs into a canvas sling. She nods. She is hoisted swiftly aboard. An aisle appears amidst the blue-furred rats who crowd the deck. Silently she climbs out and make her way through to the stern cabin.
SCENE XIII – INT. ABOARD THE BLOODWAKE, UNGATT TRUNN'S STATEROOM - AFTERNOON
The interior of UNGATT TRUNN's stateroom resembles the stuff of which nightmares are made. Dangling from thick chains, deep copper bowls contain fire that burns blue and gives off a heavy lilac-colored smoke. Oppressive heat envelopes the cabin, heightening the nauseous stench of rotting flesh. Huge cobwebs festoon every corner, spreading up over the deckheads, sit aquiver by fat hairy forms which scuttle back and forth after the flies that buzzed everywhere.
THE GRAND FARGORL carefully avoids the webs and makes her way to the cabin's center and prostrates herself, facedown, with one paw raised in the air.
Two other creatures sit in silence watching her.
One is GRODDIL, High Magician to Ungatt Trunn, a small silver-furred fox, its growth stunted by some terrible accident, giving it a shriveled appearance.
GRODDIL, holds a quill pen awkwardly in its crabbed paw. He is seated at a table where he had been peering through thick, crystal-lensed eyeglasses at various scrolls piled upon the tabletop. Then he turns his eyes from THE GRAND FARGORL. He sits, watching his master for a sign.
Only the tail of UNGATT TRUNN moves. It's a black-ringed and yellowish grey with a thick, rounded tip, it seemed to possess a life of its own, swishing back and forth behind UNGATT TRUNN's chair.
The fiercest of warriors, UNGATT TRUNN has no time for personal fripperies, but is dressed like any plain fighter: chain mail tunic, two iron bracelets and a mail-fringed steel helmet surmounted by a spike. Yet anyone only had to look at him to see that here was a ruthless conqueror. Beneath the striped brow, permanently creased in a frown, the wildcat's fearsome black and gold eyes remained hooded and unblinking, his stiff white whiskers overhanging two sharp amber fangs, which showed even when his mouth was shut.
UNGATT TRUNN stares at the prone ferret stretched on his cabin floor. He turns his gaze aside and nods briefly to his magician.
GRODDIL
(In a thin reedy voice)
Know ye that ye are in the presence of the mighty Ungatt Trunn, son of the Highland King Mortspear and brother to Verdauga Greeneyes. Ungatt Trunn who makes the stars fall and the earth shake so that the lesser orders will fear him. Ungatt Trunn whose Blue Hordes are as many as leaves of the forest or sands of the shores. Ungatt Trunn who drinks wine from the skulls of his enemies. This is Ungatt Trunn the Fearsome Beast and these are his days!
THE GRAND FARGORL, lies facedown on the floor.
THE GRAND FARGORL
(Calls aloud the ritual answer required of her) Though I dare not look upon his face, I know that Ungatt Trunn is here and these are his days!
UNGATT TRUNN
(In a coarse rasping voice)
Did you see my mountain Fragorl? What took place there? Tell me all and speak true, or flies will be born from your carcass to feed my Webmakers.
THE GRAND FARGORL allows herself a fleeting glimpse of a dead rat, moldering in the corner, knowing all too well what happened to anyone foolish enough to displease Ungatt Trunn. The heat in the cabin is stifling.
THE GRAND FARGORL
(Fighting to stop her voice trembling)
O Fearsome One, I saw your mountain, though not all of it, only what the mists would allow. I was not invited inside. It is called Salamandastron, just as you said. The place is defended by inferior species, rabbit things, who all appear to be well on in seasons. They are ruled by a stripedog called LORD STONEPAW who is even older than they. He said many insulting things, which I fear to repeat, but mainly he said it would be to your cost if you dared to land upon his shores. I followed your orders, O Ungatt Trunn, and not stopping to bandy words with the stripedog or his creatures, I returned to you immediately.
Only the flies are heard as they buzzed around the Conqueror's stateroom. Neither FRAGORL nor GRODDIL move.
