Original poem by Brian Jacques. I do not own any of the characters in this story.
The moon shined onto the walls, and the night was beautiful.
Step, step.
Up onto the walls Martin walked. He looked into the treetops and plains, looking for a place for him. But he found none.
Step, step.
He turned the wall corner, looking down onto the sandstone beneath his paws, looking for a place for him. But he found none.
Step, step.
He walked down the stairs, onto the abbey lawns, and stopped to sit down and dangle his feet in the abbey pond. Maybe a stone marker, or a plaque next to a tree would work. But somehow, despite his hopeful ideas, he knew he didn't find it.
Step, step.
He strolled into the abbey orchards. He walked along the rows of bushes, smelling sweet flowers and picking juicy berries. Holding them in his paw, he popped one into his mouth. But he knew this place wasn't for him.
Step, step.
He stopped alongside the rose bush next to the entrance to Great Hall. It had not bloomed yet, and he knew roses bloomed this time of year. He smiled, and thought: I would have it so.
Step, step.
He walked into Great Hall, and stared at the tapestry of himself. But he found this space occupied. This space was already filled with him, and he needed another place for him.
Step, step, step.
He walked down the stairs to Cavern Hole. As he stepped down each step, it clicked and he knew he found it.
Step.
Step.
Step, step, step, step, step.
And he ran out of Cavern Hole, and out of Great Hall, and to the gatehouse. Inside sat the old sleeping gatekeeper. The gates burst open, and where one old mouse once sat snoring peacefully, now stood two old mice wide awake.
"My apologies.", said Martin. "I need a chisel."
The gatekeeper retrieved one from his drawer and handed one to Martin. With a quick nod of thanks and acknowledgement, Martin ran out of the gatehouse.
Step, step, step, step, step.
He entered the entrance to Great Hall once again, and walked up to the tapestry. After rummaging around it, he found the right place to conceal what he had planned.
Making sure no one was watching, he began carving words into the stone.
When I shall go away,
and make my final break
ad pass over the clear lakes
to my love that keeps me dreaming,
all of you should know
as good creatures inside these walls,
never, ever, be afraid
to leave here gleaming.
In all my dizzy twists of fate,
across all skies blue and gray,
I pass the golden gates
and my heart aches less.
Here is a warrior's legacy.
Pass through the golden gates,
and accept your responsibility,
so that peace rules o'er the quiet grove.
Set in stone my words will be,
yet one day they will disappear.
To whoever finds this message,
Let my heights guide your way.
Dearest friend, rub out all,
save for these lines below.
Who says that I am dead
Knows nought at all.
I - am that is,
Two mice within Redwall.
The Warrior sleeps
'Twixt Hall and Cavern Hole.
I - am that is,
Take on my mighty role.
Look for the sword
In moonlight streaming forth,
At night, when day's first hour
Reflects the North.
From o'er the threshold
Seek and you will see;
I - am that is,
My sword will wield for me.