Post-epilogue: That's Where I'll Be

[Damask the Minstrel]

From the annals of Brother Harper, Abbey Recorder:

Goodbyes always seem to carry some measure of theatrics, do they not? Either you act as if you're sad to see someone departing, when you really feel gladness, or else you keep a stiff upper lip.

Little did we know what true theatrics a parting can contain.

It has been a fortnight -- an entire fortnight -- of feasting and stories since the horde of Nashald was finally put to route. While it would certainly add some flavor to these tomes, I fear I would do the tale of Bellona Littlebrush no justice, and shall leave its telling to her truest of friends and a master of the stage.

Last night, the final night of the feast, Damask finally rejoined us properly. While he had come out for meals and singing, he had spent the days holed up in the library with a series of novices, all of which would leave with weary eyes and inkstained paws. We finally experienced the fruits of his labors. In a single, crazed night, he retold the entire tale: the formation and battles of Martin's Shadow, the adventure in the Oasis, and finally the defense of Mossflower and our dear Abbey itself.

It moved us to tears. It was, he said, his masterpiece -- a true epic about a true hero.

However, I know that there had to be more to the story -- it seemed to be awfully light on details about the bard himself. So, I invited him to the orchard this afternoon, his last day here, and wanted to find out his story. I paused, a good 50 paces away, as I heard him begin to sing. Luckily I had my quill on me:

Oh, what a foolishness that I have wrought
For I so freely gave my love away.
Did bare my soul to the first pretty maid,
And methink that she was what I sought.
Yet misery is what my suit hath brought,
And so predictably was led astray
By her. This maid who took my honest lay
And warped it to the 'pothecary's drought.

Worse still is that before my beak was found
A truer friend. My comrade who I sing
The highest praises. And 'tis for you, now
My songs are sung, for you my soul takes wing.
I realize my heart made a mistake
When scorn?d you for others' love I'd take.

I let the appointment slip my mind. I'll say my goodbye this evening, at the gate, with the rest of the beasts.

~ Harper

[Bellona Littlebrush]

I just couldn't resist. This scene popped up in my mind and needed to be written. It hasn't been passed by Dammy, so you might consider it non-canon as Damask might be going off the wall bonkers from what his author would intend. =)


-----


Today. It had to be today or it would never get done, Bell decided. She had been putting the matter off for some time now in the hope that the right words would congeal in her mind like blood in a properly healing wound. She stopped pacing momentarily, shook her head to shake the image loose and carried on.

Horrific similes notwithstanding, the 'right words' had failed to materialize and the hour was growing late.

I'm not a minstrel, for Fates' sake! the dormouse grumbled only to herself as she tracked back and forth across the battlements. The sky above reflected her mood: brooding slate clouds hung heavy in the sky.

Fort Lejeune had been Nashald's last stronghold and with its capture, and the wildcat's demise at Lady Corenne the Fury's paws, the war had been won. Bell and the rest of the natives of northeastern Mossflower had held here now for a fortnight and Rhys' proposal laid out before her two days ago.

It was strange to think of herself a bride again, but Rhys was kind and good for her. He would make a life of peace bearable after so many, many seasons of battle. Unfortunately, that still left the matter at paw to attend to...

"Bells?" a familiar voice called. A flash of lightning and clap of thunder as Damask the Minstrel appeared and -

-----

"Damask," Bell cut the bird off as he gestured theatrically to a group of enthralled dibbuns.

"What?" he sounded put out -- his performance interrupted.

"Don't lie to them," the dormouse said, rolling her eyes. "It was perfectly clear that morning, and you know it."

"My dear Bells," Damask intoned solemnly. "I respect that you are a fantastic strategist and warrior, and I would never presume to tell you how to do what you do best. I would hope you would extend the same professional courtesy to a creature who has spent his life weaving together only the most magnificent tales."

"It was clear," Bell repeated to the dibbuns. "And I was not brooding. Maybe a bit preoccupied, but..."

"Ehem! As I was saying," Damask continued.

-----

Damask the Minstrel appeared and perched on the edge of the wall. "Are you all right?" He demanded, feathers ruffling with worry.

"Yes," she replied automatically, and then stopped herself.

Blast!

Her paw was shaking, so she gripped it behind her back, standing in an at-ease position in front of her comrade. "Yes, I'm quite all right," Bell amended, trying to stare the minstrel in the eye as she spoke.