A fly swoops across UNGATT's vision and his paw shoots out like greased lightning and catches it. He holds it to his ear and listens to its anguished hum. Then he tosses it swiftly upward, where it lodged in a cobweb. In a flash two voracious Webmakers are upon the trapped insect. Ungatt never looks up, his hooded eyes fixed on the ferret sprawled near his footpaws.
UNGATT TRUNN
You did well, my Fragorl, you may rise and go now.
THE GRAND FARGORL departs.
UNGATT pours wine into a goblet fashioned from the bleached skull of a long-dead otter.
UNGATT TRUNN (CONT'D)
Read me the prophecy again, GRODDIL.
GRODDIL hastily sorts out a scroll and unrolls it.
GRODDIL
(Reads aloud)
No highland willed from kin deceased,
Or quest for castles, vague, unknown,
For Ungatt Trunn the Fearsome Beast Will carve a fortune of his own!
Find the mountain, slay its lord, Put his creatures to the sword!
When the stars fall from the sky,
Red the blood flows 'neath the sun,
Then let mothers wail and cry,
These are the days of Ungatt Trunn!
Hark, no bird sings in the air!
The earth is shaking everywhere!
His reign of terror has begun!
For these are the days of Ungatt Trunn!
A fat spider falls from its web. It lands on the UNGATT's shoulder. He let it run down onto his paw, turning the paw over and back again as the spider scurries to escape.
UNGATT TRUNN
Now explain it to me!
GRODDIL
(Interpreting)
It says that you are too fierce and strong to accept the Highland Kingdom when your father dies. Nor are you a wandering robber, dreaming of conquering some castle, as your young brother Verdauga Greeneyes says he will do someday. You will establish your own realm, ruling it from a mountain that is greater than any other. Nobeast has an army to command as large as your Blue Hordes. I am your magician, and I say that tonight you will see the stars fall from the sky. At tomorrow's dawn you will feel the earth shake beneath you.
UNGATT TRUNN
(Stares levelly at GRODDIL)
My brother won't get anything so long as he is only a Captain in my horde. You have many clever tricks, GRODDIL. But if you fail me then you will feel the earth shake from above you. Because I will be dancing on your grave! What about the Badger Lord? Tell me.
GRODDIL shrugs knowingly and goes back to studying his scrolls.
GRODDIL
The stripedog is as your Fragorl described, an old one. He should be no trouble to the mighty Ungatt Trunn.
UNGATT TRUNN leans on the desk.
UNGATT TRUNN
(Brings his face close to GRODDIL)
My dreams do not contain any doddering ancient stripedog. The one who disturbs my slumbers is a badger of middle seasons with the mark of a warrior stamped on him. So, my withered friend, explain that to me?
GRODDIL removes his eyeglasses and begins wiping them.
GRODDIL
I cannot dream your dreams for you all the time. This badger you see might be just that, a dream!
Ungatt returns to his chair.
UNGATT TRUNN
(While stroking his fangs)
You'd better hope for your sake that he is, GRODDIL!
SCENE XIV - INT. – LORD STONEPAW'S POV
From his window at the masses of fog shrouding the seas. He begins to see phantom shapes looming in the mists, as one is apt to after gazing awhile.
He rubs at his tired old eyes.
SCENE XV - INT. – FORGE ROOM OF SALAMANDASTRON – DAY
LORD STONEPAW lumbers over to his bed and sits down to brood over the troubles that beset him.
STIFFENER MEDICK knocks on the door.
Stiffner Medick
(Enters)
Sire, every harejack in the place is waitin' on you t'come an' talk to 'em. They're gathered in the main chamber, armed t'the ears an' primed for action!
LORD STONEPAW
(Sighs wearily, Rises)
The old, the weak and the feeble. I wish we were all as fit as you, Stiffener. Huh, if wishes were fishes. Ah well, fetch me my armor and javelin. Least I can do is to go down there looking like a Mountain Lord!
Scene XVI - INT. – MAIN CHAMBER OF SALAMANDASTRON - DAY
The main chamber is just short of half filled with hares. BUNGWORTHY and TROBEE, assist LORD STONEPAW up onto a rock platform.
LORD STONEPAW shakes his head sadly as he assessed his army then holds up his javelin. He waits until silence falls.
