Unnamed story-after finished voting will take place!

[Tim Churchmouse]

Here's my other fanfic based on the aftermath of the slavery of the novices, in Mattimeo.

Prologue

Queen Warbeak Sparra sat on her nest at the very top of the huge belltower of Redwall Abbey. The sun was just appearing from behind the hills and it looked as if it was to be a fine day. She sighed happily. Ever since that horror Slagar the Cruel and his slave-catchers had been defeated every day seemed to be wonderful. She looked down and saw Friar Sam already heading towards the larder, undoubtedly for the October Nutbrown Ale that both he and Ambrose Spike the hedgehog loved. The fat little mouse got out a key from his pocket and opened the oak door that led to the larder. Every day since Father Abbot Alf had appointed him the larder's guard he had been sneaking off to 'test' the bitter ale. Warbeak shook her head disapprovingly and went back to sleep.

Mattimeo woke up. The young mouse glanced out of the window at the belltower. A very sleepy John Churchmouse was ushering Tim and Tess the Churchmouse twin children up to the two bells, Matthias and Methuselah. The two rascals swung joyfully on the ropes to indicate that it was 7 o clock.
'Seven o clock and all is well!' Tim squeaked as loud as he could.
'You're not supposed to say that! All you say is that it's 7 o clock!' corrected Tess.
'No you don't!'
'Yes you do!'
'No!'
'Yes!'
'N-
Tim was cut off as John Churchmouse shouted out.
'Stop bickering, you two! You don't say anything!' He stuck his snout in the air defiantly. The twins looked at each other and giggled.
'Oh no you don't!' they both said, and bowled their laughing father over.

Mattimeo laughed out loud and snuggled back into his warm bed. Suddenly, he remembered something.
'It's my birthday today!' he shouted gleefully, and leaped out of bed.
'What's that?' asked a very drowsy Cornflower, as she entered the room.
'Mother, I've just remembered! It's my birthday today!' laughed Mattimeo, happily.
'So it is! And your father and I haven't forgotten your present,' she smiled. 'In fact, your father has just gone to get it!'
Mattimeo flung off the covers, ran over to his drawers, flung some clothes on, and stampeded past Cornflower, heading for the Great Hall.

Warbeak was awakened by a large thud. The chamber she was in shook as a sparrow fluttered in. Breathing heavily, the sparrow, whose name was Firewing, sat slumped on the door. Immediately Warbeak fluttered over to him and helped him up.
'Queeny Warbeak Sparra,' he panted, in the strange Sparra tongue. 'Littlee Eagle come killee Sparra home!' A wide eyed Warbeak asked Firewing a question.
'Mummee okkee?'
'Nah worree. Rest Sparrra go findee Crazymouse.'
Warbeak breathed a sigh of relief.
BANG!
The door the pair were hiding behind almost fell off its hinges! They both pressed against the door. Hurry, Matthias, hurry! They thought to themselves.

Friar Sam was deep into his third jug of ale when he heard the noise. He spluttered the finest ale out onto the carefully sewn carpet, staining it.
'What was that?' he asked, rhetorically.
'Tis I, mouse!' said the eagle, his head smashing through the rotting wood of the ceiling. The eagle around the size of the lard-barrel of a mousecook, and had dark, pitted black eyes and a bright yellow beak. A golden feather on his head was his prize feather. Friar Sam screamed and grabbed a jug of Nutbrown Ale before dashing off towards the Great Hall. The nimble eagle was very surprised at how fast the tubby little mouse could run. Finally, he closed in on the sprinting mouse and-
THUD!
He hit the wall above the entrance Friar Sam had ran into.
The eagle cursed as he flew off, dejectedly. 'That mouse will raise the alarm! I must act fast. Now, for the sparrows.' He grinned and flew off to the belltower, where the sparrows lived.


Mattimeo zoomed through the early comers to breakfast until he got to Basil Stag Hare. He'd know where Matthias was!
'Mattimeo son of Matthias sah! Reporting for duty sah!' Mattimeo shouted military-fashion.
'What is it, young whippersnapper? Sprightly young paws doing well, wot!' Basil replied.
'Do you know where my dad is sah! Can you tell me sah!'
'That old thing, eh? Done! The jolly feller's down by the furnace.'
'Thank you for your assistance sah! See you later sah!' Mattimeo performed a fancy salute and set off for the furnace, while Basil tucked into yet another gargantuan slice of Foremole's famed Turnip n' 'tater n' beetroot deeper n' ever pie.
'Taike 'ee easy loike, ole Baisel!' remarked a passing mole.


