Free Music ((Open))

[Romulus]

"Guud mornin' mizzus Krell, Rook'n'oi be ee compozin' ee zongs fur ee Awtum feast." He glanced at Rook, giving the black hare a wink. "Oi'm shur ee Rook here will play 'ee a noice zong, if we had sum help wiff 'ee lyrikers. Oi'm not a vury guud zong-maker, burr aye."

"Oh, for the Autumn feast, eh?" December accepted the help from Duncan gratefully, leaning her big canvas against the ramparts with the painted side facing out. "Turns out I jus' finished me own contribution to the feast." She placed her paint-covered paws on her hips as she stood proudly by the canvas. It depicted a stunning golden dragon with red spines shaped like maple leaves. It was soaring through the sky at sunset, banking towards the ground so the viewer could see a forest of red, orange, and yellow trees below the dragon.

"Almost used up me last reds an' yellows fer that'un," she murmured. "But ye say it's a song, is it? Well, I ain't much on writin' music meself, but I'll see if'n I can help ye." Rook handed her the parchment, a little sheepishly, and the mousewife read over what they had so far.

"Anybeast 'ere be thursty? Oi can bring us sum noice strawburry cordjul while we wait for yore paintings to dry."

"Splendid idea, Duncan, dear," December replied cheerily. "We'll be waitin' up here for ye. Now, Rook, hon, would ye mind playin' me the tune so's I know how to arrange the words?"

((Feel free to time skip a little bit if you want to while Duncan gets the drinks.))

[Stryker]

Duncan returned with a tray full of strawberry cordial as promised, but with the edition of some hot honey & oat farls for them to nibble on as they thought. "Zurr Rook, Did you'm an Mizz Krell coim up wiff anythin'? Oi be wrackin' moi poor young brain fur zumethin', burr aye, but it ain't been easy." Setting the tray down next to his friends, Duncan smiled upon seeing the beautiful portrait Mrs. Krell had made; it was absolutely breathtaking.
"xcuse me Mizzus, but cud oi 'ave a closer look at yon paintin'? It be a wunnerful work of art, marm."

It was a little known fact that Duncan was utterly fascinated by dragons. The second he'd discovered them in a few of Redwall Abbey's old poems and illustrations, Duncan hadn't been able to get over them. Growing up, several moles had told him they didn't exist, and even a few Abbey teachers had told him to stop letting his mind wander to such silly, imaginary things... But if Dragons didn't exist, then why on earth did anyone know how to draw one?
Surely they had seen them somewhere, right?

In a land far, far away from Mossflower, did dragons truly exist? Did they breathe fire, guard treasure, and eat princesses?

Duncan felt a sudden tug to leave Redwall Abbey and find the answer to such a puzzling question as this one. The young mole smiled wistfully. Perhaps he could slay a few while he was out and about? Duncan the Dragon Slayer! That had a nice ring to it, didn't it?

[Rook]

"Zurr Rook, Did you'm an Mizz Krell coim up wiff anythin'? Oi be wrackin' moi poor young brain fur zumethin', burr aye, but it ain't been easy."

Rook scratched his head, glancing over at December. She shrugged and smiled at Duncan. "We came up with a few lines, we did," she answered. "But 'tis a challenge, no doubt about that. Though I did like what Rooky 'ad so far. But it's still not simple enough to be remembered, y'know."

"xcuse me Mizzus, but cud oi 'ave a closer look at yon paintin'? It be a wunnerful work of art, marm."

December's famous smile grew ever wider. "Of course, Duncan, dear," she replied. "D'ye really like it? I've tried an autumn dragon b'fore, y'know. But 'e was a small one, 'ad 'is tail wrapped 'round some berry branches, y'see. Now, this'un," she tapped the edge of her canvas, "This'un be fit t'show at the feast. S'a right pretty one, isn't 'e?"

Rook nodded agreement, admiring the beautiful painting along with Duncan. The hare, too, had his own thoughts about dragons. But he didn't have dreams to find one and become a famous dragon slayer. He wondered instead what it must be like to be a dragon. To be able to fly, breathe fire . . . and roar!

Oh, what it must be like to roar! To have a voice so strong that words could not contain it. Only a savage bellow to blast for all and sundry to hear!

[Stryker]

"It be gorgeous, Mizzus Krell. Oi do loikes it very much." Gushed the mole, speaking honestly.

The young mole stared at the painting for another minute or so, reaching out with a digging claw -- but stopping short once he realized the damage his claws might do to it -- as though to trace the magnificent dragon's outline.

Would...Would Mrs. Krell mind if he kept this, after the autumn festival? It was so magnificent, Duncan wanted to hang it up in his dormitory. "Wot do ee do with all your paintin's, marm? Do ee sell 'em?" If she did sell them, than Duncan would most definitely like to buy it off of her, even if he did have very little money to his name. He usually had no need for any form of currency, he was used to trading his own wares for other things, or often times relied on the sewing abilities of his grandmother or the charity that was commonplace at Redwall Abbey.
If he needed to get a job to keep this painting, however, then he would surely get one.

