A/N: ferretWARLORD: Yes, poor Kali :( She didn't win the battle of the bards, and at some point in the future she'll run into the crazed eagle kid that was Kew-Kew. Only now he's all grown up. But hey, at least he's a fan!
Waycaster: It's less extortion and more Rolf is veeeery good at making bad life decisions. Hopefully eagle-hunting won't be something he regrets agreeing to :P
And yes, Kali has arrived! She likely won't have tooooo big a role in the story- mostly just as a character that comes along every once in a while and does some stuff. I mean, Margaret and her family are pretty tolerant of Kew-Kew (and Rolf is certainly holding that dressing down in :P) but none of them are the type of characters to willingly join in on any of his schemes. Kali probably wouldn't be a hundred percent willing either buuuut she's more used to being in pretty weird scenarios :P
It was almost surprising that the holding cells and city watch of Plomplemoof, where no less than thirty fights went on at any given moment, were as underfunded as they were. But then again, anything from petty theft to divorce could be sorted out in one of the various arenas and crime rates were low in general. The dilapidated cell, now holding Rolf, Barrumtum and Kew-Kew, was damp, dark and cold. A single, overweight guard snored outside, their feetpaws resting on a table besides their keys. A leak somewhere above lent its voice to the strange orchestra of noises.
Click!
Crack!
Drip!
Snore!
"Oooooh, thaaaat's the spot. Y'know," Rolf slurred. "For a bard with anger management problems,"
Click
Click
"You make a preeeeetty good masseuse."
With controlled force and a smile on his face, Barrumtum chopped down on the mouse's bare back. He and Kew-Kew were none worse for wear despite their impressive brawl, but Rolf had been left in a sorry state; his tail was bent, his whiskers askew and his whole body sore. Luckily, Barrumtum was good at more than just throwing chairs around and despite his initial protests, Rolf was enjoying himself. "Thank 'ee zurr. Itten be the least oi could do after oi… after-"
"After throwing Rolfie at Kew-Kew," the wearet besides them provided, helpfully.
"Throwin' ee at moister Kew-Kew."
"Not the first time I've been thrown around," Rolf brushed the apology aside. "And as far as alternative healing is concerned this sure beats acupuncture."
Barrumtum tugged bashfully at his snout. "Itten be moighty kind of 'ee t' say so zurr. It sure is noice t'be precerated." The mole paused, raking his claws across Rolf's back with a gentleness he had never demonstrated in the Barfing Bird. "Oi'm zorry oi lost moi temper. Oi've just been sensitive about moi singin' ever since…"
"Since what?" Kew-Kew leaned forwards, his eyes wide and curious.
"Oi was part of an acting troopay when oi was younger… but they kicked me oot coz they said oi couldn't sing."
"That must have been traumatic," said Rolf, his voice laced, laden and dripping with a sarcasm neither of his cellmates caught.
Barrumtum nodded gravely. "Burr hokey, 'twurr moighty oopsettin'." The mole paused again, pressing down on Rolf's lower back and gently easing his claws upwards. Suddenly, he turned to Kew-Kew with tears in his eyes. "Duzz 'ee really be a thinken oi sing loike a worm?"
Oh no! Terror forced Rolf tense up, flooding his body with fresh waves of pain. His breath caught in his throat and his heartbeat skyrocketed. More vulnerable than ever before, his very life seemed to depend on Kew-Kew's answer.
"No," Kew-Kew shook his head from side to side, oblivious to the massive sigh of relief Rolf was blowing. "Barrumtum sings better than worm-things. Not as good as Kali-thing but much better than Kew-Kew."
The mole brightened considerably and continued his massaging with greater vigour and enthusiasm. Rolf was not exactly comfortable with the speed and ferocity at which his nerve points were struck, but it was preferable to actually being struck and still more comfortable than acupuncture.
CLICK!
CRACK!
