Fading Rose Petals (Redwall Fanfic)

Forgotten Words

Laughter was replaced by silence, a silence that weighed heavily on Martin's mind.

Every so often, there was a tiny squeak of a Dibbun followed by one of the adults hushing them, telling them to be patient as they waited to see what was going on, yet seeing the elderly mouse bend over must have been frightening for the young ones, mainly when even Martin felt so unsure of the situation.

Abbess Germaine and Columbine quickly hurried to the elderly mouse's side and escorted him to the second set of dorms near the kitchen they were currently constructing. Something in the back of his mind told him it would serve as a temporary infirmary, which they'd planned on building over one of the first set of dorms. Martin lifted a paw this his furry brow, his mind wondering if they'd decided on the order of building things correctly, what with so much to do.

"Drawing came first, then measuring and marking out where each building would go. And..." Martin ground his teeth together in frustration, feeling the infirmary was needed sooner than he planned, that he should have somehow known. However, the order of when things needed to be built wasn't his decision, despite having helped the Abbess draw up the plans.

Breakfast was undoubtedly forgotten, as were any of those days' plans for constructing Redwall. He sat there, looking out over what was left to be built, thinking.

"What is wrong with him?" Martin discerned the voice as that of the young mousemaid Timbalisto, identified as Madeline. She had been trying to get his attention moments before the elderly mouse showed signs of being unwell.

"I'm not a healer," Timballisto said. "That's Abbess Germain and..."

"I'm talking about him," she said. Out of the corner of his eye, he saw her pointing a paw right at him. "He was just a moment ago talking about laughter being broken as if he knew that would happen."

Which in itself was an interesting concept, although Martin had seen the carvings at Salamandastron predicting the arrival of him and his friends. And in his mind, that didn't seem to be the first time he'd heard someone expect things. "But for me." Martin turned his head; gray eyes focused on Timballisto. "I don't remember saying anything."

Which, of course, left Timballisto looking at him, obviously bothered by one more thing Martin wasn't remembering. "You don't remember saying something about laughter breaking and some other stuff."

"No," Martin said truthfully. "I'm not gifted like that."

"Not..." Timballisto's eyes widened. "You..."

"I'm saying if I said something, it was just coincidence."

"That didn't seem like a coincidence," Madeline said firmly. "But never mind. I'd best go and see what's going on with my father."

"And that would be precisely why the young mousemaid interested in you is suddenly creeped out, but the last thing we need getting out..." Suddenly, Timballisto stood, tugging on Martin's sleeve, indicating he should follow. Martin followed after, willingly, so they could speak privately, away from the eyes that were suddenly staring.

"Something the matter T.B.?" Martin asked, attempting to smile at his friend. "Something definitely is, given that look on that ugly furry mug of yours."

"Please be serious about this, Martin. This is a serious issue," Timballisto said, while in the back of his head Martin heard, perhaps remembered Timballisto saying something like, "Why can't you take things more seriously?"

Martin felt his ears tilt back, his eyes darkening. "I am taking this seriously."

"You're really taking it seriously that to anyone close enough to hear you; it sounds like you predicted that elderly mouse becoming ill like that?"

Martin frowned, leaning up against the wall of the building, the first dorm area they had built. "I told you, I'm not gifted like that."

And Timballisto looked at him, obviously baffled by what he said. "What?"

"It's not a gift I would want."

"Hold on..." Timballisto wasn't smiling. His paws were on Martin's shoulders, tight. "You've encountered individuals with such a gift?"

"Boar. And..." Martin frowned. "And someone else. I can't remember who, but it's not a pleasant gift."

"I doubt it was pleasant for that mousemaid that was interested in you either," Timballisto muttered. "And it wasn't just what..."

"Interested?" Martin frowned, realizing precisely what his friend meant.

"Yes."

"I'm not." The statement was blunt, yet it was the truth.

"Can I ask why?"

"Because there's someone else." As Martin said that, he started fidgetting, not looking Timballisto in the eye because there was a definite problem with what he said.

"Can I ask who?"

Martin looked at him, his entire head filled with panic. "I can't remember. I know there's someone, but I can't remember. That's just the feeling I have."

"Feeling?" Timballisto folded his arms across his chest. "Or is that mind of yours worried there might be someone else?"

"I..." Martin looked at the ground, at his paws. "Was there anybody..." He shook his head, looking up at Timballisto. "Sorry. So sorry. I shouldn't..."

"I guess. She died when your mum did, so I wasn't very old and didn't have a chance to see if I felt that way about her. Still..."

"Martin?"

Martin looked up at the badger looming over them. "Bella?"

"Do you two mind coming to my place to talk for a bit?"

"If this is about what Martin said..." Timballisto said, stepping between her and Martin.

"It is. But it's not about how the other critters feel, particularly after another from that party—one of the other elderly creatures has also fallen ill. And from the look on your furry face Martin, it's bothering you, but I'm probably the best person to talk this over with you."

"I—sure." Martin tried smiling, yet he didn't want to talk about it, the gift. He followed after, Timballisto following close behind. He nearly jumped out of his fur when a foreleg wrapped around his back, his head jolting up. "Gonff?"

"Oi be a yurr ars well, zurr Marthen, so no need to wurry them head of you's."

The thank-you became lodged in Martin's throat as Dinny hurried over to walk beside Timballisto while Gonff continued hanging off Martin's shoulders. "So?"

"I said something weird."

"And?"

"I don't remember saying it, kind of like..." Martin worried his bottom lip with his teeth, thinking about what he'd said to Timballisto as a somewhat hazy memory from a dream attempted to resurface.

"Hey, matey. You know that you and I can talk, right?"

"Is T.B. the one having the nightmares?" Martin asked before thinking to himself. "Or is it me?"

"He says it is." Gonff continued to hang on. "Why would he lie?"

"To protect me. From not remembering things, I should."

"He's preventing you from remembering? That doesn't make sense."

"I mean, he's protecting me from the fact I can't remember certain things."

"Ah. That makes more sense and does sound like something T.B. would do. Having watched the two of you, he definitely thinks of you as a brother."

"Younger brother."

"What?"

"T.B. is actually older than me."

"Ah. Come. Let's not make Bella wait. Right?"

"Yeah."