Rook's Journal

[Rook]

((Fawn and T-Bone requested I continue Rook's journal from the 'Getting Into Their Minds' thread. Who'm I to argue? ;D This will be updated at random. Weekly to bi-weekly, at best.))

Few memories are clearer in my mind than when I met Broden, and when I met Coor. 

I was only a few years old when Broden and his parents came to Redwall. I remember distinctly how . . . extremely spiky the little hedgehog family was. I knew hedgehogs were spiky, but these hogs were particularly so. Broden's spines were not quite as sharp as his parents' yet, but when he tackled me that day during a game of tag, I was sure he'd left some of his spines behind in my hide. 

Even so, we got along fine. He seemed confused that I wasn't able to speak to him during our initial conversations. "Hey, can'tcha talk, Blacky?" I never took it personally. But I did feel a little self-conscious when my friend Tessa had to explain that I had no voice. 

I and everybeast else had trouble keeping up with him whenever his mother let him near sweets, but I admit I had to smile when his eyes grew wide as his dinner plate and he said with awe, "I can see eternity . . ." Most enjoyable feast I've attended yet.

We didn't oft seek each other out those first years. He was occupied with his training and friends outside the abbey. And then, when he left to 'save the world' as he called it, I admit I honestly didn't miss him. Sure, he was a nice hedgehog, but we weren't close friends then. He was gone for a long time, and life went on at Redwall just as it always had. When the news came of his return, though, it spread like wildfire.

"Broden's home!" abbey-dwellers rejoiced. I am almost ashamed to say that I found myself thinking, 'Who's Broden?' But when they asked me to perform a song or two at his homecoming feast, I didn't hesitate. Of course I recognized him once I saw him again. How could I forget that overly-spiky mountain of a hog? I don't believe I'd ever played better than how I played that night. 

After the feast, I came up to offer my two bits in all the congratulating he was receiving, and he seemed to recognize me, too. I felt guilty for not recalling his name, but I decided we could start afresh. Of course, he'd forgotten my muteness, so when I didn't answer his introduction with my own name, he once again asked me, "Hey, can ye nae speak, Blacky?" Once he was told, however, he almost seemed embarrassed, but he just laughed it off. I had to smile. Our friendship really began after that night.

From then on, Broden came to respect my muteness. Of course, there were times when he forgot. "Speak up, Rook!!" But again, I never took any of it personally. I'd simply write my words in all capital letters to make sure he 'heard' me. Needless to say, we got along famously. And it was nice to have a friend who didn't try to keep things solemn around me because of my handicap. Everybeast else seemed to avoid jokes about my muteness like the plague. Not Broden. And strangely, his playful jabs at my silence were therapeutic in a way. I felt he simply didn't care about it and was determined to be my friend in spite of it. 

And then Coor came along. I was unsure what to think of him at first. He was a quiet sort to say the least. He'd experienced tragic deaths in his family, ample reason for his withdrawn personality, yet I felt he'd no need to seek solitude so often as he did. I quickly figured out that he would never fit in with the peace-loving beasts of Redwall, but I enjoyed the occasional break from the bustling abbey, as well. So I'd seek him out during those times, if only to have somebeast to play music to. 

I didn't learn his story from him. If that had been the case, I still wouldn't know it. Coor is far too reserved for such a thing as sharing his past. But out of respect for him, neither I nor Broden ever brought it up. (I have the feeling Coor preferred my company the most since I am physically unable to talk about his past, but that is an unconfirmed suspicion.) 

Eventually, and quite slowly, Coor began to heal. His daily sparring sessions with Broden allowed him to exercise his strength, something which he is extremely strict about. My songs--though I am still unsure if this--brought an air of tranquility to the times when he and I were alone. 

He, like Broden, forgot about my muteness at times. "Speak plainly, Rook." I'd grown accustomed to it, so I simply shrugged it off. But when Coor would forget, he would simply become silent as the grave. It didn't take long for me to put two and two together to realize this shutting down was to him like blushing was to others. It was how he responded to an awkward situation. I found it amusing and would simply begin to play another song, a warm smile on my face to let him know I had no hard feelings towards him. 

