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This is a little story I was suddenly inspired for. It is written in memory of the passing of Brian Jacques and is presented from the Redwall characters' point(s) of view. I hope you enjoy it. I presented the characters as Mr. Jacques created them, with some fourth-wall breaking for obvious reasons.
Martin the Warrior stood out on the western battlements of Redwall Abbey, watching as the golden sun sunk slowly on the horizon. The warrior mouse sighed and wrapped his arms around the mousemaiden next to him.
Laterose of Noonvale looked up at him with sad eyes and whispered, “It's almost time. They will be arriving soon.”
Martin nodded and leaned his head against hers, closing his eyes. “It just happened so sudden. Nobody expected it.”
They stood silent for a moment, then Rose turned and walked slowly down the stairs to the Abbey grounds. “Come, they'll be here soon.”
Martin followed down after her, and as soon as he reached the grounds, a knock was heard at the Abbey gate. The two mice looked at each other, then opened the door.
The first creature to enter was another mouse who looked almost identical to Martin but was smaller. Martin embraced him like a son. “Matthias my friend, I'm so glad you came.”
Matthias smiled sadly. “We all came as soon as we heard. This will be a day to remember forever.”
After the young mouse passed through the gate, a large ensemble of creatures entered after him. Constance the badger, Basil Stag Hare, Jess Squirrel, old Methuselah, Cornflower, Abbot Mortimer, Log-a-Log, and all the woodlander creatures from the original book poured in, each giving a small word or bow of respect to Martin.
The warrior looked past them and his eyes widened. He turned to Matthias. “H-how many...”
Basil answered, “Why every single bloomin' character from the entire series is coming for the memorial. Excludin' the bally vermin cads of course. It's gonna be jolly well crowded, wot.”
Martin and Rose watched as every good character from the Redwall series filed in through the gates, in succession of the chronological book order. Gonff the Mousethief shook Martin's paw as he passed by and winked. “I'm not one for funerals, but this one is gonna be the greatest ever, matey!”
Lord Brocktree, at the head of the Brock family line saluted Martin with his great sword, and the Warrior saluted back with his.
Sunflash the Mace held up a piece of parchment. “I wrote a poem for the memorial.”
Tarquin waved a piece of parchment as well. “And I wrote a jolly good song to go with it!”
Tarquin sniffed. “Bounders. Nobody appreciates good artistry anymore!”
Dotti nodded in agreement. “Yes, tis a flippin' shame that these cads can't recognize genius when they hear it!”
Diggs licked his lips. “I just hope they have some flippin' good food!”
The two other hares (and every hare present) agreed wholeheartedly.
Soon enough, the Redwall Abbey grounds were filled with creatures from all points in Redwall's long history, each sharing stories and greetings and consolations with the others.
Finally, it was time for the ceremony, and Martin the Warrior stood up on a platform, sword raised as he tried to get everybeasts attention. Major Perigord marched up to him and asked, “Shall I restore order to the troops, sah?”
Martin shrugged. “Go right ahead Major. But be gentle.”
“Very well sah.” The military hare took a deep breath and bellowed, “A-TTEN-TION!” Every Long patrol hare stood stock still at attention, and everyone else went silent. Perigord continued, “The ceremony is about to begin! Our leader and hero, Martin the Warrior, wishes to say a few words. Give him your full attention, wot!” He stepped down and saluted the mouse warrior.
Martin nodded back. “Thank you Major.” He turned to the huge crowd of woodland creatures all gazing sadly and earnestly up at him. He took a deep breath and said, “As you all know, we of the world of Redwall have gathered together to honor the passing of our author and creator, Brian Jacques. Without him, we would be nonexistent.”
He let the profound words settle a moment, then sniffed back a tear and continued, “He gave us life and directed our world. But now he is gone, and we shall remember him always. But before he left, he wrote into existence one last group of characters, who shall be arriving shortly. I hope that they will realize the honor they have as the final pieces of our world.”
He paused, then said, “The moles of the series have all be working together to dig a memorial grave for Mr. Jacques. During that time, we will-”
Suddenly a loud knock at the Abbey door interrupted him. Everybeast turned towards the closed gate. Martin blinked. “Now who could that be?”
All the gatekeepers went to the gate and opened it slightly, peering outside. They closed it quickly and turned to the crowd. Shad the otter spoke, “There's vermin outside! Scores of 'em!”
