This story was begging me to write it. Begging me I tell you! BEGGING ME!

So here goes. This is what happens when someone introduces the Redwall fandom … to Martin, Gonff, Rose, Felldoh, Brome, Dinny, Matthias, Basil, Mariel, and pretty much the entire Redwall cast of good guys. No bad guys … yet.

This is most likely going to be 5 or so short chapters written within quick succession of one another, unless I get enough people yelling at me to write more.

Disclaimer: I bought Redwall from Brian Jacques, and now I own everything! EVERYTHING! MWUOAHAHA! … okay, I was lying. But I wish I owned Redwall! *sobs*

Claimer: I do, however, own the plot. Plus I own my and Martin’s Redwall Wiki accounts (Martin’s really exists, you can look it up. Martin, Son of Luke. :D)

Chapter 1: A Package Arrives

THUMP! THUMP! THUMP! “Delivery for a Mr. Martin the Warrior! Delivery! Come and get it or I’m giving it to the hares!”

A pretty female mouse dressed in rose-colored habit and straw sandals answered the green oak door to find a tiny shrew with a bright orange headband pounding on it furiously. He was holding a dusty brown duct-taped cardboard box that was almost as large as he was.

"Martin's still sleeping, or he was until you woke him up. I can take the package," she told the shrew sternly.

"Oh! Miss Rose! Sorry for bothering ye! I do need Martin to sign the receipt though ... that is, if I can find the receipt ..." The small creature emptied out the pockets of his dirty white buckskin shirt and yellow-brown pants, producing a thin sheet of paper and a quill. "Aha! Here 'tis."

"Maaaartin!" Rose called, turning in the direction of the inside of the medium-sized redstone dwelling.

After a couple of minutes of watching the shrew impatiently tap his foot on the "Welcome!" doormat and listening to the shrilling of birds, a yawn and pattering of footsteps was heard from inside the still-dark house. (After all, the sun had only just poked through the clouds that morning.) A large, well-built mouse, dressed in all-white nightclothes emerged from the doorway.

"What's going on?" Martin inquired.

Rose went to answer him, but the shrew got there first. "Hello, Martin, I presume. My name is Grimble, and I have a package to deliver." He gestured at the huge box he was struggling to hold on to. "I need you to sign the receipt, please."

"Of course." Martin took the quill and signed Martin the Warrior on the receipt with a flourish. He took the box from Grimble, lifting it with ease into the hall and resting it on a red-brown mahogany table.

"Can I offer you anything? Tea? Oatcakes? Scones?" Rose asked the shrew.

"No thanks, I've got more deliveries to make," Grimble replied. "But thanks for the offer."

And with that, he marched back out the door and down the cobblestone path.

Chapter 2: The Letter

"Hey! Everybody! Martin's got a letter!"

"A letter?"


"With a package too, I heard."

"Who sent it?"

"What's inside?"

The red stone house (a smaller version of Redwall Abbey where all its former champions, abbots, and abbesses lived after they died and went to the Forest of Not) was bustling with activity like a beehive as its occupants yawned, stretched, and made their ways to the Great Hall. Inside the Hall were two dozen long, rectangular, wooden tables crowded with simple oak chairs carved to perfectly fit any type of animal that might live in Redwall. Skylights on the roof let early morning light illuminate the scene inside. Every chair was taken, umpteen faces turned towards the largest, most comfortable, beautiful, and elaborate chair; the chair where Martin the Warrior sat. He was there now, his package on his lap, waiting for everybeast to settle down. Gonff, sitting near him, was not so patient. Whipping out his tiny reed flute, the mousetheif began to sing.

"The Warrior's got a package

What could be inside?

Could it be goodies?

Perhaps some cookies?

Or an animal hide?

I know we're all curious

To see what the box contains

But that's only gonna happen

If you shut up and don't complain!"

The ditty managed to quiet everyone down, and Martin began to speak.

"Thank you, Gonff. Now if you don't mind, I'm going to open the package now."