LORD STONEPAW
(Speaking loudly, for the benefit of those hard of hearing)
Good creatures, faithful comrades, you know I have always spoken truly to you, so I am not going to lie about our present situation. I see before me many brave warriors—alas, none of them young and sprightly anymore. Like you, I, too, can remember the seasons gone, when this chamber and the passages outside would be packed solid with young fighting hares. Now we are but a pitiful few. But that does not mean we cannot fight!
A ragged cheer rises from the old guard
FLEETSCUT
Eulaliaaa!
Bungworthy
Aye, we'll give 'em blood'n'vinegar, sire!
Trobee
We're with you to the last beast, lord!
Whirtle
We ain't called Stonepaw's Stalwarts for nothin', wot?
Barshaw
Send 'em on an' let's begin the game!
A tear trickles from LORD STONEPAW's eye and he hastily, he brushes it aside.
LORD STONEPAW
(Swells his chest out proudly)
I am honored to lead ye! We know not the number of our foes or how skilled they be at weaponry, but let's give them a hot old time in true Salamandastron fashion!
Amid the cheers, orders are shouted out.
Barshaw
Bar all entrances!
Thistledown
Archers at the high window slits!
Whirtle
Long pikes at the low windows!
Bungworthy
Stone-slingers on the second level!
O'Craig
Sailears, take your crew up onto the high ledges where the boulder heaps are ready!
As the hares disperse to their places, LORD STONEPAW holds two of them back.
LORD STONEPAW
Blench, marm, they'll need feeding. I know you've only got a few kitchen helpers left, but can you see to it?
BLENCH
(Salutes with an iron ladle)
H'ain't seen the day I couldn't, m'lud. There'll be nobeast fightin' on a h'empty belly while I'm around!
BLENCH whirls off yelling at her helpers.
BLENCH(cont'd)
Check the larders an' bring the list t'me. Gather in h'anythin' that's a-growin' up on those ledge gardens, fruits, salad veggibles, h'anythin'!
LORD STONEPAW
(Turns to FLEETSCUT) FLEETSCUT, have you still got the ability and wind to be called a runner?"
FLEETSCUT
(Laughs mirthlessly)
S'pose I could still kick up a bit o' dust, m'lud. Why?
LORD STONEPAW
(Lowers his voice to a whisper)
Good creature! I want you to draw field rations and leave this mountain within the hour. Go where you will, but use your wits. Search out our young wandering warriors and any bands of hares about the countryside. Young ones with a touch of warriors' blood in their eye. We need help as we've never needed it. Find them and bring them back to Salamandastron, as fast as you can!
FLEETSCUT
(Bows dutifully as he flexes his paws)
I'll give it a jolly good try, sire!
LORD STONEPAW
(Hugs his old friend briefly but fondly)
I know you will, you old grasswalloper. Good luck!
FLEETSCUT leaves.
INT. SECRET CHAMBER OF THE BADGER LORDS
The Badger Lord retires to his secret chamber. He sprinkles herbs into the burning lanterns then sits back. He closes his eyes, breathes deeply and concentrates hard. He wills the face of his successor to appear in his mind.
INT. – LORD STONEPAW'S POV
The face of LORD BROCKTREE appears hazily before him.
LORD STONEPAW
Where are you, strong one? Come to me—I need you now. Feel the call of the mountain and hurry to it!
LORD STONEPAW finally drifts into slumber.
SCENE XVIII – EXT. MOSSFLOWER WOODS – early afternoon
EXT. MOSSFLOWER WOODS – LORD BROCKTREE'S POV
LORD BROCKTREE is borne underwater by an adversary of tremendous strength, which seems to increase on contact with the stream. He is a full grown male otter, built of muscle and steely sinew, wrapping himself about the badger's head, neck and shoulders, blocking off air and light in a skillful deathlock. As soon as he felt his paws touch bottom, Brocktree used his formidable strength, thrusting upward to the surface with a powerful shove.
As both beasts break the surface, the badger manages to gasp in a breath of air. Then he is aware of thudding blows raining on his opponent.
DOTTI yells but it's hard to hear hear under water.
