Chapter IV
Creatures began to awaken early the next day, bustling aimlessly about now that most of the tasks were done. The Dibbuns still needed to be bathed, but when anybeast brought it up, no one wanted to risk being drowned in suds and grime from the young babes.
After a sentence or two about the Dibbuns passed between two mice, Mury Cluff was at the point of severe agitation. "Oh, come on now, you bally rotters! Are those young chaps and chapesses too much for you, wot?"
Startled at the Mury Cluff's sudden interruption, the two mice stood in shock for a moment, then stared back with blank and sullen faces at the campaign hare.
Grumbling angrily to himself, Mury Cluff adjusted his polished crystal monocle and headed up to the Dibbun's dormitory. The old saying was true, if you wanted something done right (or in his case at all), you had to do it yourself. He wasn't scared of those young ones. He could level with them. He had been in battles at Salamandastron with the best, these Dibbuns would be easy.
The door opened with a creak as he pulled on the handle, the echo eerie in the silent staircase. Being experienced, the hare knew something was up. He wasn't sure, but it definitely wasn't good. The Dibbuns had planned something. And with all the time it took for anybeast to even talk about the subject of bathing, they would have already devised a scheme.
They might be scatterbrained and disorganized at times, but when a plan against the unsuspecting elderbeasts were thought up, they were quick and viscous.
Putting one lanky footpaw through the door, Mury Cluff waited for a bombardment of pillows and bedsheets to assail him. When that failed to occur, he lifted his face from his paws and looked about.
Everything was in disorder, but no less than usual. Wool blankets were placed between beds, sometimes making little forts for the Dibbuns. Some pillows were halfway across the room, others ripped open and spilling feathers on to the worn stones.
Not daring to make even the slightest sound, the veteran hare tip-pawed through the mess, peering under beds and around corners, searching for the young 'uns.
Snorting at his paranoia, Mury Cluff stalked to another door, opposite from the entrance. This was the door to the dreaded bath. Where mud-covered Dibbuns came in with dirty smocks, but came out with neatly combed whiskers and freshly pressed clothes.
The hare almost shuddered at the memories of his young days, when he had lived at Redwall before heading to the giant, extinct volcano, Salamandastron for miliatary training.
Creaking the small wooden door open on it's hinges, he did not fully expect the onslaught he met.
One Dibbun directly opposite the door, dropped his paw as a signal to the others. Moles, hedgehogs, mice and squirrels came at him with wet towels, sponges, soap; anything they could get their paws on. Yelling and leaping, they charged the hare, throwing the soaking articles at him, as Mury Cluff cried out in surprise.
"Hah! See's 'ow you like da baffs now, missa Cluff!" Roffle the squirrelbabe shouted as he tossed a bar of slippery soap at the hare's footpaws.
"Missed me, wot!" he laughed back, but a dirty smock interrupted further conversation. It covered Mury's eyes and he tripped forward onto the soap, crashing to the stone floor, now wet with water.
Old hogwife Spikeleaf heard the commotion from the stairs as she carried up fresh laundry. She immeadiately dropped it and raced to the dormitory to rescue the poor hare. "Don't worry Mury! Spikeleaf's comin' to help ya!"
She kicked the bathroom door open and stared in wonder at all the havoc the Dibbuns had caused. Water was everywhere, and Roffle, along with another squirrelbabe and a mole were trying to scrub Mury Cluff's head fur with a bar of soap in the overflowing tub.
"I say, guggle, miss Spike, uggle, leaf! Help, urgh, me!" the hare wailed as he was continously dunked under while the Dibbuns clambered onto his head and scoured his fur.
"Stop this instant, you brutes!" Spikeleaf thundered.
The Dibbuns immeadiately stopped, almost as if the command was a spell that froze them in place.
"Well, don't look at me like that! Clean this up! If you want to go to a feast this afternoon, you had better hurry," the hogwife scolded.
As Dibbuns scurried back and forth around her, Spikeleaf strode to the tub and yanked Mury Cluff from the sudsy water by his long ears.
"Ow-w, marm! You're worse than the Dibbuns. Spare me!" the hare wailed piteously, the Dibbuns sniggering as they saw the hedgehog giving him a verbal beatdown and cuffing his ears when he rubbed them in pain.
"Oh, stop it you faker! I'm surprised you let them attack you in the first place! You should be ashamed, and for that I'll stick you back in the tub and scrub you with a coarse-hair brush, maybe that'll teach you a lesson!"