The Warrior drew his shining sword, gleaming in the sunlight, from its sheath, and cut open the box, revealing a layer of foam wrappings. As the entire room looked on in awe, he drew out a complicated device. It was white and rectangular and seemed to open at one end, which Martin did. He pressed a circular button with a symbol that looked like a vertical line with a half-circle drawn around the bottom, and the device's screen lit up! After a minute of blue boxes with words nobeast could understand dominating the screen, a blue background appeared, on which were icons of all shapes and colors. On the sides of the device were different-shaped holes. As all the animals gathered in Great Hall oohed and aahed at the mysterious piece of technology, Martin felt around in the box and drew out a stack of twenty-one books. The first was thick and white, and seemed to be a manual for the device, but the other twenty were storybooks. Each had a colored drawing of woodland animals, the word "Redwall", and the words "Brian Jacques" on the cover. Beneath the books was a bag made of some kind of clear, gauzy material full of technological equipment. The last item Martin took from the package was a letter which, he hoped, would explain everything.

The first voice to break the stunned silence in Great Hall was that of ancient Abbess Germaine.

"Ooh look! Books!"

The rest of the room resisted the urge to say, "No duh." Germaine was, after all, the first ever Abbess of Redwall and very highly respected.

"I could use some new reading material," she continued. "Does anybeast mind if I take the books?"

Martin and Rose looked at each other for a moment, then shook their heads no.

"Ooh! Goody! Thank you!" The Abbess obtained a wooden cart from a tough-looking male otter who was standing near the back of the room with two female otters and proceeded to cart her "new reading material" out of the room.

"Right," Martin exclaimed. "Now to read the letter."

The world seemed to hold its breath as Martin slowly unfolded the white lined paper, drawn on in blue ink, and began to read aloud.

"Hello, Martin the Warrior, and whomever else may be reading this,

"As for my name, well, you can call me Songflower. I am a big fangirl of the book series Redwall by Brian Jacques, in which you are a main character. You could call me crazy for writing to a 'fictional character', but I know you're real. You and all the other Redwall characters. I mean, how could something as awesomely epic as Gonff not be real? And then she drew a heart," Martin informed everybeast. They all turned to stare at Gonff, who blushed, dropped his flute, and asked, "What?"

Martin continued to read the letter. "I think that you probably told Brian Jacques all about yourself and he wrote the books based on that, although he probably spruced the stories up a bit to make them more exciting, because, after all, he is a genius."

"Did you?" Rose asked.

"Did I what?" Martin was confused.

"Tell this Brian-wotshisname guy all about us?"

"Well . . ." the Warrior pondered. "I did drop that letter into the clouds . . . that must've been it."

All the bystanders looked baffled, and Martin sighed. "I'll explain later. Now back to the letter."

"I figure you should read about yourself, so I included a copy of every Redwall book there is so far. I hope you enjoy them. I also included a laptop computer for you and every other animal up there I Redwall Heaven or whatever you call it (it's never mentioned in the books!) The laptop is because there is a huge Redwall fanbase that I think you should join. Fanfiction, fan art, fan clubs . . . I am a part of it. I am Songflower on the Redwall Wiki (.), which is all I am telling you about myself. Come visit me on the wiki, please! I have also included a list of websites you should visit once you get the laptop running. The laptop has a huge battery, and I included 100 extras. The laptop also has satellite internet connection. Please enjoy your gifts. Don't ask how I got this to you, because I swore on my copy of Mossflower never to reveal that information. It cost me dearly to send this, so use it wisely. I look forward to meeting you on the Redwall fandom.


Songflower :)"

. . . And that's it," Martin concluded. "The end of the letter. There's a long list attached to it too. But really, nothing else to see here until we get the laptop working, which may take a bit. So you can all go back to whatever you had planned for today before you came here."

The Great Hall slowly emptied like water trickling from a spout until the only ones left in the room were Martin, Rose, Gonff, Dinny, Felldoh, Brome, and Bella.

Chapter 3: Set-Up

"So, you double-click this after you stick this in here and this over here and then you type this in here and click that and that and that and THERE YOU ARE!" Brome finished with a flourish.

Everybody stared at the young mouse in silence.

"Brome," Rose said slowly. "What are all the 'this's you were referring to?"

"Well, I thought you could see me pointing to them!" Brome protested.

"Um . . . no . . . we couldn't . . ."

"Are you sure?"


"Oops. Sorry."

Rose sighed as her brother's face fell. Of course it was left to her to take care of him - again. She put on a brave face and commenced kindly lecturing Brome.

"Brome, you've been a great help, you really have, but now do you think you could give Bella the instructions? She is older after all and has more experience with this type of thing. Also, could you try to be quiet? You can watch as long as you don't get in the way."

"Okay, sure, as long as I can watch," Brome agreed, cheering up admirably.

