Not All Evil. . .

[The Skarzs]

If you enjoy this, please be sure to check out my other works:

http://redwallabbey.com/forum/index.php?topic=5593.0
http://redwallabbey.com/forum/index.php?topic=5786.0
http://redwallabbey.com/forum/index.php?topic=5834.0

Thank you!

Not All Evil. . .

"Gurby, get over here!"

   A hedgehog mother chased after her little offspring. "Seasons o' starvation, I'll scrub the fur right off o' your back if'n ye don't stop right now, you rascal!" She picked up the hem of her homespun skirt and continued on. The little hog had stopped in a dark clearing a little further ahead, looking around curiously. His mother caught up, quite out of breath.

   "There you are," she gasped, as she turned him around, heading back toward their little wooden house. "Now, we're going-"

   "Where?"

   The hedgehog's words were cut off, and she gazed, frightened, at a wicked-looking rat. She held her babe close. "W-what do you want?" she stammered.

   "Oh, we don't want much. Just a little. . . fun." Several other vermin, ten in all, stepped into the clearing, grinning evilly and wielding weapons. They surrounded the little huddle with full intent of blocking any escape.

   Gurby dropped the little stuffed hedgehog doll he had been carrying, and buried his face into his mother's embrace. "Please, leave us alone," she said, her voice wavering. "I can get you food; I have a soup pot, and can make you some soup! Or, or help any of you who are hurt!"

   The leader of the band, the rat, ignored her pleas. He smiled at his vermin. "Well, how should we begin this, hmm? Redgy?"

   The weasel by the name of Redgy obliged. "We could tickle their paws wid fire, Getchar, chief." He held a lit torch, jabbing it at the them.

   "Or poke 'em full o' more sharp liddle spikes," said another.

   Several other gruesome suggestions were thrown forward, each one bringing new horror to the frightened duo that crouched in the center of the closing ring of dangerous weasels, stoats, rats, and ferrets. Getchar, the rat, held up his paw and stopped the jeering comments. "I say. . ." They waited in anticipation. He waited another moment before smiling and cracking his idea. ". . . We boil 'em in their own pot."

       Evil sniggers greeted this, and they closed in on the terrified hedgehogs. Redgy threw the torch at the house, and it landed on the thatched roof, immediately setting it all aflame. Suddenly, there was a sound like a hornet's buzz, and one of the ferrets cried out, falling forward on the ground, dead, a long, fletched shaft sticking from his back. Curious and fascinated looks fell upon the dead ferret, and another vermin poked him with his spear butt.

       "Oi," he said slowly. "Verbil's dead!"

       "That was a warning kill, you vermin!"

       They all turned in the direction the voice had come from, peering into the dark foliage. Another gang member gurgled, and he, too, fell pierced with an arrow. Two more deadly shafts hissed in, both taking their targets with terrifying efficiency. Redgy saw a shadow flit through the trees, and charged at it, screaming and yelling. There was a small scuffle heard, and he stumbled out backwards, his own cutlass driven into his chest.

       Now only five of them left, Getchar began to panic. Biting his lip, he thought quickly before calling out. "S-show yourself! You're outnumbered!"

       The ferret to his right died without a sound.

       A voice called from the trees. "Fewer than before, rat!"

       It was clear to Getchar he was dealing with some beast far beyond his experience. In a desperate attempt to defeat this unknown foe, he sent his last three vermin to try and catch him in a pincher movement. The one going down the middle was felled with another well-placed arrow, and the other two were lost to sight; only short screams told of their fate.

       Getchar looked wildly around, jumping in surprise as an arrow hit near his footpaw.

       "The next one goes right between your eyes!"

       The rat froze, then grabbed the hedgehog around her neck, ignoring the sharp spines poking into him and forcing a knife point to her throat. "Get back!" he yelled; spittle sprayed from his mouth. "Get back or I'll kill 'em!" The mother sobbed, holding her babe close. There was silence from the trees, and Getchar pressed harder. "I mean it; I'll kill 'em both!"

       "No; you won't."

       The attacker's arrow struck Getchar's exposed side, and he fell back, screaming as his knife dropped forgotten from his paw.