Luckily, Rolf did not have to bear his masseuse's newfound tempo for very long. A nasally voice from outside the cell addressed them.
"Alrighty yew two, ye've been bailed out which means it's the streets for yew! No more cozy cells hahahahahaha!" The jailer, a portly shrew with matted fur/, cackled as he picked up the keys from besides his sleeping colleague.
"This cell is a lot of things," Rolf muttered. "But it's not cozy."
"Careful mouse," the shrew waggled a finger at him. "I could hold yew in here for three months just for sayin' that!" He held the key just in front of the lock, and grinned menacingly. "Maybe I-"
Kew-Kew shoved the locked door open before the shrew could finish his sentence, and smiled down at the comparatively miniscule jailer.
"B-b-but I'm not goin' te do that, c-c-coz ye've been bailed out!" putting on his best smile, the shrew pointed towards the exit.
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"Why is mole-thing not coming with us?" Kew-Kew wondered aloud as he and Rolf made their way up a flight of stairs.
The mouse shrugged. "He wasn't bailed out I guess. But I wouldn't worry about Barrumtum. For one thing, you just broke the lock and I'll be very surprised if they repair it in a fortnight. And well…" he trailed off as, behind them, Barrumtum could clearly be heard asking the jailer if they wanted a song sung. "He can look after himself."
Satisfied, Kew-Kew nodded. The wearet yawned widely and rubbed at his eyelids in an attempt to keep them open. "Where is Rolfie sleeping?"
"In… the Barfing Bird… hopefully. I'm not sure if they'll let me in again."
"Because of Kew-Kew?" the wearet's ears drooped apologetically. He placed a pink paw on Rolf's bruised shoulder. "I is sorry."
"It's fine..."
Before long they found themselves in the reception lounge. It was just as dilapidated as the cell they'd left behind, complete with furniture that had either collapsed a month ago or was on the verge of losing a third leg. Waiting for them on a moth-eaten couch was a fat, brown rat with a nosering.
"There yew are, finally, I've been waitin' ages!"
"Ralph-ratty," Kew-Kew growled, his eyes narrowing.
Sensing danger, Rolf scampered to stand between them. "Kew-Kew this is my very, good, friend, Ralph," he said pointedly. "Ralph, this is my… roommate. Kew-Kew.
"Hi," the rat managed a tiny wave as the wearet leaned in to sniff. Ralph blinked, and turned to Rolf, wearing an expression of total confusion. "Yew have a roommate?"
Kew-Kew passed his tongue over the side of the rat's face, provoking further confusion and another blink.
"My family took him in," Rolf explained, still wondering what had convinced them to do so.
"Right," Ralph wiped away at the wearet's saliva. "Nice to meet yew then."
Kew-Kew chewed thoughtfully at the lingering taste of rat, before shrugging. "I have plushie of Ralph-ratty," he said conversationally.
At this, the rat's ears perked up. "Oh? A fan, eh?" He shot Rolf a not-so-subtle wink and elbowed the mouse hard in the ribs. "Is this yer first time in Plomple- heeeeey!" Ralph stepped backwards all of a sudden, gesturing madly in the wearet's direction. "Kew-Kew! I-I've heard- Yer the one who beat Alphonso!" Ecstatic, he turned towards Rolf, his tail wagging and limbs flailing in a vortex of mad excitement, and shook the mouse wildly as he declared for all to hear. "He beat Alphonso the Eagle! Legendary champion of the Crowpit!"
"Kraw," Kew-Kew went pink underneath the rat's awe. "Crow-bird was no eagle."
"So it was you! Oh- oh my- oh- can I have yer autograph?"
Rolf blinked, his jaw hanging open, and watched as Kew-Kew plucked a single feather from his skirt.
"I am yer biggest fan!" The rat squealed, holding the feather as if it were sacred.
"Well thanks for bailing us out Ralph," Rolf snapped him out of his reverie, sounding far more bitter than he had intended to. "But it's been a long day and we need to get some rest."