Well, that was easier than usual, Rose thought as she watched Martin and Bella arguing over the instructions booklet. Looked like it was time to play peacemaker again.

"I should register because the computer was sent to me!"

"But I'm older and, yes, I admit it, wiser!"

"I should!"

"No, I should!"








"Guys, you'll never get anything done by arguing," the peacemaker interrupted with a sigh.

Martin glared at her. "But arguing is good for the mind!"

"No, it isn't," Rose contradicted him.

"Yes, it is."




"Martin, I'm not getting into an ego war with you," she told him.

Martin simply stared daggers. Sharp, well-aimed daggers.

The pretty mouse's voice had a hard edge to it now. "How about you register, but Bella does the clicking and typing?" she suggested.

"Okay, I guess that works," her mate agreed sullenly.

"Nice compromise, Rose," Bella complimented.

With that, Martin and Bella proceeded to register the computer, with Rose, Felldoh, Brome, Gonff, and Dinny looking on. After some deliberation and inspection, here's what they typed:

COMPUTER NAME: RedwallSpirits

IP ADDRESS: 62734582198628

OWNER ADDRESS: 26th Sector, the Land of Not, Redwall

OWNER EMAIL: um . . . N/A

OWNER PHONE: um . . . N/A


"Now that that's done, can we get on with the good stuff?" Gonff inquired.

All eyes turned to Gonff.

"Wot beez you talkin' 'bout, zurr Gonffen?" Dinny asked.

"I want to actually make an email, and a wiki account, and find that girl who sent all this stuff and thank her and ask her how to go about this because she seems to be an expert after all she did send everything and she seems to know everything about what we don't know about, right?" the mousetheif babbled.

Felldoh laughed. "That was a record-breaking-ly long sentence, even for you, Gonff."

Martin joined in. "True, but he does have a point. So let's open up the internet and see how you go about this!"

He nodded to Bella, and she moved the blue-and-black round-shaped object that was apparently called a "mouse" around on the square piece of tablecloth they had set aside as a "mousepad". The badger's huge striped paws were surprisingly nimble and easily found the icon that looked like a blue circle surrounded by green, yellow, and red. She pressed the "mouse" twice, and a window opened up on the screen. The screen was mostly white, dominated by a multicolored word that read "Google".

"Lookit thiz, zurr! It be readin' G-MAIL. We need mail, roight, zurrz?" Dinny pointed at a bright blue underlined word in the top-left corner of the screen reading Gmail.

"Right! I'll see what it does . . ." Bella clicked on the word, opening a screen reading "Welcome to Gmail." "Can we sign in?" she queried, turning around.

"I think you should 'Create an Account'," Gonff gestured at a large gray button below the sign-in box.

Bella clicked the button, and was brought to a new screen reading "Create an Account" with many little white boxes waiting to be filled in below it. After some discussion of what to put, she typed into the boxes:

First name: Spirits

Last name: of Redwall

Desired Login Name:

Password: **************

Location: United States

(A/N: This is a real email address. You can send Martin and the others fanmail if you like. :D)

"We did it!" crowed Gonff. "We have our own email address!

"But we'em not done yet, zurr Gonffen. We've gotten to make one of thurse wiki oiccoints," Dinny reminded him.

The short mouse waved his hand (and flute) in the air dismissively. "Peace of cake, after this email stuff."

"Type into that white bar, Bella," Rose instructed, reading from the computer instructions booklet and the letter at the same time.

"Click 'Create an Account'. See, up there," Felldoh leaned over Bella's shoulder to give more ideas.

The huge striped badger did what he asked, and a screen opened up, asking them more information.

"Oi do burlierve this here oiccoint should be Marthen's," said the mole.

"Hmm . . . yes . . ." Bella agreed. She wanted her own account, but it was true, the letter had been sent to Martin.

"Let me sit," suggested Martin. He and Bella switched places, and the warrior mouse began to type.


"Taken," the screen told him.

"What? How dare some impostor use your name for an account that clearly isn't yours?" Felldoh exclaimed indignantly. The squirrel always had been quick to anger, and now his face was swiftly resembling a tomato.

"Troi Marthen ee Wurrier," was Dinny's idea.

Also taken.

"How about . . ." Martin typed . . .

USERNAME: Martin, Son of Luke

"Free!" Rose cried excitedly. "You did it, Martin!"

