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Brooksong and Company, SS
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Date Posted: 02:39:00 07/03/06 Mon
Brooksong, Trinniss and Arywn, SS
Grell was always a quiet mole. He loved cheese, and good bread, and almost nothing could get him to say more than two words. When beasts asked him "What do you think of the weather today?"
Grell would always reply, "Very nice." He would have the same answer whether is was pouring outside or a bright summer day. There was only one thing that could get Grell to talk, and that was when folk asked him about the old days. He would go on and on about Amaras, and Hildfern, and many other creatures of old. As recorder, it is my job to write Grell's old stories down. After all, He lived through it.
Hildfern looked out across the mooreland of her home. She had never liked the great northern moores, but her parents would die if she left. The young mouse sighed. "This is no life for me." She said, though no one was in hearing range. "I have always known i did not belong here, but where am I to go?" She looked longingly south. All beasts had heard of the riches of the south, but Hildfern clung to each word as if that could help her reach her dream. Redwall Abbey. The tranquil setting in the middle of a forest was like nothing she had ever seen. All Hildfern knew was the flat scrub and the harsh winters of her home, Clearwater Hill. It was a small village in the northern moores, far past Noonvale, and the wreckage that was all that was left of Marshank. Ledgend said that she was a blood relation to the ledgendary Rose of Noonvale, some long lost great great great granddaughter of a second cousin. She just thought it was a great great great pain. Everyone treated her like a precious stone, always on display until bought. It was only a matter of time until her mother and father chose a husband for her. That was what she dreaded the most.
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(This was written in the past. Part two is following.)
She turned, and began to walk toward the steep flight of stairs toward the enclosed town of Clearwater Hill. She was huffing and puffing by the time she reached the final step at the great wooden gate. This was only one of the first times she had been allowed out on her own. She stopped to rest for a moment, the echoing silence the only thing in her head but her own ragged breathing. She looked out to the south again, and knew, in her heart, that she would leave that night. She turned back toward the gate, and pulled the thick rope that traveled up the wall, over the fence, and into the gatekeeper's cottage. Hildfern's father had come up with this invention himself. Otherwise, Gorserose would sleep through the loud banging at the door. Always. Hildfern heard the slightest ring of a bell, and a few moments later, the grumble of someone who had rudely been awakened from a deep slumber.
"Ham in no mood to hopen this great bonny door right now, missy. Why must you halways leave right before dark?" The voice said, as the door opened to a huge mountain hare, still blinking sleep from her eyes.
"I'm so sorry, Gorserose. Maybe you should try drinking tea before bed. It might keep you awayke until I arrive again." Hildfern said, and marched through the gate, past the frightfully huge hare, you looked after her with pretended dislike.
Once she was out of hearing range, Gorserose chuckled. "Hew know hew cannae stay angry with yon wee maid, Gorserose." She said, and closed the gate with a single push.
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