Random Thought: When I update my entire story, I always wait until I've finished rewriting every chapter and finished writing the latest chapter. It's a killer to execute, but I can't seem to stop myself, and I love seeing my story develop and change as I rewrite it. So far, I'm very happy with where it's going. - ZS
A Rose and a Warrior
Chapter V
Ribad's home was tiny and utilitarian. The logs were fitted together expertly, and pack with moss and dried mud. Two stumps, possibly leftovers from the trunks, occupied one corner with well-trimmed oil lamps, and a pile of grass mats another. A pot-belly stove occupied the center of the hut, with a long pipe leading through the ceiling. The only form of ornamentation in the hut was a fox tail hung over the entranceway.
The silver-furred beaver extricated two mats from the corner and bade Martin sit down. The warrior mouse obliged willingly. Upon further inspection, the mats were weaved in expert patterns, some dyed and even woven with small pictures. Noticing the mouse's interest Ribad shrugged modestly.
"It's part of me trade, I s'pose. If I'm not makin' timber I'm makin' art, Trixy used t'say. As I was tellin' you out there, Trixy's not with us anymore. Gone off t'find his calling, he said. Wouldn't give any of us much hint of what that was exactly, but said that he was goin' to find answers to his dreams. Somethin' about cloaks an' destiny. Somethin' about those mice too." Ribad squinted over Martin's shoulder, trailing off incoherently.
"Pardon me, Ribad. But does Trixy have anything to do with why you asked me here?"
The ancient beaver blinked once and looked back at the warrior. "Y'say you're travelin' Martin? S'pose y'don't know much about us then.
"In the south, there was a great castle ruled by fair mice. Nobeast knows how long their line is, 'cept for the mice, 'scusing yerself, I s'pose. Ever since a drought in the far south nearly starved and burned us out, many of the creatures who lived there moved up here. Including the High King and his offspring. The drought continued for many a season, nothin' nobeast'd ever seen before, so everybeast just stayed up here. Things started to fall apart in the royal court, as survival beat out hierarchy. Quite a few kings were okay with that. In fact, the line practically died out, save fer the efforts of our current lordship t'keep 'is title. Then somethin' happened that ruffled 'is whiskers. Cats took over his castle, an' the High King wanted to get it back. Hoped 'is son would take up the dream when 'e got older, but the young un died a babe. Almost took the whole of the royal family with 'im too."
When Ribad lapsed into silence again, Martin waited for him to speak while pulling at a loose strand on his grass mat. The ancient beaver coughed in alarm but continued his tale.
"As I was sayin'! The High King loved his son dearly- not just for the idea of his regainin' the throne, y'know- and eventually discovered that there was legend of a band of dreamers and soothsayers that might help 'im be reunited with 'is son. Dunno why anybeast'd try that, but this is jus' comin' from an ole bachelor…. In any case, rumours have it that nothin' could be done for 'im 'til Dark Forest's Gates were unlocked. Somebeast's supposed t'come along an open 'em- load o' rubbish!- an' these soothsayers were given the job of findin' just the beast. Only know half o' this 'cause Trixy tole me 'e saw it in a dream. Aye, and the dream told 'im t'go lookin' for the dreamers, and could y'look after me baby cousins if y'please? Huh!"
"Is that all?" Martin asked, his head practically swimming with new information.
"Just about. Thought I'd warn ye case beasts down here start askin' y'weird questions. 'Scuse me, but I gotta call in those rascals fer supper." Shuffling to the entrance, Ribad pulled out a bone whistle hung about his neck and blew three sharp blasts. In mere moments the two hogs had tumbled through the entrance on top of their caretaker.
"Blow me spikes Ribad, y'shouldn' stand so close t'the door!"
"I'll spike you Octa, y'useless pincushion! Where's me blackburries fer afters, eh?"
"Here!" Alto held up the basket triumphantly, grinning a purple-stained smile.
Dusting himself off, Ribad turned to the mouse warrior. "Does spring vegetible soup suit yer fancy Martin?"
Before he could respond, the mouse was tackled by Alto and Octa who fought among themselves for the chance to sit closest to Martin's sword. Ribad hid a laugh behind an angry cough while pulling the soup from the coals of the stove. Setting the large pot between them, Ribad passed them each a large spoon and a chunk of bread. "Octa, yore turn t'say the graces," he mumbled.
Octa obliged with a purple smile.
"Thanks fer the bounty o' the bushes
The skies, the rocks, an' the trees,
Thanks fer the comp'ny round the fire
An' give us more suppers like these!"
"Well said!" Alto and Ribad chimed as they dug their spoons into the soup.
The soup had a good flavour with more vegetables than the warrior mouse could put a name to, and was good and hot. Although the pot was full to the brim, the contents within declined rapidly in a contest to see who could down the most spoonfuls. Alto emptied the pot happily, and Martin found himself smacking his lips along with the others.
