Epilogue: A Musical Interlude with a Wayward Robin

[Bellona Littlebrush]

Special thanks to Damask the Minstrel for his contributions to this post.

"And I'm feelin' strong.
I will sing this vic'try song. Woo, hoo, hoo!"


Winter had begun to dust the northern reaches of the world with his cold white blanket when Bell stepped paw in what she could comfortably call a forest. The cloak about her small shoulders hung heavy, while her haversack grew lighter each day. She hoped she would encounter a holt of otters somewhere ahead -- they could provide both supplies and intel.

Her journey back through the desert had been a long one. Limited to travel at night, weighed down by a sickly body (and swollen snout), and wary of the creatures lurking along the banks of the Broad Stream, the dormouse's progress each 'day' remained sedate, at best. And when her rations had run low, she'd been forced to spend part of her precious hours of moonlight fishing and scouring the banks for edibles.

Praise the Fates, nobeast accompanied her. After all that had happened and all that had been lost, she needed some time to herself.

There had been the possibility of a vole joining her, but the young creature had opted to stay with Sagaru at the Oasis until she could carry a pack on her own. Bell suspected the vole would never leave that place. Not that such a fate was something to bemoan. Sagaru was a good leader -- wiser, perhaps, for the trials she had endured.

Bell spent four days traversing the banks of the Broad Stream beneath a skeleton canopy before she encountered another living creature. It was a rabbitmum about her washings.

The sensitive creature's head jerked up, ears swiveling, every few seconds, checking behind and to each side. The dormouse did not need a spy to tell her how Nashald's hostile takeover had proceeded in her absence.

Nevertheless, the rabbit explained how the Autumn of Long Suffering had progressed, giving way to the Winter of Treacherous Silence. After wiping out the majority of Martin's Shadow and two other significant resistance groups, Nashald, a wildcat of warmer climes, had withdrawn his soldiers and holed up in his favored castle to pass the season. But, not before ransacking and pillaging every woodlander settlement between the Eastern Sea and the Broad Stream.

The winter would be a hungry one.

Bell pressed on, meeting her hoped-for holt and procuring more thorough information on Nashald's troops in addition to supplies. She asked if any of the otters had heard tale of a robin minstrel named Damask. They sent her west, some eying her with new interest.

West. West. West. Whenever she asked, this was the direction the beasts sent her in pursuit of Damask the Minstrel. A few demanded to know if she was the Leftenant Littlebrush and, uncertain of another creature by that name, Bell answered in the affirmative. When this happened, creatures would crowd around until she felt trapped as they peppered her with questions about the Oasis, Damask, the Fritterik and everything that she was trying so hard to forget.

Bell got clever -- she started lying to avoid the attention.

One day, as she inquired after Damask from an aging mouse with a hearing problem, he told her the robin had flown north.

-----

"North! What's to the north?" Bell shouted into the horn the old creature held up to his ear.

"Eh?" he demanded and the dormouse repeated, dialing up her volume to a mental notch of eleven. "Oh. Well, Redwall's the only place I know of worth visiting that way, deary."

-----

So, she struck out toward the much-talked-of Redwall, the hood of her cloak drawn low to ward off the elements. A blizzard hit before she could finish her trek, though, and the warrior found herself sat with a rather chipper dormouse couple and their three sons in a hovel beneath an oak. The eldest of the Feathertail sons, Rhys, offered to guide her the rest of the way to Redwall after the storm abated some four days later. Bell gladly accepted his assistance.

They arrived after a three day trek, shoving their way through snow drifts that rose above their heads in places.

"It's not usually like this, Ms. Bell," Rhys explained in the clipped tones of western Mossflower as the Abbey came into view -- a rose-hued sentinel in an ocean of white. The pleasantly plump fellow bounded over a ditch concealed by snow and Bell matched his movement. "It should really only take a day to get to Redwall."

"Snow would slow anybeast down," Bell said, thoroughly fed up with the impediment to swift movement.

"Snow?" Rhys glanced back at her with a mischievous grin. "And here was I thinking it was a lovely lady turning my head with a shout to halt every other minute."

Bell did not have a reply for this preposterous remark... partly because it was true.

Old habits die hard.