       "Go! Run to Redwall Abbey!"

       The two hedgehogs obeyed their savior, running off toward the direction they knew it to be at. The mother held her babe as she ran, and listened to the last words of the archer who had saved them.

       "Never look back! Never come back to this place!"


Getchar screamed in pain, writhing on the ground as he clutched his injured side. Suddenly, he heard footsteps, and looked desperately at their source. He saw a beast in a gray tunic, a broad belt with a sheathed shortsword and carrying a yew longbow. He stared in surprise at his face as the beast crouched next to him.

       Getchar struggled to speak. "W. . ." He tried again. "Why?"

       "You would have killed them; you would have had them boiled in their own cooking pot."

       "We was only joking!" the rat pleaded. "We wouldn't've done it!"

       The beast slapped him across the mouth. "Shut up! I've seen it all before, and I say, No more! Anybeast, vermin or otherwise, who does any wrong when I'm around, they will suffer the consequences." He bent down and picked up the baby hedgehog's doll, and reached for something else.

       "But. . . but why you?" Getchar choked. "You're just like us, a ver-!" His word was cut short as his throat was sliced open by his own knife.

       "I'm nothing like you," he said quietly.


The old gatehouse keeper, a sprightly shrew by the name of Brother Hreper, was jolted from his musings on an old piece of parchment by an urgent knock on the oaken timbers of the gate. He walked quickly to the great doors, and lifted the large bar. Opening the gate just a crack, he peeked out to see who it was, his gaze resting on a hogwife and her child asleep in her paws. Hreper opened the gate wide.

       "Hello, marm; and what bring you here on this fine evening?" The kindly shrew let the duo in, shutting the gate behind them.

       The hedgehog slowly lowered the snoring bundle onto the ground, sinking to a sitting position herself. "We made it," she whispered. She collapsed, falling asleep almost instantly. Being surprised at this odd arrival, Hreper scurried off into the Abbey building. He came out with the rushing forms of the abbess, a mouse, and Skipper of otters, who helped the two resting hedgehogs into the gatehouse. Hreper made some tea, and poured a little into the hogwife's mouth. She awoke slowly, and looked curiously at their relieved faces.

       "I've gotta speak to the abbess or abbot," she said.

       The Abbess sat down in the chair next to her. "Hello, I am the abbess, Abbess Waisly; welcome to my abbey. Have you travelled far Misses . . . ?"

       "Priffles. Meyra Priffles. Is little Gurby alright?"

       "The little one?" Hreper chuckled. "He's fast asleep on my best chair."

       Meyra Priffles rested back and sighed in relief. "I didn't stop travelling until I got here; I won't lie, six hours is a long time to keep going, especially with that little tike." She rubbed his headspikes fondly. "We were nearly killed by a group of horrid vermin!"

       Skipper of otters growled. "Vermin! Evil, bloodthirsty, good-for-nothing beasts, the lot of them! But how did you escape?"

       "Some kind beast saved us; killed them all, as far as I know. He told us to come here, and never go back." Meyra rubbed her arms. "Never saw him, though. He never showed himself, never asked for any invitation to save us, and never asked for any thanks."

       "It sounds like you were saved by a beast of honor; a true hero," Skipper said, with a slight hint of respect for this unknown beast.

       "Yes indeed," Abbess Waisly said. "But now I think it's time for a good rest in a nice clean bed. Come," she rose.

       Suddenly a knock sounded on the gatehouse door, and a pretty young squirrelmaid let herself in. "Oh, I'm so sorry!" She apologized. "I had heard Brother Hreper inside say something about a newcomer in trouble, so I came to see what I could help with. I'm sorry!"

       Waisly smiled. "Not a problem, Eshery. I'd like you to meet Misses Priffles, the newcomer. She was saved from a band of vermin earlier today, and ran all the way here. She is very tired, I'm sure; could you be so kind as to show her to one of the spare beds?"

       Eshery jumped to her chore, holding onto Meyra's arm to keep her steady should she falter. Her eyes grew wide when she heard about the vermin band. "Was it quite frightening?" She asked energetically.

       "Oh, yes," the hedgehog said drowsily.