CLANG!
CLANG!
CLANG!
Matthias was down in the furnace finishing off bashing on his son's birthday present.
CLANG!
He just finished off the dagger when three creatures came rushing down the slope to him and started talking all at once.
'Whoa, calm down, calm down. Oh, hello Dunwing, Friar Sam and- ah, Mattimeo! Just the person I wanted to see! Here's your birthday present.'
Matthias reached out from behind his back and gave Mattimeo the dagger. It glistened in the light.
'Wow! Thank you, father!'
'Now, how's your daughter been as Queen, Dunwing? Good? What's the matter, old Friar Sam?'
'Not wellee, Crazymouse.' Screeched Dunwing. They related their tale.
'I will defeat him,' said Mattimeo.
'You what?' asked Matthias.
'I said, I will defeat him,' replied Mattimeo
'No. No no no no no. You'll be killed!'
'I can do it- I'm ready for my welcoming into the abbey. I know I can do it. Martin is on our side. We'll have rescuers if anything goes wrong.' Slowly, Mattimeo trudged up the upward slope to the Cavern Hole, his dagger in one paw.

It was night when they planned to rid the Abbey of the eagle. Mattimeo said his goodbyes to his family and set off into the belltower. Immediately, he was challenged by an obstacle. A wooden wall blocked his way. Above, he could see where the path continued. He'd have to get up there somehow if he was to save Warbeak. Like a boarding pirate, he put his dagger in his mouth and began to climb. At about half way, the eagle appeared at the top of the wall. With a cry of dismay from Mattimeo, the bird pushed off a boulder. It came plummeting down. Mattimeo slipped off to the side as the boulder passed him and landed with a thud at the foot of the wall. The eagle flew off. Mattimeo breathed a sigh of relief and started climbing again.

Finally, he reached the top. There was a long stone bridge joining the belltower and the Great Hall together. On the other side was the eagle. The watchers below became excited as they saw Mattimeo face down the colossal bird. Matthias sent for Jess, the champion climber of Mossflower to watch over the fight.

Mattimeo started by lunging at the bird. His dagger pricked the eagle on his forehead and the eagle screamed madly.
'Is that all you've got!' He swung his claw at Mattimeo, who neatly parried and swiped at the eagle's leg, damaging him.
'Goo on moi sunn, givv 'im a taiste o' yurr gurt daggurr!' shouted Foremole.
Mattimeo lunged repeatedly, the eagle taking heavy blows to the chest. The eagle struck back by smacking Mattimeo in the face. The crowd below gasped as Mattimeo was thrown off the bridge. Jess the squirrel caught him by the tail and threw him upwards. He came slamming down on the eagle, pinning him to the floor.
'Go! And I never want to see you again!'
The eagle screeched in fury and flew away. But this was only the beginning.













1

The eagle flew away from the Abbey. Cursing in rage, he flew as far as he could before his wounds got the better of him. Closing his eyes, he spiralled down into the trees like an arrow from a bow. Without a sound, he landed gracefully yet he stumbled into a tree, where he lay, still.

The next day, he opened his eyes and saw a column of smoke. He got up onto his feet and scrambled to the location of the plume. He hid behind a tree and peered out. From the eagle's point of view there was a campsite, with at least two hundred occupying the crudely-made tents. Twenty or so rats were sitting around a campfire, fighting over woodpigeons and other scraps of meat. He burst into the open. Screaming wildly, rats poured out of the tents to see what was wrong.
'Well well, what 'ave we 'ere!' said a rat, licking his lips.
'Oh please don't eat me!' cried the eagle. 'I've been half murdered already; I don't need any more pain!'
A stoat came out of the biggest tent. Immediately the rats stood to attention, put their arms by their side, and saluted.
'Good evenin', sir, Darkclaw, sir, did you sleep well, sir?' shouted Scragface, second in command to Darkclaw, the chief. Darkclaw walked over to the rat and whispered something in his ear, and then walked over to the eagle, now bound in rope on the floor.
'You, eagle,' he said.
'Y-yes, sir?' replied the eagle, sobbing uncontrollably.
'Where'd you come from?'
'R-r-redwall A-abbey, sir,'
Darkclaw pondered over something for a minute, and then whispered again to Scragface. Scragface's face lit up.
'Come on, you cowardly beasts, to Redwall Abbey!' Darkclaw shouted. The bemused soldiers looked at each other and shrugged.
Darkclaw sighed. 'This way,' he said between gritted teeth.

