Prologue
It was winter in Mossflower Country. The woods lay blanketed by snow. A layer of frost covered the sands around the mountain fortress of Salamandastron. Even the great River Moss lay still, a sheet of ice covering its great length. Inside Redwall Abbey every mouse, mole, otter, squirrel, and hedgehog sat in Great Hall, playing games, taking food and drink, or dancing lively jigs. Old beasts laughed at the antics of the Abbey young ones, known collectively as Dibbuns. Cheer was in the air and everybeast was breathing it in.
Everybeast that is, except for one.
He was an old otter, gray beyond his seasons. He sat in an ancient, over-stuffed armchair, facing the fire turning to embers in the hearth. The warmth, along with the silence inside the gatehouse, was slowly lulling him into a peaceful slumber. The otter was jerked back in to wakefulness by the sound of the gatehouse door creaking open. Not even bothering to look at the pair standing in the doorway, he addressed them. "Come in out of the cold, Banksand. You too, Pikeson."
The two otters, one male, the other female, walked in, carrying between them a large pot. They set it down near the fire to keep it warm.
"Grandpa," said Banksand, warming her paws near the fire, "how'd you know it was us?"
"Easy, missie. You're the only two in all of Mossflower who don't knock when y'enter!"
The young male, Pikeson, chuckled as he ladled up a steaming concoction from the pot resting near the hearth. "Friar tol' us to come here straight away, sir. Said t'bring you lunch, or you'd waste away to a shadder."
"A shadder, eh?" asked the otter cheerfully. "With the amount of 'otroot soup yer servin' me, I'll be the fattest shadder in all Mossflower Woods."
Pikeson handed the bowl to his grandfather. Turning, he went to join his sister near the fire. The old one took a long sip from the bowl, commenting on it as he did. "Friar made this did 'e? Figures. Takes an otter t'make a half-decent 'otroot soup. Not nearly enough shrimp. Nor 'otroot fer that matter. Ahh, never you mind. Send 'im my compliments when y'leave. He set the bowl on the arm of the chair and crossed his arms over his chest. He questioned the pair standing by the fire; "But you two ain't going back quite so soon, are ye?"
Banksand answered hesitantly, "Papa said that since it's snowing and all our chores are done, that you'd tell us a story."
The otter rose, glaring sharply at the two. "A story? You want me to tell you a story?" he said angrily. "You wake a body from 'is rest and expect a story?
Both otters looked at the floor, avoiding the stern gaze of their elder. His expression changed from one of anger to one of merriment. "I was just jesting wit you two. No need to go moping about like a coupl'a beetles on bathday. There ain't nothing better to do on a snowy day than tell a story. Git yerselves some o'that soup an' come sit by the fire."
The two did as they were bidden, sitting on two large cushions. The old one threw an oak log on the fire, sending up a shower of sparks. He sat back in his chair with a sigh.
"I've lived many a season," he began, "and seen many strange things. Stars that have fallen to earth. Waters that stretch beyond horizon. Even creatures bigger than this abbey! But nothing has changed me more than three beasts I met when I was only a young'n. They was a squirrel, an otter, and a hare. They taught me many a thing: how to eat, how to fight. But most importantly, they taught me what friendship is. Are ye both comfortable? All right then. Let's begin."
Well, there we go. My first attempt at a Redwall fic. Hopes ya like it. Please R & R.
It was winter in Mossflower Country. The woods lay blanketed by snow. A layer of frost covered the sands around the mountain fortress of Salamandastron. Even the great River Moss lay still, a sheet of ice covering its great length. Inside Redwall Abbey every mouse, mole, otter, squirrel, and hedgehog sat in Great Hall, playing games, taking food and drink, or dancing lively jigs. Old beasts laughed at the antics of the Abbey young ones, known collectively as Dibbuns. Cheer was in the air and everybeast was breathing it in.
Everybeast that is, except for one.
He was an old otter, gray beyond his seasons. He sat in an ancient, over-stuffed armchair, facing the fire turning to embers in the hearth. The warmth, along with the silence inside the gatehouse, was slowly lulling him into a peaceful slumber. The otter was jerked back in to wakefulness by the sound of the gatehouse door creaking open. Not even bothering to look at the pair standing in the doorway, he addressed them. "Come in out of the cold, Banksand. You too, Pikeson."
The two otters, one male, the other female, walked in, carrying between them a large pot. They set it down near the fire to keep it warm.
"Grandpa," said Banksand, warming her paws near the fire, "how'd you know it was us?"
"Easy, missie. You're the only two in all of Mossflower who don't knock when y'enter!"
The young male, Pikeson, chuckled as he ladled up a steaming concoction from the pot resting near the hearth. "Friar tol' us to come here straight away, sir. Said t'bring you lunch, or you'd waste away to a shadder."
"A shadder, eh?" asked the otter cheerfully. "With the amount of 'otroot soup yer servin' me, I'll be the fattest shadder in all Mossflower Woods."
Pikeson handed the bowl to his grandfather. Turning, he went to join his sister near the fire. The old one took a long sip from the bowl, commenting on it as he did. "Friar made this did 'e? Figures. Takes an otter t'make a half-decent 'otroot soup. Not nearly enough shrimp. Nor 'otroot fer that matter. Ahh, never you mind. Send 'im my compliments when y'leave. He set the bowl on the arm of the chair and crossed his arms over his chest. He questioned the pair standing by the fire; "But you two ain't going back quite so soon, are ye?"
Banksand answered hesitantly, "Papa said that since it's snowing and all our chores are done, that you'd tell us a story."
The otter rose, glaring sharply at the two. "A story? You want me to tell you a story?" he said angrily. "You wake a body from 'is rest and expect a story?
Both otters looked at the floor, avoiding the stern gaze of their elder. His expression changed from one of anger to one of merriment. "I was just jesting wit you two. No need to go moping about like a coupl'a beetles on bathday. There ain't nothing better to do on a snowy day than tell a story. Git yerselves some o'that soup an' come sit by the fire."
The two did as they were bidden, sitting on two large cushions. The old one threw an oak log on the fire, sending up a shower of sparks. He sat back in his chair with a sigh.
"I've lived many a season," he began, "and seen many strange things. Stars that have fallen to earth. Waters that stretch beyond horizon. Even creatures bigger than this abbey! But nothing has changed me more than three beasts I met when I was only a young'n. They was a squirrel, an otter, and a hare. They taught me many a thing: how to eat, how to fight. But most importantly, they taught me what friendship is. Are ye both comfortable? All right then. Let's begin."
Well, there we go. My first attempt at a Redwall fic. Hopes ya like it. Please R & R.