Dissonance: A Brome Fan-Fiction
Dissonance: A Brome Fan-Fiction
SUMMARY – Brome has returned to Noonvale, but does not feel quite at-home anymore. Why is this, and what does Brome do about it? Oneshot.
Story
Brome sat alongside the Broadstream, staring over the ledge that overlooked Noonvale.
Not three weeks had passed since he'd returned to Noonvale, and still it did not feel like home. The trip back had been lonely and depressing, despite the fact that Brome had been surrounded by his friends from the Fur and Freedom Fighters. Even Boldred, the short-eared owl whose company everybeast enjoyed, was unable to cheer up the young mouse.
The problem, Brome discerned, was the absence of Felldoh. The squirrel had been the only one who Brome had felt truly comfortable around, a product of their joint escapade from the prison pit of Fort Marshank.
Felldoh had been Brome's best mate, and that remained the same, even when Felldoh had become more aggressive and rash. Even now, while Felldoh was buried in the woods outside of Fort Marshank, Brome felt that there was nobody he could confide him.
Especially not his father. Not even a fortnight had passed since Urran Voh had spoken privately with Brome. The young mouse had been unable to fathom why his father had been so serious with his request. Not until they had begun the talk…
When Brome and Urran returned to their home, Urran sat hard in his favourite chair, while Brome leaned against the wall of the wooden lodge. A few moments of silence passed until Urran spoke, and Brome could see the calculating look in his father's eyes.
When Urran spoke, it was in slow, deliberate tones. "Brome, you have been through much in the last season. It would be foolhardy to speak to you as if you were a child." The old mouse sighed and looked out of the window before addressing his son again. "But you are still young and naïve in the ways of the world."
When Brome only continued to stare blankly at his father, Urran continued. "I fear the influence that Martin, or this 'Felldoh' that the Players speak of, may not have been one to which you should have given stock."
"Brome cut his father off with an icy stare. He rose from the wall and addressed his father in frigid tones. "Don't speak of what you do not know, father." The young boy's voice was so cold that Urran's eyes widened in anger before he had the chance to compose himself. "Felldoh was ten times the beast you are, and Martin fought for what he loved." It was only then that Urran felt he realized what an influence the two warriors had been on his son.
"What did you do while we fought and earned our freedom?" Brome's question was a direct challenge to the old mouse. "What did you do while we battled to rid the land of Badrang, and protect what we held dear? You sat here and worried, that's all. You didn't care enough about either Rose or me to come and fight alongside us. Had you been there, maybe Rose would have lived."
Urran's mouth stood agape. The words were heart-wrenching enough, coming from his own son, but the pain was amplified further by the fact that they were cold, hard truth. He had been too afraid to fight alongside them.
"Why didn't you come and fight with us?" Brome's voice cut through the air like a keen blade. Noonvale's chieftain found himself at a loss for words. When no answer was forthcoming, Brome repeated his question. "Why didn't you come and fight with us?"
Urran closed his mouth and averted his gaze from Brome's burning stare. "Because I am not a creature of war," he replied simply.
"Neither am I, yet I stayed and fought."
"You were stranded there, son. You had no way to return."
"I could have left and taken Felldoh with me," Brome countered. "After Felldoh and I had landed, we could have abandoned the Players and sought out Martin and the others, but we didn't." Urran's gaze remained lowered from his son's; for the first time in his life, the chieftain found himself on the defensive.
"Look at you," Brome spat. "Can't even defend yourself against your own son, much less a war."
"It's that Felldoh that did this to you," Urran gritted. "You are different now, Brome: angry and aggressive."
"That's because I can't understand how you could stay here while others were fighting and dying to protect you," Brome retorted. "I still can't believe that you didn't go with Martin and Rose when you found out that both of your children were fighting. I am also a creature of peace, but even I know when to take up the fight."
Urran leapt up from his chair, glaring daggers at Brome. "Silence, Brome! These are the ramblings of a dead squirrel through the mouth of a young mouse!"
The next thing either of them knew, Urran was laid flat on his back by a surprisingly heavy blow from Brome. "You're as bad as Badrang!" Brome roared. "Maybe you should think about what he gave up in the fight before you talk!" Brome turned on his heel and stormed out of the lodge, returning only once more a few days later, gathering his belongings.
Brome sighed and stood up, shouldering his haversack. He would return one day, but until that time, there was a monster to fight and a war to be won.
Author's Note
Alright, this is a lot shorter than I originally intended, but it's something that I've been thinking on. Who knows, I might just take this sad excuse for a fan-fiction and turn it into a full-out story, following Brome's adventures from there until he returned to Noonvale.
Those who have read the book will know that Aubretia (Brome's descendant) did not specify that Brome remained in Noonvale upon returning, only that he was a Healer there. I decided to take advantage of this little loophole Jacques made, as there really aren't that many to manipulate with Felldoh. So, if I can't make my favourite squirrel live on physically, I'll make him a memory. Who better to remember him than his best friend, right?
Please review; I would like to know what you think of this.
