There was much excitement at the dig site. While bones and other small remains provided the most historic information, blades were shiny. The four students hovered around the small dagger, each scrambling to get a closer look at it.
"Can we touch it?" Piped up the stoat.
"Keep yer paws off it!" Shouted Bulfie, he wasn't about to have the find pocketed. Not after their first misfortune with grave robbers. "Finish documenting it then Wally is locking it up."
"Aww… but Sir." One of the weasels begged.
Wally was feeling somewhat sympathetic towards the eager young minds. Also if he let them hold the artifact, they may be more inclined to go back to work, rather than pester him about it. "Alright, but be gentle each o'ye." He carefully supervised the holding of the blade.
The young stoat took it first. Gingerly he examined the small weapon. It was simple design, although skillfully made at a badger's forage. He slowly wrapped his paw about the narrow hilt. Grinning he held up the ancient blade. "Ha look at this mates, I looks like a regular warrior now eh?"
Bulfie clicked his teeth watching as the other students nodded agreeing with the statement. Their eyes all wide and grins plastered across their faces.
"Oh yes, a real warrior. Pity such a blade would have been headed right for yer throat back in the day."
The young stoat looked a little crestfallen, and Wally heaved a sigh. He expected his friend to carry on with another one of his tangents, about how history had poorly painted his species. It never came. But there was some light chuckling emerging from the weasel brothers.
"May I hold it?" The mouse asked having decided the stoat had more than enough time with the weapon. She had waited patiently after all.
The blade passed into her paws. Holding it delicately she observed it with a far more academic interest. Unlike her fellow students she wasn't interested in fantasies about warriors and long past battles. History was only her minor; her real interest was Mossflower literature. Still, a slow smile crept across her features as she held it.
"My goodness, it is very light." Her voice held surprise, not at all what she had expected.
"Indeed missie. This is a runner's blade, meant to be carried on long runs. The owner might 'ave been given it when 'e was ten seasons old. We won't find many blades. Y'see, blades and the like use up a lot of resources to make; when they are made they'll last for generations. More often than not, the blade will pass on to a family member. But sometimes, if the creature was real special, or if the circumstances forced it, they will be buried with the blades. "Wally explained.
The weasels took their time with it. The elder of the pair asking. "So is this all we'll find?"
Wally shrugged his shoulders. "Mayhaps."
"What about Rapscallion weapons?" The younger piped up. "Doc..er I mean Bulfie said there may be Rapscallions buried along here too."
The ferret nodded. "Aye, might be some buried in a pit here abouts. An' we may find some cutlasses or spears tossed in amongst them. Woodlanders tended not to keep vermin blades."
The students looked most surprised that one of the professors would use the word vermin. Bulfie took all this in stride. Taking a long swig from his water bottle he waved a paw. Alright, back to work. If I 'ad a whip I'd be cracking it across yer lazy backs.
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The flight to Salamandastron's airport was largely uneventful. Once they touched down, Beth could feel that they had arrived at the legendary home of the badgers and hares. It wasn't just due to the fact ninety percent of the creatures in the airport were hares, or that most of those were in some sort of uniform. There were signs everywhere: the artwork in the airport depicted varying achievements of the Long Patrol, assorted plaques and parts of WWII planes could be found around each corner, and even the small airport pub carried the name Eulalia!. Wading though the sea of bob tails and long ears, the two squirrels made their way outside. A sleek looking black car waited for them. Jennifer was there, already in her formal wear. The weasel wore a simple, yet very charming cream coloured dress and a matching hat cocked over one ear to the right side. While she looked lovely, the outfit didn't quite seem to fit the weasel's business like personality. With Jennifer was another hare, in full dress regalia. The hare was quick to relieve Dan of his suitcase, while the weasel made introductions.
"I hope the flight went well. This is one of Lord Urthbriar's aids, Captain Jonathan Tussock. Captain, may I present Dr. Dan Firdance, and his daughter Beth Firdance."