There were times, however, when his constant seriousness admittedly put me off. I was used to Broden's lighthearted and oft unpredictable ways. Coor, though a squirrel of obvious wit and cleverness, rarely showed his lighter side. But this was offset by his growing loyalty to the friendship forming among us three. I indeed felt honored to see his dedication to both Broden and me. It was humbling to think such a creature as Coor would consider me a friend.

In fact, I feel both Broden and Coor have lived lifetimes already, and mine is only beginning. I'm no warrior, as they are, nor have I ever saved a life or put myself at risk for the sake of another. Broden and Coor are heroes, and I am a resident of Redwall. They turn to me as the 'voice of reason' in difficult circumstances, but I feel I am hardly qualified to offer any kind of reasoning to them. 

Speak of the devils, I believe that's them now, brawling on the lawns. I should go referee the fight in case things get out of paw. I believe that elder otter is still in the infirmary from being run over by them last week.

Signing off,
Lyric 'Rook' Dare

[Rook]

Broden and Coor somehow got ahold of my last entry and begged me to continue my journaling. I was not aware that my writing was so enjoyable to read. Yet I had no plans to continue until they came to me, waving my journal in the air and insisting I write more. (Well, it was mostly Broden who was waving it around, but Coor was joining in the insisting part.) I personally blame being in the same dormitory as Broden, but then again, I wasn't trying to hide my diary. 

Either way, I'm obliged to keep at it. It's quite therapeutic, and rather fun. It seems I can almost hear my own voice in my head while I'm writing. Or, what my voice may have been like had I not been a mute. My mother imagines I would have a pleasing tenor voice like my father. I often wonder if she is right. There's obviously no way to tell, but a hare can dream.

So, what to write about this time? Broden and Coor weren't exactly specific when they asked me to continue, so perhaps I can simply write what comes to mind. It's definitely worth mentioning that I am going to be an older brother within these next few months, after 24 years of being an only child. And I will not have just one, but three younger siblings. 

I've always enjoyed the company of the Dibbuns. They're sweet, playful, and they seem almost enchanted by my music at times. I love how their eyes grow wide with amazement. It's for that reason, as one of many, that I continue to play music. And I am positively brimming with excitement to meet my baby siblings. I'll keep in mind never to leave them out in the snow.

Father Rommel is delighted for my family. He's invited my parents to remain at Redwall once they arrive in spring. It would certainly be easier on my mother, for she would be offered the aid of the wonderful sisters here at the abbey. My father is better at taking care of children than I am, but we are both still, for lack of better term, amateurs. Caring for Dibbuns is not something that comes naturally to those of the male persuasion.

I do wish Broden would stop reading over my shoulder. He read that last paragraph and burst out laughing, describing his mental image of me in an apron holding three little hare babes. I've just decided to find a more private place for writing. Broden, if I could speak . . . 

 I sit now on the ramparts, enjoying the cool fall day. Broden and Coor are sparring on the lawns, again, but we are more or less the only three creatures outdoors at this time. There's little danger of their brawl harming anybeast besides themselves. But I glance up every now and then, just to be safe. 

I do wonder how my time will be occupied when my parents return with my new siblings. I'll certainly not be refereeing my friends' fights every day, I hope. I imagine I'll be spending many hours with my family, and doing little else. The triplets will be the center of my focus, since I am admittedly apprehensive about all this. 

Oh, I harbor no real worry. And in fact I am far more excited than I am apprehensive. But as I've mentioned before, I simply do not know how to take care of children. I only know how to entertain them, should they fancy music. I don't consider myself the type to coddle and coo like a mother bird. Of course, that love between siblings will exist among us four. I've seen that affection apparent in other siblings' interactions at Redwall. And I'll certainly hold and hug the triplets every chance I get, but I am no nurse. 

