-Chapter Two-


Mathias Trufflehunter woke up at six thirty and departed his little burrow at seven with a small satchel on his back. Rushing through last night's snow and sticking to the tree line, he secretly argued with himself the reason for his lateness.

You slept after two o'clock, again. Now she's going to suspect something went wrong. What's a viable excuse? Drunk? No, you never drink. Injured? More believable but there's no blood on you. Forgetful? Well, that's actually true.

As he trekked, the small satchel complained on how horrible its predicament was. For it was built for travelling on a horse, not on the back of a badger in the middle of winter in several feet of snow. It wondered, as all satchel's do perhaps, what was so important about its contents. For the satchel knew that this thing it carried was not suitable for anyone- not a King, a Prince, or even a malicious vagabond. The only type of person this thing was suitable, valuable, or worthy for would be a mangy good for nothing wolf, and considering that the satchel looked around and saw no such beast around, it simply settled for carrying this rather stupid thing to wherever his master was taking it. Personally, the satchel thought, it would be better just to leave the thing on the side of the road than to deliver it. Saves both time and grief.

Trufflehunter, who could hear nor read the satchel's thoughts, climbed over the snow, for he practically sunk to the bottom of it, and trekked from there on a height that would normally be three and a half feet above the ground. He passed by the houses that the birds had built so well, seeing that blue jays and robins had kindly offered to rent a space for ferrets who had nowhere to go and he wondered where the brook was that ran so beautifully and still at this time of year. For it froze over only rarely and even in thick snow the water could be heard as if spring were whispering it's longing to return. As he walked to his destination, which was his parents' house, Trufflehunter thought about all the possibilities for the inevitable conversation.

When he turned at a place which would usually be a bend in the brook and a boulder that had no business being there, Trufflehunter ascended a small slope and discovered that the stone pathway that lead to his parents' humble abode was disinterred from the heaping snow in a way that was much more enjoyable and interesting than a simple straight path. For the way to get to the door now consisted of a gentle slide of snow with the pathway remaining the same save for the flanks of snow that went over the badger's head.

Creeping up to it, not necessarily knowing what to expect, he said nothing and listened to a world glossed over in an artist's winter. The trees were sleeping, their voices silent as their boroughs stood weighed down and their dreams frozen in their heads like the bark on their bodies or the roots at their feet. The birds sang no songs, for the time for singing is reserved for spring. All of nature reverted back to déjà vu, while all Mathias thought of was: it's simply winter.

The Badger made his way down to the door and surprised to have it opened after the first knock and was even more surprised to see a dear friend standing in the doorway.

Beaming at him as if he had been away for twenty- years, Reepicheep looked up and quickly stepped to one side to let the Badger through.

"I was beginning to wonder when you would come." The Mouse said smiling a bit, closing the door once Trufflehunter was in and out of the way. "Conveniently enough, I was just about to leave to fetch you."

Trufflehunter crossed the room to the table, which was a large, custom made cedar piece built for thirteen. Marley, his father, who sat at the head of the table with a dinner plate and glass in front of him, looked up at the only son he did not disown and the son he inherited with a smile. "So the prodigal sons return."

"How many times must I tell you," Reepicheep said as he resumed his place at the table next to Naomi, Trufflehunter's wife. "I am not your son, merely a family friend who has a room in your house."

"Oh come now," Naomi replied, coming back from her thoughts of which to eat first, the salmon or the spinach. "You're as much a brother to Mathias as you are to me."

"Yes, but brothers don't necessarily turn up missing for seven weeks, come back a day and leave again." Reepicheep stated, turning to the party of three confused as to why they were misunderstanding something incredibly simple. "It just isn't right to call me brother or son to you when I'm rarely ever here."

Mathias rolled his eyes as he prepared himself for supper, looking over the meal and admiring the care the chef, whomever it was, took to prepare it and make his plate orderly and presentable. "Does that make me not my father's son then?" Mathias asked. "I live no less than half a mile away and rarely ever come here either but you don't see him behaving as if he isn't loved anywhere. Come, let us bless the food and eat before it turns cold."


The meal was divine- the salmon was cooked a bit too long and the spinach perhaps a bit dry but it was all in all a grand supper that filled their stomachs. Mathias stoked a fire in the fireplace, and Reepicheep took care of the cleanup, while Marley and Naomi sat quietly in the two comfortable green chairs that overlooked the bookshelf engraved so beautifully into the wall.

Mathias crouched down on the rug that was probably only still there because it was original to the place. A shadow of its former self, the rug, much like the satchel which sat next to the fireplace, thought its current predicament rather strange. That a group of badgers now took ownership of it for instance, was perhaps the biggest reality check the rug has received in years. It saw the likes of dwarfs, satyrs, imps, sprites, and other creatures of grand power and authority- never once was it master to creatures considered vermin by some and harmless to most. The satchel meanwhile, wanted so much to fidget around and get that loathsome thing out, and then to heave itself straight into a warm soak, for to say that the satchel was a germaphobe would not necessarily be out of the question.

"Well," Reepicheep said upon re-entering the room and taking a seat back at the table. "All the dishes have been cleaned, dried, put away, and I've also taken the liberty of checking on the Hallam- not to worry, he's sound asleep."

