Tears of Blood
A/N: Well, this is a little story as an exercise for my mind. I like doing these little stories. I love Brian Jacques¡¯ work; he is so talented! Yeah, I know, his books are a little childish but I like them, so there!
Adrian: (dryly) My, you¡¯re of strong opinion today.
Me: I know. I have a fondness for otters, I don¡¯t know why! Oh and by the way, this story is a little reflection piece featuring Grath Longfletch, from the book Pearls of Lutra.
It might have a few spoilers so beware¡¦.
I own nothing of this, you hear me?!
Sad winds sweep the shores,
Near a place called Holt Lutra,
Where first I saw daylight the day I was born,
And the lone seabirds call
O¡¯er the grave of them all,
Whilst my tears mingle into the seas as I mourn,
For those Tears of all Oceans,
Six pearls like pink rosebuds,
Once plucked from the waters beneath the deep main¡¦
-Grath Longfletch
Pearls of Lutra
My father was a powerful beast.
He was a most dignified otter, with dark fur, evenly colored around his entire body, with huge paws that looked like they could crush rock and the most wonderful brown eyes. But I only knew him as a gentle father, and stern Skipper.
I think he liked me the best, out of all my brothers and sisters, because when he pulled me onto his lap, he always had a fond expression in his eyes. Every beast liked him, respecting him, for he enjoyed having fun, but was still stern at the right times.
The Tears of All Oceans were most admired in our holt, but my father always looked at them with a grim, stern expression. Once, when I asked him why, he pulled me on his knee, looking at me gravely.
¡°Those pearls are most treacherous,¡± he rumbled softly in his dignified voice
Being young and naïve, I asked how they were so, and were they not our treasures?
He looked at me then laughed. My father always had a nice laugh, a booming sound that made you want to laugh along with him. Then he said, ¡°The Tears are not our treasures.¡±
¡°Then what are?¡± I asked. ¡°Aren¡¯t we poor then?¡±
¡°No, little one, we are not poor at all. We are rich because we have each other,¡± he said, smiling at me.
¡°But why are the pearls so bad?¡±
He looked at me for a long moment. ¡°I will tell you later little one, you will soon realize that the Tears are aptly named, and that their beauty hides much, especially why they are pink.¡±
But he fell under the blades of vermin before he could tell me. I loved my father, and as I hope that he and the rest of my holt in the depths of the Dark Forest may rest in peace, even as my green-fletched arrows strike down corsairs.
Now I realize why the pearls are pink. They are white tears stained with the blood of the beasts who died because of them.