It was the next day when a guard spotted a cloud of dust rising along the path, and by noon the horde were outside the gates.
'Surrender this Abbey or you'll pay with your lives!' Darkclaw hollered at the top of his voice.
It took another salvo of yells to catch the attention of Constance, going for an evening stroll on the walltops.
'Go boil your head, stoat!' Constance yelled back at him.
Basil Stag Hare popped his head over the wall.
'Had enough with you armies springin' up willy-nilly. I say, we thought we had heard the last of you blockheads. Beat one the other day, and threw the rest down a bally canyon, doncha know,'
'Slagar was a fool.' replied Darkclaw, coldly.
'Oh so you've heard tell of him then,' Constance said, with an edge of hostility. Scragface sidled out of the bushes.
'Slagar WAS a fool. He had everything wrong with him. His plans, his slavecatchers, even his battle armour didn't fit him,'
'Then try this on for size!' yelled Constance, and threw the steaming leftovers of the evenings supper onto the horde. Below, chaos ensued as stoats, ferrets, weasels and rats ran to find water to soothe the seething pain of the hot pasties, oversteamed apples and Turnip pies.
'Yaaaaaaarrghhhhhhaaaa!' Shouted Darkclaw in fury, kicking the nearest thing, which happened to be a tree. Attempting to rip splinters out of his foot and clear his face of turnip and pastry wasn't the most dignified look in Mossflower, as soon his horderats and some stoats had began to laugh. Swirling round, Darkclaw threw his dagger expertly. Scragface's astonished features were pinned to the tree by his forehead, blood dripping down on the grass in a grisly puddle. 'If anyone else wants to join him up on that tree raise your paw!' Darkclaw screamed. The horde were silent, not daring to breathe lest they were noticed and picked on. 'Maddgut! Get here this instant!' the fat stoat Maddgut shuffled out, his face that of a terrified chick amongst a thousand hungry foxes.
'Retrieve my dagger!'
'Yes, chief,'
Maddgut took the dagger, leaving Scragface slumping down in his own blood. Darkclaw's features softened, and Maddgut breathed a sigh of relief. 'You'll be my second-in-command now,' Maddgut straightened up and performed a military salute.
'Y'can count on me t' keep y' rabble a-followin' orders, Chief!'
'Good, good,' Darkclaw brooded. 'I've served up your dinner, you bunch of gormless nincompoops!' He walked off as his crew dived in, ripping and tearing at Scragface's body for scraps of flesh to roast.

'They're cannibals too!' exclaimed Matthias, in a whisper.
'Well blow me down! Well whaddya say we do about this eh? Wot, wot!' Basil exclaimed, with mock horror planted upon his furry features. 'They're vermin, chaps,' he said, severe and not at all his jokey self. 'they'll do whatever they can for fresh meat, disgusting stuff though it is.' His jokey side took over again. 'Though why they'd want to eat that pong-bag I do not know, ha-ha!'
'This is no time for games, Basil, we are almost definitely under siege again,' Constance warned. 'We should alert Abbot Mordalfus right away.
'I'll do just that, Constance,' said Cornflower, determined not to be left out. 'I feel a Council Of War coming along.' They sighed, and Cornflower went down the steps to the gardens below. On her way, she met her son, Mattimeo, playing with his best friends Tim and Tess Churchmouse. 'Do be careful with your sword, Matti,' she called to him.
'But Mother, I'm not using the dagger, it's only a wooden sword, see?'
'I do dear, but still, don't hurt anyone with it.'
'I won't, Mother.'
Then Mattimeo resumed chasing Tim and Tess around the orchard.

