A/N: Dear Reviewers, here it comes, the long-awaited reunion of Sharpfur and Greyclaw.
Sebias, I'd imagine some woodlanders would also be a bit scared of bagers- we humans don't have this issue but imagine living around something big enough to fit you in it's paw. Glad you like Umber. Also somehow I feel like your review is foreshadowing your own story…
Abrahem, I must warn you that you are entering the very mind-boggling realm of Redwall proportions. Tread carefully. I don't really imagine Marik as twice Slit's height so that particular 'males are twice as large' rule does not really apply. I never specified (beyond Silver being a runt) who was taller of the two so I suppose you could 'visualize' it any way you like. That's the beauty behind the written medium. The imagination
I guess yeah, I can fit that in (it is rather fitting I suppose and is something Snakeskin would say. Good joke)
I didn't do much to imply that Hawthorn was an orphan- beyond I suppose never mentioning her parents. I'm glad this 'reveal' puts it all into perspective for you.
Mouse Guard I know in passing (and always think of as taking place in an Alternate Universe of Redwall) and Mice Templar is different. It's more of a mythological parody with mice at the front that takes itself seriously than a medieval epic. They're both pretty neat but I admit I don't know too much about them.
Regarding the Redwall question- the Recorder telling the story is more of a narrative framing device than anything else. We, the reader, are reading about what happened while the Recorder would be telling a different account of the story- because the Bellmaker, for example, could not be told in its entirety in one afternoon. So they're not lying, it's just a way to set the scene for the story. Although it can be a bit confusing here…
It was strange, to now have to recount their tale of woe. But Hawthorn and Grollo did it well. If with a little too much honesty- had Sharpfur been telling the story he'd have wasted less time with the hedgepig and more fighting the cannibals- but it was probably for the best that his story came from the mouths of honest beasts.
At first it had been a lot of ers and ums- particularly where Fret was concerned, but by the time they got to escaping the old lady they were stumbling over one another in their hurry to tell it all.
"And then we found Tibbers." Grollo concluded.
"Sharpfur did." Hawthorn added. "And then yes, the rest is history."
Umber was gently twirling the quill between two massive claws. From what he could tell every word of what he'd heard was true- not that he'd expected otherwise. The weasel had not spoken though, and the badger had watched as his eyes- magnified so much that they were rather hard to miss- darted around the room. The poor boy was terrified. That much was obvious. Yet there was much that was not so. A strange kind of curiousity filled the badger, one he had not felt since he'd been a child. Yet now was not the time to come prying for answers.
"Are you hungry?" He asked abruptly.
Grollo nodded vigorously. "Oh yes. Very much so, sir."
"It's a good thing it's lunchtime then. I will have a hare prepare some chambers for you. Please don't be offended but I'm glad that you do not need as much space as me." He offered them his paws. "Being large can be tedious work." Hawthorn clambered on and Grollo was once more swung onto the badger's shoulders. "I will have a runner deliver news of your arrival to Redwall. And when he leaves for Mossflower I have no doubt the Skipper will be happy to take you with him."
Sharpfur said something under his breath.
"I didn't quite catch that." The badger offered his paw, but Sharpfur did not budge.
"We only came here for directions." The weasel grumbled. "That's what they said anyways." He pointed his muzzle at the pair of companions that had lead him here. Tricked him into coming...
"And I have no doubt that that was their intention." Even for a weasel Sharpfur was light, and the badger had no difficulty lifting him off the desk. "I on the other paw promised no such thing. I do promise however, that as my guests you shall want for nothing." Umber got to his feet now- as if not weighed down by anybeast. "You also have nothing to fear." He added but Sharpfur kept his muzzle firmly shut.
Greyclaw was glad of one thing and that was that lunch was not over yet. The mystery of the mysterious boat was all anybeast could talk about, but the rat was too tired to talk. Had the patrol been any longer he'd probably be too tired to eat too. Luckily, or unluckily if you were a pie, he still had an appetite. As did Jack- who's cheeks now bulged with lettuce leaves.