Blushing and smiling, he continued clicking the computer keyes.



PASSWORD: ●●●●●●●●●●●●●●

RE-TYPE PASSWORD: ●●●●●●●●●●●●●●

"Aaaaand . . . done! Confirmation email sent!" Martin exclaimed, more enthralled than he had been in countless years.

The Wikipedia account was made, and Martin the Warrior was ready for one last great adventure: into his own fanbase.

Chapter 4: Exploring the Inter-Webs

The first thing to do, logically, Martin figured, was create a user page.

After he had signed in to his new account, "Martin, Son of Luke", Martin had been brought to his home page, which showed new pages, recent edits, and links to his "User Page", "Talk Page", "Blog", "Watchlist", and "Contributions". Dinny thought that "User Page" meant a place where the user (in this case, Martin) should post information about themselves that related to Redwall. Well, everything about Martin related to Redwall, as he was a major character, so it didn't seem to be that difficult.

The warrior mouse clicked on "User Page" then on "Create", and commenced typing about himself. He didn't get very far.

The great Martin the Warrior, defeater of two evil warlords and best swordsmouse to ever live, was complaining.

"Rose, will you type for me? My paws hurt."

"Of course, dear," his mate sighed, settling herself at the computer.

Martin dictated, pacing around the room like a caged tiger, and Rose typed.

Hi, I'm Martin the Warrior. I'm kind-of new here, but I have one of the other users (Songflower) helping me out, so I should be okay.

On this page you're supposed to put information about yourself, right? Here goes ... I was born in the north. My father, Luke, was a warrior who led our tribe of mice. My mother died shortly after my birth in a sea rat attack. Luke trained me to be a warrior, and sometimes even let me hold his sword, which had been in the family for generations.

"Argh . . . what to write . . . what to write . . . ?"

While Martin was agonizing, Rose made a new discovery. She had typed "Martin" into a search bar to try and help him out with his user page and discovered that there already WAS a page all about the life of Martin the Warrior. It was a mini-biography, only all by internet.

"Hey Martin, look at this!" Rose gestured at the screen.

Martin stopped pacing and examined the page. "An entire page about me? Really? I must be popular or something!"

Felldoh snorted. "Yeah, you only defeated two evil tyrants, co-founded an Abbey, helped out tons of younger warriors by giving them prophetic dreams, and are the best swordsbeast in the entire series even though you're just a mouse!"

After an awkward silence in which Gonff resisted the urge to shout "Awkward silence! A gay baby is born!" even though he had no idea what a gay baby was . . . Martin asked, "You want my sword, don't you?"

Felldoh nodded sheepishly.

The warrior mouse rolled his eyes in a manner most un-warrior-like and commenced dictating again.

Anyway, I guess since there's already an entire article about me you can just go read that if you want to know who I am. Martin the Warrior

And another thing: you may be wondering why my username is Martin, Son of Luke and not just Martin or Martin the Warrior, because I AM Martin the Warrior (I'm obviously not a rouge wiki user pretending to the Martin the Warrior because she feels like role-playing plus it helps a fanfiction she's going to write. Obviously.) Anyway, when I went to register for the wiki, it said the names Martin and Martin the Warrior were taken! What? Who dares use my name when they aren't really me? IMPOSTERS!

If you're wondering how I found out that the Redwall Wiki existed, or even how the internet existed for that matter, talk to Songflower.

Bye for now!

"Next order of business: find Songflower, thank her for the laptop, and ask her for her help," Martin proclaimed.

"Who put you in charge?" Felldoh inquired.

"Songflower did. She addressed the package to ME," was Martin's reply.


"What does this do?" the mouse with the computer asked nobeast in particular after a tense period of glaring between Martin and Felldoh. Clicking a little red button reading "MORE" brought up a menu. Rose decided to choose "Preferences" because it was last on the list.

"Look! Look!" Gonff was bouncing up and down. "You can have your own signature! Let me type something, please!"

Rose gave him the computer, and, leaning over the keyboard, Gonff typed something into the "Signature" box, then stood back, admiring his handiwork.

"We really do need to find Songflower. I'm going to try using the search bar again," Rose said. She typed "Songflower" into the search bar, and a user page opened up.

"Impressive," Gonff breathed. The page was, in fact, quite impressive. It started with an apology about long update waits (whatever that meant), below which was a table of contents. This Songflower had 12 sections to her user page! She had obviously put more time and effort into this than a squirrel puts into tree-climbing.

