#martiniii

I’ve not actually used this yet, but I’ve been studying some one of the songs in Redwall, and decided to write one randomly. 

Stars in the sky light the way home,

However far you may roam.

The wind in the trees,

Sings soft melodies,

Of the tales that our memories hold,

Dreaming of the stories to be told.

The dibbuns asleep with their eyes shut tight,

As Redwallers bid to each other a goodnight,

And close every door;

Turn off every light. 

Yet, we’ll leave one more on, 

From the night till the dawn,

So that you may find your way. 

When the stars lead you home,

From wherever you are,

Back to us,

A very confused Virra Bolntoam stared at the dazed mouse warrior, who had seemingly fallen out of nowhere. She glanced upwards, and observed the fortunately-placed branch of a hearty oak tree that had broken his fall.

She and her crew had made it to the safety of the Abbey’s walls, and were avoiding the archers’ arrows by staying close to the walls, while one of her crew led Ferngale out into the open. The archers had seen them from a distance, but hadn’t ceased fire when Virra had indicated Ferngale, as if he were a hostage. Ferngale had urged her to move closer to the walls, as the archers might not be able to see him when he was surrounded by the crew members, and then have a sea rat parade him out into the open so that they couldn’t miss seeing him.

“Ohhh…” Martin groaned, sitting up slightly, “My head…”

Virra glanced over at Ferngale, but he just shrugged and gave a nod, leaving her feeling confused for a moment. Then, a sudden rush of freedom welled up inside of her, and she glanced around, realizing that her crew were just as perplexed (and frightened) by the mouse’s sudden appearance as she was.

This was her chance to prove her leadership, and reinstate herself as Captain.

Virra cleared her throat, and leaned back, in a relaxed manner, resting the blade of her sword on her shoulder. “Well, well, well!” she said in a long, bored drawl, “What have we here? A flying mouse?”

A few of her crew members snickered, causing her confidence to soar. As the mouse raised his head to look at her, she planted her foot firmly on his back, forcing him back to the ground.

“I suppose that I could spare you, little mouse!” Virra announced, with a laugh, “After all, I’m in a generous mood!” She gestured to her crew, who gave a rallying cry. “We’re taking your Abbey, today,” she said, sinisterly, as the mouse gazed up at her, helplessly. Something in his eyes unnerved her, but she continued quickly, “Soon, all will know my name… Ferngale the Ravager!”

The crew cheered, then quickly hugged the walls again, as the squirrel archers sought to shoot down at them, but found it difficult because of the oak tree. Still, Virra was satisfied with her crew’s reaction. She saw the mouse eyeing a sword that lay nearby, and bent over to pick it up.

“What’s this? I am that is?” Virra read aloud. She tilted the sword in the sunlight, to see the inscription better. “The gem’s nice, but this blade… it’s practically worthless! Not worthy of me,” she said, tossing the sword back onto the ground.

The mouse was still giving her that look. Virra shoved him down again, as he attempted to rise. “You’re going to escape? And miss your Abbey’s demise?” Virra asked in an amused tone of voice. She gave the Abbey an exaggerated glance, as if determining its value. “Then again, perhaps I’ll keep it. Ferngale Abbey has a nice ring to it,” she said.

A few of the crew cheered again. The rest were too busy dodging arrows, as the squirrels began to find their targets through the tree leaves. One sea rat gave a yelp and began to rub their ear where the arrow had clipped them.

Virra turned her head to see if Ferngale and the sea rat had made it out into the open safely. When she looked back at the mouse, he was smiling. Unnervingly.

“What is it, mouse?” Virra challenged, “Shall I make your head into a trophy, after all?”

If Martin had been looking for Bagsley, it would have been difficult to find him. As it was, he was not looking for Bagsley, and so the hare was everywhere.

“Oops—Sorry, Martin, old boy!” Bagsley said, as they bumped into each other coming around a bend in the hall for the fifteenth time that morning, “Got to watch where I’m going, eh, wot?”

Martin sighed heavily, resigning himself to the reality that, until he needed Bagsley for something, the hare would continue to appear out of nowhere. “It’s all right,” Martin said. He paused, noting the armful of candied chestnuts that Bagsley was carrying. “And just where,” Martin asked suspiciously, “are you going with those?”

Bagsley glanced from the chestnuts to Martin, and back to the chestnuts again, with an expression meant to make it appear that he had no idea where they had come from. “Oh, these?” he asked astonishedly, as if finally remembering. He cleared his throat, and drew himself up to his full height, proudly. “Well, Martin, my boy, if you must know, these are for the daring members of my Short Patrol! Or, they will be,” he added, popping one into his mouth, and crunching loudly, “Provided that they are able to make it across the log that me and my new otter captain have set up for them to cross the pond with!”

“Or, provided that you don’t eat them all first,” Martin muttered.

“I’ve got half a mind to throw you overboard for that comment, Ferngale.”

“Well, you certainly don’t have a whole mind, that’s for sure.”

Virra Bolntoam didn’t like having to share her ship with anyone, and she certainly didn’t like having to be second-in-command on her own ship. The sea rat was accustomed to marching about the decks, striking fear into her crew mates. Her appearance was certainly daunting; tall, strong, a clipped right ear and a gold hoop earring dangling from the left ear. Her piercing gaze was normally enough to cause any beast to pause, and reconsider their words.