Visibly embarassed Ralph tucked the feather into a pocket. "Oh er- sure. But Carrabas wants te see yew right away Rolf. He's the reason I'm here actually. Oh!" A light switched on inside the rat's mind. "Kew-Kew should come too!"
"What is a carrabas?" Kew-Kew cocked his head to the side. "Is it like carcass?"
"Oh no, he's a stoat." Ralph replied, with a helpful bob of his head.
"He's my boss." Rolf groaned, mentally preparing himself for the chewing out of a lifetime.
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"Fighting in an unregistered arena!?" the stoat exploded as soon as Rolf was seated opposite him. "I don't expect these things from Ralph, let alone you! Arrested? Do you have any idea how much that could damage my reputation? If I can't control my fighters then what kind of ringleader am I? But you didn't think about that when you went and trashed the Barfing Bird!"
"I didn't-" Rolf wisely held back on the rest of his protest. Carrabas had always been amicable, friendly even when he fired beasts. To see him now, red-faced and roaring was all sorts of terrifying. The mouse flattened his ears and shrunk into his seat, hoping that the desk between them stayed between them.
"I AM BEING SUED!" Carrabas snarled, tearing at his fur. "By the innkeep, by the city watch and by a wolverine named Auslag who claims you broke a table over her head."
"B-but I can't even lift a table!"
Carrabas shoved the desk aside as if weighed nothing and rose to his feetpaws. "And now I have to prove it in court!" He bore down on the grey-furred mouse, his fangs bared. "If this is some sort of protest over your current employment status I assure you I can make things much worse!"
Rolf swallowed audibly, unable to shrink further into the chair.
Carrabas sighed, took a deep breath and collapsed into his own seat, his paws on his face. "I'm sorry. I've been under a lot of stress lately and I expect better from you. I am, of course, fully aware that you are incapable of lifting a stool, let alone a table- and what to speak of breaking one?- and that you cannot be held responsible for the destruction of the Barfing Bird. But you were arrested and that hurts my reputation." The stoat drew away his paws, the better to glower down at his employee. "What do you have to say for yourself?"
"I-I- but I wasn't fighting," Rolf forced himself to stop shaking. "Barrumtum and Kew-Kew were! I-I was just… there."
"Which of course explains why you were arrested." Carrabas snorted derisively. "I have half a mind to fire you on the spot. But fine, I'll play along. Just tell me… who is this... Kew-Kew?"
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"A wearet!" Carrabas cried, his eyes widening in wonder as Kew-Kew squeezed into the office behind Rolf. His anger vanished completely.
The wearet made an avian noise of disagreement and muttered something about being an eagle under his breath.
Carrabas went on as if there had been no interruption. "Why Rolf- w-wherever did you find him?"
"In my house." It sounded a lot better than 'In my bed'. "My family have sort of… adopted him. He thinks he's a-" Rolf glanced upwards and found a very cross Kew-Kew staring at him. "I-er- I mean- he is an eagle."
"A wearet with a gimmick!" Carrabas breathed.
"I is not wearet." Kew-Kew muttered grumpily, crossing his wings over his chest.
"B-boss! Boss!" Ralph burst into the office behind them all, gesturing wildly again. "He's not just any wearet-"
"Kraw!" Kew-Kew glared at the rat, who blinked stupidly and got the message when Rolf helpfully trod on his tail.
"He's not just any eagle! He's the beast- er, bird!- that beat up Alphonso! Y'know- that crow from the Crowpit!"
"No!" the stoat's eyeballs bulged out of their sockets. "Noooo!"
"Yes!" shrieked Ralph, awakening everybeast in an eight mile radius. "And he even gave me one of his feathers!" The happy rat raised his most precious possession for all to see.
"But Alphonso was the reigning champion for seasons! A-and- Kew-Kew, was it?- You came along and destroyed his career in one match!"