The aforementioned berries had been soaking in honey while supper was eaten, and tasted even better ladled atop a plate of wafer-thin scones.
Before dessert was even over, the two hedgehogs were calling on the beaver to sing a song for their guest. Coughing in embarrassment Ribad produced a little accordion and tapped his paddle-like tail to the rhythm. The beat was easy and soon had Martin and the hedgehogs clapping along.
Rum tum tiddle um row ho hey
Eat all night and sleep all day!
Rum tum tiddle um row ho hey
I love me job but it don't pay!
Ain't I fine ole sight t'see
The bachelor life's the life for me
Don't need no dame t'prattle on
Guess we don't really know wot we got 'til it's gone!
Two hogbabes an' an ole tree home
Shaped a bit like a dam-it's a dome!
It's a mess in here but we don' cry
I say "sit right back an' pass the pie!"
Sing a rum tum tiddle um row ho hey
Eat all night and sleep all day!
Rum tum tiddle um row how hey
I love me job but it don't pay!
xxxx
Meanwhile, Pluto flit frantically through the trees. He and Trixy had always been good friends, and when he had lost the hedgehog to supernatural urgings there had been little to cheer him. But something about the warrior mouse had piqued his interest, and the sparrow was almost certain that this Martin would be important to Trixy. Ribad's consent had spurred him on.
Finding the location of those soothsayers would take a lifetime, but spreading the news of a foreign mouse might spark the appropriate interest.
The twilit forest was soon replaced by lush grass much taller than himself, the mountains of the north taking large bites out of the bleeding horizon. As the land rose gradually around the sparrow, the grass became dotted with natural hedges through the foothills, and a small path became visible. Pluto felt himself smile, lighting on the hard-packed earth in silence. A broken lamp shone a short distance up the path.
"Still as thrifty as ever," Pluto chuckled. He hop-skipped his way through the foothills, occasionally coming across another broken, yet well-lit lamp to guide him through the descending darkness.
At the base of the first tooth of the mountains stood a longhouse a with loft fashioned much like the houses near the docks of the western sea. Also much like its nautical counterpart, the loft emitted a soft and steady yellow glow. The longhouse beneath was much more interesting to the sparrow.
Although painted peeled shamelessly from the outer walls and cracked window panes whispered of better days, the double doors of the entrance were flanked by two more of the telltale lamps, although these two were much better tended. One of the doors was propped open with a pale blue rock, possibly the fanciest thing in the vicinity. More light accompanied the sounds of music, laughter, and off-key ballads- the sounds of life. A sigh escaped Pluto, as though he were returning home from a long journey.
He entered like he owned the place, clapping familiar faces on the back (and sometimes into their drinks) and waving, the sparrow hopped up to the counter. A grizzled rabbit with few teeth to speak of or with poured tankards with practiced ease, hollering orders above the din. A fox assistant scurried back and forth, laden with plates heaped with savoury foods. It took some time for the old rabbit to notice Pluto, but when he did his lips constantly twitched a smile.
"Back fer yer midsummer top-up, I s'pose, eh Pluto?" he cackled.
Pluto returned the cackle. "Long as you'll continue with the good eats and even better ales, I'll always come 'round!"
"So it's barnacle grog with a plate o' bread 'nd cheese, innit?"
"Jus' like every summer, Horace," the sparrow grinned and slapped a few coins on the oiled countertop. "I'll be in me usual spot."
Pluto settled into a makeshift seat, really just a worn cushion placed in the window box. Three otters bulled their through the crowd to take seats next to the sparrow, upsetting multiple tables and setting Horace's wife, the bar matron, to fever pitch as she followed the spills.
"Ah sure, an' y'remember yer three brothers from the west, eh sparrow?" the otter with the most tattoos asked.
"Where's Rurrim?"
"Messed wi' the wrong sea lass! Once 'er daddee found out about 'im, 'e made sure Rurrim'd stick around t'be a good father!" At this remark, more than just the four of them joined in the laughter.
"So're y'lookin' fer stories t'day or tellin' 'em?" an otter called Sheelok looked at the sparrow with innocent eyes.
"Telling fer sure," Pluto smirked back. "A mouse showed up in the forest t'day. Never seen the like of him afore. Looked like a great warrior, even though 'e was so young! He's gunna be a big deal someday, I tell ye! His name should be Martin, if I 'eard right."
Nobeast noticed, but a squint-eyed weasel slipped out of the double doors of the tavern.
xxxx
To be continued….
Wow, I never realized how fun song writing could be! I can see why Jacques did it so often, the great man. I always avoided it because I didn't want to sound corny, but that's kind of the point isn't it? Anyways, in case you didn't notice, those two huge paragraphs in this chapter are important, so don't forget them!
I feel so refreshed having revived and revamped this story. I just know that I want to finish the tale I had originally intended to tell, and I'm happy that I can share my improvements too.