Lord Brocktree, flanked by Boar the Fighter and Cregga Rose Eyes, strode to the door and, with weapons held ready, opened it slightly, glaring outside. Indeed, every vermin warlord, ruler, sea captain, gang leader, and henchbeast in the series stood outside silently.
Brocktree growled menacingly. “What do you want, scum?”
Cluny the Scourge frowned up at him. “We came for the ceremony, stripedog!”
Ferahgo the Assassin nodded and flicked a knife into the air. “Aye, just because we're evil, bloodthirsty villains doesn't mean we can't pay our respects too. We'd be nonexistent as well if it weren't for Mr. Jacques.”
The other vermin nodded and muttered in agreement.
Brocktree glared at them in a sweeping gaze. “How do we know you aren't just making an excuse to take over Redwall, eh?”
Badrang the Tyrant snorted. “Because this isn't real Redwall canon, just a fan fiction, so it wouldn't make any difference whether we did or not.”
Slagar the Cruel smirked. “Technically we're all still dead anyway.”
Brocktree glared at them for a few moments, then sighed and said, “Fine. But leave all your weapons outside.”
Tsarmina glanced at the huge sword. “Only if you do the same, badger.”
Brocktree glared at her, then turned back inside and spoke to Martin. “They want to come in, but only if both we and they leave our weapons outside.”
There was an gasp through the crowd and Martin stared hard at the gate for awhile, then said, “Only for this occasion I accept. Let them in after everybeast puts aside their weapons.”
This took quite some time to do, as many refused to part with their weapons, but after everything was settled, and everyone (save Martin and his sword) was weaponless, Martin nodded to Brocktree. “Let them in gradually.”
The goodbeasts moved away from the entrance as the door slowly opened. Cluny, Ferahgo, Badrang, Slagar, and all the other Redwall villains came in slowly, glaring around silently at all the woodlanders, who mostly glared back.
The sable and the searat glared at him. “Don't rub it in...”
Across the way, several large badgers were forced to keep Sunflash and Swartt Sixclaw from tearing each other apart, while Veil rolled his eyes.
When everybeast was finally situated, with vermin on one side and woodlanders on the other, Martin once again spoke. “Well, eh, ahem... we have all gathered here to pay our respects to the man who gave us existence, life, and adventure, and who helped change the lives of thousands of people around the world with his great stories. He gave them adventures to last a lifetime, and used all of us to do so. We were role models and examples for the readers, whether to follow...” he nodded to the goodbeasts “or avoid...” nodded to the vermin, who, surprisingly, didn't react.
“I think the moles have almost finished the ceremonial grave...” He looked down at the moles, who were trudging back. Foremole, (he never figured out which one), nodded up at him. “Burr, the grave bees dug zurr Marthen. We'm bees ready fur the cerarmony, hurr.”
Martin sighed. “Thank you Foremole...s. Now if everybeast will please turn their attention to the top of the Abbey....”
They all looked up, and saw a small flock of birds -sparrows, robins, hawks, falcons, owls, and a single kestrel- carrying a large frame in mid-air. On the frame was a picture of their author, Brian Jacques. They slowly flew the picture down across the roof, and over the throng of creatures, both woodlander and vermin, and lowered it into the large hole dug carefully by the moles. Then the birds lifted off and perched on the Abbey roof, except the kestrel, who perched on a certain badger's shoulder.
Martin looked out over the grave and said solemnly, “Now the time has come to give our last respects to Mr. Jacques. Forever his memory and legacy will last within us.”
Martin the Warrior of Redwall Abbey raised his mighty sword, which shone like liquid fire in the fading sunlight, and gave one final warrior's salute to his author.
Everybeast down below, both woodlander and vermin, raised their voices and shouted along with him. All across Mossflower Woods and the Salamandastron Coast, down to Southsward, the Great Desert, and Loamhedge Abbey, far across the Western Sea to Ruddaring, Sampetra, Terramort, and Green Isle, up the North Coast to Noonvale, the Northern Mountains, and the Land of Ice and Snow, and across Eastern Mossflower to the Great Inland Lake and beyond the cry was heard:
“Wait, we're meanin' the series, right? Not the Abbey and it's warriors?”
“Uh... I guess you could say that, Cluny.”
“Now where's the bally food, wot wot!”
Thank you for the adventure, Mr. Brian Jacques. Your legacy will continue on our bookshelves and in our hearts.