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| Enamel Pardon | Jul 1 2008, 08:45 AM |
Ruler of Specifics
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S. E. Pardon gave the score of Long Patrol hares one last look-over. That is to say, he looked over them entirely, because no beast should have to witness such a sorry sight. He sighed. They were all young, not much older than Enamel. For very many, this had been their first ship-ride, and it hadn't treated them well at all. Twirling his whiskers into a fearsome mustache, Pardon marched up and down in front of the assembly, nodding to himself: There was Stonefoot, Scuttlewig the Fifth, Meryl and Millie, Morescoff, Klippaw, Jaster... Tipper, Tapper, Tupper and Topper, the completely indistinguishable quartet; Pippel, Twabbo, Grassflat, Fontanesque, Tumguts the Round... Caperhat, Glosey, Jinky, and good old Captain Harry. Everybeast was accounted for, even if their lunches weren't. "Right lads," he began. He paused. "And lasses. Right." He began again, stomping the deck with his large footpaws. "We'll be h'arrivin' at th'Black h'Arch Fort in just a few minutes, so I want t'make one thing very clear t'h'all of you: every vermin in Mossflower that we don't have t'face, it's because they've all ready faced 'em! Got it? They h'are th'secondmost important h'institution next t'Salamandastron when it comes t'th'safety of h'everybeast in this land - first, if they had a badger lord as we do! 'Cos, lads, we're just hares. Perilous hares, one and all, but it's our nature! Those beasts in that fort are more than just hares; they're every species worth its fur. H'and every one of 'em h'isn't there because it's a family thing t'join a fightin' unit, or because it's wot's expected of 'em. They're there because they chose t'fight. And that thought scares me more than knowin' just how many hares h'are in Salamandastron, or how many traps and plans we have at home, or how far old badgery sort can throw a bleedin' rat. "So when y'march up t'those gates, h'I don't want t'see th' bally whites of your eyes for all th'respect shinin' through at me! Th'first hare here t'insult one of 'em Fort beasts gets docked on this ship 'til we depart. Th'first hare t'ask about vittles, scoff, grub, tuck, or any manner of chow-munch will be fastin' for a week! This h'isn't Redwall, lads! This h'isn't a picnic! We're here t'do a job, and that's t'see that this fort's still standin' when Commander Swiftpike gets back! H'atten...shun! Fall iiiiiin... MARCH!" Turning about stiffly, S. E. strode off the Dandelion's Delight and fought the urge to kiss the firm pier. Aha, and their delegated greeting beast! S. E. threw a salute at Teren as the otter welcomed him. "I hope she's got a-bally-nough!" he said, when Teren had finished. "S. E. Pardon reportin' for duty, sah! Lead on t'th'fortplace, wot! And put some spine into it, lad! You're curlin' up like a ferret rollin' downhill! Don't y'know how t'stand at h'attention? Like this - " And then S. E. glared, tilting his head forward so his eyes could be seen clear over his tiny spectacles. Behind him, the Dandelion's Delight's mainmast groaned with the effort of straightening up, and if one stayed perfectly still... one could almost hear a distant roar of a far-off tsunami as the tectonic plates guiltily re-arranged themselves to more pleasing angles. Then he waggled his ears, which rather ruined the effect. "So! Where's this Commander Sceo right now?" |
Sergeant Enamel Pardon  Can't keep my eyes from the circling skyTongue-tied and twisted, just an earthbound misfit, I...my other char's a mouse: Corporal Simon Flynn 
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