Post by vela on Dec 7, 2009 6:42:23 GMT -5
6th day of the Autumn of Russet Apples
Gah. Stupid little dormouse… Thinks she can boss me around, eh? Renna the Rapier doesn’t listen to anybeast, let alone some little golden mousemaid named after a plant! Assistant recorder my eye. She’s just jealous that somebeasts have the guts to go out and see the world, unlike her. Living at Redwall Abbey, bossing and writing. I can’t believe she had the nerve to tell Renna, shrew, warrior, excellent rapier fighter (if I do say so myself) to write a journal! You know what? I’ll just write a journal anyway, to show her how little I care! ‘Assistant recorder Hawthorne Streamdiver Swiftrem’? More like ‘Assistant friend-stealer Hawthorne Bosserwhiner Swiftrem! “Write a journal so that I know who you meet and what you do.” Sniveling little… Thrush has been spending all her time with that stupid dormouse. When I told her just what a boot-licking nitbrain she was being, the otter just laughed. Laughed! She said, “But Renna, you can come sit by the pond with us too. I asked you if you wanted to come. We’re having strawberry cordial, and some hotroot and watershrimp soup.” Needless to say, she had forgotten that I hate strawberry cordial! I’ve been making sure she doesn’t kill herself- following her, guiding her- for over three seasons! Three seasons, and she’s forgotten it all just because some pus-eating little bespectacled nuisance who’s her ‘childhood friend’ is at Redwall Abbey! Thank Martin that we’re leaving tomorrow… Maybe she’ll come to her senses once we get back to Mossflower.
9th day of the Autumn of Russet Apples
We left Redwall yesterday, with all the goodbeasts waving, and well-wishing us. I said goodbye to da, (he’s getting so old nowdays- I almost didn’t recognize him when we first got back) and waved to the Abbot. Thrush wore some kind of insane grin that made her look like a duck. Bosserwhiner’s gone and made her write a journal, too. She just said “Oh, what a nice cover” in that ridiculous mishmash of Green Isle and ottercrew accent of hers. It turned out more ‘Oh, shore, an’ wha’ a nice cover, matey.’ Somebeasts have no dignity at all.
So we set off, -Thrush actually sniffled at leaving her family and Bosserwhiner behind. Really, you’d think she’d be jumping for joy at leaving behind that younger brother of hers. Tras has a ‘friend’ at Redwall. Some pretty ottermaid, part of Skipper’s crew. He’s decided to stay at Redwall just to see her. He has the brains of a scallop, insane little thing.
We found my logboat right on the bank of the Broadstream, just where we left it. Nice boat. The paint on the prow glistened in the spray and sun. It looked like a message from the heavens themselves. Freedom. No word will ever taste sweeter on my tongue than that one. Of course, Thrush had to ruin the moment by chattering on, nattering away. “Look, Renna, it kept well. See, tol’ ye it would. Not a single damage done, not one at all.” So we removed the barkcloth tarp- it was rubbed all over with beeswax, to keep it dry- and heaved it into the river. Oh, the day started out all right. We paddled along, Thrush was even a bit quiet one I snapped at her. She wanted to sing a rowing song. I’ve always enjoyed singing, just as much as I enjoy paddling. Nothing feels better than riding the river, being in control of your boat and yourself. We travelled like this all day, and when we stopped, we had a nice supper, oatcakes cheese, fennel and barley wine. We even had a campfire. It was a good day.
We woke up this morning, and then, surprise surprise, Thrush checked her map. Dumb otter, she can’t even remember the correct way to Salamandastron without a map. It turned out- as I already knew- that we’d have to portage the boat a ‘short way’ from the Broadstream to the River Moss. It would ‘shorten the route’ according to my ignoramus friend. It took two whole days. Across and arid plain with dust that got pounded up by Thrush’s big, clumsy footpaws, and got stuck to the sides of the Freedom. And when the wind blew, it got in out eyes. You ever gotten dust in your eyes when carrying a heavy logboat? I think not. So, when the Moss was finally in sight, what does Thrush do? She drops the boat on my footpaws! I heard the crack myself. Stupid otter goes and dives into the river. Her ‘otter instincts’ (so she says) made her do. And I was left to wipe the dust off the logboat, cook tea, and nurse my footpaw. We had a fire, and by now I’m so exhausted that I can’t even come up with good names for the cretin. Somehow, the usual ‘nitbrains’ just doesn’t cut it.