"Go to her toilk page," Dinny instructed. Rose did, and clicked on "Leave message". Martin dictated once more.

Title: thanks

Hi Songflower, Martin here. I just wanted to say that I got your letter (obviously, otherwise I wouldn't be typing this message). Thank you so much for sending that package. I and everyone else up here in the Forest of Not (that's what it's called) really appreciates it. – Martin, Son of Luke, Beware my awesome sword!

"I'm hungry," Felldoh announced. "I'm going to get some scones and tea."

"Good idea!" Bella called after him. Everybeast (except Felldoh) stared at the computer screen, waiting for something to happen.

"I wonder what this blue button that looks like an arrow does . . ." Rose pondered after a couple minutes of waiting. She clicked the button, and the screen re-loaded to reveal . . . a new message!

Oh. Mi. Gods. Martin the Warrior talked to me. ME! FANGIRL SQUEE!

Excuse me. Sorry. You're welcome for the package, by the way. And tell Gonff I like the signature he wrote for you.

By the way, do you mind if I write a fan fiction about me sending you that package?

- Songflower, Hugs and Flying Pigs!

Martin swiftly stole the computer from a shocked Rose, clicked the "Edit" button, and typed back:

You're welcome to write the fan fiction.

-Martin, Son of Luke, Beware my awesome sword!

That was when he noticed something.

". . . Why does my signature say 'Beware my awesome sword!'?"

"Because it's true!" Gonff answered.

Martin put his paw to his face. "How do you fix it?"

"I'm not telling!"



"But it's so . . . so . . . immature!"


"Fine, you win," Martin sighed. "For now," he added, an evil glint in his eye. Shooing indignant Rose out of the way, he sat down in front of the computer and linked back to his user page, then typed a P.S.

P.S. Could somebody please help me with my signature? Gonff changed it to something I think is incredibly immature, and I don't know how to fix it! Thank you in advance.

"Hey!" protested Gonff. But before he and Martin could begin arguing again, a DING sounded from the computer, causing Dinny to jump five feet in the air and land on his behind.

"A new email!" Bella explained. "I must have forgotten to close off the email when I opened a new window for Wikipedia."

So, Martin clicked over to the email and opened the new one.



Subject: chat?

Hello, Martin and everyone else,

This is Songflower. I was wondering if you would like to use this feature Gmail has and have an electronic chat with me? I could answer any questions you have about using the laptop, navigating the wiki, or anything else.


"Reply!" urged Dinny. Just then, Felldoh returned, munching on a scone and pushing a cart with more scones, mugs, and a kettle that most likely held tea. "Derrlershez," he mumbled.

The others ignored him, intent on watching Martin type.



Subject: Re: chat?

Martin speaking (er . . . typing). We have a lot of questions for you. Can you set up this chat thing please?

He sent the email, and half a minute later, another one arrived.


From: Gmail Team

Subject: elizavetaha has invited you to chat!

Click the following link to open up Gmail Chat with elizavetaha. (LINK)

"Click it! Click it!" Felldoh said.

"Felldoh? Since when have you been here?" asked Gonff.

". . . Since about a minute ago . . ."

"Oh, sorry, we didn't see you come in," Bella apologized.

Meanwhile, Martin had clicked the link and closed the page that opened up (all it said was "Congratulations! You have now connected to Gmail Chat!).

Suddenly, a small blue-bordered window appeared in the bottom-right corner of the screen, accompanied by a PING!. Text at the top of the window read "Chat with elizavetaha". There were words inside the window, too. A box for text was at the bottom, and Martin typed into it. Here is part of the conversation that occurred:

Elizavetaha: Hello? Poke poke? Anyone here?

RedwallSpirits: Hello, Songflower? This is Martin.


RedwallSpirits: . . . yes, seriously. You should know, you gave me the computer.

Elizavetaha: It's just … that you're real! I mean, I knew you were real, but real! And talking to me! And answering me! And being not a figment of some old guy's imagination! … You have no idea what I'm talking about, don't you.

RedwallSpirits: No idea.

Elizavetaha: Is Gonff there?

RedwallSpirits: Unfortunately, yes.

Elizavetaha: Can I talk to him?

RedwallSpirits: I don't see why not. Hey, Gonff, take the computer.

Hi, Gonff speaking.