The sound of clattering swords and arrows being shot aroused suspicion amongst the Redwallers, as none of them had yet been informed of the grave danger outside their red-hued walls. Matthias could feel that it was time they all knew about it. It was supper time at Redwall, so everybeast was gathered in the Great Hall, and were gnawing away hungrily at the enormous fish Mordalfus had caught earlier that day. The warrior of Redwall jumped onto the table standing afore the great tapestry of Martin the Warrior, who was the first Abbey Warrior, and the founder.
'May I ask all Dibbuns to leave this room immediately!' He announced. There was a muffled trumpet blare and a score of Dibbuns marched out of the kitchens under a banner that might have read DAB, stuffing their faces with candied Chestnuts, plundered from the kitchens. A plate clattered to the floor as Friar Sam squeaked in a high-pitched squeal.
'Tomorrow's Chestnuts to mark the season of plenty we have had under Mordalfus!'
A squirrelbabe licked his thumb.
'Yumyum, issa very good chesnuttys, yumyum! Full markses!' Constance slapped her paw to her forehead.
'I forgot! It's the Dibbuns Against Bedtime!'
'The what?' Questioned Basil.
'The DAB, or Dibbuns against bedtime,' explained Matthias. 'the bunch of Dibbuns that refuse to go to bed.'
'Hoho, I see, eh? I've got the right solution. Watch this.' He stood up and tinkled a tiny bell. 'Attention chaps. Right, I've got a bally old competition for you bounders. First rotter upstairs in bed gets a whole strawberry trifle to him or herself.' The Dibbuns dropped everything and ran for the door. Constance blocked their way. 'Hang on a minute, hasn't Friar Sam got a bit too much on his paws?'
The kindly Friar shook his head. 'Not at all, Constance, I'd be more than happy to.'
'Pleez, pleez Constince Badgerymum lissen to Fry Sam!' wept the mousebabe Farfen. 'pleeeeeeeeez!'
'All right then, you little rogue,' said Constance, and unblocked the door, only to be trampled by a stampede of Dibbuns, heading for the dormitories.
'As I was saying, some of you have gathered that we are under siege again,' loud gasps from around the room told Matthias that the Redwallers had not been so observant of late. 'but never fear! We have beaten them twice before, so why can't we beat them again? We have our hero safe inside our walls! Martin will never let the flea-ridden mangy scum inside!' A great cheer arose from the Great Hall.
'And we have our mighty hero, Matthias the Warrior!' spoke Cornflower. Another almighty cheer shook the rafters of the ancient building.

Meanwhile, the excited Dibbuns tried hard to get to sleep, but the delicious prospects of the next morning's strawberry trifle kept them awake for long hours. The mousebabe Farfen tiptoed out of her bed and shook her best friend's paw, Duggup the Mole.
'Wakey Dugg'p. Come wit me an' we getta stawbee tryfull now an' us eat it!'
'Be you'm sure 'o dis oidea Farf'n? Oi don't wants t' get caughted an' sen' up wi' no brekkist tomorra,' explained Duggup.
'Don' yoo wirry, we be fine. I gunna be Redwall Warrio' wen I grows up!'
'Alroight then, if'n we bees quick.'
The two scamps padded downstairs. Soon Duggup got the scent of the fruity pie, having being left out to cool on the wall-top.
'Commen den Dugg'p!'
'Oi bees cummen, oi dearly 'ope it b'aint too 'igh yonder.'
They trotted up the steps and got to the same level as the delicious trifle. Just as Farfen was about to grab it, a huge gust of wind picked her up, being of very little weight and threw her over the edge! As she plummeted downwards she screamed in terror.
'DUGG'P!'

The noise of the screaming mousebabe woke up the weasel Bluntclaw in his slumber.
'Wh-whossat?' He sat up rubbing his head, as the scream stopped abruptly. Rubbing his eyes with water from the stream, he went over to Darkclaw's tent, but stopped. He laughed an unkind, sour laugh, and went over to the direction of the noise, Redwall Abbey.

[Unimaginative]

Welcome to the forums Tim. I would have welcomed you sooner, but I'm recovering from a Concussion.

This is a great story, with a amazing writing. The only complaint I have is that it is inconsistant with official canon, in the fact that Warbeak Sparra, and most others of the Sparra tribe, were killed either by Ironbeak or the Longtail Horde.

[Tim Churchmouse]

Thanks for welcome Han, I hope you get better soon.
I realise that Warbeak dies in Mattimeo but I wrote this for my little sister (who is mad about Redwall as I am) and asked me to have her in it because she was her favourite character.

[Unimaginative]

Ah. Yeah, it's hard not to love Warbeak Sparra.

Once again, nice work on the story, and keep up the good work.

[Tim Churchmouse]