"I reckon it was pirates." Angus was saying. Andrew, of course, agreed with him.
"Aye pirates. Nasty one-eyed vermin what like to chew on fat mice."
"Don't worry Berty."
"We won't let the rat's get to you!"
Greyclaw was at first confused by the wink in his direction, until he remembered he was supposed to be a mouse. Well... He was a mouse.
Victoria did not take kindly to Berty being made fun of, mostly because- having been similarly traumatized by vermin- she knew how painful it must have been. "My mum and dad weren't fat and pirates chewed on them all the same. Start making jokes that are funny or don't make them at all."
Neither twin could bring themselves to look at anything other than their identical feetpaw.
A few spaces down the Junior Corporal was trying his hardest to act like his patrol had been a) important and b) entertaining.
"Wasn't it just rivetting? And quite an important discovery too, with that boat wot. Very important. I'm sure the Badgerlord will want to hear about it! But I'd have to report to the Senior Corporal first, and then to the more senior one after that- but it was such a spliffing good patrol, wot! With any luck we'll be doing this all week!"
Jack and Greyclaw shared a look of absolute horror, which was interrupted by the arrival of Tibbers. The shrew was panting, as if he'd been running- and he had. The importance of his task, setting the stage for Sharpfur's arrival and no doubt the reveal that Berty was a made up name and that he and Jack had been lying to everybeast since they were found- even if Greyclaw was, ironically, a mouse, had only truly begun to weigh on him recently. The Skipper had to know, and everybeast else- but first he wanted to break the news to his fellow conspirators.
Unfortunately, the ever-oblivious Junior Corporal, chose that moment to sit between Greyclaw and Jack-is-Lucky, and more specifically, on him.
"I know it seems like a waste of time and energy, but patrol duty is very, very important, wot! If we leave a tad bit earlier we won't risk missing lunch and can use our normal marching pace-"
Jack swallowed the lettuce. "All brilliant ideas mate, but you're squashing Tibbers."
The Corporal abruptly stood up, and helped the flattened shrew back up. "Sincerest apologies ole chap. Never meant to do it, wot. But you are small and whatnot. Try to stand out a bit more-"
The shrew shook life back into his form and waved away the apology- he heard it twice a day anyways. "I-I-, Jack there's something I need to tell you-"
"Out with it, wot!" The hare insisted loudly, so that all eyes were on the shrew.
It never did manage to arrive, as at that moment the doors opened and in walked the Badgerlord himself.
Every hare in the hall hastily straightened up, swallowed their half-chewed food and fixed their full attention on the badger.
Jack's eyes went impossibly wide at the sight of the other beasts, whom he recognised instantly. He elbowed Tibbers (rather harder than necessary).
"I know." The shrew whined, tugging at his ears. Their great lie was going to come crashing down any minute now.
"I'm sorry for interrupting." Umber said smoothly, and raised a paw to silence the flurry of 'no problems sah' that bombarded him. "I just thought it polite to inform you of the arrival of our young friends here."
The crowd of hares and the otter crew brought their gaze upon the trio. Sharpfur would have ran but Grollo had him by the shoulder. For his part the hedgehog was waving, and although both woodlanders were slightly flustered by the sheer number of beasts present, they were beaming.
Sharpfur's eyes darted from one grizzled hare to another, until they fell upon a grizzled otter. Some hares were tall, some short, some thin, some fat, the same for the otters although there were far fewer fat otters. Then his eyes landed upon a fat mouse- no rat… a fat rat that looked remarkably like Grey Claw. The weasel screwed his eyes shut and opened them again, sure enough the rat was still there. He removed his spectacles, sure enough the rat was still there. He put them back on. And the rat's mouth hung open. There was no mistaking the uneven buckteeth.
Ignoring the instincts screaming at him to run for his life, the fact that the Badgerlord was still talking and any sense of dignity Sharpfur shouted in joy.