RedwallSpirits: O . . . kay . . .

Elizavetaha: I'm a fangirl. This was only to be expected.

RedwallSpirits: What's a fangirl?

Elizavetaha: Google it. Wait … you don't know how to Google things, do you?

RedwallSpirits: No, not really.

Elizavetaha: *sighs* Go to your homepage, which I set to Google. Then type into the search bar, "fangirl definition". That should help you.

RedwallSprits: Okay, give us a minute.

(Two minutes later.)

RedwallSpirits: So, you're a crazed obsessive teenage human girl?

Elizavetaha: Yiop!

RedwallSprits: What does that mean?

Elizavetaha: Sorry, I meant "Yes!" "Yiop" is my version of Yep. Yep means Yes. So, anyway, do you have any questions for me?

RedwallSpirits: Yes. Lots. First, how do I make a signature so Martin can't change it, ever?

Elizavetaha: Well, there's no way to do that, but you can change it back if he ever changes it to something different.

RedwallSpirits: Great! And . . . um . . . what else . . . I think I should give Rose the computer.

Elizavetaha: Good idea.

RedwallSpirits: Hi! Rose here! Here are our questions ...

The conversation went on in this manner for about an hour, the writers switching off and the onlookers snacking on scones. Finally, a quick message from Songflower/Elizavetaha came:

Sorry, my dad wants the computer. Gotta go! Bye!

"Aw," Gonff moaned. "I was about to ask her if you can play pranks via the internet!"

"Anything is possible," Bella told him.

"Creatures who say anything is possible have never tried to slam a revolving door," the mousetheif quipped.

. . .

"What's a revolving door?" queried Rose.

Gonff shrugged. "No idea. It was in that girl's email's signature."

Dinny whacked Gonff with his half-eaten scone. "Gonffen, don't say anythin' if'n yoom don't burlieve it!"

"But I do believe it! I just don't know what it means!"

Much eye-rolling was done that morning.

After they finished eating, the band of internet explorers began visiting all the sites on the list Songflower had given them. Some were interesting, some were funny, some were just plain weird. The favorite of all those present (Gonff in particular) was a series of videos called Redwall the Abridged series, made by someone named Hethrin. It was a spoof on the adventures of Matthias, and even if the creatures didn't understand all the references, they understood most of the jokes. By the end of their Redwall the Abridged Series marathon, Gonff was quoting the videos nonstop.

Next was the world of fan fiction. Reading, writing, editing, reviewing. Martin enjoyed this endeavor to no end, reading and reviewing story after story with his excellent critique.

Immersed in their new toy, the internet explorers failed to notice the sun dipping lower and lower on the horizon until the clanging of pots and pans was brought to their attention.

"You've been on this thing all day! Come help with supper!" came the voice of Gonff's wife, Columbine.

Sighs echoed around Great Hall. "Do we have to?" Felldoh asked.

"Yes you have to!" Columbine hit him with a frying pan she had been holding.

"That's my Columbine! So independent and – OW! WHAT WAS THAT FOR? ARE YOU TRYING TO KILL ME, WOMAN?"

Apparently, being Columbine's mate didn't spare you her wrath.

Chapter 5: A Click in the Night

Creeeeaaak . . . creeeeaaak . . . rustle . . . rustle . . . shh . . . shh . . .

The miniscule mouse, cloaked in darkness, crept across the squeaking floorboards as if one wrong step would send him into a shark-filled tank. Which it might – you never know. But this mouse wasn't planning on making a wrong step. He was, after all, an experienced burglar. For this mouse, every carefully placed paw-rest was either right . . . or left. Suddenly, a loud, angry, growling noise reverberated through the shadows, causing the thief to stop dead in his tracks, barely even breathing.

This mouse was Gonff.

Gonff was hungry.

After all, dinner always fills you up less when you're avidly watching a computer screen while you eat.

Gonff leapt into another, larger patch of ebony darkness between the lighter navies where the moonlight and starlight merged to shine through the huge stained-glass windows onto the cold cement floor. Finally, the thief found the largest patch of all: a monstrous oak door which opened silently on well-greased hinges with barely a push.

The thief had reached his own personal heaven: the kitchen.