Here's chapters 2 and 3
2
Bluntclaw made his way through the greenery, trampling gorse bushes and snapping twigs. 'There was a score o' them chief,' he said to himself. 'I fought 'em, all,' he caught a glimpse of a mousebabe, and quickened up his pace. 'an' I sent 'em scurryin' back t' their big ol' redstone house, but got this 'un captive,' The greedy weasel grinned. 'An' then chief'll be all nice to me, an' he'll gimme a promotion, an' I'll get twoscore rats 'n weasels t' command, oh, yes,' he struck out into the open now, headed for the unsuspecting Dibbun, rubbing her head. 'Hehehehahahahahaaa!' he screamed wildly. The poor mouse cried out, wishing that she would never see a strawberry trifle again. The brownish weasel lunged for Farfen, but she scrambled into a hollow log. She wailed piteously. Bluntclaw smashed open the wood, and was about to take her when a deep, gruff yell brought him to his senses.
With shouts of 'Leav' moi frund 'lone, ee gurt scummy bag!' and 'Oi bees a-cummen!' Duggup launched himself off the battlements, and straight into the moon-struck face of Bluntclaw, knocking him out instantaneously. Duggup sat on the limp form of the weasel, punching him (rather lightly). 'Take 'at, ye spine'ess 'wab!' The small mole sat down, panting like a dog.
Farfen began where Duggup left off.
'Take 'is, an dat, an dis, an dat! Fink yoo cudda hurted me? Ho no yoo cuddent!' After several minutes of slapping from both young ones, they began to take stock of their situation. The first thing the two little rogues thought of was not to knock on the door.
'Den we get sented uppa bed wivva choppa'd tail an' no suppa an' a big lon' baff.' Farfen patiently explained to the young mole.
'But how'm we gonna get back oop yurr?' Duggup pointed upwards with his sharp digging claws. That gave Farfen the idea.
'Yoo digga back inna Red'all! Den we sneek uppa to bedd an' Sis Af'en no see us!' It was a rather good idea for a Dibbun, but still they had to test Duggup's digging claws.

After a few minutes of practicing, Duggup began to tunnel. He did it right by the wall to avoid getting tired out, as he was still very young. Farfen stood next to the growing pile of rubble, shouting words of encouragement.
'Cumm on Dugg'p, yoo can do it!' Gradually, the mouse began to fall asleep, but forced herself to pace up and down the walls lest she fell asleep and missed the finish off the tunnel. It was almost daybreak. The dark night skies over Mossflower rapidly turned to grey, and finally became the beautiful yellow and orange dawn. The birds had just begun singing when the breathless mole finished his toil, stepping up and arching his back to get rid of the cramp. Then came the question of the weasel Duggup had knocked out. 'Wot shalt we do wiv' yon gurt varmint?' He asked Farfen, who was thinking of the solution.
'We leav' him outta here,' she said. 'Den he go 'way an' we never see him 'gain.' The pair scrambled under the shallow gap, back into the safety of their home, Redwall.
































3
Bluntclaw woke up with a sore head. It ached, and he thought to himself why. He could not seem to remember the previous night, and plodded off uncertainly into the surrounding woodlands. After sheer luck and half an hour of wandering aimlessly around Mossflower Woods, he came across Darkclaw's camp, and toddled into the main tent.
'Um, excuse me, sir, but I don't seem to remember who I am, and I-,' The amnesia-stricken weasel got no further.
'Gettoutofmytent!' yelled Darkclaw, waking the slumbering soldiers, and turning heads of those who were awake and cooking breakfast. 'How dare you come and wake me whilst I sleep!' Bluntclaw's mind was completely refreshed as he heard the sound of his cruel chieftain's voice.
'S-s-sorry, chief, I-I won't do it again, sir,' he grovelled before Darkclaw's feet, moaning. Maddgut strolled casually up to him.
'Yeh, where were you anyway, Blunty?' Maddgut said suspiciously, cold, dark slitted eyes narrowed on Bluntclaw's.
'I-er... went for an, um, er... early morning stroll! Yes, that's it, I went for a stroll.' He gulped as Darkclaw stepped meaningfully towards him, every pawstep sounding as loud as a thunderclap to the terrified weasel. Darkclaw leaned in close to him, and pressed his cold brow onto Bluntclaw's sweating, hot forehead.
'You think I am a fool?'
'N-no, ch-ch-ch-chief.' Bluntclaw said squeakily, a knot tied in his throat; teeth chattering madly, as if they had a life of their own. The leader turned on the unfortunate weasel.
'Then tell me the truth!' he screamed. The horde stood stock still, knowing how unpredictably vicious their leader could be. The weasel sobbed on the ground.
'I heard a noise so I went to investigate,' Bluntclaw cried. He wouldn't tell the leader about his encounter with the Dibbuns, and made up a suitable excuse. 'There were two young ones,' he sniffed. 'They got away before I got there!' He broke out into an uncontrollable bout of sniffing, crying and moaning.
'Tie this babe to a rock and throw him in the stream!' Darkclaw yelled. 'Well? What are you waiting for? Autumn harvest?!' Three rats ran off to do their master's bidding, before he decided to throw them in, too. The incredibly unlucky weasel was dragged away screaming and kicking to a tent where they attached him to a boulder. 'The rest of you cowardly scum! This way!' The horde of rats, weasels and stoats followed Darkclaw in the direction of Redwall Abbey.