The hare nodded politely and loaded the luggage into the car. It became apparent that Captain Tussock was also to be acting as their driver to the mountain stronghold. There wasn't a long drive from the airport to the mountain. Beth peered out the window as they passed along the motor way. On the short dive they passed several buildings that seemed to serve some sort of military purpose. It seemed that everywhere she looked a large aircraft, tank or cannon stood as monument. The Captain only spoke on occasion, usually to answer a question, or point out notable points of interest. Waving a casual paw towards the window, he glanced at Beth from the rearview mirror.
"There she is, home sweet home."
Up ahead, standing larger than life was Salamandastron. The ocean provided the pristine backdrop for the majestic fortress. The car ambled up the road, past the museum and tourist information centre. The young squirrel pressed her nose against the window watching the many creatures that had come to see the site. Butterflies raced in her stomach as they drove closer and closer and the mountain grew larger. The hare driver veered the car away from the main road, turning off to an underground car park. A rather official looking hare stood on guard, and with a gloved paw signaled that the car had to stop.
Captain Tussock rolled down the window giving the hare a nod. Seeing who the driver was, the guard hare offered up a quick salute. "Just bringing some of our guests for the garden party. Be so kind as to let the chaps know that Dr. Firdance and his daughter have arrived."
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It wasn't even midday, and some of the students were beginning to lag. Crouched over the site, they worked with small hand shovels and brushes. One of the weasels slapped at his neck.
"Ugh, bloody bugs." He grumbled loudly.
"Welcome t'the country matey." Wally laughed.
The weasel grumbled all the more. "I think me ears are burning, an' me back aches."
Bulfie looked towards the sky as the student continued to grumble about working in the outdoors. "Oh woe, there is dirt getting under my claws, whatever shall I do?" he cried in a mocking forlorn fashion.
The student passed a cold glance towards the ferret. Mumbling inaudibly he continued brushing away at the remains of the first otter body uncovered at the site. His brother had been given the photographing duty. Sneaking up, he clicked away with the camera.
"Oh yeah. Work it, fab baby!" He snickered.
"Will ye two knock it off?" Bulfie gave them a warning glance. Before he could lecture the pair, his mobile rang. With a look of aggravation, he snatched it from the clip on his belt. "Hello… yea, speaking…What, WHAT." The ferrets face quickly shifted to that of fear. When the short call was over, he dropped his tools and hurried towards his car.
Wally watched his friend with growing concern. Leaving behind what he was working on he followed after Bulfie. "Wot's this about mate?"
The ferret was rapidly punching in another number into his phone. "The youngster swallowed an eraser, I'm off t'the hospital. "
As a parent himself, Wally knew better than to question further. He stepped aside, watching as the ferret peeled out of the makeshift driveway. He would do the same should anything happen to any of his children. He would just have to continue on the site without him.
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Beth felt she was in a dream world. Uniformed hares escorted both her and her father to a room that had been prepared for them. A wide grin seemed to permanently fix upon her face. "We're actually staying here?" She squeaked.
One of the uniformed hares smiled seeing the young creature's excitement. "O'course missie, wouldn't be jolly hospitable of us if we didn't arrange a room, wot."
Bounding through the hallway with a new spring in her step they came upon the small chamber. It was cut right out of the rock, as Beth presumed all the rooms were. Two double beds could be found within, heavy red bedspreads on each. The young squirrel scurried around the room, exploring every nook and cranny.
"There's a fireplace!" She exclaimed, and then moments later she discovered the circular window cut into the rock. "Daddy, look at this view!"
Dan thanked the hares for their help finding the place, and bringing up the luggage. Each smiled warmly, as with most hares; they took delight in the antics of young creatures.
"Just sing out sah if you'll be needing anything wot." One spoke up. His fellow escort watched the wonder and excitement of Beth and grinned.
"Seems the young miss 'as settled in nicely. We'll leave you to it."
