The Heart of Noonvale
Chapter 4
Horacio J. Fourears sat gloomily on the grass, his floppy lilac hat drooping
over his eyes.
"What's th' matter now, matey?" said a member of his troupe, a skinny, sleek otter.
"Wot? Oh, nothing, Coolum."
"Y' look like ye just woke up, and ye say nothin'!" Coolum shook his head. "I
dunno what you think, but I think ye should getcherself checked out!"
"Well ah do declare!" said a skunk walking towards the otter and hare. "Don't you
look lower than a snake's belly, mister Horacio! Now, what's th' matter with yah,
dahling?"
"Nothin's the bally matter with me!" said a perplexed Horacio. "And I do not
resemble a flippin' snake's belly, marm!"
"Ya would be th' worst-lookin snake's belly ah've evah seen," said the skunk. "And
mah name ain't marm, sahr, it's Keelie."
"Oh, wotever!"
"Anyhoo, supper's ready, mateys, when yore ready." Coolum retreated to the caravan.
"Tcha, all that chap can think about is his stomach!" grumbled Horacio.
"Look who's a-talkin' thur!" said Keelie. "Anyways, why d' you look like yer auntie
just keeled over?"
Horacio sighed. "I feel a bit off coz I think something is coming to our caravan
that'll get us in deep trouble!"
"My, but you do have some imagination, mister Horacio!" said Sarah with a laugh.
"Sure, laugh all ya bally want, but I suppose you've nevah heard o' Martin th'
Warrior!"
"Martin the who?"
"Me ole daddy always used t' tell me about Redwall--or maybe it was Reedwall, I
dunno--anyways, it's this abbey far, far in th' reaches of Mossflower Woods, an'
all creatures there live peacefully."
"Yeah, so? Why is thur a worrier or whatsit, then?"
"They couldn't be entirely safe, so there was a chap called Martin the Warrior
who protected Redwall while it was bein' built, doncha know. 'E was the greatest
Abbey Warrior of them all, an' he still comes to some people in dreams and such."
"Oh, that's just marvy!" said Keelie. "Maybe this worrier is tellin ya to move
on befoah we's all get killed!"
"So why don't we?"
"Wahl, we still hafta practise a bit befoah we's gets an audience."
"Nobeast wants to see the Wanderin' Noonvale Troupe any more, Sarah, ya strange
ole gel, so I doubt we'll ever get an audience!!!"
"Yore our spokesbeast," said Keelie meekly. "Why donchoo do a better job?"
"Shaddup, you gigglewoppin flopeared stinkertailed stoat!"
"Well ah do declare, that's a mean ole bit o' language for a res-pect-able hare
like you! An' ah'm a skunk, ya hear me?"
"Anyways, let's go into the van for sup. Arguing always works up an appetite, eh
wot?"
"Anythin' works up an appetite for you, ya varmint!"
"I told you to shaddup, you knickerbockered floowah!"
Kerr, from his lookout perch in the tree, peered at Redwall Abbey through all
sorts of glasses.
"I can see Gera in th' Abbey orchard, pickin' away."
"That fool..." murmured Lalli, viciously slicing a trout.
"It's night, ma, remember? An' besides, she's doin' it so stealthily and carefully
I know there's nobeast else supposed to be pickin' fruit."
"Is she gonna deliver it here, then?" said Hilar.
"No, I made 'er promise she'll keep it safe at th' abbey," said Popra.
"Fruit goes rotten," said Jutta, spitting into the fire.
"Doncha spit into that fire no more," said Ingar. "Ye could put it out wit' all
the slob yore horkin' in there!"
"Oh, shaddup!" said Jutta, baring her teeth.
"You shaddup!"
"Stop yore argument right now," said Popra. A quiet tone was all he needed to
maintain for his tribe to pay attention. "Or else there'll be more bloodshed than
there would've been if you had just gone ahead an' fought."
Jutta glared at Ingar, then turned around and started talking to the pine marten.
"Close one," murmured Kerr. He kept a keen watch on Gera. Don't want the girl to
get carried away in her picking, he thought. Those Redwallers might notice some
fruit missing.
"So, what was Kira the Murderous like, Patchtail?" said Jutta.
The black fox Patchtail shivered. "'Twas awful, missus, plain awful. 'E sent us t'
war with our stummicks stuck to th' back o' our spines. Starved us all. Luckily
we've now got yer mum or we'd a died affer Kira left us."
Another fox nodded. "I dunno why 'e left us, but I'm sure glad you picked us up."
Jutta smiled thinly. "Flattery will getcha nowhere."
Kira awoke with a jolt. Way in the another section of the abbey the now-sleeping
Gera did as well.