At the exact time that Darkclaw marched to Redwall Abbey, Basil and Jess were already awake, planning.
'I say, old bean,' Basil said in a hushed whisper. 'Why don't we head off to that villain Darkpaw, or whatever the deuce the dashed fellow's called, and have a jolly good spy on him, eh, Jess me old treewhiffler?'
'I don't know, Basil. Won't we be noticed by the Abbot?'
'I think he already knows,' both heads whirled round to see Abbot Mordalfus, standing at the doorway tapping his paw on the wooden floor of the tallest dormitory of the Abbey. He tutted, shaking his head solemnly. The Father Abbot of Redwall lifted his head, and scolded the two. 'If you could see yourselves now, my, my. Here you are, plotting away like two naughty Dibbuns after Friar Sam's deliciously famous strawberry trifle.'
He shook his head again.
'Oh come on old feller, be a sport,' persuaded Basil, but to no avail.
'Oh come on ole fella, be a sport,' a rough imitation of a hare rang out, and a friendly otter popped out from under the bed Basil and Jess were sitting on.
'Cheek, you old riverdog!' The two good friends shook paws in a formal way; Cheek then scrambled up to Basil's furry head and sat between his ears. The Abbot laughed kindly.
'Alright, but if you two don't come back, I don't know what we'll do without our two best fighters.'
'Ahem,' Matthias stood by the doorway, dressed in full armour. 'I couldn't help hearing you three, and I thought you might need a bit of help.'
'Ah, spiffin' form, eh? What what?'
'We did hope you'd join us, Matthias, but you don't need all that armour, we need to be quiet!'
'Do we ever!'
Matthias shrugged off his armour and took off his helmet, and rested them on a table standing nearby.
'Can I come, Basil?' Cheek asked.
'fraid not, you scallywag, you.'
'You can help Friar Sam and Auma with the breakfast.' The Abbot chimed in hopefully. Young Cheek scampered off in the direction of the kitchens.
'Be careful, Matthias,' everyone turned yet again to see Cornflower.
'People do have a habit of sneakin' up on one, don't they, eh, Cornflower me beauty?'
Cornflower stared bemused at Basil.
'What do you mean?' The others burst out laughing.
'I guess we'll be on our way, right Basil?' Jess said.
'Righto. Save us some breakfast, old Father chap?' The three spies slipped out of the upstairs window. Mordalfus and Cornflower watched as they ran up the steps to the walls as quiet as it seems possible, and hauled themselves over them.

'Huhuhuh huhuh, this should be fun,' droned Severtail the rat, as he tied the screaming Bluntclaw's leg to a gigantic boulder.
'If ye do it right, look givvit 'ere,' The rope was unwound by a weasel named Scarface, as he attempted to do a better knot than his counterpart had done.
'What didjer do that fer? Slobberbrain, do sumthin' useful fer a change, 'stead o' muckin' up perfectly good werk wi' ye clumsy paws,' the Lowland accent came through strongly as he retied the knot. 'There. That should do 'et.' They dragged the gagged and bound weasel Bluntclaw down the hill where the camp was situated down to a deep stream. The usually serene view was spoilt by the three offending vermin. Songbirds fluttered away to avoid the filthy stench of them.
'Phwaw, you chaps still never take a bath, yuk!'
'Who sed 'at?' asked Scragface, whirling around.
'Up here, vermin!' Scragface looked up. The last thing the weasel saw was Jess Squirrel's arrow as it ploughed its way through his face. He screamed, dropping the rope holding Bluntclaw's fat figure. Jess jumped down as the two weasels rolled down the hill and landed with a splash in the stream. They sunk like rocks. Basil and Matthias dropped down beside Jess. The mortified rat left standing stood still for a second, then began to make an escape.
'I say, that was a bit uncalled for, I mean, they're vermin and all, but...' Basil got no further as Jess grabbed the javelin from his paws and threw it at the running rat. Severtail stopped as all the life seemed to fail from him. He stared dumbly at the metal point that came through his neck before gurgling and falling flat on his face, dead.
'Vermin are vermin, Basil, killers. If I could tell you how many innocent woodlanders that one rat had killed you'd be amazed.' She stomped off up the hill to the camp, closely followed by the other two.
'They've gone, the filthy blighters,'
'And no prizes for guessing where they are headed.'
The trio looked at each other, and uttered a single word.
'Redwall.'

