A Rose and a Warrior

Chapter III

"Sources tell me the Reynard Brothers will be playing there tonight, so expect some good fun!" Rose still found it odd that Martin's own grandmother could be so carefree and only concerned for the ever-present.

When the two mice finally did make it to the gathering area, the Forest had grown even darker, prompting Windred to go on a tirade about Dark Forest's inability to filter sunlight and the only advantage here in the dark was when you fell you couldn't hurt yourself.

Two creatures, a weasel and a mole, were at the entrance to the gathering area; a large ring of closely planted trees with thorns that wove all around the trees, creating an effect like a fence with barbed wire. Windred assured the mousemaid that this was to ensure that no creature entered without being registered.

"The hosts here are very strict about recording attendance, probably just in case somebeast breaks something or causes a fight," Windred shrugged, her mind obviously on the festivities and not the legal implications.

The mole at the entrance crinkled his snout to Windred in a smile of recognition and spoke. "Hurr, Windred. You'm bark agin, wid comp'ny too. Gudd."

The weasel standing opposite the mole regarded the duo suspiciously and asked for their names, which he proceeded to write down in a guestbook.

As they passed the two guards, Windred whispered to Rose. "That mole back there, Grubby, he's almost as deaf as a rock, he can barely hear, but he manages somehow."

Rose nodded in acknowledgement, but was more focused on the creatures around her. All varieties. Mice and bankvoles, squirrels and shrews even an owl and two hawks. True to Windred's prediction there was a trio of foxes, playing a lively jig on their fiddles.

Scanning the rows of creatures, she noticed a mouse seated by a patch of flowers, gulping down a beaker of something.

"I thought you said we didn't need to eat," Rose wondered aloud.

"We don't. We only eat if we want to," Windred answered. "I've got somebeasts I need to talk to, so you'll excuse me if I don't introduce you."

Rose decided to approach the mouse and try an attempt at conversation with him. Perhaps he could explain some things about Dark Forest.

"This is a wonderful party, isn't it?"

"No use talkin' to that one, missie, he don't know how t'speak." A gray squirrel sat down next to the mouse, cutting an apple for the two of them. "Methinks he died while still a babe."

"What makes you say that?" Rose asked, horrified.

"I jest passing through a piece of land I'd never seen here, and came across the fabled Gates of Dark Forest, guarded by badgers since who-knows-when. I won't go inte many details, but I saw a family come through them, dressed in tattered silks and lookin' just as thin."

"They physically passed through the Gates?"

"Everybeast here knows the story that only royalty or the noblest of the noble can come through those Gates, so I'm thinkin' those mice was part'a some broken kingdom. Lord Brocktree, the current Gatekeeper, would only let the young 'un through, an' tol' the others they had t'go back. Two were terrified, sayin' that they couldn't leave a newborn t'fend fer 'imself, even in Dark Forest. Now, somehow, Brocktree knew I was there the whole time, an' he even called me out to take responsibility for the young 'un, seein' as I was hangin' around where I wasn't wanted. They all looked so relieved to have somebeast t'look after this'n that it wasn't like I cud say no."

The mousemaid could only sit there, trying to absorb all this new information. Gates? Royalty? What was with all this? But she wasn't given much time to think, as a tough but familiar face came to sit among them.

"Ah, an' here's me newest son, 'e don't have a name yet, though. Got'ny ideas?"

"Felldoh?" Rose gaped, for indeed it was he.

The tough squirrel snorted. "Felldoh? Wot kinda name is that? Sounds like I fell outta a tree an' hit me head. Felldont would be a wiser name."

Rose felt completely helpless and confused. Surely the squirrel standing before her was the same one that had battled for the freedom of Marshank's slaves? Only a few day's difference in death and he could not remember her?

"Hm... Felldoh. 'S a good name. Felldoh an' Firky, sons o' Rowlock Spokeshave," the squirrel chuckled to himself, still cutting the apple for his adopted son.

"Oh come on, dad. That sounds awful," Felldoh pouted.

Rose could almost feel the bile rising in her throat, if there was any. This was far too surreal. First she was dead, now she was remembering her life, and now she was meeting creatures who existed without memories. The final stroke was meeting Felldoh, his mind now a blank slate.

Truly there was some sinister magic in Dark Forest.

xxxx

The night of the funeral was a solemn one. The cooks had made a half-hearted attempt at a meal, but no creature felt the desire to eat. Martin figured that most of it would end up in his traveling packs by early morning.

Almost immediately after the burial, the residents of Noonvale retreated to their homes, some still sobbing, others were even too shocked to move. It had been a strange day, as though time had stood still, in honour of the fallen mousemaid.

When they were back inside the house of Urran Voh, Grumm tried one last time to convince his warrior friend to reconsider.

"Marthen, miz Rosey wud want ee t'be happy, an' weem udd need ye here. B'ain't roight, leavin' 'er behoind loike this. At least lemme come withee."

The warrior mouse sighed, his heart heavy. "You've been a wonderful friend to me, Grumm Trencher, and I'll never forget you, but there are some things that fate just won't allow. Staying here is one of them. I make no promises, but I'm almost certain we'll see each other again one day, so don't worry."

The kindly mole wrapped the warrior in a tight hug to stem the tears in his eyes. "Oi'll miss ee turrible Marthen. Doan't furgit us'ns. We'em allus 'member ee." Stemming a sob, he looked up again. His voice was shaky but firm. "An' never furgit miz Rosey, long as ee lives."

Martin returned the embrace, biting his lip as he felt the sting of tears. "I'll never forget, Grumm Trencher: about you, Noonvale, or Rose."

The two friends did not speak afterward, and Grumm waved in silence from the window of his home, watching the mighty warrior disappear into the trees. From then on, Noonvale knew Martin no longer as just a warrior; he was a legend.

xxxx

To be continued...

I kind of liked the way this chapter turned out, that there was no reconciliation between Martin and Urran Voh, because, quite frankly, I think it'd be impossible. Brome didn't really appear anywhere, but I just don't think I could've portrayed his character right. Grumm just had to be there, because he's amazing and I'd totally want him as a best friend, and I think he understands Martin best