This is to be story told from the point of view of a normal recorder at Redwall. This story will takethe horrible fear of the 'fall' of Redwall into another view, in the grim sense of...
Regression
O O O
"To all those who find themselves in Mossflower. Please, let your paws lead you to Redwall Abbey."
That is an old familiar quote from the manuscripts that I have read. In every recorder's passages, their stories always ended with that phrase: a welcome to all those who were in need of help and believed in peace.
It is that quote that brought me to be moving the quill upon this parchment now, my paws becoming ever more stained by the black ink. The scritching of the tip on the paper intermingles with the sounds of spring and playing Dibbuns just outside the Gatehouse door. I can admit that I am tempted to join them, for I am not far from Dibbunhood myself. My duties come first now, though as the temptation grows I can be sure that my paw will not stay at this task for long. The blissful joy and insuppressible optimism of the Dibbuns is one of the infinite brightnesses of our Abbey. In these current seasons, Redwall Abbey needs these bright points.
Unlike the elders, I shall not try to make our life as sweet sounding as candied chestnuts. That may have been true before this time. In the past seasons, the candied chestnuts have turned stale. The Abbey has been peaceful for the past many seasons. The Abbey has also been deteriorating under our footpaws and no one seems to notice. Nobeast cares about the foundation our Abbey was built on. Abbeybeasts only care about the present and treat the past quests and tribulations that Redwall has survived as if they were pieces of myth that only Dibbuns are nieve enough to believe.
I am not ignorant, I know that most of the elders don't take me seriously anymore. I don't really care for their approval. It has been hinted more than once that I should forego my duties as recorder of our Abbey, that writing our history is no longer needed, that these are different and more developed times.
There is something developing. It is not hope, or love, or joy, or innocence, or knowledge. It is a blackness that is floating over our ramparts, over the stones as the moss and vine are creeping, spreading over the hearts of the beasts within these walls.
Stories of our past have not been read in our Cavern Hole for many long seasons. Once or twice, I attempted to carry on the tradition, to use my rhetoric to paint the grand tapestry of the past to these blissful and ignorant times. The audience was never interested and soon left after I had started, leaving me to speak only to a few Dibbuns.
The Dibbuns are the only hope for Redwall Abbey, I know it.
I know I this is not part of my recording duties, to write my fears and concerns of our Abbey. I should convey the trivialities that make up our life without any mention of the darkness. I should remain unaware of any mark of perfection. I do not think the former recorders made their lives out to be as sweet as candied chestnuts, I think that Abbey life really was that perfect in those seasons.
The stones are crumbling though they show it not.
I shall halt my writing for now, for the only hopes of the Abbey are pulling at my paws to get me to play outside and I can find no reason why not.
Brother Geoffrey
Recorder of Redwall Abbey
• • •
A rabbit was found in Mossflower by the Dibbuns when we were playing outside the Abbey walls today. Outside the confines of Redwall, the air tastes fresher, and the Abbey badger mother is thankful that I drain the eternal energy of the Dibbuns with my long hiking activities.
The rabbit changed the hiking plan a little.
I decided we were going to take a rest at the edge of the River Moss. As I should have known, Dibbuns do not 'rest' when they are told to. Without meaning to, I fell into a deep sleep. I was only awoken by a mousebabe and hedgebabe pulling at my paws. They led me further around a bend in the river to the rabbit. The first thing I saw was how bloody the creature was, its right ear half gone. The blood no longer flowed out of the wound but dried blood, a dingy crimson color, covered much of the rabbit's brownish fur. The second thing that I noticed was how his left hind leg was twisted at an odd, angle.. Upon closer inspection, the leg was broken. I retrieved a branch from a nearby tree and created a make shift way to drag the rabbit back to the Abbey. The Dibbuns appeared to be scared of the rabbit and kept far behind as we trekked back.
The rabbit is a strange. He is in a sort of daze, constantly sniffing the air, his gaze darting about, as if he is afraid of something. When he became less delirious, he almost knocked out the infirmary keeper vole, Sister Feru, It took half of Skipper's otter holt to strap him to the bed. The rabbit can't talk, or is unwilling to. Sister Feru told me in private that there is something wrong with the rabbit. Something about his eyes, and the way his legs are. I really didn't understand what she was saying. It's out of my paws now. Our mouse Abbot Jesse is speaking with him now. I wonder if he will find out anything more.
I would write more if my lantern light wasn't fading and my ink bottle running dry.
Brother Geoffrey
Recorder of Redwall Abbey
• • •
A gray and dreary mist of weather kept everyone inside today, leaving beasts to find entertainment in the Great Hall. I decided to try reading from the ancient manuscripts of John Churchmouse, from a time when Dibbuns were stolen by an evil fox and Redwall was under siege by fearsome birds.
After only a few passages, the Abbot quietly came over and whispered to stop reading so some of the elders could sleep.
Sleep wasn't to happen for anyone since infirmary keeper Feru, came down into the Great Hall screaming and gasping as she staggered to the ancient, long forgotten tapestry at the wall. She struggled to move between walking on two paws and on all four. The other Abbeybeasts moved in to help her. She was screaming something about Martin, as if she were pleading, her voice cracking into odd squeaks. Feru grew calm under the comforting paws. Until she bit the cellar keeper, Dergger, at least. After that, a blanket was wrapped around her and she was dragged to the infirmary. Nothing wrong could be found. She isn't speaking anymore. She is only squeaking. Only the elders and I know this. They warned me not to tell anyone. Everybeast is on edge.
Brother Geoffrey
Recorder of Redwall Abbey
• • •
The rabbit is gone. We don't think he left the Abbey, though we can't find him either. The bonds that held him in the bed were chewed off.
Feru is not getting better and yet there is no evident sickness. She stares blankly out the window, chewing on her blanket. The volemaid still only squeaks. Her nose is twitching...maybe that is nothing.
Some Long Patrol hares came to visit today. Their jovial moods and boisterous natures have brightened the Abbeybeasts somewhat after Feru's strange fit. Since they were more weathered and experienced beasts than us, Abbot Jesse sought their commanding officer, Brigadier General Vickor, for advice about this ailment. He inspected her, but could find nothing, nor could they explain the odd state of the missing rabbit from what we described. He said it was could be just a touch of midsummer madness and would pass in a few days. I can't shake the grim expression on his face.
The Abbot has declared tomorrow a feast will be held in honor of our Long Patrol guests. It shall be dedicated to the Badger Lord of Salamandastron and to the good health of Feru.
That blackness I mentioned a few days ago, I can't help wonder if there is something dark coming. No, there can't be.
Why was she screaming for Martin?
I hope she gets better soon.
Brother Geoffrey
Recorder of Redwall Abbey