However, I am curious to see how their personalities will develop. Will they take to music as much as I do? Will they endeavor to learn an instrument? Will they enjoy singing? Or will they be practical, hard-working creatures like our parents? I certainly hope they at least receive some of my love for music. If they do not inherit or seek to hone any talent for music, that will not bother me so long as they enjoy hearing others play.

Oh, very well, I lied. I am worried about one thing, I admit it. My only concern is that the triplets will not like me. I mentioned this to Coor earlier, but he told me it was nothing to fret over. "You are a likable person, Rook. It is hard not to like you." At the risk of sounding prideful, I would have to agree with him. 

I do consider myself a friendly sort, despite my shortcomings. I only worry because these triplets are my family. Family I hold in the highest regard, and I never wish to disappoint them. If I disappoint my new siblings right from the beginning, what then? Of course I could try to make it up to them, but you never get a second chance at a first impression. 

If my apprehension persists, I suppose I should go see Father Rommel. I always feel at ease after hearing his advice. Honestly, though, I am sure my worries are ungrounded. 

Reading back over what I've written, I realize I sound quite detached from what is going on in my own life. I have to smile. It seems my writing style is more refined than even I anticipated. I don't mean to come across as if I'm not excited about this. I am more than thrilled to meet my siblings. The reason for my rather unconcerned writing voice is that I was merely recording the thoughts that came to mind, whether they had relevance to my personal feelings or not. But I assure all who read this that I simply cannot wait until spring.

Just now I glanced up from my seat on the ramparts, half expecting my parents to come walking up to the abbey with three little baby hares in their arms. But I must wait for the change in the seasons. I acknowledge that patience comes easier to me than most beasts, yet I find that the longer I wait for my parents' return, the harder the waiting becomes. 

And there goes Broden into the pond. I am unsure whether to feel sorry for him, or to go congratulate Coor. The wisest course of action at present, however, would be to avoid Broden. He can be quite sore when he loses, depending on his mood, and who he lost to.

Signing off,
Lyric 'Rook' Dare

[Rook]

Let there be no ambiguity on this point. I deeply admire Broden, and consider him one of my closest friends. He is a skilled fighter, a loyal friend, an expert violinist, and quite an amazing singer.

But there are times when I seriously question his maturity. Never his sanity. Though I admit I've been tempted to do so. Yet his unpredictable personality can lead him to act so . . . juvenile sometimes. Today was one of those days when I wished I could have asked him, "What were you thinking?" 

Broden is as careful as they come. I indeed admire his ability to think through a stupid idea before deciding whether to execute it. And this was not necessarily a stupid idea, but I was thrown completely off-guard when he challenged a newer member of Redwall, a sea otter named Cross. 

Now, Broden is most definitely on the brawny side. Thick, muscular, and armed with plenty of brute strength. But Cross is big, in every sense of the word. I am almost certain the otter's biceps are roughly as thick around as my legs. Yet Cross is not at all like Broden. In fact, I was even expecting this giant of an otter to be more than willing to fight. But he politely declined Broden's initial challenge. 

Personally, I was relieved. As much for Broden's dignity as for Cross's well-being. But Broden persisted. I had the urge, several times that morning, to hit my forehead in exasperation. I know Broden wants to be a good fighter, and I had no doubt sparring with Cross would be a valuable learning experience for him. However, Cross either knew his own strength, or was simply not in the mood to fight. 

But Broden persisted. I tried to take him aside and inform him of my thoughts on the matter, but my friend wouldn't listen. Finally, Cross acquiesced, with no small amount of the same exasperation I felt. It had occurred to the big otter that if he agreed to spar with Broden, he would be allowed to return to his daily activities much sooner. 

Next thing I know, I and Coor are sitting on the overturned wheelbarrow out on the lawns. Cross and Broden fought for two solid hours. Despite Cross's larger size, he and my friend were pretty well matched in strength. In fact, there were several times when Broden had the advantage. Due to the fact that both beasts were so strong, the 'friendly' spar turned rather bloody quite fast. I blame Broden's spines for most of it, but Cross's rudder can certainly cause considerable damage. 