"GREEYCLAAAAW!" With speed not even the most senior of hares could have matched, the weasel darted through the mess hall. Greyclaw did not move. He was frozen in shock and pale with fright. If he was seeing a ghost then it was a very strange ghost, for Sharpfur had always said that all ghosts looked like they were covered in flour. Yet Sharpfur would have to be a ghost because Sharpfur was dead…
Yet Sharpfur was here, and slammed into him hard enough to knock him off his feetpaws. The little weasel's arms were firmly glued round the befuddled rat's throat.
"Ye great dumb rat I missed ye! I missed ye! Yer alive! Hellgates! Greyclaw yer alive!"
The rat's eyes widened. Perhaps he was dreaming, something as happy as this could only happen in a dream. Sharpfur was, he was here! In the hare mountain! With spectacles and hugging him and-
"I missed you too!" Greyclaw was not a strong beast by any account, but sheer joy threatened to squish the weasel, and probably would have, had Sharpfur not been used to extricating himself from his brother.
He backed away slightly, so that he could breathe, and so that they could admire each other better. The rat looked no different- perhaps slightly wider, maybe a quarter-of-an-inch taller, but the fur was the same grey, his buckteeth mishappen as they always had been and his tail the same little worm Sharpfur had once used as bait.
The rat could recognise him of course- after all he'd followed Sharpfur everywhere for the better part of his life- but there was something different about the weasel. Perhaps it was the spectacles? Or the fact that he looked cleaner? Did he look cleaner? Well perhaps he smelled better… but no. Had he grown taller? Unlikely…
"Berty?" Victoria's teeth were gritted so tightly it looked like she might snap them off. Her perfectly clipped voice brought the rat back into reality. "Do you know this beast?"
"Berty?" Sharpfur sniffed curiously. "What kind of a stupid name is that? An' course he knows me." Sharpfur straightened himself to his full (unimpressive) height and put his wrists on his hips. "We're brothers!"
A slice of potatoe slipped right off Angus's fork and hit the table. Nobeast seemed to notice.
"What!?" Victoria's eyes were somehow both wide with shock and narrowed in rage- she looked more terrifying than the rat had ever seen her.
Greyclaw raised his paws defensively. "W-wait let me explain-"
"Explain what?" Sharpfur demanded, disliking this mouse's attitude. Nobeast frightened Greyclaw. Well, everybeast liked to do it, and he did it too- but it was inappropriate now!
The angry mouse pointed a spoon at the rat. "You said you were kidnapped! You said these beasts tortured you! You said you were a mouse!"
"A what?" Sharpfur was torn between confusion and laughing at them all; for you had to be a very special type of idiot to think Greyclaw a mouse.
Ignoring the weasel Victoria stomped towards the rat, who now hastily tried to scramble backwards.
"I-I- I-"
"I CAN EXPLAIN!" Jack-is-Lucky could not stand the tension any longer (nor did he want to know where Victoria had meant to put the spoon)- every eye in the hall was upon them, and now on him. "I -er- well you see when we got kidnapped er- well, wot wot. Er- Tibbers can explain!" He hoisted the shrew onto the table and now all eyes were on him.
"Um..." He squeaked, shrinking slightly.
"Berty's a rat?" The Skipper sounded stunned.
"He's been a rat this whole time!?" Angus and Andrew shouted in unison- shocked was an understatement.
"I-it's really all the Skipper's fault!" Jack said, pulling both Greyclaw and Tibbers closer to himself- if they were going down, he was going down with them. Though hopefully nobeast would go down…
The otter in question rose to his feet, cold fury evident on his face. "My fault?" He repeated quietly.
"And the Badgerlord knew!" Shouted Tibbers, and with a gasp worthy of a soap-opera, all eyes turned to Umber.
The badger was rather better at handling the attention and raised his paws. "Bartholomew may have been raised by vermin- and thus under the impression that he was one of them, but I personally am convinced that he is a mouse."