The eagle shrugged sleepily. "Crow-bird was big scaredy."
"I heard he pissed himself and flew into the air!" Ralph cheered.
"Do not be so vulgar in my office." Carrabas scolded, his face darkening momentarily. It brightened up a second later, when he turned to address Kew-Kew. "How would you like a job?"
"A what?" Rolf spluttered.
"A job!" the stoat replied.
"B-b-but he broke the Barfing Bird-" the mouse protested. "Y-you were going to fire me for that!"
"No I was not. Don't be ridiculous Rolf. Besides, anybeast who can fight can find work here and from what I've heard you, Kew-Kew, most certainly know how to. So what do you say?"
Stiffling a yawn, Kew-Kew shrugged again.
"Excellent!" Carrabas leapt to his feet, none-too-gently sweeping Rolf aside. "Do sit down!" he said, easing the sleepy Kew-Kew into a chair he usually reserved for honored guests. "We have much to discuss." He turned his gaze upon Rolf and Ralph and smiled disarmingly. "In private of course."
It took Ralph all of eight minutes to figure out what this meant. "Oh! R-right boss, I'll get outta yer fur. C'mon Rolf."
"We'll be upstairs." Rolf answered before Kew-Kew had the chance to ask. Without another word and with his tail dragging along behind him, the mouse followed Ralph out.
"So!" As soon as the door shut behind them, Carrabas clapped his paws together like an eager dibbun, and slipped back into his chair. "How would you like to be the greatest fighter in Plomplemoof?"
"I as champie-thing?" Kew-Kew raised a footpaw to scratch the back of his ear. He considered it for a while longer, picking his teeth in a thoughtful kind of way. In his mind's eye he saw himself, the great and mighty eagle, feasting upon fallen preythings amidst the roar of a crowd. He was even bigger and burlier in this vision, and hefted a trophy eight times his size to the cheers of his adoring fans.
Margaret's voice cut through the dream like a red-hot blade. "Fighting is the most barbaric sport in the world Kew-Kew. Honestly I'm a little disappointed in Rolf for choosing it as a career."
Back in Carrabas' office, Kew-Kew shook his head from side to side. "Kraw! Kew-Kew would like to be big champie-thing very much, but is not good. Is bar-bic."
"Barbic?" the stoat inquired, raising his eyebrow.
"Bar-bar-ick?" Kew-Kew cocked his head to the side.
"Bad," Margaret summarized. "Primitive. Not good."
"Barbic is bad, is not good." Kew-Kew explained as Carrabas' eyebrow threatened to rise off of his face. "Is pimitive."
"Primi- oh barbaric! Fighting is not barbaric," the stoat protested, but Kew-Kew cut him off.
"No. I is best hunter of eagles, but I is not champie-thing." The wearet rose to his feetpaws, stumbling slightly from the day's accumulated exhaustion.
"B-b-but a beast with your talent! I could make you the greatest fighter in Plomplemoof! You'll have everything you could possibly want-"
"All Kew-Kew wants now is sleep," the wearet interrupted, rubbing at his drooping eyelids.
"Please!" Carrabas begged, refusing to give up just yet on what might be the business deal of a lifetime. "Y-you have so much untapped potential!"
Kew-Kew shook his head from side to side. "Kew-Kew said no."
"B-but you could be so good!"
The wearet yawned openly. "I is already good."
"But-"
"No. Kew-Kew only came to see Rolfie fight, not to be champie-thing." At last there was a note of finality in the eagle's voice.
"Very well." Carrabas hid his obvious disappointment well and smiled warmly. "I think you're making the wrong decision but I respect your choice. It's still nice to meet you." He hesitated. "Tell me, would you say you and Rolf are close?"
"Kraw! Rolfie is roommate of Kew-Kew," was the wearet's happy reply. "Is not like Marr-garr-ett or mouseyworms but is good mousey."