They both had other duties; the mountain was a buzz of activity with the garden party upon them in a few short hours. There was still much to prepare, like a well oiled machine the hares of the Long Patrol worked their magic to ensure every detail was in order.
Dan was starting to feel dizzy watching Beth circle the room. He set the suitcase on one of the beds, unzipping it and retrieved his toiletry bag, shoes, and the few other bits and bobs he needed to get ready. He motioned towards the small washroom attached to the chamber. "Go get ready, we'll be expected to go down to the party soon enough."
Snatching up her dress Beth scurried into the small washroom. Each squirrel got ready as quickly as they could. Dan took little time, being a male-beast; he wasn't as fussy with how his tail looked. Pleased that he was neat and tidy, he checked his tie in the mirror. It was a good thing he could dress so quickly, it seemed only moments after sending his daughter to get changed there came a knock at the door. Quirking a brow, he pulled the heavy door back.
"Oh, Jennifer. Didn't expect to see you so soon."
The weasel invited herself in pleased to see Dan was all ready to go. In her paws she carried a black folder which she casually opened and sorted though the contents. "I've been in touch with Lord Urthbriar's Attaché all week; finally I was able to secure a meeting. You will only have half an hour or so this afternoon, but his Lordship is very interested in your work, so we shall see how this goes." Removing some papers she passed them to Dan. "Here is your invitation, and the seating plan. You're seated at the same table as retired Brigadier Scutram and his wife. He previously served as cultural minster, so I thought that would give you lots to talk about. He's also a family friend." She added the last part, as if it were an afterthought.
The washroom door opened. Seeing the weasel, Beth shyly shuffled into the room. She wore her stunning light green dress her and May selected. It was very conservative cut, as would be expected for such an event. The dress was just past cocktail length, with sleeves to the elbow and a light swooped neck. In her paws was her small hat, also matching the fabric of the dress, with a lighter green mesh material forming an intricate bow. She held it, looking a little distraught.
"Well you look lovely." Dan remarked.
Heaving a sigh, she shrugged. "I can't get the hat on right."
Jennifer stepped in, relieving Beth of the hat. Opening up the fur clips with her teeth, she neatly pinned it at the perfect angle for the girls face. Tipping her chin upwards with a claw the weasel motioned towards the mirror. "There, much better don't you think."
The young squirrel nodded. "Thank you." She spoke gently looking at her reflection a moment longer.
Closing up her folder, a thought came to the weasel. "I'm not sure if you are aware, but the Long Patrol hosts a short memorial prior to the annual garden party. Nothing too complex, but they invite local youth to lay candles with elderly veterans. I'm sure, I could arrange for you to participate Beth."
The young squirrel nodded, and then glanced towards her father waiting for his smile of approval. "I'd really like that."
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Bulfie's small son Rinn sat on the edge of an examination table. The small ferret wore a light blue hospital gown that draped past his foot paws. His father paced nervously around the small room.
A female mouse in a white lab coat entered with an x-ray image. Pinning it in place over a light box she explained the findings to Bulfie. "As you can see there is an obstruction." Using her pen she highlighted a small white mass on the black and white image. "Typically we might wait to see if it will pass, but with a ferret that age it is going to have to be removed. "
Licking his dry lips he listened closely."An' what is the next move marm."
"We will be getting your son into surgery by three o'clock. This is a very simple procedure, however with any surgery there are some risks. We would like to keep him overnight, just to be sure that everything is as it should be. Some beast will be by soon to move your son up to the surgery floor, and then the pediatric anesthesiologist will see to him."
Bulfie nodded, trying not to look too worried, for the sake of little Rinn. "O'course."
The mouse excused herself from the room to see to other patients, and allow father and son some time to discuss. Rinn glanced at his father; most of what the doctor had said went over his young head. His almond shaped eyes peered up past the dark sable mask crossing his young face.
"Papa is I in trouble?" he asked slowly.