Sharpfur could not stop himself from laughing at the top of his voice. Soon the weasel was banging a paw on the table and kicking his legs in the air. Greyclaw- fat, slow, stupid Greyclaw had fooled the hares of the fire-mountain into thinking him a mouse. Perhaps he was far more cunning than Sharpfur gave him credit for. Or perhaps woodlanders were just stupid like that. It was hilarious all the same.
"I happen to have known his supposed parents." The Badgerlord went on- ignoring the weasel. "And the resemblance is uncanny. Grollo, Hawthorn, I am sure you remember a mouse at Redwall that went by Constance? Now look at our friend, the supposed rat, and tell me is this familiarity just my old age talking?"
Sharpfur had stopped laughing and was now scowling. "It must be, coz Greyclaw's a rat."
But nobeast payed him any mind- their eyes alternating between the mouserat and the Redwallers.
"Well…" Said Grollo after a long while. Sharpfur glared at him. How stupid could they get? Greyclaw was a rat! "I mean there is some resemblance."
"We didn't spend much time with Constance." Hawthorn added. "She always had to deal with Fret. B-but yes. There- there's something similar."
"Now this is just turnin' into a bad joke!" Snapped Sharpfur, growing tired of woodlander stupidity. He pointed at nobeast in particular and continued. "Let's set somethin' straight, coz all yer brains are wonky. Grey Claw is a rat. My ma found him by the river an' he's been my brother ever since. End. Of. Story."
"But you wouldn't know who threw him in the river." The Skipper pointed out.
"Some dumb rat who didn't want him!" The weasel snapped again. Why did it matter who had thrown him in?
"Many seasons ago Constance was a proud mother of three, and Rowland, a father." The Skipper began, for the benefit of all present.
"Facts-inatin'." The weasel drawled, his scowl deepening.
"Until one night a warlord by the name of Mad-Eye Marik came to Mossflower." The otter's paw clenched tightly around a spoon- bending it hopelessly out of shape. "We had fought him before and beat him before. But this time we didn't see him coming. Rowland was killed and the babes slaughtered- we had everybeast accounted for- dead or wounded- except one." The Skipper pointed a claw at Greyclaw. "That one."
"Yer just bein' riddick- riddick- riddick-"
"Ridiculous." Hawthorn provided.
"Riddick- you-less! Greyclaw probably wasn't even born yet!"
"Skip was two seasons and a half." Grunted the otter, a frown of dislike clear on his muzzle. "How old was he when you found him?"
Sharpfur hissed, as if he'd been struck. Greyclaw was no mouse! "About that-"
"And did you or did you not find him the morning after an empty moon?"
"So ye lost a mouse on the same day!" Sharpfur snapped. "That mouse ain't here now an' the only mouse I see here's an angry female! Tell 'em Grey. They're idjits an' actin' stupid an' an'- gah! Ye ain't a mouse!"
"Well… I wouldn't really know…" The rat swallowed. "I mean- I don't remember anybeast before your ma found me. But… but Blizzard and Red and Heart- they always said-"
"They were bein' stupid! Yer a rat Grey an' this ain't funny anymore."
"Does it really make a difference?" Grollo piped up, coming behind Sharpfur and placing a paw on the weasel's shoulder. "I mean, what's the real difference?"
"There are quite a few." Victoria snapped, her arms tightly crossed over her chest. "Mice don't lie! Mice don't slaughter the innocent! They don't pillage! They don't kidnap! And they most certainly do not pretend to be somebeast they're not!"
Greyclaw swallowed audibly. "I- I was scared! You're scary! All of you! An-and you said you hated rats and-"
"Oh you hear that Andrew, we're scary!"
"Yes, properly terrifying!"
"Well when you go around bragging about every vermin you've ever slain-" Jack started hotly, but was interrupted by the Badgerlord.