DOTTI
(Yelling)
Gerroff! I'll pound your blinkin' head to a jelly if you don't let him go an' jolly well fight fair!
RUGGAR BROOKBACK wrapped about LORD BROCKTREE's head roars aloud as LORD BROCKTREE breaks the surface of the water.
RUFFGAR BROOKBACK
(Roaring) Fair? Y'call two to one fair? Yowch ouch! Watch that bag, ye doodlepawed fool, y'near put me eye out. Owww!
The LORD BROCKTREE seizes his chance. He clamps his paws around RUFFGAR BROOKBACK's tail and jaws. Tearing RUGGAR BROOKBACK from him he lifts RUFFGAR BROOKBACK above his head.
RUFFGAR BROOKBACK kicks and wriggles as he is hurled forcefully into the far shallows.
LORD BROCKTREE dives down and grabs his battle blade, which had fallen from his back in the struggle.
DOTTI gasps with fright as LORD BROCKTREE surfaces in a cascade of streamwater, whirling his sword aloft.
LORD BROCKTREE
(Roaring)
Brocktree of Brockhall! Bones'n'bloooood!
RUFFGAR BROOKBACK
(Stands up dripping in the shallows)
Aye aye, steady on there, matey, there ain't no need t'go swingin' swords around. Wot's yore trouble?
LORD BROCKTREE
(Wades toward him, sword still upraised)
You were trying to drown me back there, murderer!
RUFFGAR BROOKBACK
(Throws back his head, chortles)
Hohoho, murderer is it, cully? Shame on ye! Yore the one who sneaked up an' started all this. Ambusher!
DOTTI
(Wades over, places herself between both of them)
Stap me if he ain't right, sah. It was you who attacked him first, y'know.
LORD BROCKTREE
(Drops his sword in bewilderment)
Hi there, miss, whose side are you on, mine or his?
RUFFGAR BROOKBACK
(Sits down in the shallows and chuckles merrily)
Now now, youse two, stop all yore argifyin'. Tell ye wot, d'yer like watershrimp an' 'otroot soup? I've got a pan of it on the go—should be plenty for three.
DOTTI
(Immediately friendly after the mention of food)
I've never tasted it, but I'm sure I'll like it, sah!
RUFFGAR BROOKBACK
(Wades over, paw outstretched)
Hah! Don't sir me, young 'un, I goes by the name o' RUFFGAR BROOKBACK. Y'can call me Ruff, though. Ruff by name, rough by nature, that's wot my ole grandma used t'say when I wrestled 'er!
DOTTI
(Looks at him in surprise)
You used to wrestle with your old grandma?
RUFFGAR BROOKBACK
(Grins cheekily)
Aye, but she always beat the daylights out o' me. C'mon, hearties, foller me.
SCENE XIX – EXT. RUFFGAR'S CAMP – late afternoon
Further upstream they come upon RUFFGAR BROOKBACK's camp, merely a blanket made into a lean-to. There is a slow-burning turf fire on the bank edge and a long, flat elm trunk floating in the water.
RUFFGAR BROOKBACK attends to a cauldron of soup bubbling on the fire. He dips in a wooden ladle.
RUFFGAR BROOKBACK
(Samples it gingerly)
Haharr, all right'n'ready. This is the stuff t'put a shine on yore fur an' a glint in yore eye, good ole 'otroot!
RUFFGAR BROOKBACK scrambles aboard the log, which is obviously his boat and retrieves a battered traveling bag. From this he dug three enormous scallop shells, tossing one apiece to DOTTI and LORD BROCKTREE.
RUFFGAR BROOKBACK (CONT'D)
Dig in now, I ain't yore mother. Serve yerselves, mates!
DOTTI fills her shell and goes at it like a gannet in a ten-season famine.
DOTTI
Yah! Whoo! Mother help me, I'm on fire! Oh! Oohaaah!
RUFFGAR BROOKBACK watches in amusement and takes pity on her.
RUFFGAR BROOKBACK
(Scoops up some cold streamwater in his shell)
Cool yore gob on this, missie!
DOTTI drains the water in a single gulp, blinks the tears from her eyes, then sniffs.