Gonff's mouth seemed to drop open of its own accord and begin salivating like it hadn't tasted food in years. The kitchen was crowded with low brick tables, stoves, and ovens, all piled with pastries, breads, cheeses, and fresh fruits and vegetables. Aromas of the sort that are half as divine as the taste wafted through the damp air. Tiptoeing around a few slumbering cooks who had collapsed during their work, Gonff proceeded to expertly raid the kitchen. A slice of bread here, a strawberry there, a wedge of cheese here, a candied chestnut there, all in such little quantities that nobeast would notice anything was missing the next morning. The tiny thief scurried out of the kitchen on paws that were quieter than the drop of a pin, sliding the door shut behind him.

He then proceeded to sneak away – but not back to bed. Instead, he came into the Great Hall, where the real reason he had forsaken his bed in the middle of the night was playing its screensaver.

The laptop.

Time for Gonff to have some time alone with the new toy.

First things first: he had to post something on Martin's user page. With a few clicks, munching his midnight snack in between, Gonff navigated to his friend's page and typed:

Hello, fangirls, fanboys, and fananimals of all sorts! Gonff the Mousetheif here! I hacked into Martin's wiki account, because he won't let me get my own yet (though for the love of Columbine I can't figure out why). Yes, I know his password. No, I'm not telling you. It's really easy to guess though. You'd think Martin of all creatures would have a good password, but his SUCKS.

Anyway, what I was here to tell you is that Martin was unaware of the giant Redwall fanbase that exists until recently (when Songflower told him about it). He wants to say thank you to all of you for supporting the same creatures that he supports, through dreams and whatnot. Only, being a noble warrior and all that jazz, he doesn't want to do it. So I'm doing it for him.


After getting that out o the way, the mousetheif proceeded to explore other parts of the computer. He found that Songflower had installed a vast variety of music into iTunes, and listened to a miniscule portion of it on shuffle through a headset while fooling around on MS Paint. After that, Gonff took his favorite songs and favorite drawings, and used Windows Movie Maker to create a music video out of it.

Finally, the mouse was yawning to frequently to concentrate on anything. Shutting the computer with a THUD, this intruder of midnight hours when the rest of the world is asleep inched back to bed as silently as he had come.

Chapter 6: A Story Comes Full Circle

It had been a week since the arrival of the mysterious package containing a laptop, a letter, various technology that accompanied the laptop, and twenty-one books. Interestingly enough, most of the occupants of Redwall-for-the-deceased had been focused on the laptop, not the books.

At this moment, Martin had been, once again, reading fan fiction on the laptop. It almost seemed as if he was becoming obsessed with it. Rose, Gonff, and Brome were hanging over his shoulder, trying to read at the same time as he was. Unfortunately, the three onlookers were getting shoved around more than a hare in a boxing match.



"Martin, you've had the computer for three hours. Please give someone else a turn."

"No! It's my computer!"

"Wow, someone's obsessed."

"I am not obsessed!"

"And am not means am, right?"

"I AM NOT OBSESSED!" The warrior's roar echoed throughout the red stone building, and everywhere creatures looked up, wondering where it had come from.

Just then, a small, emaciated figure emerged from the hallway, a figure that had not been seen in a week.

"Get off that computer! Now! You HAVE to read this!" Abbess Germaine shouted breathlessly.

"But I don't want to!" Martin protested.


"Well . . . I guess I like my brain . . . so okay, I'll get off," the warrior decided, shrugging his massive (for a mouse) shoulders.

"GOOD!" Abbess Germaine and Rose exclaimed in unison. The first-ever abbess of Redwall proceeded to capture Martin's arm and drag him in the direction of her room. Up two flights of stairs and across three corridors they went, dodging other creatures all the way, who looked at them curiously.

"'Scuse me, pardon me, 'scuse me, pardon me," Rose chanted. Gonff, who had seemingly endless stamina, simply laughed until he thought he would burst.

At long last, they reached Germaine's room and settled on her large, faded, emerald green couch. Light poured in from the huge window next to the bed.

"Now, I suppose you're wondering what I brought you here for," the abbess began.

"Nah, I'm just here for the laughs," Gonff muttered. Germaine glared at him (for an ancient mouse, she had quite an evil stare), and he quieted down.

"As I was saying, before I was so rudely interrupted, I think you should read these books. They're much more important than that fan base Martin's become so obsessed with –"

"I AM NOT OBSESED!" came the protest.

"STOP INTERRUPTING ME!" the abbess countered. She continued, "—because these books are the basis of all those fans. They are so well-written, descriptive, funny, that they have attracted all the fans. There would be no fan fiction without the original story. So, before you become completely immersed in fan fiction, you should read the original story. Does that make any sense or should I say it again?"