Towards the end of the fight, I noticed Coor, standing now, close his eyes resignedly. He could tell this was not going to end well for our hedgehog friend. I was in full agreement. By this time, Cross was quickly gaining the upper paw, and Broden seemed to be lagging. I did not want to watch the end of the fight, but I was admittedly riveted as Cross kicked Broden full in the stomach and latched his webbed paw onto my friend's throat. Broden gripped the paw that held his throat and tried to punch the big otter off himself, but he was slow after fighting for so long, so Cross was easily able to block it.

The silver otter did not gloat. He did not even acknowledge that he had won. "Please do not challenge me again today, Broden." I watched as he released Broden, helped my friend to his feet, and then went on his way, limping slightly and nursing a cut or two, or seven. Broden was understandably unhappy that he'd lost. I was understandably nervous around him for the rest of the day, but I was also wishing I could ask him why he'd thought it was a good idea to challenge Cross. 

Now, I do know that, in the past, Broden has beaten opponents bigger than himself. However, I also know of his obsession to become a hero, and that he wishes to be a better fighter. None of that is wrong in itself, but his fixation on it seems to cause him to go to some . . . extreme measures at times. And besides it was his own fault he lost, after challenging somebeast as Cross, so the brooding he was engaged in for the rest of the afternoon was entirely uncalled for.

I, having little to do myself, stuck around with Broden, despite his rather sour mood. Coor was needed to help train some of the younger abbey dwellers. I played my mandolin at some point while Broden got his various wounds seen to. They looked far worse than they actually were. After a few bandages, Brother Halifax sent Broden out of the sick bay, and of course I went with him. We sat on the battlements for some time, I playing my mandolin, and he muttering to himself about what he should have done to avoid his earlier defeat. I found a scrap of parchment and informed him of my thoughts on the matter. 'Let it go, Broden.' 

Eventually, and quite late into the evening, I was able to coax Broden to sing a song for the pawful of beasts gathered in Cavern Hole. He agreed, but only on the condition that I play my violin. "Ah cannae sing withoot your music, Rook." I personally believed it was more like 'will not' instead of 'cannot', but I didn't argue. And anyway, he seemed in much better spirits afterwards. So much so that he gave me a wink and a smile once he finished his first song and left to fetch his own violin. It was then I knew he wasn't feeling down any longer.

Have I mentioned how spiny Broden is? This may seem off-topic, but he really is quite spiky, with extra quills on his arms and shoulders, and even the backs of his paws. He's mentioned once or twice how annoying they are, and I've seen the damage they can cause to fabrics and exposed skin. But I've rarely felt their sharpness personally. Oh, sure, we've run into each other on occasion, and I've certainly had several encounters where I've brushed up against him and had to flinch away suddenly. 

But tonight, he elbowed me, elbowed me, right in the ribs. It was when he was just coming back into Cavern Hole. He had his violin and bow in paw, and he sat down beside me, wearing perhaps the biggest smile I'd seen all day. And then, I do not know what came over him, but he said, "Ready tae play for real, mah friend?" and then his elbow jabbed into my side.

I know he didn't mean to hurt me. I am sure he was merely caught up in the jovial mood of the evening. It's a common gesture to gently nudge a friend when in lighthearted spirits. But I do wish Broden would have remembered his spines at that moment. He often crosses his arms, ignoring his own spines in the process, I suppose because he is used to it. However, it is hard to ignore those spines when they're stabbing into your side.

I remember I visibly flinched, fumbling with my violin as I tried to hang onto it and clutch my smarting ribs at the same time. I must have grimaced as I doubled over in pain, for Broden was startled and began to apologize profusely. Or, tried to, at least. "Ah dinnae mean tae!" I held up my paw to let him know that I did not need his assistance, which he continued to offer despite my polite refusals. I shut my eyes tightly in agony, and I recall wishing the pain would stop shooting up my ribcage. 