"I am quite fond of him too." Carrabas let his smile falter. "I worry about him sometimes. Always throwing his matches." The stoat sighed. "I suppose Ralph never hits him too hard but one of these days... I fear he'll fall and never get back up."
"Is Carcass threatening Rolfie?" demanded Kew-Kew, his eyes narrowing dangerously. "Rolfie said stoat wanted to fire him." Kew-Kew imagined the act of firing someone to involve roasting them on a spit, so understandably he was feeling rather protective.
"N-no! Of course- what a thought. No." The stoat sighed again. "He has a few matches left with Ralph before he has to take a break and well... Ralph always gets excited in his last match of the season and he's about to move on to real fighting and... knowing Ralph. I-I'm worried Rolf might be seriously hurt this time! Unfortunately there is nobeast else... willing to throw a match and Rolf refuses to cancel. Unless... no, no that's silly."
"What is silly?" Kew-Kew's face was twisted in visible concern.
I really should have pursued that acting career... "I just thought that... if Ralph fought you instead of Rolf, well he couldn't really do anything to hurt you. And then you would throw the match and wouldn't have to worry about anybeast coming to you and asking you to fight for them. And best of all Rolf wouldn't be hurt. I-it was just a silly thought anyways-"
"Keeraw! Is not silly at all!" Kew-Kew cawed, flapping awkwardly (all flapping was made awkward without feathers) to his feetpaws. "Is smart plan! I fight Ralph-ratty and Rolfie is not hurt. And then I is not champie-thing! Kraw! Carcass smart!"
"I try," the stoat shrugged, the very image of humility.
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"Yew never said ye needed a roommate," Ralph scratched the back of his ear awkwardly. "Ye know, if it's te pay rent a-an' ye needed one I-I could always share."
"Thanks," grumbled Rolf, his eyes trained to the table his head was resting on.
"So... last match soon." The rat drummed his fingers. "We've been doin' this so long y'know Rolf it feels weird that... that this is it, eh?"
"Hmmmm," was the only response the mouse gave.
"I-I guess we won't be seein' each other as much anymore. B-but we'll still keep in touch r-right?"
"Definetly," Rolf muttered grumpily, oblivious to the pleading note in the rat's voice.
"Great! Ooh! I can give yew tickets te me matches sometimes. A-an' then yew can watch some fights for free!"
"Oh joy."
"A-an' I'll be rich, right? S-so I could maybe buy yew lunch from time te time. A-an' spare tunics in case yew ever get robbed again. Ooooh! I could get yew one of 'em fancy-"
"Rolf my boy, this is why you're my favourite employee!" Carrabas burst in on the pair and before the mouse could react, he was wrapped up in a hug. "Ralph prepare for fame and fortune because Rolf just gave us a one way ticket to fighter heaven!"
"I-I did?" Rolf was, needless to say, dumbstruck. Only a few moments before Carrabas had been a snarling, rage-filled boss on the verge of berserk wrath. Now he seemed to have gone beyond even his usual, easy-going self and transformed into a bubble of joy.
"Yes you did!" cried the stoat. "Because Ralph won't be fighting you anymore. His last match before Hanzaman's Hut is going to be with Kew-Kew!"
"W-what?" Ralph balked.
"I- I don't think that's a good-" Rolf protested.
"And when Ralph wins," the stoat grinned, interrupting them both. "They'll have no doubt about my fighter's worth!" He let Rolf drop to the floor and pointed at an empty piece of wall. "The first thing I'll do when I'm rich is commision a portrait!"
"Kew-Kew knows he has to throw the match, right?" Rolf asked, pushing himself to his feetpaws. As much as he disliked Ralph it hardly seemed fair to set a misguided wearet on him.
As if in reply to the question, the wearet walked in, his mouth stretched into a yawn. "Rooooolfie?" A furless paw wiped grogginess from his eyes. "Can we go sleep now? I is much tired."