"Makes perfect sense," everyone else murmured, not wanting a lecture.

"Good. I'm going to start reading with Mossflower. The nice girl who sent the package put in a list of the order we should read these books in, and Mossflower is first on the list." She reached over to the birch wood desk next to her and took a book off the top of a tall stack. On the cover were the words "Redwall", "Mossflower", and "Brian Jacques" and a picture that looked like Martin, Gonff, and Dinny standing on a grassy hill.

"Look! I've got my flute!" Gonff observed.

Ignoring him, Germaine opened the book and began to read.

Book one: Kotir

Chapter one

Mossflower lay deep in the grip of midwinter beneath a sky of leaden gray that showed tinges of scarlet and orange on the horizon. A cold mantle of snow draped the landscape, covering the flatlands to the west. Snow was everywhere, filling ditches, drifting high against hedgerows, making paths invisible, smoothing the contours of earth in its white embrace. The gaunt, leafless ceiling of Mossflower Wood was penetrated by constant snowfall, which carpeted the sprawling woodland floor, building canopies on evergreen shrubs and bushes. Winter had muted the earth; the muffled stillness was broken only by a traveler's paws.

"Wow, this is great description!" Martin remarked.

"Told you." The abbess was smirking.

A sturdily built young mouse with quick dark eyes was moving confidently across the snowbound country. Looking back, he could see his tracks disappearing northward into the distance. Farther south the flatlands rolled off endlessly, flanked to the west by the faint shape of distant hills, while to the east stood the long ragged fringe marking the marches of Mossflower. His nose twitched at the elusive smell of burning wood and turf from some hearth fire. Cold wind soughed from the treetops, causing whorls of snow to dance in icy spirals. The traveler gathered his ragged cloak tighter, adjusted an old rusting sword that was slung across his back, and trudged steadily forward, away from the wilderness, to where other creatures lived.

"So dramatic I'm going to die . . . though I do remember that sword . . ." Gonff said sarcastically.

It was a forbidding place made mean by poverty. Here and there he saw signs of habitation. The dwellings, ravaged and demolished, made pitiful shapes under snowdrifts. Rearing high against the forest, a curious building dominated the ruined settlement. A fortress, crumbling, dark, and brooding, it was a symbol of fear to the woodland creatures of Mossflower.

This was how Martin the Warrior first came to Kotir, place of the wildcats.

"I've always wondered where you went after I died," Rose pondered. "I guess now I know."

Martin, Rose, Gonff, and Abbess Germaine continued to read the book Mossflower. The book became so intriguing that they found it impossible to stop, having food delivered to the room and making their bathroom breaks record-breaking-ly short. It took the readers two days of laughing, crying, and gritting their teeth, after which they promptly fell asleep, but this small band of explorers into the world of literature was content. The main characters of a story had read their story from an outside, embellished perspective and realized, through it, how massive these experiences really were. A purpose had been fulfilled. A story had come full circle.

Somewhere in the world, the young girl who had caused all of this to occur pumped her fist in the air triumphantly.

End Note


Now I get a long A/N as a reward to myself for finishing a 6-chapter story in 5 days.

First, I'd like to thank my reviewers/commenters: Abbot Langus of Redwall and Riklionheart on , Thornclaw Braveheart, Hollyfire53, Segalia, Ruega Uchiblade, Laria Wavedeep, and an anonymous contributor on the Redwall Wiki, and heathertrelawney on deviantART.

(This story can be found under the same title on and, where I am known as OwlinAMinor)

Riklionheart pointed out that Redwall Heaven is, in fact, called the Dark Forest. I'd like to thank them for clearing that up.

I'd also like to point out that this story is in fact based on a dream I had. I just modified the dream into a 6-chapter story.

Before anyone asks, no, I don't really want to continue this. It was a short story I wrote because of my dream and because I'm trying to gain inspiration for my other Redwall fan fiction, Vengeance. Vengeance is pretty much the same writing style as is here, longer chapters, less frequent updates, and plenty of OCs. Check it out if you liked this story! (Actually, I have yet to post it on deviantART, but I will soon!)

So, lastly, I hope you enjoyed this story.

Reviews to me are like home-made chocolate chip cookies to someone who's never tasted one before in his/her life.

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