The Council in Cavern Hole ♦
Apr 27, 2016 21:02:25 GMT -5
Post by Constable 216D on Apr 27, 2016 21:02:25 GMT -5
The Long Patrol hare's report prompted the Abbot to rise slowly from his chair. He had never before felt so old. Time stood still as the creatures around him began moving, following the movements of a dance the Abbot no longer knew the steps to. He leaned heavily against the edge of the oaken table, his staff held loosely in one paw. He knew not what to say. A wave of grief came over him as memories of old friends lost to the tides of the past came to mind. Briefly, fervently, the Abbot wished that there was no such thing as evil in the world, that every creature desired peace as strongly as he did. It was the gentle but firm grip of Major Rifflerun that brought Abbot Whittle back to the present.
The Abbot reached out, grasping the Major's forearm with a strength that surprised even himself. He cleared his throat briefly before he spoke. "Thank you, Major. Your presence here is of great solace to this old Abbot. Pray, may I make yet another request of you?" He tapped his walking staff against the sandstone floor a few times, the hollow sound of wood against time-tested stone further bringing the Abbot into his own. "I need you to be my eyes once we stand before what waits outside Redwall's gates. Would you do this for me?"
The Abbot reached out, grasping the Major's forearm with a strength that surprised even himself. He cleared his throat briefly before he spoke. "Thank you, Major. Your presence here is of great solace to this old Abbot. Pray, may I make yet another request of you?" He tapped his walking staff against the sandstone floor a few times, the hollow sound of wood against time-tested stone further bringing the Abbot into his own. "I need you to be my eyes once we stand before what waits outside Redwall's gates. Would you do this for me?"
bye!