       "Eshery. . ." Abbess Waisly said. "Let's not have our guest fall asleep on her paws. Go on, off you go!" The two went off, and the abbess picked up Gurby, and followed after. Skipper wished Hreper goodnight, and he, too, went off to sleep. The only beast left was the gatehouse keeper, who shook his head as he smiled. "Well. . ." he remared. "So many remarkable beasts."


The next morning, Eshery the squirrelmaid made sure Misses Priffle and Gurby were given a full Redwall welcome, including a delicious breakfast of oatfarls, hot porridge with honey and greensap milk, and many other dishes. She ate her meal, and left the newcomers to the hospitality of the other Redwallers.

   "Oh, Eshery?" The abbess's charming voice caught her ear.

   "Yes, Mother Abbess?"

   "Friar Rufard asked me to send out somebeast to gather some berries; could you do that?"

   Eshery smiled. "Sure! I've been feeling a little cooped up inside here. I'll go right away!"

   She found a gathering basket, and made her way out the gate, waving to Hreper on her way out.  "Good morning, Brother!"

   Hreper greeted her back. "A good morning to you, too, young Eshery. Out to gather fruit?"

   "Berries, actually! I should be back by lunch!" She ran off. The old shrew shook his head again.

   "Young 'uns. Always on the move."

   Eshery had been out for a couple hours, finding patches of berries and picking only the ripe ones. Her basket being nearly full, she decided to sit and eat a few, enjoying the warm sun. She looked up at the sky, a deep blue spotted with fluffy clouds that moved unhurriedly across the sky. Over to the north, though, darker clouds were gathering, and the squirrel could tell it was going to rain later. Covering the laden basket, she picked up the hem of her skirt to get up, and turned around into the face of a grossly ugly weasel.

   Eshery screamed, and dropped her basket. The weasel grabbed her paw, and twisted it backwards. The squirrel cried out in pain and fright, and then tried to hit the weasel with her free paw. The vermin ignored her belaboring fist, only bringing out a broad dagger and scratching her paw with it. She pulled it back quickly, seeing blood begin to drip from the wound. The weasel chuckled evilly, bringing the dagger up again. Eshery's eyes went wide in fear, and she closed them. So, this is what it is like to be killed by a vermin, she thought.

       But it did not happen; she heard a noise like the buzzing of an insect, and the weasel screamed in pain. Letting go of her paw, he stumbled past her, and, as he passed, she saw a long, fletched arrow sticking out his back. The vermin ran headlong into the bushes, and his crashing bumbling went on until it was heard no more. Eshery's mouth was still open in shock, and she did not notice some creature picking up her berries and putting them back in the basket until he pushed the handle of the basket into her paw.

       "Don't turn around, please," a voice said. "I don't want to frighten you."

       Eshery listened to the voice, and did not turn. "Th-thank you for saving me," she stuttered. "H-he. . ."

       "Don't worry about it; he's gone now. Just be glad you're safe." There was a pause, then he spoke, slowly this time. "My name is Beren. What's your name? Are you from the abbey?"

       "I'm called Eshery, and I do live at the abbey. Do you want to go back there with me, Beren? The others would enjoy seeing the creature that saved my life."

       The creature was hesitant. "No, I. . . I have something that belongs to one of them. And they. . . wouldn't understand. Can you come back here this evening, so you can give it to them?"

       "Of course! But how will I find you? I don't know what you. . ." she turned, but the strange beast was not behind her. ". . . Look like."

       There was a call from deeper in the trees to her right. "Just say my name; I'll be here!"


"But why?" Skipper asked. It had not been until dinner that Eshery had been able to tell. "Why on earth would he not want to come here, let alone not let you see his face?"

   "Skipper, please," Abbess Waisly said. "This beast is obviously very humble, if not a little shy, and wishes to stay anonymous. You of all creatures should know that, mister 'made a special cake and giving it to Fessle Ruddertail and not telling her who it was from'." She smiled mischievously.

   Skipper growled, kicking his footpaws in the dust. "She's a very handsome female. . ."

   Eshery laughed hard. "That was you? Oh, wait till I tell Fessle!"