DOTTI
Good stuff this, wot? A little warm an' spicy, but first-class soup. I like it!
RUFFGAR BROOKBACK and LORD BROCKTREE sit gaping as she refills her shell and tucks in with a will.
LORD BROCKTREE
(Winks at the RUFFGAR BROOKBACK)
She's a hare, you see.
RUFFGAR BROOKBACK
(Nods sagely)
Aye, that explains it, mate!
After the meal they all lie about on the bank and give sighs of contentment after the good meal.
DOTTI
(Props herself up on one elbow)
I say Ruff, how did you come to this part of the woods?
RUFFGAR BROOKBACK
I'm a bit like you, young DOTTI, I left 'ome when I was young, just afore they decided to sling me out. Wild an' mischievous? Haharr, I was more trouble than a bag o' bumblebees. Me pore ole grandma was sorry t'see me go, but the rest of me family breathed a sigh of relief. Any'ow, I been a loner most o' the time. It ain't so bad. Nobeast to keep shoutin', Ruff stop that! Or, Ruff don't you dare! Nowadays I can do wot I likes, without anybeast hollerin' at me.
LORD BROCKTREE
(Nods)
And what are you doing at present, Ruff?
RUFFGAR BROOKBACK
Oh, a bit of this an' a bit o' that, nothin' really. Why?
LORD BROCKTREE
(Eyes twinkling)
DOTTI and I need to get down to the shores of the great sea. Best way to do that is to follow waterways, as you well know. It would be nice if we could go by boat, instead of all that trekking by paw. Suppose you came with us?
RUFFGAR BROOKBACK's rudder-like tail thwacked down upon the bank, propelling him upright.
RUFFGAR BROOKBACK
(Grins from ear to ear)
No sooner said than done, Brock me hearty. Can you two paddle?
DOTTI
(Replying for herself and LORD BROCKTREE)
Well, if we can't I bet you'll soon teach us, wot. I'm no Badger Lord, but I'm jolly well strong of paw!
RUFFGAR BROOKBACK
(Touches the swelling around his eye gingerly)
You already proved that by the way you swing yore bag!
SCENE XX – EXT. ON THE BROAD STREAM – MORNING
Floating down the broad sunlit stream was a very pleasurable experience. DOTTI and Brocktree soon pick up the knack of wielding a paddle. They pass beneath overhanging trees.
DOTTI sighs with joy. She watches the dappled patterns of sunshine and shade drifting by on the smooth dark green water.
DOTTI
Oh, whoopsy doo an' fiddley dee! This is the life, eh, sah? I say there, Ruff my old streambasher, d'you know any jolly songs that creatures sing when they're out boating?
RUFFGAR BROOKBACK
(Flicks water at her with his paddle)
Bless yer 'eart, DOTTI, 'course I do, but they're called shanties or water ballads. 'Ere's one y'can both join in with. The chorus is very simple—'elps t'keep the rhythm o' the paddles goin', y'see. It goes like this.
RUFFGAR BROOKBACK sings the chorus once, then launches into a deep-throated old boatsong.
RUFFGAR BROOKBACK
Hey ho ahoy we go.
Row, me hearties. Row row row!
Chucklin' bubblin' life's a dream,
I'm the brook that finds the stream.
Hey ho ahoy we go.
Row, me hearties.
Row row row!
Sun an' shade an' fish aquiver,
This ole stream flows to the river.
RUFFGAR BROOKBACK (V.O.)
Hey ho ahoy we go.
Row, me hearties.
Row row row!
Down mates down an' foller me,
I'm the river bound to the sea.
Hey ho ahoy we go.
Row, me hearties. Row row row!
Ruff's elm tree log boat fairly skims the water, with him singing the verses and his two friends roaring out the chorus like two seasoned old riverbeasts.
Ruff signals them to stop rowing.
Ship yore paddles, mates,
Let 'er run with the current!
Normally a staid creature, as befits a Badger Lord, LORD BROCKTREE is exhilarated.
LORD BROCKTREE
(Grins like a young one)
My my, Ruff, I can see why you love the freedom of the waterways. It certainly is a pleasant experience.