The Abbeydwellers downstairs could vaguely hear the scolding of a gruff voice and the high-pitched wailing of distress coupled with the sound of sloshing water.
The feast was well underway, and Piketail was eating like a hare after a three season famine. Some cast admiring glances at the amount of victuals he could put away, some watched horrified, as mouthful by giant mouthful, he put a dent into the feast.
Swiftstream was unlucky enough to sit beside him. At one point he had seen her paw covered in meadowcream and he almost bit into it like a scone. She had yanked it away in the nick of time and angrily stuffed a raspberry tart into his mouth. He easily chomped through it and started on a bowl of the shrimp soup.
"Will you ever stop eating, Piketail?" the female otter asked as she watched him down a third leek and tomato pastie in the past ten minutes.
"I don' know. Do you?" he mumbled around a scone and a farl of nutbread. He swallowed and sucked a full tankard of blackberry and pear cordial.
"Don't talk with your mouth full, Piketail. It's not polite," she scolded lightly, then gulped down a spoonful of his soup.
"Hrmm!" he yelled, his mouth closed as he grabbed the bowl of soup, which sloshed onto his baggy pants. He shrugged and wiped at it with a paw, and refilled the bowl.
Swiftstream put her head in her paws, hearing the sound of chewing, slurping and gulping next her.
Unknowingly, she had fallen asleep, and was awakened to Piketail shaking her lightly by the shoulder, until she finally came awake.
"Wake up, Swiftstream. You've been asleep for a while now," the otter chuckled when he saw her tired eyes meet his.
"Well, thanks for letting me know," she replied sarcastically.
"You're welcome," Piketail replied, equally sarcastic, his eyes dancing with laughter.
Swiftstream glared at him that patted his sotmach none to gently. "And how was the feasting?"
The male otter winced and pulled a face. "Uh, it was okay. The food was good, but I've had a stomach ache for and hour now," he grunted.
"Gee, I wonder why?" she rolled her eyes at Piketail's gluttony.
When the Dibbuns were finally finished their baths and in clean, dry smocks, Spikeleaf led them down the stairs, their fur shining as the light of the sun outside hit it.
"I not like baffs. Dey too durty," a mousebabe named Divy mumbled to Roffle.
"Well, the water wouldn't be so dirty if you didn't play in the mud around the pond all the time," the hogwife cut in before Roffle could reply.
Divy gave a small "hmph" and continued walking.
Opening the main door to the Abbey grounds, Spikeleaf yelled after them. "Don't get those smocks dirty, or I'll give you a bath as bad as Mury Cluff's!"
Stumping behind the hedgehog, Mury Cluff was dripping water, suds clinging to his headfur and whiskers. "You just had to do that, didn't you, marm?" he grumbled, then walked out into the sushine to get warm.
Games were set up all over the grounds, though most were near the orchard. There were at least three jars filled with strawberries where the Dibbuns would have to guess the amount. There was a greasy pole with a bag of candied chestnuts hanging from a rope near the top, an egg and spoon race, even a haversack distance jumping game.
Dibbuns were laughing and the elderbeasts watched, too old to participate.
"If those Dibbuns get themselves dirtied up, I won't be the ones to wash them," Spiketail said to herself.
The icy claws of winter began to tighten their grip on the land as the months of autumn grew colder. The trees gave up their leaves in silent surrender to the frost-laden air. Winter would be soon in coming.
"Oh please, Piketail. Just stay a little longer," Swiftstream begged as the scarred male packed up his few belongings.
"No, me 'n' Skrikeweb've stayed way too long already. If we don't leave now, then we won't be able to go anywhere until late spring." Piketail was far past negogiation.
Swiftstream slumped down, her face sullen as she mumbled something.
"What'd you say?" Piketail asked, Swiftstream's words had been incomprehensible.
"I said, I'm coming with you."
"No, you have to stay here with your family an' Chief-"
"I said I'm coming with you! If you won't stay, then I'll leave with you!"
Piketail was completely taken aback by the female otter's reply. "Fine, you can come with me, but don't expect it to be easy," he finally replied, letting Skrikeweb hop onto his shoulder.
Packing provisions for the journey, the trio set off as the sun began to set in the west, stars soon blanketing the dark sky.
Hurray, another chapter! I'm finally starting to get back into the main plot of the story, since I fell into a big sidetrack back in chapter three, but it helped the story, so I'm happy.
I am really enjoying recieving reviews for this story, since it's my best one so far. I hope you enjoy it too!
Zealak Silverdirk