   Waisly chuckled. "She already knows," Skipper went stiff at this. "And is right now at this moment making Skipper a special raspberry and rhubarb pie." Skipper suddenly stood up.

   "Well, Eshery, when are you going to meet yer rescuer? Are ya goin' to need a guard? There's no telling when some vermin'll show up. Well, what are we waiting for?"

   Eshery and the abbess shook their heads. "Skipper, you're very kind, but I'll only be out for hardly more than an hour, and I'm going to meet some beast who just saved my life. I think you can stop worrying about me."

   "Lot o' help, mate. Vermin, I can handle. But a female?" He went off mumbling. The two laughed at his humorous predicament, but Abbess Waisly reminded Eshery that is was getting late. "You'd better get going before it gets too dark," she said. The squirrelmaid nodded, and hurried to get ready.

   Not long after, Eshery had made her way out the gate again, and was quickly walking toward where she had met Beren. The clouds were gathering above, dark, angry, and threatening to release their torrent at any moment. She found the designated meeting place, and looked around. The squirrel remembered what he had said earlier, and called out his name. "Beren?"

   "I'm here."

   Eshery's sigh of relief was stopped by a gasp behind her, and a loud thump. She turned around quickly and breathed in sharply.


Skipper had followed Eshery out, and trailed her closely. When she reached the spot, he noticed a ferret hiding behind a tree. He stole up quickly behind it, and threw his javelin at it's back. "I told you!" He cried at Eshery. "I told you there was no telling when a vermin might show up!"

   Eshery didn't listen to Skipper, but rushed to the fallen one's side, lifting the head. "Bere- wait. . . this can't be Beren. This is a ferret!" She stood slowly and backed away a pace. Skipper walked up to Eshery and shook her by her shoulders.

   "Snap out of it; this wasn't Beren, but we'll wait for him here. What are you-" Now it was Skipper's turn to cry in pain as his back was sliced open. He fell to the ground.

   Eshery yelled, going down with Skipper. She tried to drag him backwards, looking up at the face she thought dead. The weasel that she had been saved from by Beren earlier was not dead; the tip of the arrow still stuck out of his chest, just above the heart, and his filthy shirt was soaked with blood. A mad light had entered his eyes, and he came forward slowly. "Little squirrelmaid gonna pay now!"

   Eshery kept backing up. "Oh, Beren, where are you!" she whispered. Just as the weasel was going to finish her off, a gray form rushed into the path of the striking knife. The weasel's eyes rolled backwards, and he fell to the ground in a bloodied heap. The gray-clothed form dropped to their knees, and Eshery noticed a bloodstain on his back. Skipper hoisted himself up with a grunt, and looked in disbelief at their savior: the ferret he had hit with his spear not a minute before.

   Eshery held up the ferret's face, and saw, clenched in his paw, the knife he had killed the weasel with. He raised his other paw, and deposited something on Eshery's lap. The squirrel looked at it; a little stuffed hedgehog doll. "What?" She turned to Skipper, who had asked the question. He was leaning on a tree, shaking his head with a paw on his face. "What was that ferret thinking, saving us? He could have just as well left us to die. I mean, he's a vermin; they're all evil, bloodthirsty-"

   "Shut up!" Eshery yelled. It had begun to rain, and the water mingled with the tears that ran down her face. "Can't you see he risked his life for us? Can't you see that the last thing he did was something good? Your stubbornness is blinding you from the fact: They aren't all evil!"

   "No. . ." Eshery quickly looked down at the ferret; a smile was on his face, happiness showing in the pain. "Not all evil. . ." As these last words left his lips, he closed his eyes and breathed out.

   The squirrelmaid shook the still form, her lip trembling. "B-b-Beren?" she whispered. She clutched the little package he had given her, and began to drag him back to Redwall, crying silently.

   "What're ya doin'?" Skipper asked incredulously.

   "Bringing this hero back to Redwall for a warrior's burial," Eshery said, struggling to carry the still body. Skipper hesitated, then walked forward and helped her with her load.

   "Not without me, you're not. C'mon," he grunted. "Let's go; Fessle'll be right upset at me that I missed her pie."