Even in the tenuous peace of these quiet lands, the warrior remained alert, cursing her companion for the racket he set up while walking. Still, there were other ways to respond to such things...

The warrior scooped up a pawful of snow when Rhys had returned his attention to the fore, packed it tightly and chucked it at the other dormouse's head. With an "Oi!" he spun around and glared at her.

"What was that for?"

"What?"

"You hit me." Rhys pointed an accusing claw at her.

"So?"

"Well, er..." The male considered her for a moment, brushing the snow from his neck. "Don't do that, or I'll get you!"

"You," Bell pointed at the fellow, raising an eyebrow, "get me?" she shifted the aim of her claw back at herself.

"'Spect so." He sniffed, crossing his arms.

He's a bit thick. The lady dormouse snorted in derision and trudged past, only to whirl a moment later when a snowball whistled past her right ear.

"Warning shot," Rhys called. "I don't hit creatures in the back unawares!"

"Your mistake," Bell observed, grabbing a mound of fresh powder.

-----

Half an hour later, breathless and shivering in their soaked clothes and fur, Bell and Rhys called up to the gatekeeper of Redwall Abbey asking entrance. The squirrel eyed them critically before descending and opening a small door built into the larger gate structure.

"You two're a right state," he said. "Better get you in a hot bath 'fore you freeze your tails off!"

"She hit me with a snowball," Rhys explained, jerking a claw at Bell as the squirrel led them through the gateway arch and toward a large building in the center of the Abbey's courtyard. She held her silence and masked her amusement with stoicism. "So, I hit her back. Er... things got a bit out of paw then and we wrestled in a rather large drift off the side of the road."

"I won," the warrior added, gaze roaming about, measuring up the creatures housed within the walls of this fabled place.

"I don't doubt it by the look of those scars on you." The squirrel chuckled, holding open a door for them. A blast of heat warmed Bell as she stepped through. A staircase spiraled upward at the far end of the Great Hall, in which a long table stood proudly at the center. Around this, woodlanders in white aprons flitted, setting out cutlery, bowls, and plates.

"Ah, I'd almost forgotten," the squirrel said, leading them toward the staircase. "You're in luck, friends. We have a very special guest lodged with us this week for the storm: a warrior bard with the most extraordinary stories to sing. We'll have the end of the Oasis tale tonight if I don't miss my guess."

Bell froze for a fraction of a second, only long enough for Rhys, a rather astute fellow, to notice.

"What's the matter?" he whispered as they ascended to the upper floor.

"Nothing," she muttered. Then, louder, "What was this bard's name?"

"Damask the Minstrel."

-----

"Normally," Fitch, the squirrel who had greeted them at the gates and, likewise, a guest at the Abbey, explained, "we have storytelling in Cavern Hole. S'cozy and dark and perfect for whiling away a winter's eve listening to a good yarn. Reminds me a bit of the seas and swapping stories with my mates. Blimey! It's been a time. Chase a girl off the ship and get holed up here for the ice. Hah!" He led the now-dry dormice down the second floor corridor toward the winding staircase. "Anyway, while you two were washing the snow out of your fur, Damask asked Abbess Hame for something more... grand."

As they trotted down the stairs and entered the Great Hall, Bell saw that a crowd had gathered while she and Rhys had bathed and dressed. Creatures of all sizes had taken up seats around a bonfire -- strange considering the large fireplace to one side that looked likely to house the impressive pyre. The long table from earlier, now dominated by three platters of fish roasted and marinated in a variety of sauces, had been pushed up against the wall opposite the hearth.

Then, above her head, a familiar voice rang out:

Two giants faced th' other in the sand!
A lizard 'gainst the ferret Wrath.
It was the vile'st creature in the land
Its teeth did cut a jagged path!

A robin dove through the top of the flames, the air from his wings causing them to billow out in a spectacular fashion. The crowd shied back as an updraft of gasps sent the bird farther into the rafters.

Ever the dramatic entrance, Damask, Bell's mind scoffed, even as her breath caught in her throat and she stared wide-eyed with the other woodlanders.