Hopping up to sit beside his son, Bulfie put a comforting paw around the lad's shoulders. "No, not at all. That eraser you swallowed, it needs t'get out o' yer belly. A nice doctor is going to give you something that will make ye sleepy, then when you wake up, that nasty bit will be out o'ye. Yer gonna have t'stay here t'night, but I'm gonna take the day off work an' stay wit ye."
Rinn smiled hugging his father. "I'd like that Papa."
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True to her word, Jennifer made arrangements for Beth to participate in the event. She and the other young creatures participating in the memorial were ushered into a section of the corridor. To Beth's dismay it appeared she was among the oldest participants. Most of the creatures were under ten seasons of age. It appeared all save for her were hares, although in the short time she had been there she had gotten used to it. All around her, small leverets in varying uniforms were lined up. Many wore cadet uniforms, deep green tunics modeled after the dress uniforms of the Long Patrol. Others wore tan shirts and green berets the uniforms of the running scouts. A short time after the youth were lined up, a number of elderly hares formed up. The older veterans laughed and joked with one another, as only Long Patrol hares could. A very senior looking gentlebeast, grey with age, and leaning heavily on his cane, strolled though the crowd.
"Right o chaps, form up, y'know the drill. Pick one of these young'uns. The quicker we honour our lost, the quicker we can get some scoff. Which I'm sure they would find agreeable wot wot." He swaggered slowly towards the front continuing to add comments. "Some beast keep Woodsorrel away from the pretty ones, blooming air force, always stealing the pretty gels."
This comment brought on muffled off colour comments from the veterans, followed by low chuckles. One of the scout leaders passed by, hearing the laughter she believed it to be the youth causing the ruckus.
"Hush young'uns, remember this is a very serious occasion. " She hissed passing over the column.
The young scouts stool silently, gazing up unsure of what to do. This only brought about more laughter from the veterans.
Towards the end of the line, Beth stood, not entirely sure what she should be doing. Just as the ceremony was about to begin, the young squirrel found a hare in an air force uniform standing beside her. Glancing up at the older creature she suddenly felt very tiny. While the beast beside her was well into his eighties, he still had a towering presence. His whiskers were heavily waxed, and uniform perfectly in order. Beth's eyes drifted towards the collar of the hare's uniform. His graying fur thinned out about his neck, and the faintest indication of scarring could be visible peeking from under the crisp uniform. She wondered how he had gotten such a scar, or even how large such an injury had been. The line began to move, one of the cadet officers passed her a candle in a glass holder. Holding it, she stood not really sure what to do with it. The line moved forward, young and old walking together down the aisle of assembled hares. As it got closer and closer to her turn, she grew all the more nervous. Picking up on this the veteran standing beside her cleared his throat to get her attention. His voice rasped with age as he whispered quick instructions to her. "You carry the bally candle down to the end, pass it off to me. Remain standing, eyes front. I'll place the candle down, then turn to the right. You go left and rejoin the other young'uns. The line moved forward in the long procession. Before Beth knew it, she stood in the doorway. The veteran smiled down at her, whispering again. "One, two, three, an' left foot paw first."
Leading out with her left paw, she walked keeping pace with the elder hare. Following the pair ahead, they walked to the end of the aisle. There before them was a large wreath of poppies laid against a small stone monument. The relief on the monument showed Salamandastron, and on the beach a series of lances tipped with pendent flags. Remembering what the veteran had instructed, she passed the glass candle holder to her accompanying hare. Standing stock still she watched as he slowly moved forward, bent at the waist and placed the candle alongside the others. He took a position beside Beth, saluted the monument then turned to the right. The young squirrel momentarily forgot what she was supposed to do. Standing still, Beth paused to glance to her side and realized she was all alone. One of the cadet officers coughed lightly; catching her attention he nodded his head motioning for her to join them.
Feeling quite embarrassed she quickly walked to take a seat with the other youth. Glancing around, she spied another squirrel seated in the front row. He appeared to be only a season or so older than her. She wondered why he was there; it was nice to not be the only squirrel in attendance.