Chapter eleven: The Code of the Warrioress
"Gr, I'm Badrang, you shall not free the slaves!" Dallum half-heartedly swung his stick. He was usually picked to play Badrang, because everyone else had a pretty big part on the good side. Santhe(Chrysanthemum is too long, I'll just call her Santhe from now on) played her father, Jorrell played his father, Nytestripe played her "mother", Bungo played his uncle, and Dammy played Ballaw.(who is NOT his father, by the way)
Santhe looked every inch a warrior... kind of. She had a long stick as a sword, a wooden board as a shield, and a wooden bowl for a helmet. But other than that, she looked like a true warrior. Her eyes blazing with the thought of battle, she pretended to run and jump on "Badrang", and pretended to run him through with her "sword". The rest pretended to jump on enemies and kill them too, but not with as much enthusiasum as Santhe.
Dallum pretended to stagger around, fall down and die, instructed by Santhe. "No, no, look like you're in pain! Not like a demented lizard drinking elderberry wine."
The young hedgehog faithfully demonstrated Badrang's death, just to Santhe's satisfactory. "Wonderful! Okay, Rowanoak, how did you and the Gawtrybe squirrels do?"
Nytestripe winced slightly at being called Rowanoak, but answered, "Lost a few squirrels, Martin, but we took quite a few."
Santhe nodded her approval. "Great, Grumm and Brome, how are the wounded doing, are they okay?"
Bungo and Jorrell looked up from tending imaginary patients and replied, "We lost a few, but the others are fit and will be up in no time, Martin."
"Burr aye, ee'm be fit as ee fiddler!"
Santhe was about to ask Dammy how their force went when an irritable voice from the ground said, "Can I stop pretending to be Badrang and being dead?"
The mousemaid smiled apogeletically and helped Dallum to his feet. "Sure, let me help you up."
"No, I mean stop pretending to be Badrang."
"Why?"
"Why? Because it isn't easy, and not many creatures fancy pretending to be a vermin."
"But... then who will be Badrang?"
"Dunno, Nytestripe?"
"No way! Even though Rowanoak isn't my mother, she has a big part in the Marshank battle and I like pretending to be her."
"Then how about Jorrell?"
"Me?!? Oh, no no no no no, please no. I can't play Badrang."
"Hm, maybe Bungo?"
"Hurr, counten oi outa dis, oi doan't wanna be nae varmint."
"And if you're thinkin' of me, Santhe ole gel, then don't bally well think, cuz I'm not gonna play some smelly vermin rotter, wot."
Santhe blew out a long breath. "Whew, and I can't play Badrang, I'm supposed to kill Badrang, oh well, let's just find something else to play."
Jorrell pointed towards the village. "Too late, looks like our parents want us back. See you tomorrow guys!"
They all departed, agreeing to meet next morning at the front of Council Lodge. Santhe walked into her family's tent, where her mother Rose was sewing a new dress for her daughter. "How was your day, Santhe?"
Santhe flopped down on her bed, lying back. "Okay, I guess."
"What did you do?"
"Um, we played 'Marshank' again."
"Again?!? Santhe, what have I told you?"
The mousemaid turned away from Rose, knowing exactly what her mother was going to say. "The Marshank battle isn't something to be remembered, let alone being played as a game. The Battle of Marshank was violent, and frightening, from what Martin told me. That is no game for a mousemaid!"
Santhe inwardly sighed. There was nothing else for it. She sat up and faced her mother, whose face was still beautiful as ever, but now creased with concern. Santhe took a deep breath and said her true feelings. "Mom, I don't want to stay here all my life. I want to be a warrior. I can't stay locked up here without knowing what battle and fighting and war is like."
Rose silently listened and stared at her daughter. Santhe finished speaking not sure whether to continue. She decided to stay silent, but the silence between became almost unbearable. They stared at each other for what seemed like forever.
A tear silently materialized from Rose's eye and trickled down her cheek. "Oh Santhe, I knew it. I just knew it." Rose broke down weeping.
Santhe looked puzzled and sad that her mother was crying and patted her back gently. "It's okay, mom, it'll be all right."
"I knew," Rose sobbed, "I just knew you'd want to be a warrior. Like your father." The thought of Martin and where ever he was now brought more tears to her eyes. She dried them and faced Santhe. "Santhe, you must promise me, that if you ever fight, control yourself. Never, ever, slay needlessly, only for the good of others. And take very good care of yourself. Never attempt to do reckless things, that may cost you your life, or a loved one's life. Try not to kill, kill only if the other creature persists in trying to hurt you, or another. Protect the weak, and shield them from cruel and heartless."
Santhe was trying not to pay attention, but the words her mother said seemed to force their way into her ears, and burning themselves in her mind. It would be a hard thing to forget.
Rose wiped another tear from her eye. "Martin had always said those to others, he called it the code of the Warrior. He lived by that code, and fought by it. I could never forget it, the exact words I can still recall."
Santhe looked down. So that was it, the code of the Warrior. She had heard of the Warrior's code, but no beast she asked would tell her. Now that she knew, she wanted to forget, but couldn't. Every single word glued themselves to her memory. The future Warriormaiden lay down to sleep, repeating the code in her mind.
Control yourself.
Never slay needlessly.
Take care of yourself, as well as others.
Don't do reckless things.
Kill only as a last resort.
Protect those that cannot defend themselves from stone-hearted.
Santhe thought them over and over again, till she fell in a deep, dreamless sleep.
