The morning lightened the sky revealing to early risers the heavy cloud cover that formed during the night. An intermittent drizzle dampened the leaves of myriad trees and bushes. Droplets of water collected on the tips of the leaves and fell to the ground giving unlucky passer-bys struck by the falling droplets the impression that the rain was heavier than it seemed.
One such droplet struck Crispin full on the head and drenched his smallish crown as would a waterfall. The mouse shook his head to shed the excess water and then pulled the hood of his coat over his head for protection.
Ting... Ting... Ting, ting... Droplets falling on Sir Scurry's armor ran swiftly down the smooth sections and sneaked here and there into the crevices between its plates and under its hinges. Now and then the knight reached down and removed the metal boots protecting his lower paws, first the left and then the right, and poured out their content of accumulated rainwater. His warhare bounded on, its fur resisting the attempted invasion by the condensation falling from above.
A squeaking noise caught the attention of Crispin's sensitive ears. Yes, there... under the bush... Hiding. Crispin tapped on Scurry's backplate. "Sir Knight! Under the bush, there. A mouse!"
"So?"
"It looks like one from the monastery!"
"Oh, I see. We shall stop and investigate." Scurry halted the hare and awkwardly dismounted. As he and the squire approached the shivering mouse, Scurry could tell that Crispin's impression was indeed correct. "How came you to be here, Brother Mouse."
"Grinning the Cat captured me and brought me to his castle three days ago. I escaped from one of his stupid rats when he was distracted by their new prisoner."
"New prisoner?"
"Yes, the Knight of the Tigwood Forest, Sir Bushtail."
Scurry looked over his shoulder at Crispin. "Tsk, tsk... That is not the most pleasant of news."
"Because he is a prisoner of Grinning?" responded Crispin expecting his observation to be in agreement.
"No... Because I intend to dismount Bushtail at the jousts and his being a prisoner of Grinning's inconveniences my plan, that's why. One cannot joust with a knight held in a dungeon cell, can one?"
Crispin's left eyebrow was raised in confusion. "I suppose not, Sir Scurry. So what are we going to do?"
"Free him of course; and then skewer Grinning as we set out to do. So Squire, let's give our newly free friend here a patch of cloth from our supplies to keep him warm as he travels to the monastery." Scurry saw alarm in the escaped mouse's dark eyes. "No, my dear monk mouse. Do not fear. The path is safe as we have just travelled it without incident. Stay under cover and move swiftly to the monastery. I'm sure they will be glad to have you back and will warm you with newly toasted seeds. We go on. There is Bushtail to free and Grinning to deal with."
Crispin gave the patch of wooly cloth to the monastery mouse and joined Scurry on the back of the warhare. It leaped at Scurry's command and resumed its hoping towards the castle of Sir Grinning.
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The four of them huddled under the broad leaves of some aromatic bush selected during the night when the drizzling began. The mouse maid had not wanted to interrupt Tibbles during his story to ask too many questions so she saved them for this newly dawning day. "Tibbles?" she said, checking first to see if he was awake. "What was the name of the knight who helped Sir Bushtail against the rats?"
The formalities of a name exchange had been accomplished much earlier... frankly, as soon as Tibbles could speak coherently. "Help?! Who said my master required help?!"
Mouse winced. She had not intended criticism nor anything similar. "No one is saying your master required help. What I meant was, who was the knight with Bushtail." Mouse hoped the rephrasing would calm the mole down quickly enough.
"Humpf, help indeed!" said Tibbles. "This is all that I know. The other knight who interfered in my master's business wore the image of an elm on his shield and breastplate. This is all that my master said to me." That is all that he said that I should repeat in this mixed company, thought Tibbles.
Mouse's little heart gave a little leap instantaneously with the mention of the elm. Is it possible? Could Sir Scurry, her master, be in the area somewhere? "He was well when the battle ended, you say?" asked mouse for reassurance.
"Yes, he was well, so I think. The last we saw of them, the knight and his squire were on their way in the direction of the monastery."
Mouse's heart fell six castle steps. And his squire? Yes, that was what Tibbles said: 'And his squire'. Suddenly she lost all interest in asking any more questions. This didn't seem to bother Tibbles so they both fell silent simultaneously, with only the drip, drip, drip of the falling droplets making any noise at all.
[This message has been edited by Lancer (edited 01-23-2002 @ 04:11 PM).]