"I understand that there have been some, ah, miscommunications. But irrespective of what he was called, Berty here has always been himself. For better or for worse. Now, as I was saying- our friends from Redwall owe their lives to Sharpfur here, as such he is my personal guest. If I come to hear of any… incidents… I will not be pleased." His eyes slowly passed from Victoria, to the Skipper and his holt, to a few of the hares. "Is that understood?" There was a murmur of agreement and the the badger smiled slightly. He had found in his many years of service that smiling even a little helped relieve tension, and the room was very tense indeed. "Now, can we please go back to the very important task at hand- and by that I mean eating. I am sure our guests are very hungry."
But nobeast seemed interested in eating anymore- not even the excellent lunch could keep them away from wanting more. This was gossip at it's best! A weasel saving woodlanders? A rat that was really a mouse? Soon the hall was filled with conversation- all either on the subject of Redwall's missing children or Greyclaw's parentage.
"I was there, wot!" One gnarled old hare was saying. "That boy's the very spitting image of Rowland! Only misses the bent tail- ah poor Rowland, dreadful fate, dreadful, don'tcha know?"
Indeed all tables were filled with conversation, save and except the one reserved for the youngsters.
Sharpfur sat besides Greyclaw and Grollo, the latter of whom was trying his hardest, it seemed, to get a stomach ache.
Hawthorn was more delicate, and more aware of the tension still present. Sharpfur was a brooding cesspit of concealed emotion and didn't so much as sniff at the food.
Jack-is-Lucky coughed awkwardly. "So erm- Hawthorn is it m'gal? How did you get here, wot? Must have been quite an adventure!"
"Well, I- I suppose it was! We were still on the boat you see- the raft we were getting away with, remember? Well we got a little lost at first, tried to follow the river home. But it started getting really cold so we headed off into the woods-"
"And then we found this camp." Grollo added after an immense swallow. "Everything seemed alright at first but their was the soup cooking over a fire and their were bones inside."
"Vermin was it?" Victoria asked, stabbing an innocent potato with unnecessary force.
"Cannibals." Grollo said delicately, eyeing Sharpfur nervously.
"We had cannibals too!" Jack cried excitedly. "Didn't we Tibbers? They wanted to cook us, wot but-" He stopped abruptly at the sight of Victoria's face. "But they- well, a bally awful lot-"
"But er- we escaped." Grollo continued awkwardly. "Sharpfur picked the lock and then we-" It was his turn to stop abruptly, the memory of what they had done… the cries of pain, the muffled shouting… all the blood…
"We killed 'em." Sharpfur said with severe finality. The weasel picked up a fork and stabbed an unfortunate leek, but made no effort to consume it.
"Yes." Hawthorn cleared her throat. "That's... What happened…"
"I assume you did the killing." Victoria was addressing Sharpfur now.
The weasel did not like the mouse. Her tone of voice, her scowling face. "It was a cola-bor-ative effort."
"Still, it makes sense for you to do the killing. Did you ever kill anybeast 'Berty'?"
The rat looked horrified. "N-no."
She did not seem to believe him. "I haven't had to kill anybeast." She frowned and Sharpfur saw her nose twitch in his direction. "Not yet anyways."
"Keep yer death threats te yerself, mouse. Ye ain't scaring nobeast." Greyclaw was terrified, but that was besides the point. He next turned to Grollo. "This is why I didn't want te come here."
"You're welcome to leave. And take your rat with you." The mouse snapped, glaring at both.
"He's not a rat." Jack corrected sternly.
"Well he lied like one." The twins said in unison.
"Leave him be." Tibbers squeaked rather unimpressively. "Me and Jack lied too!"
The hare in question nodded vigorously. "And it doesn't matter if he's a rat or a mouse-"
"It does!" Snapped Sharpfur, digging his claws into the table. "It very much does!" He turned to Grollo. "Ye can tell me when we're leavin'." Pushing himself off the bench the little weasel stomped towards the exit. Every eye in the hall followed him to the door, until he could bear it no more. "WHAT'RE YE ALL LOOKING AT!?"
The eyes were averted and the door slammed shut behind him. If it wasn't built for a badger it would have fallen off it's hinges.
Grollo swallowed uncomfortably. He and Hawthorn shared a look, and the hedgehog made to follow.