They had both dreamed of a warrior mouse with a large sword, killing enemies. As
the last stoat fell before him the mouse said three words: "It is I."
"Martin the Warrior?" said the Skipper, shaking his head. Kira had told Skipper of
his dream.
"It seemed like him. What other mouse fells enemies like stalks of wheat?"
"Aw, Dennon, don't let it bother you," said Gera.
"Thanks, Gettat." Neither mouse nor fox knew of the other's true identity. If they
had, they would've treated each other with slightly less respect.
Ferrie the squirrel walked into the dining hall just as Kira said, "At the end of
the dream he said, 'It is I.'"
"That's it! That's bally flippin' bloomin' it!"
Otter, mouse and fox all looked at the squirrel jumping for joy in the air with
funny expressions.
"What're you doing, squirrel?" growled Gera, temporarily forgetting her "gentle
orphaned waif" cover.
Fortunately for her, Ferrie didn't notice the change. "Dennon here has seen the I
mentioned in the thingummy Abbot Grunn wrote!"
"Hey, I did too," said Gera defensively.
"Yeah, but I know that Dennon is a--" Ferrie stopped short, clasping her paw over
her mouth.
"A what?" said Skipper.
Kira's eyes narrowed. Then he dropped his hood. "Yes, that's right, squirrel, I'm a
fox. Anything else?"
"A fox!" Skipper was at Kira's throat in an instant.
"It's okay, Skip, it's okay!" said Gera, prying the otter's paws off of the fox's
neck. "He appears to be a good fox. As long as he doesn't pull any funny stuff--"
Gera glared at Kira as if to say "you better not" "--I think he's safe to roam the
abbey."
"Wait a bloomin' second 'ere...you said you dreamed it too, Gettat?" said Ferrie.
"Yeah, so?"
"Only 'the good-hearted enemy will see I', Gettat. Are you sayin' you're not as good
as we 'oped?"
Gera turned slightly pale. "Erm..."
"Anyways, let's see the Abbot," said Kira, changing the subject.
AN: Hello! I just thought I might explain some things.
Ingar is Popra's third son who I forgot to mention last time.
I know it's strange that no one is willing to kill Kira right now. It will work out,
you'll see.
And in the second chapter, "Grunn Softspikes" becomes "Grunn Softspike". Oops. This
is still the same hedgehog, just so ya know.
Chapter 4
Horacio J. Fourears sat gloomily on the grass, his floppy lilac hat drooping
over his eyes.
"What's th' matter now, matey?" said a member of his troupe, a skinny, sleek otter.
"Wot? Oh, nothing, Coolum."
"Y' look like ye just woke up, and ye say nothin'!" Coolum shook his head. "I
dunno what you think, but I think ye should getcherself checked out!"
"Well ah do declare!" said a skunk walking towards the otter and hare. "Don't you
look lower than a snake's belly, mister Horacio! Now, what's th' matter with yah,
dahling?"
"Nothin's the bally matter with me!" said a perplexed Horacio. "And I do not
resemble a flippin' snake's belly, marm!"
"Ya would be th' worst-lookin snake's belly ah've evah seen," said the skunk. "And
mah name ain't marm, sahr, it's Keelie."
"Oh, wotever!"
"Anyhoo, supper's ready, mateys, when yore ready." Coolum retreated to the caravan.
"Tcha, all that chap can think about is his stomach!" grumbled Horacio.
"Look who's a-talkin' thur!" said Keelie. "Anyways, why d' you look like yer auntie
just keeled over?"
Horacio sighed. "I feel a bit off coz I think something is coming to our caravan
that'll get us in deep trouble!"
"My, but you do have some imagination, mister Horacio!" said Sarah with a laugh.
"Sure, laugh all ya bally want, but I suppose you've nevah heard o' Martin th'
Warrior!"
"Martin the who?"
"Me ole daddy always used t' tell me about Redwall--or maybe it was Reedwall, I
dunno--anyways, it's this abbey far, far in th' reaches of Mossflower Woods, an'
all creatures there live peacefully."
"Yeah, so? Why is thur a worrier or whatsit, then?"
"They couldn't be entirely safe, so there was a chap called Martin the Warrior
who protected Redwall while it was bein' built, doncha know. 'E was the greatest
Abbey Warrior of them all, an' he still comes to some people in dreams and such."
"Oh, that's just marvy!" said Keelie. "Maybe this worrier is tellin ya to move
on befoah we's all get killed!"
"So why don't we?"
"Wahl, we still hafta practise a bit befoah we's gets an audience."
"Nobeast wants to see the Wanderin' Noonvale Troupe any more, Sarah, ya strange
ole gel, so I doubt we'll ever get an audience!!!"