The horde was approaching the Abbey. Darkclaw had spotted the hole in the side of the wall, and a plan began to form in his cunning evil mind.
'Maddgut!'
'Yes, chief.'
'Take a hundred rats and weasels and attack the front gate on my command!'
'Yes, chief.'
'Oh, I wish you'd be a bit more lively, Maddgut, I mean it's not a hard life.'
Hearing his chief sound optimistic made the stoat feel a lot better.
'Oh, yes chief I'll be a lot more lively,'
'Be sure to tell the troops that,'
'Er... what, chief?'
'Redwall will be ours tonight!'


Comments would be great!

[Tim Churchmouse]

4
While Matthias, Jess and Basil hurried back, towards Redwall, Darkclaw and his army slipped under the hole one by one, gradually massing on the other side of the wall. Unaware of the immediate danger that was no less than a hundred yards away, the Redwallers ate on in Cavern Hole. It was a few minutes later when the meal they were having finished, and everybeast went outside to be in the dying rays of the sun, as darkness approached. It was Constance who first saw the rats, bunched in a tight corner.
'Rats! Rats! Rats by the eastern gate!' She cried. Before long, Tim Churchmouse was ringing the bells, a sign of danger.
'They've seen us!' snarled Darkclaw. 'CHAAAAAAARGE!' The horde of rats smashed into the old badger, knocking her flat on the ground. A rat was about to finish her off when Cheek battered into him, sending him flying. The young otter was followed by Orlando and his daughter, Auma as they rammed their way through the horde.
'EULALIA!!!!!' the two badgers cried, reaching Constance and taking her back inside the hall, with the help of Winifried and the otters. 'Get her to the Infirmary Sister Afren! Take a few mice with you!' The dynamic duo of Orlando and Auma charged back into the fray.

Matthias was running with all his might. Redwall was just beyond the trees. He sped up, sapping every ounce of strength in his body; he looked up to see Jess swinging through the tree tops, with Basil close behind, ducking and weaving around the bushes.
'Reeeeedwaaaaaall!' He yelled, taking out Martin's sword in a flash, and using it to wreak havoc on Maddgut's part of the army, battering down the main gate. Jess followed suit, jumping out of a tree, and letting loose five stones whilst in mid-air, each of them finding their deadly mark. Within a few minutes, the remainder of the rats and weasels had ran back to camp. Basil, Matthias and Jess climbed up on the ropes that they had used to get down, and leaped off the battlements into the melee, striking this way and that. They were soon joined by Orlando and Auma, and the five bulled their way through the army, to get to Darkclaw. The wicked leader thrust his blade at Matthias, catching him on the side. He screamed in pain, swiping with his sword, cleaving off one of Darkclaw's fingers. The stoat and his horde scrambled under the narrow hole, each one fighting to be first one out. Constance stood on the balcony of the Infirmary, oblivious to her bruises and hurts, firing with her crossbow at the rear ends of vermin as they scrabbled under the wall.

Darkclaw was the first one to get out and under. He stood snarling, clenching some dockleaves around his stub of a finger. He ordered his bowstoats to fire upon the badger who was picking off his army, one by one.
'First rank, load!' he screamed. 'First rank, FIRE!' A salvo of iron-tipped arrows sped trough the sky. One of them headed straight for Constance. It hit her right in the heart. The old badger toppled and fell onto the bed. Sister Afren screamed in terror yet bandaged Constance up, only to see that she had already travelled to the gates of the dark forest.









End of Book 1





















Book Two



Of Songs and Slaves










Also Entitled
There And Back again- Fifteen Seasons On.






1
An extract from the recordings of Tim Churchmouse, recorder of Redwall Abbey.

Fifteen Seasons have passed since the beginnings of the siege, and Constance Badgermum's death. Auma has become our resident replacement for the badger who was dearly loved, and missed. Mattimeo and my sister Tess have settled down together, and now have their little one, Martin. He will, one day, become what his father and his father's father were; Abbey Warrior. Darkclaw's horde are still here: they have been eating off the fat of the land; taking from innocent woodlanders. Skipper Cheek and his best friend Winifried and their otters have had to sneak out at night, with the help of some friendly woodlanders. Friar Samuel has moved to the cellars, and is the sole "keeper of the keys". Rollo has become Friar Rollo, and has his assistant Martin to help. A rather humble start for the future Abbey Warrior! We should be expecting a Circus or whatnot arriving today, so I better get ready. May your seasons fare you well!