It was a hard trek back to Redwall, and they found the gat open and several beasts waiting urgently with lit lanterns. They were helped inside, along with the cold, bloodied body of Beren. Many gave them curious looks as to why they would bring the body of a vermin in their beloved Redwall.

   They were brought inside, where Beren was laid on a table, and Skipper and Eshery were dried and tended to. Fessle bustled about Skipper like an old mother hen, dressing his wound and generally berating him while worrying him.

   Abbess Waisly looked at the sad body of the ferret. "Eshery, why was he brought here?"

   Eshery looked across at him. "He saved my life. . . twice," she said softly. The words stung her, for he had never asked for anything but to have something given back to some beast. . . The squirrlemaid sat up, and searched around for Misses Priffles and Gurby. There they were, over by Skipper. She walked slowly over to them, looking down at the little doll. Handing the small object to Gurby, she smiled weakly. "Is this yours?"

   "Spoiky!" Gurby squealed, hugging the much-loved doll. Misses Priffles scratched her headspikes. "Gracious, I was sure he dropped it when we were attacked and saved by. . . !" She covered her mouth with a paw and looked wide-eyed at Beren. "Goodness! You don't think. . . ?"

   "Oh yes," Waisly said reverently. "I do believe that is the same creature who saved your lives."

   Skipper watched and listened. His own words echoed in his mind. It sounds like you were saved by a beast of honor; a true hero. . . Vermin! Evil, bloodthirsty, good-for-nothing beasts, the lot of them. . . they're all evil, bloodthirsty. . .

       Finally, the words spoken by Eshery and Beren himself caused a tear of shame of himself and respect for the fallen Beren to roll down his tough face.

       Can't you see he risked his life for us? Can't you see that the last thing he did was something good? They aren't all evil!

No. . .


Not all evil. . .

[Gonff the Mousethief]

This is very good! A great idea and storyline !

[Captain Tammo]

This one reminds me of another story on the forum called blackness (or darkness, I forgot which)! You wrote a good story. It was short and sweet and had a good message behind it!

[The Skarzs]

Thank you both!

Yes, I've read Blackness, and this does remind me of it myself. But I did not get the idea from Blackness; this was thought up on my own.

[Feles]

this has only one downside
its a oneshot

[The Skarzs]

It's a short story, yes.
But if that is the only downside, then I'll take that as a compliment.

[Feles]

well that's what it was 

[Dag Downyfur]

That was a great story!

[The Skarzs]

Thank you!

[Osu]

Whoosh, belated comment from moi! This is (yet another!) wonderful story: broke my heart, and carried the theme well. I was sorry not to have a closer look at Beren, his past and thought process; but as this is a short story (and kept admirably well to the format, I must say!) I can hardly complain about that. The twist at the end with the weasel returning was a great idea, even if it led to a tragedy: and, I suppose, it sometimes takes a tragedy to carry a point to others.

Well done all around!

[The Skarzs]

I'm glad you enjoyed it; thank you!
(I almost mis-typed and wrote 'galled' instead of 'glad'. No, I am not galled that you read it)

[Skyblade]

This one certainly doesn't lack emotional appeal. Another great story, Skarzs.

[Banya]

This is a great story, Skarzs.  The ending gave me the chills; it was wonderfully written.  I love the descriptions that strengthen the imagery of each scene, and the dialect of each character is excellent.  While reading, it reminded me of "A Good Man is Hard to Find," except that I did not like that story.  Thank you for sharing!

[The Skarzs]

I'm really glad you enjoyed it; it means a lot to a writer for his work to be appreciated.

And thank you, Sky; this certainly was my attempt at emotion-drawing.

[The Skarzs]

. . . Hope no one minds me bumping this topic up, but I'd like to say a few words on this.

Looking back at this, this is really one of my best works of writing. No, I'm not trying to be proud, I'm being honest with myself. This is one of my favorite things I have written as well. . . I was able to add heroics, sadness, romance, and other literary aspects into this, and I have surprised myself. I hope I don't sound pretentious, because I'm not trying to be. I just want to share what I feel. . . not something I do often.




So many "I"s in that. . . Now I feel like an egotistical scumbag.