This is a fan fiction story by Lathagarr Stormgale of Tronn. It is not considered canon, nor is it a policy or guideline.

Author's Note

Fifteenth day of The Fall of Good Friends, in the seventeenth season of Abbot Renaullo

Today, my mother has decided it is the time I begin a journal, being now ten seasons of age.

Entry first

Sixteenth day of The Fall of Good Friends, in the seventeenth season of Abbot Renaullo

Today was grand. Me and my sister, Emerald found an interesting thing today, it was all blue and grey, round and smooth. I rapped it, and it seemed hollow. If it was a bird egg, it had to be a very old one, since there have not been any large birds living near the abbey in countless seasons. Also, it appears to be carved, with strange writing that not even Brother Sylnus the librarian can read, and he is older than the Teyrul Oak.

Supper calls, so I will get back to writing in this later.

Entry second

Twenty-third day of The Fall of Good Friends, in the seventeenth season of Abbot Renaullo

With all that has been going on these past few days, and my youngest sister, Agate hiding my journal, I haven't been able to write in it, only just having found it in the cellars, of all places! Enough rambling and let's get down to what for, as Old Melve would say.

I can't wait for the feast of Matthias! There will be much delicious food, so my nose tells me. I am going to be helping Haqsuache with a giant Haqsuache's Surprise! That hare is always coming up with one concoction or another, especially culinary!

Off to the kitchens I go! I shall return this evening, if I'm not too full from pilferings!

Entry third

Twenty-fifth day of The Fall of Good Friends, in the seventeenth season of Abbot Renaullo

It appears I've been kept busier than I'd thought! I'm snatching a few minutes to quickly scrawl out an entry before the feast begins! A group of traveling players arrived not long ago. How exciting! They are such a jolly lot, wot wot! (their leader's a hare and he was teaching me harespeech. I'd say I'm quite good at it already!)

Here comes Friar Donall, so I'd best be off! Happy Feast of Matthias!

Entry fourth

Twenty-fifth day of The Fall of Good Friends, in the seventeenth season of Abbot Renaullo

As I sit here, resting my tired footpaws, I am watching the troupe practicing as final preparations of the feast are being made. Looking at all that delicious food is making my stomach growl. With all that's been going on all day, I have forgotten to eat a single morsel. Better prepared for the feasting, I suppose. Maybe I'll beat that greedy shrew, Tograwd for once! Come to think of it, I haven't seen Tograwd or his fellow shrews all day and it's nearing eventide. If they are not here soon, they'll miss the feast!

My mother has suggested I take this journal with me and capture the feast so I can relive it again seasons from now. Where to start?

The feast looks to begin soon and I can see a mass swarm as we head for the tables and find our seats. Now seated, as I survey the spread before me, breathing in the aromas, I can't help but be a bit proud of the comments being made about my creations. Abbot Renaullo is complimenting my soup and even Friar Donall is eyeing my buttercup flan appreciatively! Wait, what is this? The pretty squirrelmaid Florea is looking my direction! She's smiling! Smiling at me!

Sorry about that. Where was I? Oh yes, I need to be focusing on the feast.

The feast is, simply put, a masterpiece. Bright lanterns are hung beside each table that is groaning with cheeses, breads, soups and a multitude of mouthwatering desserts and drinks, from october ale to strawberry fizz! With full plates and filling bellies, there is merry conversation and jokes. I am seated between Mortvil, a vole and Brother Bentwup, a jolly mouse. Mortvil isn't much for conversation, so Bentwup and I chatter on over a variety of topics, with much drinking to the Abbot's health, the good weather and whatever other reason crosses Bentwup's mind. Conversation is paused as there is a call for silence from Torwhill Derille, the leader of the visiting troupe stands. He flourishes his cane elegantly before speaking

"Good abbeybeasts all, my troupe have planned several entertainments for this memorable night, which we hope you enjoy! First, the mole beauties Fairfurrow and Mimlum will sing a song composed by yours truly, in memory of the great warrior we honor with this feast!" he gave a flourishing bow as the two molemaids stepped onto the stage. These are the words of their song, and I must say, they had some of the most heavenly voices I've heard!

Those to be updated

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