"Yore our spokesbeast," said Keelie meekly. "Why donchoo do a better job?"
"Shaddup, you gigglewoppin flopeared stinkertailed stoat!"
"Well ah do declare, that's a mean ole bit o' language for a res-pect-able hare
like you! An' ah'm a skunk, ya hear me?"
"Anyways, let's go into the van for sup. Arguing always works up an appetite, eh
wot?"
"Anythin' works up an appetite for you, ya varmint!"
"I told you to shaddup, you knickerbockered floowah!"
Kerr, from his lookout perch in the tree, peered at Redwall Abbey through all
sorts of glasses.
"I can see Gera in th' Abbey orchard, pickin' away."
"That fool..." murmured Lalli, viciously slicing a trout.
"It's night, ma, remember? An' besides, she's doin' it so stealthily and carefully
I know there's nobeast else supposed to be pickin' fruit."
"Is she gonna deliver it here, then?" said Hilar.
"No, I made 'er promise she'll keep it safe at th' abbey," said Popra.
"Fruit goes rotten," said Jutta, spitting into the fire.
"Doncha spit into that fire no more," said Ingar. "Ye could put it out wit' all
the slob yore horkin' in there!"
"Oh, shaddup!" said Jutta, baring her teeth.
"You shaddup!"
"Stop yore argument right now," said Popra. A quiet tone was all he needed to
maintain for his tribe to pay attention. "Or else there'll be more bloodshed than
there would've been if you had just gone ahead an' fought."
Jutta glared at Ingar, then turned around and started talking to the pine marten.
"Close one," murmured Kerr. He kept a keen watch on Gera. Don't want the girl to
get carried away in her picking, he thought. Those Redwallers might notice some
fruit missing.
"So, what was Kira the Murderous like, Patchtail?" said Jutta.
The black fox Patchtail shivered. "'Twas awful, missus, plain awful. 'E sent us t'
war with our stummicks stuck to th' back o' our spines. Starved us all. Luckily
we've now got yer mum or we'd a died affer Kira left us."
Another fox nodded. "I dunno why 'e left us, but I'm sure glad you picked us up."
Jutta smiled thinly. "Flattery will getcha nowhere."
Kira awoke with a jolt. Way in the another section of the abbey the now-sleeping
Gera did as well.
They had both dreamed of a warrior mouse with a large sword, killing enemies. As
the last stoat fell before him the mouse said three words: "It is I."
"Martin the Warrior?" said the Skipper, shaking his head. Kira had told Skipper of
his dream.
"It seemed like him. What other mouse fells enemies like stalks of wheat?"
"Aw, Dennon, don't let it bother you," said Gera.
"Thanks, Gettat." Neither mouse nor fox knew of the other's true identity. If they
had, they would've treated each other with slightly less respect.
Ferrie the squirrel walked into the dining hall just as Kira said, "At the end of
the dream he said, 'It is I.'"
"That's it! That's bally flippin' bloomin' it!"
Otter, mouse and fox all looked at the squirrel jumping for joy in the air with
funny expressions.
"What're you doing, squirrel?" growled Gera, temporarily forgetting her "gentle
orphaned waif" cover.
Fortunately for her, Ferrie didn't notice the change. "Dennon here has seen the I
mentioned in the thingummy Abbot Grunn wrote!"
"Hey, I did too," said Gera defensively.
"Yeah, but I know that Dennon is a--" Ferrie stopped short, clasping her paw over
her mouth.
"A what?" said Skipper.
Kira's eyes narrowed. Then he dropped his hood. "Yes, that's right, squirrel, I'm a
fox. Anything else?"
"A fox!" Skipper was at Kira's throat in an instant.
"It's okay, Skip, it's okay!" said Gera, prying the otter's paws off of the fox's
neck. "He appears to be a good fox. As long as he doesn't pull any funny stuff--"
Gera glared at Kira as if to say "you better not" "--I think he's safe to roam the
abbey."
"Wait a bloomin' second 'ere...you said you dreamed it too, Gettat?" said Ferrie.
"Yeah, so?"
"Only 'the good-hearted enemy will see I', Gettat. Are you sayin' you're not as good
as we 'oped?"
Gera turned slightly pale. "Erm..."
"Anyways, let's see the Abbot," said Kira, changing the subject.
AN: Hello! I just thought I might explain some things.
Ingar is Popra's third son who I forgot to mention last time.
I know it's strange that no one is willing to kill Kira right now. It will work out,
you'll see.
And in the second chapter, "Grunn Softspikes" becomes "Grunn Softspike". Oops. This
is still the same hedgehog, just so ya know.