"Gr, I'm Badrang, you shall not free the slaves!" Dallum half-heartedly swung his stick. He was usually picked to play Badrang, because everyone else had a pretty big part on the good side. Santhe(Chrysanthemum is too long, I'll just call her Santhe from now on) played her father, Jorrell played his father, Nytestripe played her "mother", Bungo played his uncle, and Dammy played Ballaw.(who is NOT his father, by the way)
Santhe looked every inch a warrior... kind of. She had a long stick as a sword, a wooden board as a shield, and a wooden bowl for a helmet. But other than that, she looked like a true warrior. Her eyes blazing with the thought of battle, she pretended to run and jump on "Badrang", and pretended to run him through with her "sword". The rest pretended to jump on enemies and kill them too, but not with as much enthusiasum as Santhe.
Dallum pretended to stagger around, fall down and die, instructed by Santhe. "No, no, look like you're in pain! Not like a demented lizard drinking elderberry wine."
The young hedgehog faithfully demonstrated Badrang's death, just to Santhe's satisfactory. "Wonderful! Okay, Rowanoak, how did you and the Gawtrybe squirrels do?"
Nytestripe winced slightly at being called Rowanoak, but answered, "Lost a few squirrels, Martin, but we took quite a few."
Santhe nodded her approval. "Great, Grumm and Brome, how are the wounded doing, are they okay?"
Bungo and Jorrell looked up from tending imaginary patients and replied, "We lost a few, but the others are fit and will be up in no time, Martin."
"Burr aye, ee'm be fit as ee fiddler!"
Santhe was about to ask Dammy how their force went when an irritable voice from the ground said, "Can I stop pretending to be Badrang and being dead?"
The mousemaid smiled apogeletically and helped Dallum to his feet. "Sure, let me help you up."
"No, I mean stop pretending to be Badrang."
"Why?"
"Why? Because it isn't easy, and not many creatures fancy pretending to be a vermin."
"But... then who will be Badrang?"
"Dunno, Nytestripe?"
"No way! Even though Rowanoak isn't my mother, she has a big part in the Marshank battle and I like pretending to be her."
"Then how about Jorrell?"
"Me?!? Oh, no no no no no, please no. I can't play Badrang."
"Hm, maybe Bungo?"
"Hurr, counten oi outa dis, oi doan't wanna be nae varmint."
"And if you're thinkin' of me, Santhe ole gel, then don't bally well think, cuz I'm not gonna play some smelly vermin rotter, wot."
Santhe blew out a long breath. "Whew, and I can't play Badrang, I'm supposed to kill Badrang, oh well, let's just find something else to play."
Jorrell pointed towards the village. "Too late, looks like our parents want us back. See you tomorrow guys!"
They all departed, agreeing to meet next morning at the front of Council Lodge. Santhe walked into her family's tent, where her mother Rose was sewing a new dress for her daughter. "How was your day, Santhe?"
Santhe flopped down on her bed, lying back. "Okay, I guess."
"What did you do?"
"Um, we played 'Marshank' again."
"Again?!? Santhe, what have I told you?"
The mousemaid turned away from Rose, knowing exactly what her mother was going to say. "The Marshank battle isn't something to be remembered, let alone being played as a game. The Battle of Marshank was violent, and frightening, from what Martin told me. That is no game for a mousemaid!"
Santhe inwardly sighed. There was nothing else for it. She sat up and faced her mother, whose face was still beautiful as ever, but now creased with concern. Santhe took a deep breath and said her true feelings. "Mom, I don't want to stay here all my life. I want to be a warrior. I can't stay locked up here without knowing what battle and fighting and war is like."
Rose silently listened and stared at her daughter. Santhe finished speaking not sure whether to continue. She decided to stay silent, but the silence between became almost unbearable. They stared at each other for what seemed like forever.
A tear silently materialized from Rose's eye and trickled down her cheek. "Oh Santhe, I knew it. I just knew it." Rose broke down weeping.
Santhe looked puzzled and sad that her mother was crying and patted her back gently. "It's okay, mom, it'll be all right."
"I knew," Rose sobbed, "I just knew you'd want to be a warrior. Like your father." The thought of Martin and where ever he was now brought more tears to her eyes. She dried them and faced Santhe. "Santhe, you must promise me, that if you ever fight, control yourself. Never, ever, slay needlessly, only for the good of others. And take very good care of yourself. Never attempt to do reckless things, that may cost you your life, or a loved one's life. Try not to kill, kill only if the other creature persists in trying to hurt you, or another. Protect the weak, and shield them from cruel and heartless."
Santhe was trying not to pay attention, but the words her mother said seemed to force their way into her ears, and burning themselves in her mind. It would be a hard thing to forget.
Rose wiped another tear from her eye. "Martin had always said those to others, he called it the code of the Warrior. He lived by that code, and fought by it. I could never forget it, the exact words I can still recall."
Santhe looked down. So that was it, the code of the Warrior. She had heard of the Warrior's code, but no beast she asked would tell her. Now that she knew, she wanted to forget, but couldn't. Every single word glued themselves to her memory. The future Warriormaiden lay down to sleep, repeating the code in her mind.
Control yourself.
Never slay needlessly.
Take care of yourself, as well as others.
Don't do reckless things.
Kill only as a last resort.
Protect those that cannot defend themselves from stone-hearted.
Santhe thought them over and over again, till she fell in a deep, dreamless sleep.