When I removed my paw, I discovered the smallest amount of blood seeping through my shirt. Broden immediately apologized again, and I once more held up my paws.  And then he began to laugh, placing a paw on my shoulder and shaking me gently. I had to smile. Even though my ribcage hurt, I was merely glad Broden was feeling less, well, moody. As the evening wore on, the pain subsided, and I thoroughly enjoyed myself as Broden and I performed a perfectly-coordinated duet for the creatures in Cavern Hole. 

I am beginning to regret that leap onto the back of the chair, however. My torso is quite sore, not to mention my knees seem to be locking up slightly. Well, the candle is dying, so I suppose I should get some rest. I can hear Broden, fast asleep, reliving the events of today. He's only about halfway through his fight with Cross. I wonder how many times he'll apologize again when he gets to the part about elbowing me in the ribs.

Signing off,
Lyric 'Rook' Dare

[Rook]

I am awake at a thoroughly unrighteous hour, so please forgive me if my writing becomes a little slurred. Inspiration hit me like an arrow shot from a bow. I've spent the last few hours trying to write out a song, notes, lyrics, and all. I haven't been at all successfull, and in fact I gave up about an hour ago. But I am brimming with nervous energy now, so I'm unable to fall back asleep. 

I actually liked how the song was turning out instrumental-wise, at the very least. But I am by no means a songwriter regarding lyrics. Broden is far better than I. Perhaps he can help me when he wakes up tomorrow. Or, later this morning, as it were. 

I really ought to try to get some rest, but when I lay down, I can't seem to get comfortable. This is a rare night for me, as I'm never awake past midnight, unless it's for something important. And I am actually a rather heavy sleeper, which is why I am quite possibly the only one who could sleep in the same dorm as Broden. But, since I've nothing else to do, and this nervous energy won't let me rest, I will record my thoughts before I run out of ink, scattered though they may be. 

It's come to my attention recently how . . . quite frightening I can appear at first glance. My fur is the blackest of blacks, and my eyes are almost piercing red. I also happen to like wearing a lot of red clothing. Black and red are not exactly friendly colors, depending upon who you ask. But perhaps I should think about more variation in regards to the color of my garments. Coor I know wears blue tartan, mostly because of his heritage. And Broden can usually be seen in the green habit of Redwall. Though I know how much he hates those things and much prefers his maroon tunic. I could complete this 'primary color' theme and wear something yellow or gold from time to time?

No, that would be stupid. I'd look ridiculous in yellow. Heavens, I'm beginning to sound like my mother. She is constantly fretting over how she looks. She always looks wonderful, so I really don't know why she worries. I am less concerned about aesthetic appearances than I am about not scaring other beasts off when I walk in the room. 

Now that I think about it, both Broden and Coor have a similar problem as I do. Broden's bulk alone contributes to other beasts' intimidation when they first meet him. I remember my own hesitation to walk up to him when he returned to Redwall. Let alone allow him to shake my paw. And Coor's unusually spiky fur can give him an almost otherworldly appearance in dim lighting. All three of us, in fact, seem to have some kind of, for lack of better term, frightening feature. 

But only Broden and Coor can really back it up. Both of them are skilled and seasoned fighters. While I admit I am a decent boxer, I am nothing compared to beasts like them. If challenged to actually act as intimidating as I appear, I suppose I could floor the challenger quite quickly, but that would depend on my personal level of anger. I'd ask myself if it was really worth proving that I could indeed be as scary as I look. The answer would most likely be no, since I have nothing to prove to somebeast who apparently has some wish to lose consciousness in that moment. 

Speaking of losing consciousness, I should probably consider doing just that. It's horribly late, and I believe that nervous energy may finally be wearing off. Hopefully. Possibly not, but I'm going to try to get some sleep, anyway. I think the sun might be rising, already. Please forgive my scattered thoughts. I had to write something down, if only to empty my mind, somewhat.

Signing off,
Lyric 'Rook' Dare