Oh, seasons! I'm a warrior, a general, a hero and I can't look at one bird? she reprimanded herself.

"Damask, I've a request to make of you, comrade," the dormouse pressed forward, matter-of-factly. "I would trust no other beast with this task." Damask's feathers smoothed and he stood a bit taller, thrusting out his faded red breast.

"Of course, Bells," the robin agreed preemptively. "You know I would put myself to the hazard to help you!"

"I hope it won't be hazardous," Bell said, ears falling back in consternation. There was still the possibility of local vermin tribes forming up to attack their position since the departure of the other fighting forces. "That would rather ruin the day," she muttered to herself.

Damask cocked his head to the side, bemused. "Just what is it you need me to do?"

"Well, I was counting on..." the dormouse began, unable to meet his calm gaze now. "I never did have... I mean Sailpaw wasn't willing and there weren't any... But with you... You're..." She stopped herself, frustrated that the question, such a simple thing, would not come.

"Has something happened... with Rhys?" the minstrel ventured. Praise Fates he had some experience with tongue-tied maids.

"Yes!" Bell nodded. "Yes, he proposed to me."

Damask whistled, but to the warrior's surprise he did not question this, merely said, "I was wondering when that would happen."

"You knew he would?" she asked, eyes growing wide in astonishment and jaw hanging agape.

"Bells," the bird smiled, not unkindly, "the entire army knew he would. There's been a betting pool as to when. I'd rather hopped he'd wait just one more week..."

"Why didn't you tell me?" the dormouse asked, more confused than angry. Damask wasn't exactly a gossip, but he wasn't one to keep many secrets from her, either.

One brow quirked up in perfect imitation of a certain lady dormouse. "I wouldn't have thought my opinions on potential lovers would have sat well with you."

A smirk found its way onto her face, curling up one side of her mouth as she said, "No, I suppose not, Sir Robin."

"Come though!" the minstrel pressed. "What is it you need? A bit of entertainment for the wedding? You know I would be only too happy to provide it. Or, I could happily contact some of my acquaintances for a more tactile performance."

"No. No, that's not it." The nervous shaking had returned. "I was hoping... wouldyoubemygentlebeastofhonor?"

The bird frowned, leaning forward. It took most of her will power not to shrink back or take a flying leap off the battlements. "I'm sorry?"

"In the wedding." Bell forced the words out to be done with them. "I would have my comrade, my best friend, stand beside me. I know... I mean, it's more commonly a 'Maid'-of-Honor, but I know of no creature so deserving of a place at my side on such an occasion."

"All right," Damask agreed.

"I understand if you decline," she continued hurriedly. The unnatural gabble spilling forth now that she had begun. "It was a foolish notion anyway. I wouldn't have asked, only, I don't trust anyone so much except maybe Rhys, and even then that's a different sort of trust. And trust is what this is all about, yes? Trust, honor, and... Sorry, what was that?"

The robin could hardly contain his mirth, but managed it so as not to offend or worry his friend. "It would be my honor to be your Gentlebeast-of-Honor, Bells. I fear it may be the closest I ever get to the alter myself."

"You'll find somebeast," Bell assured him, though she was rather skeptical herself given his... disagreeable former love interests (the ones she'd heard about, anyway). "And I'll be your Best Lady."

He smiled.

"I should like that. Now, let's talk about dresses! And flowers. Oh, and favors for the guests! Guests like favors. And colors. I'm partial to red, but with your scars..." He rambled on about every detail she had been doing her best to ignore. Her tail twitched.

Fates. He's one of those.

She really should have expected as much.

[Damask the Minstrel]

...

<3

(Need I say more? ^.-)

[Venril]

Crowning moment of heartwarming.  I love these two posts.  It seems like such a nice, yet also very appropriate ending for these two.

[Damask the Minstrel]

But is it the end?

Dun dun DUUUUN!

(Which is my way of saying, "Damask's story isn't over, yet. I'm planning on continuing it in a serialized story-blog.)

[Jarrtail]

Do you have an FF.net account? I'd love to see that posted (plus, the quality around there has really slipped since Jade Tealeaf went into semi-retirement).

[Damask the Minstrel]

I prolly will get one and post it. Same with the RFF.

I haven't /actually/ started, yet. Waiting to see how TED2 pans out before I undertake it. If I get in, I'll still do "Twelve Seasons' Stories"... but I'll plan accordingly.