OT
Well, here it is! Lots of whinging and complaining, XD
Gah. Stupid little dormouse… Thinks she can boss me around, eh? Renna the Rapier doesn’t listen to anybeast, let alone some little golden mousemaid named after a plant! Assistant recorder my eye. She’s just jealous that somebeasts have the guts to go out and see the world, unlike her. Living at Redwall Abbey, bossing and writing. I can’t believe she had the nerve to tell Renna, shrew, warrior, excellent rapier fighter (if I do say so myself) to write a journal! You know what? I’ll just write a journal anyway, to show her how little I care! ‘Assistant recorder Hawthorne Streamdiver Swiftrem’? More like ‘Assistant friend-stealer Hawthorne Bosserwhiner Swiftrem! “Write a journal so that I know who you meet and what you do.” Sniveling little… Thrush has been spending all her time with that stupid dormouse. When I told her just what a boot-licking nitbrain she was being, the otter just laughed. Laughed! She said, “But Renna, you can come sit by the pond with us too. I asked you if you wanted to come. We’re having strawberry cordial, and some hotroot and watershrimp soup.” Needless to say, she had forgotten that I hate strawberry cordial! I’ve been making sure she doesn’t kill herself- following her, guiding her- for over three seasons! Three seasons, and she’s forgotten it all just because some pus-eating little bespectacled nuisance who’s her ‘childhood friend’ is at Redwall Abbey! Thank Martin that we’re leaving tomorrow… Maybe she’ll come to her senses once we get back to Mossflower.
9th day of the Autumn of Russet Apples
We left Redwall yesterday, with all the goodbeasts waving, and well-wishing us. I said goodbye to da, (he’s getting so old nowdays- I almost didn’t recognize him when we first got back) and waved to the Abbot. Thrush wore some kind of insane grin that made her look like a duck. Bosserwhiner’s gone and made her write a journal, too. She just said “Oh, what a nice cover” in that ridiculous mishmash of Green Isle and ottercrew accent of hers. It turned out more ‘Oh, shore, an’ wha’ a nice cover, matey.’ Somebeasts have no dignity at all.
So we set off, -Thrush actually sniffled at leaving her family and Bosserwhiner behind. Really, you’d think she’d be jumping for joy at leaving behind that younger brother of hers. Tras has a ‘friend’ at Redwall. Some pretty ottermaid, part of Skipper’s crew. He’s decided to stay at Redwall just to see her. He has the brains of a scallop, insane little thing.
We found my logboat right on the bank of the Broadstream, just where we left it. Nice boat. The paint on the prow glistened in the spray and sun. It looked like a message from the heavens themselves. Freedom. No word will ever taste sweeter on my tongue than that one. Of course, Thrush had to ruin the moment by chattering on, nattering away. “Look, Renna, it kept well. See, tol’ ye it would. Not a single damage done, not one at all.” So we removed the barkcloth tarp- it was rubbed all over with beeswax, to keep it dry- and heaved it into the river. Oh, the day started out all right. We paddled along, Thrush was even a bit quiet one I snapped at her. She wanted to sing a rowing song. I’ve always enjoyed singing, just as much as I enjoy paddling. Nothing feels better than riding the river, being in control of your boat and yourself. We travelled like this all day, and when we stopped, we had a nice supper, oatcakes cheese, fennel and barley wine. We even had a campfire. It was a good day.
We woke up this morning, and then, surprise surprise, Thrush checked her map. Dumb otter, she can’t even remember the correct way to Salamandastron without a map. It turned out- as I already knew- that we’d have to portage the boat a ‘short way’ from the Broadstream to the River Moss. It would ‘shorten the route’ according to my ignoramus friend. It took two whole days. Across and arid plain with dust that got pounded up by Thrush’s big, clumsy footpaws, and got stuck to the sides of the Freedom. And when the wind blew, it got in out eyes. You ever gotten dust in your eyes when carrying a heavy logboat? I think not. So, when the Moss was finally in sight, what does Thrush do? She drops the boat on my footpaws! I heard the crack myself. Stupid otter goes and dives into the river. Her ‘otter instincts’ (so she says) made her do. And I was left to wipe the dust off the logboat, cook tea, and nurse my footpaw. We had a fire, and by now I’m so exhausted that I can’t even come up with good names for the cretin. Somehow, the usual ‘nitbrains’ just doesn’t cut it.
OT
Well, here it is! Lots of whinging and complaining, XD
Hehe! Thanks so much Vela!
I've felt a sudden surge of love for her and will start working on another entry soon.
Yayy! *Squish-glomp* 