[Rook]

"Wot do ee do with all your paintin's, marm? Do ee sell 'em?"

December chuckled, guessing his thoughts. "Aye," she replied. "Some of 'em, I keeps fore meself, but I sell these big'uns, y'know. The smaller ones I let 'em go free. I sell 'em cheap, too, but this'un I'm sellin' t'Father Rommel. Since it's furra feast an' all. Be happy t'make one fore ye, Duncan, dear."

She suddenly had an idea and pulled out her little journal. "A Duncan dragon, hmm?" she murmured to herself. Her charcoal stick scribbled a tiny sketch on a free page. Inspiration came in many forms, at any time. Good thing she was ready!

Rook smiled at the mole's awed expression. Duncan was right, December was a master painter. He wondered if he should consider asking for a painting from her for the next time his parents visited. They'd love a gift like that.

((Meh, kinda short.))

[nikki]

Sister Moira was not a beast to often be found on walltops, but the creatures above had piqued the mole seamstress' curiosity. So up she shuffled - after retrieving a tray of scones stuffed with baked apples as an offering - pausing as she reached the gathering.

"Ho goodbeests! Oi'm not inneruptin Oi hopes!"

She smiled as she set the tray down, tugging her snout in greeting before ambling over to the mouse artist. Having overheard the remarks about selling the paintings, Moira was now curious; she settled her spectacles on her snout, studying the dragon for a long moment.

"You'm surely ee beest for creatin' marm!" she announced after a moment. "Moi canvas is ee cloth, but oi'd dearly loike to try moi paw at ee paintin!" She turned to the mouse with a smile, head tilting. "An' mayhap we cud arrange ee trade? A pretty likkle kerchief for thy 'ead, wudd et be worth yon drawins?"

[.:Fawn:.]

"Some of 'em, I keeps fore meself, but I sell these big'uns, y'know. The smaller ones I let 'em go free. I sell 'em cheap, too, but this'un I'm sellin' t'Father Rommel. Since it's furra feast an' all. Be happy t'make one fore ye, Duncan, dear."

The mole's dark velvety face brightened instantly, Duncan gushing out his thanks in embarrassed words and gestures -- sheesh, had he been that obvious in how much he'd wanted that painting? The arrival of Sister Moira was a pleasant interruption, Duncan shuffling up quickly to offer the older mole a paw -- not after giving his snout a tug in greeting.
"Good day to 'ee, marm. May oi helps 'ee with this gurt heavy tray?"
While Moira was engaging Mrs. Krell in conversation, however, Duncan's eyes fell upon Rook Dare, shooting the dark hare a smile. Well, at least now they had more than enough people to come up with a nice song.

[Rook]

"You'm surely ee beest for creatin' marm!" she announced after a moment. "Moi canvas is ee cloth, but oi'd dearly loike to try moi paw at ee paintin!" She turned to the mouse with a smile, head tilting. "An' mayhap we cud arrange ee trade? A pretty likkle kerchief for thy 'ead, wudd et be worth yon drawins?"

December giggled, selecting a treat from the tray and giving a nod of thanks to the moles. "Oh, Sister, how did you know I was wantin' one o' your lovely kerchiefs?" she gushed. "Of course we could be settlin' on a nice trade. "D'ye think I'm bein' fair askin' one kerchief for a small canvas? Or two fore a big'un?"

Rook caught Duncan's knowing smile and returned it with a nod. He'd thought the same thing. But, so as not to be rude, the hare didn't interrupt the ladies' conversation. He kept his perch on the wall tops, tuning his instrument idly.

[nikki]

"Good day to 'ee, marm. May oi helps 'ee with this gurt heavy tray?"

Moira smiled at Duncan, allowing him to aid with the tray.

"Oi do gurtly apperciate et, young gennelmole! You'm a good 'un."

She took a scone for herself as she listened to December, nodding in response to the mouse's words.

"Oh aye, tis more'n fair, marm. Have ee design in moind, or should Oi try an' fit to thy features moiself?"

Either, of course, would suit the seamstress just fine; she loved a free rein, but she also wanted to please others with her creations.

"For moiself, Oi'd dearly loike a picture of moi old mum."

[Rook]

"Oh aye, tis more'n fair, marm. Have ee design in moind, or should Oi try an' fit to thy features moiself?"

December's eyes almost disappeared with her smile. Oh, what a wonderful morning this was turning out to be! "Sister, I'd love it if ye could get a little sky-blue dragon on a dark blue kerchief," she replied. "And ye c'n do anythin' ye like with the second one."

"For moiself, Oi'd dearly loike a picture of moi old mum."

The mouse nodded, paw stroking her chin in thought. "An' could ye git yore lovely mum t'sit fore a portrait sometime?" she asked. "T'won't take long. Whenever she's able to."

[nikki]

"Sister, I'd love it if ye could get a little sky-blue dragon on a dark blue kerchief," she replied. "And ye c'n do anythin' ye like with the second one."

Moira wrinkled her snout with pleasure; December had offered a challenge.

