| Subject: Here goes! *clears his throat*... |
Author:
Dakkan
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Date Posted: 23:58:04 06/27/03 Fri
In reply to:
Dakkan
's message, "*sighs* Here you go Whiteye..." on 23:56:19 06/27/03 Fri
The young mouse on duty in the sickbay tugged Bella’s paw urgently. “He’s fading fast, miz Bella.”
The silver badger nodded gravely as she heaved herself upright and strode over to the stairs. “Go and get Gonff, but don’t let anybeast else follow. I’m sure Martin doesn’t want to be surrounded by mourners – he’d rather go out without ceremony…”
Bella grinned wryly as she stumped up the stone stairs leading to the sickbay. She could swear that somebeast was sneaking extra stairs into this flight every time she climbed them.
“What’re ye chucklin’ about, marm?”
Bella looked down and saw Gonff grinning up at her. She tweaked his gray whiskers playfully as they reached the sickbay door. “Won’t you ever grow old, Mousethief?”
Gonff laughed. “Don’t tell me that when I’ve got an ache in me tail the size of this Abbey! Difference between me ‘n’ you is I don’t let it slow me down!” He grew serious, staring at the closed door before them. “So what’s the problem with me matey?”
The badger sighed. “I think the Warrior’s rough life is taking its toll on him. Brother Norbel suspects he has an old injury that’s weakened his lungs, and they’re finally giving out. He hasn’t got a long time left.”
Gonff turned the knob quietly, changing his solemn expression to a carefree one as he entered. “Ahoy there, me ole Warrior matey!”
Martin raised his head slightly from the soft pillows he was resting on. “Don’t call me that, you know I couldn’t fight off a Dibbun in this state.” Falling back, he fought to control a bout of coughing.
Gonff was at his friend’s side in an instant, his eyes betraying worry. “D’ye need anythin’, mate?”
Martin was silent for a moment. Gonff was about to repeat the offer when the ailing Warrior mouse replied, “Yes…fetch my sword!”
Bella and Gonff exchanged glances. It had been seasons since Martin had touched his battleblade. Nevertheless, the Mousethief hurried to Great Hall and took the sword from a rope loop that had been tacked to the center of the wall.
When Martin saw his friend enter carrying his sword, he stifled a cough and stretched out a paw that had once possessed the strength to fight off any foe. As he took the weapon, the moue felt strength flow into him – not physical strength, but the strength to face his fate.
“Thank you,” he smiled weakly at Gonff. Swallowing hard, he continued in halting tones, shifting his grip so that he held the hilt in both paws, the marvelous blade lying flat down his torso. “Just…wanted t’take…ungh…my sword with me…Thought my father…would like…t’see it…Boar…made it…twice…the weapon…it was.”
Bella picked up a cloth on the bedside table and used it to mop the Warrior’s brow. “Aye, but you turned it into the legend for him. I’m sure he’s proud of you.”
Martin’s eyes were unfocused, but his tail slid out from under the sheets and wrapped loosely around Gonff’s. “Aye…but…couldn’t…have…done it…without…my best…friend…with…me. Ah…what a…matey!”
The Prince of Mousethieves blew his nose, trying to hide the tears glistening in his wrinkled eyes. “Good times, eh?”
Martin was looking past both Bella and Gonff. “Where’m I? A…field?…And a…great…wooden…gate…” There was a brief silence. Martin’s eyes were clouding. “A…gate? Oh…I…see…It…is…time.” The old mouse’s mouth turned up slightly and his eyes closed.
Gonff felt his matey’s tail relax and knelt by the bedside, sobbing brokenheartedly. Bella buried her face in a soft kerchief. Crossing the floor, she opened the sickbay door and nodded sadly at a middle-aged squirrel. The creature dashed away and within minutes the alarm log sounded with a slow, melancholy rhythm. The Warrior was gone.
Martin could hear the hollow noise faintly as he set his sword into the gate and prised it open. The gap widened smoothly and quietly.
“Halt! Who goes there!” a strong voice challenged.
Martin held his sword low in an unthreatening way. “Martin, son of Luke the Warrior!”
“Martin! I’ve been waiting for you!” The strong voice belonged to a mouse clad in simple attire. Martin stifled a gasp. He felt as though he were looking at a mirror image of himself. “My name is Luke the Warrior,” announced the mouse with a broad wink.
“Father!” exclaimed Martin, enveloping Luke in a firm hug. He released him and raised the old battleblade. “Your sword!”
Luke took the weapon and swung it approvingly. “It’s much better than when I gave it to you.” He passed it back. “Keep it, son. It is you who have become the legend.” Digging in his jerkin pocket, he continued, “I have something to show you.”
It was a smooth, banded stone. Martin recognized it as the one he’d dropped into the sea where his father had gone down fighting his final battle.
Luke smiled. “I very much enjoyed that, son. I’m just sorry I never got to meet you beast to beast before now.”
Martin threw his paw over his father’s shoulder. There’s plenty o’ time to meet each other now, eh Dad? What say we take a walk?”
Luke replaced the stone and went in with his son. “Why not? There’s a squirrel here called Felldoh who’s been asking about you.”
The two mice disappeared into swirling mists, and the gate swung noiselessly back into place.
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