Brian Jacques - Redwall #01 - Lord Brocktree

"Flogged me with the flat o' mah own sword 'til it breakit o'er mah back, an' drove mah hares from oor hame in the North Mountains. That's the beastie they call Ungatt Trunn for ye. Aye, the whippin' was carried oot by a fox called Karangool, on Trunn's orders. Karangool, och, there's a vermin wouldnae sleep easy if he knew Bucko Bigbones was still alive an' drawin' breath. The rogue thought he'd left me fer dead, ye ken!"

Dotti felt a wave of pity sweep over her. She squeezed the mountain hare's big scarred paw. "Let's go somewhere more private an' discuss this. Would you care to take a bite o' supper with us, 'neath the jolly old willows, cheer you up, sah, wot?"

Bucko swiftly regained his composure and jauntiness. "Och, ah'm fair famished frae all that fightin'. Lead on, Brock mah friend, auld Bucko can vittle wi' the best o' 'em!"

"Haharr, I'll wager 'e can, too," Ruff murmured to the badger as they set off for the bank. "Never knew a hare who couldn't. We'll let ole Fleetscut defend Dotti's Feasting title for 'er!"

"I say, top hole, wot. That's jolly decent of you, sah!"

Ruff tweaked the old hare's ear. "You wasn't supposed to 'ear that, faminechops."

It turned out to be anything but a private supper on the streambank. Colored lanterns and torches decked the trees in the soft summer night. A celebration feast for Dotti's victory had been secretly prepared by the Guosim, Gurth and some moles he had met, and Bucko's cooks, who were determined to give their old master a good send-off and welcome the new mistress. Dotti was so pleased that she rummaged through her worn bag and whipped out the harecordion.

"I couldn't sleep last night, so I composed a ditty, in the hope that I'd win the challenge today. Good job I did, wot. Right, my good subjects, gather 'round an' I'll sing it to you. I know you'll jolly well like it!"

Brocktree clapped a paw to his brow. "I'm sure we will."

The terrible twins Southpaw and Bobweave rubbed their paws in anticipation.

"I say, we didn't know y'could warble, miss."

"Spiffin', wot. I'll bet you're rather good at it."

Brocktree viewed the eager pair with a jaundiced eye. "I guarantee 'tis something you won't forget lightly!"

Dotti forestalled any further chatter by launching into her ditty with a wobbly falsetto.

"Ho whack folly doodle oh Duckfontein,

Dillworthy is my family name!

A fatal beauty have I, goodbeasts,

I'm completely unrehearsed,

Havin' never been, kingess or queen,

Woe to me I'm doubly curs'd,

Oh the crown lies heavy on the ears,

Of a simple maid like me,

Now everybeast must scrape an' bow,

An' bend a jolly ole knee ... heeheeheeheeheeeeee!

Ho whack folly doodle oh Duckfontein,

Dillworthy is my family name!

What a royally difficult life I've got,

But I regally say to m'self wot wot,

A Duckfontein must show no pain,

'Tis fame an' fortune's lot,

My super subjects will adore,

My spiffin' sweet young voice,

An' loyally cry out, more more more!

Each night they'll all rejoice . . . joy hoi hoi hoi hoice!

Ho whack folly doodle oh Duckfontein,

Dillworthy is my family name!

Affairs of state that just can't wait,

An' decisions of high degree,

The balance of a pudden's fate,

Rests hard 'twixt lunch an' tea,

Let anybeast yell, 'Come let's feast!'

Whilst the royal beauty doth sleep,

They'll rue the day that they met me,

Dorothea . . . Du .. . huck .. . fontein ... Dill... worth ... eeeeeeeee!"

As Dotti's ears quivered on the last off-key note, the harecordion groaned as it discharged a deafened gnat. A mole hurled himself into the stream to escape the discord. The streambank was empty, everybeast having fled during the second painstaking verse. Only Southpaw and Bobweave sat adoringly in front of her, applauding wildly.

"Bravo, miss, put a blinkin' nightingale to shame, wot?"

"Rather! Are you goin' to give another rendition, Dotti? Sing us another of your charmin' ditties, wot!"

Dotti looked slightly baffled. It was the first time anybeast had actually sat through her singing and requested more.

"Jolly decent of you, chaps, but the old vocal cords need feedin'I'm rather peckish right now. You could do me a favor, though, an' see if y'can clean out my harecordion. Confounded thing's full of gnats an' such. Must still be some old pale cider in there attractin' the blighters."

She tossed the harecordion to the twins and wandered off to see if she could find some food. Southpaw and Bobweave set about boxing each other for the privilege of cleaning out their idol's instrument.

"Give it here, Southie. She was lookin' at me when she chucked the thing over!"

"Rats t'you, old chap, but I'll give you a swift right!"

"Oof! Here, have some o' this, chum! Now will y'let me clean it? Yowch, that does it. Get those paws up!"

Away from the main merriment, three shrewboats, lashed together, floated gently on the stream. Sipping shrewbeer and dining on pasties, salad and cheese, Brocktree, Fleetscut and Bucko sat with the tribal chiefs Ruff, Grenn, Drucco and Jukka to confer on important matters. The former king had formed an alliance with the others.

"Ah dinnae know where this Salamawotjimacallit place is, but ah'm gan with ye, an' mah wild mountain hares'll be a-comin' tae, the noo. We widnae miss a braw battle for nought!"

Gurth sat with Dotti, the willow leaves lightly brushing their heads. Between them lay a flagon of gooseberry crush and a thick vegetable flan. The sturdy mole waved his tankard toward the logboats.

"They'm avven gurtly apportant talks, miz. Oi wuddent be approised if'n we be on ee march boi mornen, hurr aye!"

The haremaid broke off a piece of flan. Forgetting her table manners, she spoke through a mouthful in moletalk. "Oi wuggent noider, zurr!"

Joyous sounds of happy creatures rang through the warm velvety night. Music, singing and feasting were everywhere. Those who were weary slept curled on the grass, full and contented, not worrying about the perilous days which lay ahead of them.

Dawn's first birds trilled to the rising sun, waking the dew-scattered sleepers in the wide forest glade. Dotti was already up, abandoning her fatal beauty sleep in favor of the momentous events she knew were about to take place. The haremaid joined Brocktree and the company of chieftains, standing on a rock protruding from the hillside. In groups, last night's revelers drifted into the clearing below. Brocktree leaned on his battle blade, Skittles perched on his footpaw. He waited patiently until everybeast was standing grouped before him. Then, at his nod, Bucko took the fore.

"Hearken tae me, mah beasties. There's an auld hare here, who comes frae a mountain an' bears a message for all warriors. Ah've nae doubt yell listen to whit he has tae say. Judge for yerselves, ah'm nae langer yer king!'

Bucko stood back, allowing Fleetscut to come forward. The old hare held the crown in his paw. "Mount Salamandastron is where I come from, as most of you know, wot. Now there's those here t'day who were born there, whose parents an' grandkin are comrades o' mine. I've been gone from there a while now, but I know for certain that any hares left alive on the mountain will be slaves and prisoners of the wildcat Ungatt Trunn and his Blue Hordes!" He waited until the angry shouts died down. "Hah, I see that y'know the vermin, wot. When Bucko was king he intended to form you into an army to hunt Trunn down an' face him. Well, that still goes. Only difference is you won't be marchin' under a king; our leader is the rightful heir of Salamandastron, Brocktree!"

There followed a mixture of cheering and surprised cries. Fleetscut held up the crown. "You hares, let me tell you the law. Some among you will remember the rhyme you learned from your elders.