Guiding his elm log boat with the odd paddle stroke.
RUFFGAR BROOKBACK
(Watches the stream ahead knowingly)
Oh, it ain't so bad most seasons, but don't go gettin' too taken up with it, Brock. You gets the ice in winter, snow, hail, rainstorms, dry creeks, rocks, driftwood an' gales. Once y' gets used to that lot then you got to face rapids, sandbanks, cross-currents an' waterfalls. Aside from that there's savage pike an' eel shoals an' all manner o' bad-minded vermin watchin' the water an' huntin' their prey both sides o' the banks.
DOTTI
(Waves a paw dismissively)
Oh, pish tush, sah. It doesn't seem t'bother you!
RUFFGAR BROOKBACK pulls a tangle of line from his pack. He checks the hook and weight on it, then baits up with a few watershrimp left over from the hotroot soup.
RUFFGAR BROOKBACK
Fish for supper, shipmates. Look 'ere at this fat shoal o' dace!
Through the deep, fast-flowing stream they glimpsed the dace, cruising through the trailing moss and weed, their olive-green backs and silver flanks shining wherever rays of sunlight pierced the water. They were fine plump fish.
RUFFGAR BROOKBACK trails the line as they followed the log, keeping in its shadow.
RUFFGAR BROOKBACK (CONT'D)
I'll just snag two o' the beauties, that should do us. Hearken t'me, DOTTI. If'n yore bound to take the life of a livin' thing for food, then take only wot you need. Life's too precious a thing t'be wasted, ain't that right, Brock?
LORD BROCKTREE
(Nods solemnly)
Aye, that's so. A lesson every creature should learn." That evening they camped at the mouth of a small inlet and Ruff cooked the fish for them. After the long day on the stream it was a delicious meal. LORD BROCKTREE sat back, cleaning his teeth with a twig. "I've tasted trout and grayling, but never anything like that dace before. You must tell me how you prepared it, Ruff.
RUFFGAR BROOKBACK
(Looks furtively, Managing a gruff whisper)
My grandma's secret recipe 'tis, an' if'n she was 'ere now she'd skelp me tail with a birch rod for tellin' ye. You needs tender new dannylion shoots, wild onions an' hedge parsley, oh, an' two fat leeks. Chop 'em all up an' set 'em o'er the fire in a liddle water, but don't boil 'em. Then when you've topped'n'tailed yore two dace, you lays them fishes flat on a thin rock. Mix cornflour an' oats with a drop o' water from yore veggibles an' spread it o'er the fishes, so they bakes with a good crunchy crust. Drain off the veggibles while they're still firm, spread 'em in a bed an' top the lot off with your dace. But don't you two ever breathe a word to any otter that 'twas me wot told ye the recipe. Alive or dead, ole Grandma'd either hunt or haunt me!
DOTTI
(Begins reaching for her harecordion)
Time for a jolly old ditty, eh, chaps?
RUFFGAR BROOKBACK put the blocks on DOTTI's warbling.
RUFFGAR BROOKBACK
(Visibly relieved)
Best not, missymate. This ain't too friendly a part o' the woodlands—you'd prob'ly attract unwelcome visitors. Best sleep now. We've got an early start in the morn.
DOTTI
(Yawns)
You're right, of course. My beauty sleep.
SCENE XXI – MOSSFLOWER WOODS ON THE BANK - Evening
When the fire had burned to white embers. RUFFGAR BROOKBACK checks that DOTTI was sound asleep.
RUFFGAR BROOKBACK
(Shakes the badger gently and cautions him to silence)
Lissen, Brock, we could've sailed further today, but I chose to berth in this spot because I feel there'll be trouble further downstream. No sense in upsettin' young pretty features there. Look, I've got a plan. 'Ere's wot we'll do. I'll wake ye at the crack o' dawn an' the pair of us will rise nice an' quiet. Then…
RUFFGAR BROOKBACK had outlines his scheme inaudibly.
LORD BROCKTREE nodded agreement then lies down again and stares at the canopy of stars twinkling through the trees. His paw clasps the battle blade at the ready, noting every noise of flora or fauna in the forest night.
Fade Out:
The End