"Oi never did sew ee dragon, marm - twill be a pleasure to troi et, ho aye!"

She was already considering the design of the second kerchief at that - fall leaves would look marvelous with the mouse's spotted fur, and be a lovely bit of finery for the autumn feast. Yes, leaves, and a few dandelion puffs hidden here and there throughout like December's white tuft. The mole beamed, already planning the precise pattern.

"Mum breaks from ee kitchen fur tea early afternoons, marm," she told the painter, tugging her snout. "She'd sit fur ee paintin if'n Oi asked noice-loik. You'm just choose ee day."

[Stryker]

"Beggin' 'ee pardon marms, but wot are we be a'doin' for 'ee Awtum feast?"

Duncan hated to interrupt them, but working on the song would be a good idea. Afraid he'd been rude, Duncan glanced to Mrs. Krell and then to Sister Moira, but yet again, another interruption made himself known as he walked up onto the ramparts. "When this many creatures gather on the ramparts, one would thing you're doing sentry duty." The calm but easily recognizable voice of Lhiam Coor MacCloud countered Duncan's deeper one and of course the more feminine ones of Mrs. Krell and Sister Moira. The spiky squirrel had been on his way to the gate house to collect his effects for a bit of private training, when the voices wafting down had prompted him to investigate.
"Good day to 'ee, Zurr Cloud. We'm be a'coimin' up with 'ee lyrikers furr the Awtum feast." Duncan filled him in, and Coor gave a small nod, as though he understood perfectly. Lyrics huh? Well, if he participated in this, then it meant he could duck out of Sister Qwilla's play for the dibbuns by saying he was busy with this -- he didn't even get to play the good guy! He was stuck as some nasty sea rat that died in the end...
"Need any help?"

[Rook]

"Mum breaks from ee kitchen fur tea early afternoons, marm," she told the painter, tugging her snout. "She'd sit fur ee paintin if'n Oi asked noice-loik. You'm just choose ee day."

December nodded. "Aye, o' course, Sister," she replied sweetly, wiping her paws of paint. "I'd say sometime t'morrow would work, if'n your dear mum could." She looked over to Rook and Duncan, about to ask how the song was going, when Duncan spoke up.

"Beggin' 'ee pardon marms, but wot are we be a'doin' for 'ee Awtum feast?"

"Well, I were hopin' t'help ye two with your lovely song," the mousewife replied. She turned to Rook and smiled. "Ye still wish t'finish it, aye?" The hare nodded politely, preparing to play the tune again. But then yet another beast joined them on the wall tops.

"When this many creatures gather on the ramparts, one would think you're doing sentry duty."

Rook smiled, chuckling mutely. He stood from his perch and greeted his friend with a clasp of their paws. December gave a friendly wave, her smile never wavering. "G'day t'ye, Sir MacCloud," she said warmly. She and Rook stood by while Duncan explained the song dilemma.

"Need any help?"

Rook nodded, setting his instrument on his shoulder again. December held up the sheet of lyrics written so far. "Duncan and Rooky've come up with this, already," she told the blonde squirrel. "I'm afraid I'm not much of a songwriter, meself." Rook twirled his violin bow, watching his friend's expression as Coor read over the lines.

[nikki]

"I'd say sometime t'morrow would work, if'n your dear mum could."

"Aye, 'twill do noicely marm." Moira smiled, tugging her snout. "Oi'll asken tonoight an' let ee know at brekkist, wud et do?"

She looked up as Duncan queried about the feast and MacCloud appeared, nodding.

"You'm bes roight there Duncan, Oi'm sorry for inneruptin thy work. An' Zur Cloud, we'd loike any help." The Sister smiled, spreading her digging claws in a gesture of helplessness. "Oi'm not much fur ee lyrikers, but Oi know some old tales we cud use to make 'em. Fairies paintin' leaves an' ee frost on leaves and th'loike." She smiled at December.

"Roight talented painters they'm be, loike our own Mizzus here."

[Stryker]

Coor smiled at Rook, always pleased to see him doing something musical -- the world was a much happier place thanks to that hare's playing. Reading over the lyrics, Coor for a moment tried to absorb the notes and musical markings underneath each line of lyrics, and after realizing it would never make sense to a beast like him (those who were...musically challenged, as you could say), concentrated on the group's efforts thus far. Hmmm...

"What kind of song were you trying to make?" The blonde squirrel asked, his tail furling in thought.

"We'm be a'makin' 'ee zong furr 'ee choilds and all-beasts, really." Replied Duncan happily, his thoughts still on fairies painting leaves and putting frost on the trees like it was frosting on a cake. The imagery of such a scene made him happy -- which normally Duncan would've found odd. He was usually such a logical beast. Ah well, who said you had to be logical but couldn't have an imagination too?
"I see, well it sounds a little like the song, 'Autumn Leaves Are A-Falling', do you all remember it?" Rook surely would, perhaps that's what he'd been thinking of when starting this off.

(( here's the song! www.kididdles.com/lyrics/a043.html ))