And while the giant beasts did fight
A herald for all that is good and right
Did stand against the vermin might -

What happened next shocked the dormouse so completely she took a step back, managing to find an opening in the otherwise packed Hall. The crowd must have heard the next line before in some kind of refrain for they called out as a whole: "Bellona!"

Damask, however, stopped short in his performance, and stared directly at her from his vantage point. The crowd fell silent, expecting more theatrics. The show they received, however, was unexpected.

"Bells!" The bird gave a joyous chirp and leapt from his perch in the rafters, diving into the dormouse with gusto. "You're really here! I mean, after all this -"

"Damask..." Bell tried to calm him as the robin wrapped his wings around her small frame.

"You actually found me. I mean, I tried to leave you a trail. I told everybeast I came across our story, and how you fought the vermin with Martin's -"

"Damask..." she tried again, shoving his feathers down.

"-ow. I mean, I hoped that someday you would find me. Well, that it would be you and not Captain Matahoochie, but really, to see you again like -"

"Damask!" Her shout drowned out his torrent of words, but it took a small smile, one of her most reserved gifts, to silence him. "I'm glad to see you, too. But, er... do you think you might've waited to call out my name?"

Both creatures took a moment to look round at their audience. Then, the Great Hall erupted in clapping paws and triumphant whoops.

-----

They managed to extract themselves from the madness of enthralled, questioning, and congratulatory Redwallers with some help from Rhys, Fitch, and the resident badgermum who shouted for silence and ushered them toward the Cellar for privacy. Damask promised the room at large to finish with his entertainment after dinner before following.

Once in the Cellar, Bell turned to Damask and again graced him with another genuine smile. Now that the shock of finding him in such rude health after their bittersweet parting had worn off she felt happy to see him, and annoyed, and angry, and relieved, and so many other emotions.

Several thoughts flitted through her mind in quick succession. He left me because of that wench. He got out before the worst of it. He gave her that bracelet. He's alive and happy and safe. He doesn't know anything. Praise Fates he doesn't know anything... But he'll want to know.

"Oh, it really is wonderful to see you, Bells," Damask bubbled. "I was so scared for you when I left, but I had to go. And I was scared for... er..." He stopped, staring down at his claws for several seconds. "I'm sorry, but I have to know: what - what happened to Eliza? Is she safe? Is she... happy?"

Bell considered her abashed comrade for a moment and wondered just how deluded he had to be not to see Eliza for what she really was:

The strumpet who would be hero.

"Damask," the dormouse said, glancing about, and then walking to and hopping up on a barrel to sit, "things changed after you left."

Then, she told him everything.

She told him about the plague and about the mushrooms. About Kelly and Adriak and the Srechrrl. About the quarry pit and murdering Matukhana and enjoying it. About Eliza's plan and the final battle and the endless search through the damp, and the dark, and the desperation. About the last moments when she truly thought -- wished and hoped -- she was going to die... and about Eliza again. About how Eliza had stood, how Eliza had searched, how Eliza had saved them all.

"She did, Damask," Bell explained, hating every word. "That vermin wench had the strength to carry on. But me? I - I couldn't even crawl! I'm pathetic!" Tears formed unbidden at the corners of her eyes -- frustrated, self-loathing tears.

The robin moved to comfort her, but she growled at him, "No!" and pulled away, rubbing furiously at her eyes and blinking hard.

"No," the warrior repeated more evenly, and then continued with her dispassionate narrative. Besides the slip with Eliza, she was able to detach the emotion from the memories. They were just facts -- she was relaying a report to her comrade.

When she had finished, she shifted her gaze from the wall just above a stack of empty kegs to Damask. The minstrel had been silent throughout her tale and he remained quiet now.

After the silence had stretched to an uncomfortable length, he said, "Will you be all right, Bells?"

Not 'are you', but 'will you be'. There had only been one other creature who knew enough to ask it that way. She couldn't help a smile tugging at her whiskers.

"Yes, Damask," she decided, thinking of her journey and Rhys? help and her reunion and all that she could do with the influence of a place like Redwall behind her. Salamandastron, the otter holts, and squirrel and shrew tribes of Mossflower, and Camp Tussock would send their best warriors when the Abbess of Redwall asked it, and Damask had her ear.

"You know, I think I really will be."