Tim Churchmouse, Recorder of Redwall Abbey.
2
'Whatcha doin' Tim, mate?' The familiar voice of Tim's best friend Cheek came from halfway down the stairs. Tim was writing in his favourite spot of all, the Abbey Belltower. He loved the picturesque view gained from being at the tallest point of Redwall, and spent most of his spare hours up there.
'Oh, just finishing off today's writings. Apparently it's the annual circus. I hope they don't get into any trouble.' he said, shutting the dusty book in a puff of dust. 'I feel as old and wizened as this book here.'
'Let's prove you aren't.'
'Eh?'
'Race yer!'
The two rather young friends raced off down the rickety wooden steps, hearts bouncing; Skipper flung himself over a banister to put himself ahead of the mouse.
'How you can be so jovial when we are in mortal danger, I do not know, Skipper!' Tim called out to the speeding otter, jumping and kicking off the boarded wall, landing on the otter, bowling him over. They sprang up and carried on running down the square flight of stairs.
'Haha, still as young as me, matey!' Skip called as he swung round the awestruck mouse, landing in front of him again! 'Just ferget about 'em, then they seem to go away!'
Tim leaned on the wall, puffing and panting to get back his breath. The two walked down the rest of the way, chatting away avidly.
'Good race,'
'Aye, that it was.'

Darkclaw sat outside the walls, as he had done for fifteen seasons. It was now winter, and his horde had began to get old. Maddgut the weasel was dead, and a ferret named Kaijyler had taken over second-in-command. The cruel animal had one eye, the other stabbed and lost in battle. He didn't cover this terrible wound with an eyepatch for one reason only: to frighten the lives out of enemies. It did its job. A savage necklace of teeth and eyeballs taken from long dead woodlanders and foes hung around his neck; yet again to terrify. Some said he came from the isle of Sampetra; others said he was sent by the devil himself. Clad in a corsair's shirt and shorts, he looked the part the rumours had told of, swishing his gold-hilted cutlass. The ferret strode up to his chief.
'When do we launch another attack,' his gravelly voice droned.
'We only attacked last season, we'll give them time to starve,' the leader said.
Kaijyler snarled viciously and stomped off angrily.
'Be patient,' Darkclaw said. 'We have all the time in the world.'

We're the Sensational Southward Siiiiiingers
We dampen out your strife,
The Super Splendiferous Siiingeeeers,
To brighten up your life.

Here and afar, in our homely cart
We live to bring you joy,
Flying trapezes, tumbling clowns
To each and ev'ry town.


We're the Sensational Southward Siiiiiingers
We raise your frown to a smile,
The Super Splendiferous Siiingeeeers
Laughter all the while.

'I say, old chap, bravo!' A stout hare clapped his hands merrily as the performing hedgehog sat down after a sequence of bows and flower throwing by pretty squirrelmaids. 'Give it a tad more paddlewhack, eh girls?' the outrageous hare said to the flower-throwers. 'Um... could you also shout for an encore on other themes?' 
The squirrels huffed and puffed theatrically, paws clasped over their foreheads.
'Oh mister Fothlin, aren't we doing too much already?'
'Harrumph. Oh, fine, have it your bally way. What.' The hare Fothlin went off to have a bit of a sulk. Meanwhile, the hedgehog who had sang jumped off the back of the cart with a pot and spoon, and slammed them together many times.
'Dinner's ready, you lot. Come in an' 'ave a good ole chomp. It's soup night!'
Creatures of all shapes and sizes materialised out of the woodlands, licking their lips and commenting to each other.
'Spiffin'! Tucker's ready!'
'Ho ho! Ee hedgepig Garbil gon an' made summ gurt lush zoop, burr aye!'
'Mmm, I heard it's leek and celery tonight!'
'I thought it was potato and shrimp?'
'Ha, you're both wrong, it's potato and leek!'
The good-natured banter was thrown back and forth as they settled down on the grass, where the hedgehog singer Garbil ladled out spoons of delicious soup.

Before long, the steaming broth was either cold or inside the stomachs of the hearty singers and circus acts. The mouse on stilts insisted that he walked alongside the cart as they trundled off towards Redwall.

We're off to Redwall Abbey,
Ov'r the hills and yon-der
Nobeast shall be som-bre
They shall all be happy.

The simple ditty was accompanied by a little twiddle on a reed flute as the cart indeed rolled over the hills and yonder. Little did they know of the dangers that faced them on their peaceful journey!

[Tim Churchmouse]

This topic is now over as I have thought of a name. This will continue on another thread.