Myriads of dust motes swirled gracefully in the shafts of late morning sunlight that slanted through the windows of Brockhall. Martin the Warrior lay still, watching them through half-closed eyes. It had been several days since he had slain Tsarmina, and he was recalling previous battles- one in particular stood out to him.
It was a bloody night at Marshank, where battle was raging.
Badrang is trying to escape- I have to catch him!
Rose suddenly hurled herself on the stoat, battering away furiously at him with her loaded sling.
Oh, that's the Rose I know- brave mouse!
Then-
No, no! I- ROSE!
A vivid image of Rose's still body stuck in Martin's mind as tears dripped down his whiskers to dampen his pillow.
Oh, Rose, it's all my fault. If I hadn't let you come with...
There was a light tap at the door, and a plump, cheerful mouse entered "Martin, are you awake?" Undeterred by the lack of a response, he continued jovially. "Oh, come on, mate. I know you're not asleep- I saw you wipe your eyes and turn over as I came in."
This time, there was a muffled reply. "Go away, Gonff. I need to be alone."
Gonff sat down on the edge of Martin's bed, suddenly solemn. "What's the matter, mate? You can tell me."
Martin shook his head. "No. There are things I can't- things I've- promises I can't break." With his mind still on Rose, he mumbled, "It would have better if we'd never met. Better for everybeast."
Gonff thought that Martin's comment was directed at him. Feeling hurt, he stood and hummed snatches of a tune dejectedly. Martin recognized it and sang the words in his mind, thinking of his recent adventures.
Sala-manda-stron, look out here we come,
A thief, a warrior and a mole.
Though the quest may take its toll,
We'll march until we reach our goal,
Sala-mada-stron.
Sala-manda-stron,
Look where we've come from,
Three of Mossflower's best,
Marching out upon our quest:
Sala-manda-stron.
Martin, realizing that he had offended Gonff, was about to apologize when there was another, more solid knock and the kindly face of a mole poked around the door. "Gudd mornen to ee, Marthen. Oi've coom to bring ee outsoide, if'n you'm bees up to et. 'Tis a gurtly bootiful day, burr aye, an' thurr bees somebeasts a-waitin' to see you."
Gonff cut off Martin before he could reply. "Of course he feels up to it, Din. He can't ignore eager visitors, can he? Go tell them he'll be out soon."
Dinny beamed at Martin and trundled off to inform the visitors. Martin glared at Gonff. "What was that for? I'm too weak even to lift my sword- besides, maybe I don't want to see anybeast."
Gonff ignored Martin and, chuckling, hauled his friend out of bed. "You don't need to lift your sword, mate. You just have to toddle outside, and we'll sit you down on the grass with a blanket like an old grandfather mouse."
Despite Martin's protests, Gonff soon got him dressed and out the door. As Dinny had observed, it was indeed a beautiful day- the sun shone merrily in a clear blue sky, and a gentle breeze ruffled the surrounding treetops playfully. Standing nearby was a brightly-painted cart, its many colorful banners fluttering in the breeze. The largest one read "The Rambling Rosehip Players".
Martin stared at the creatures grouped in front of the cart- they were all there: Ballaw, Rowanoak, Celandine, Trefoil, Buckler, Gauchee, and Kastern. He took a tentative, shaky step forward, and the Players surrounded him, shaking his paws and patting his back heartily. Martin was happy, yet also bewildered. "How did you all find me? And why in the world did you come all the way down here to see me anyway?
Rowanoak interrupted his questions by lifting him clear off the ground in an embrace. Celandine piped up cheerily, batting her eyelashes at Martin. "Silly! We just followed the stories, and here you are! As to why we came-"
Trefoil gave her a gentle shove. "Oh, hush, Celandine. And save all that flirting for an audience."
Rowanoak put Martin down gingerly as Ballaw called toward the cart. "Come on out, now. It's time!"
Then, from behind the cart stepped-
"Rose," Martin breathed. She smiled, eyes welling up with tears. At the sight of her, Martin felt his strength flooding back to him. He ran to her, and the next moment he caught up Rose- his beloved Rose- and spun her in the air. They collapsed on the grass underneath the warm, bright sun, laughing with pure joy.
Rose, oh, Rose! I'm so happy- I could just-
Martin didn't complete his thought because just then, he gently tilted Rose's face to his and kissed her. Anybeast there could see that the two mice were in love. Gonff saw some history in their eyes and used what he guessed to honor the pair with a song.
"Two mice: a flow'r and a sword
Found their love too strong to ingore,
For 'twas forged in the fires of strife.
They wanted together to make a life,
But somebeast disapproved.
They didn't listen and instead proved
That through fair or stormy weather
They would always stand together.
But through no fault of their own,
They were torn apart- each walked alone
Until they conquered all their foes:
The Warrior and the Rose."
As the last notes of the solemn melody faded, Columbine took Gonff's paw and pointed to an old and withered rosebush nearby. With joy and wonder in her voice, she said softly,
"Look, Gonff. The roses are in bloom."