Naomi turned towards the rodent and smiled both in shock and gratitude, for she knew her child well and understood that Hallam, like most infants, often liked to wake up at inconvenient times. Being a new mother, she often wondered what it was she was doing wrong in terms of getting him back to sleep- trying everything from lullabies to warm milk with little to no success.

"Why, thank you Reep," she said, "I am generally impressed, for no one, not even Mathias can get Hallam to bed, may I ask how you managed to do it?"

"Unfortunately there is no methodology to parenting," Reepicheep answered, "for if there were then we would all be the same and life would be horrendously dull. However, I've always find it helpful to sing a lullaby."

"I've tried that," Naomi replied, leaning in a bit extremely intrigued in the conversation as her husband stood from his pyro management and sat on an ottoman. "Nothing seems to work, isn't that right, Mathias?"

Mathias yawned and nodded, stretching his arms via reaching behind him as far as he could go. "Putting that boy to sleep is like wrestling a bear to the ground with your bear hands. It's futile. I doubt it will last. He usually begins to cry after an hour or so and it's right back to square one again."

Reepicheep looked the badgers over and noticed how exhausted and aged they were, despite the fact that he was younger than Mathias by a year. Both of them appear to be seventeen years older than their true age, it was as if birthing and siring a child has become the very thing that will kill them. That, or they're simply too pessimistic and see no end to sleepless nights of little nightmares and endless days of living them out. Should I tell them that it's just a phase in a series of phases or wait for them to find that out for themselves? To think, if they're stressed out about something that they themselves did not actually do, imagine how they'll feel when I tell them the news I've brought with me.

"Which lullaby do you choose?" Reepicheep asked.

"Sir Lionel." Mathias answered.

"Well no wonder the poor fellow can't get any sleep! You're singing him a song about killing a boar that will eat him alive!" Reepicheep said standing up from his chair and shaking his head at the pathetic choice of a song and even worse how calm his friend was about it. "Have you considered Castle Dromore in its original tongue?"

"Oh not that dreary thing!" Naomi cried with a disdainful eye roll, "My mother used to pride herself on her ability to sing that one and she did so every night for seven years. It worked."

"If it worked," he said, turning towards her, "then why despise it?"

Naomi laughed, "It's my mother we're talking about Reep."

"I've never had the pleasure," The Mouse replied as he walked back to his chair to pull it closer to everyone so that he wouldn't feel so alone or left out. "Perhaps when spring comes I shall get a chance."

"Oh I'm afraid you won't be able to Reepicheep," The female Badger said, "the poor thing is thankfully dead."

Well that's rather morbid. Reepicheep thought, Still, best get on with it. The Mouse shifted himself in his chair and turned towards Marley who was asleep in his chair with his mouth hanging open, snoring louder than a cave bear. Reepicheep laughed a little and stood up to stretch.

"Well," he said with a slight yawn, "I believe I shall go to bed myself. I have a long day ahead of me tomorrow."

"What happens tomorrow?" Mathias asked.

Reepicheep said nothing and yawned again, "Personal business, Truff, that and I need to tell you all something that may be a bit of a shock."

"Can't you tell us now?" Naomi said, "I'm not good with suspense."

"Afraid it requires Mister Marley's attention," Reepicheep answered. "Now," he said turning to them both, "sleep well, I shall see you in the morning."

"Wait just a moment," Trufflehunter said, "you said you sung that lullaby in its original language?"

Reepicheep nodded, "Yes, I did."

"Are you telling me that you are versed in Narnian?" Mathias asked, impressed and scared at the thought that his friend spoke a language that was as dead as the autumn leaves that populated the ground.

"I know Milandish too, but those are stories for the morning." Reepicheep said as he waved a goodnight and crossed the room, quietly entered the hallway, and entered the guest bedroom.

It was small with not much in it, but it was enough for him. A bed on the far left, a bookshelf to the far left a nightstand placed awkwardly in the middle and a rug that covered the floor. There was no window. As he made his way into that particular bed for the third time in a row, he felt the need to say goodnight to his family who was not even in the room or in the world anymore.

Despite having three friends in the living room who treated him like family, Reepicheep felt utterly alone. To combat this, he hummed to himself the sweet song that he mentioned earlier and as he lay on his pillow, The Mouse thought of periwinkles and this made him smile, for he hadn't thought of periwinkles since his childhood and was a lifetime and an age ago.


The night drew on. Eventually the Badger Hallow grew silent as the bark on the trees and once again everything was still. Almost…

While the world became oblivious to the goings on of itself, soft padded footsteps approached the Hallow followed by a wet sniffing nose and a curious tail. The nose inhaled and realized three things: first, there were badgers and a mouse nearby, so there was dinner, second, there was the very thing the nose had been searching for all its life in a small brown satchel. The mouth that resided underneath the nose smiled and spoke.

"So, you were the one who took it? Didn't really expect that one."

Wait a moment, the brain thought, you know this badger. Yes, dear Mathias! Oh remember the games you played when you were pups? How joyous those times were and how wonderful it would be to see him again.

The paws stretched themselves out and the body submitted itself to the snow as the head, which that of which was a wolf, decided to get some rest just in front of the slow slide outside the door. He smiled and laughed to himself as he dreamt the look of his master's face upon the return of a simple satchel and its single content.


To listen to "The Castle Dromore", there is a video on YouTube with the lyrics to sung by The Clancy Brothers.

The lyrics to "Sir Lionel" can be found here: www. contemplator child /lionel .html (no audio could be found)