[Redwall 18] - High Rhulain Read Free

(which is a lofty position among his fellow creatures), Grudd Longtunnel was also the Head Abbey Gardener. A nephew of molemum Burbee, he was good-natured, cheerful and honest as the day is long. Balancing a tray on one powerful paw, he clambered up the steps to the walltop, tugging his snout respectfully to the Abbess and his aunt.
    â€œGudd mornen to ee, marms, an’ a roight purty one et bee’s, too. Oi bringed ee ’ot scones an’ h’extra tea. Boi okey, you’m surrtingly can sup summ tea in ee course of a day. Moi ole tongue’d float away if’n I drinked that much tea!”
    Burbee chuckled. “Gurt h’imperdent young lump, lessen thoi cheek an’ pour us’n’s summ o’ that brew.”
    Grudd placed the plate of fresh scones, spread with meadowcream and clover honey, between them. Whipping the cosy from a sizeable teapot, he topped up both their mugs. “Shudd see wot ee storm do’d to moi veggibles. Flartenned ee lettuces, snapped off’n celery an’ strewed termatoes every whichway. Even rooted up moi young radishers. Burr!”
    Lycian blew on her tea to cool it. “Your aunt Burbee was just remarking on the storm damage in the orchard. Is it very bad, Grudd?”
    The Foremole’s face creased deeply in a reassuring smile. “Doan’t ee frett, h’Abbess marm. Oi gotten moi molecrew a-workin’ daown thurr, an’ all ee Redwallers lendin’ a paw. Just bee’s two more willin’ beasts a-needed.”
    Lycian shot him a look of mock severity. “We’ll be down just as soon as we’ve finished tea, my good mole, and not a moment sooner. Carry on with your duties!”
    Grudd caught the twinkle in her eyes. He bowed low, tugging his snout in a servile manner. “Vurry gudd, marm, as ee says, marm, you’m take yurr own gudd toime, marm. Oi’ll look for’ard to ee visit with pleshure. ’Twill be a gurt honner furr uz ’umble molebeasts!”
    Burbee shook with mirth at the antics of her nephew. “Ho bee off’n with ee, you’m gurt foozikil!”
    Â 
    Down in the orchard, Banjon Wildlough, the otter Skipper, was organizing the workers. Banjon was not a big creature, as otters go, but he had an undoubted air of command about him. Everybeast obeyed his orders, all working together for the common good—except the Dibbuns, of course. (These were the little ones; Abbeybabes were always referred to as “Dibbuns.”) The otter Skipper tried to keep his patience with their rowdy manner, which, after all, was the innocence of playful infants.
    â€œNo no, Gropp! Ye can’t eat those apples, they ain’t ripe yet. You’ll get tummyache, I’m warnin’ ye. Taggle! Stop chuckin’ them hazelnuts around. Grumby! Come down out o’ that tree. Irgle, Ralg, where are ye off to with that barrow?”
    Banjon turned despairingly to his friend, Brink Greyspoke, the big, fat hedgehog who was Redwall’s Cellarhog. “I gives up! Can’t you do anythin’ with the liddle rogues?”
    Brink was a jolly creature and well-liked by the Dibbuns. He tipped Skipper a wink. “I’ll soon get ’em organised, leave it t’me, Skip.”
    Brink began by appealing to what Dibbuns loved most: their stomachs. “Lissen now, ye big workbeasts. I ’eard that Friar Bibble ’as got lots o’ candied chestnuts to reward willin’ bodies with. So ’ere’s the plan. See all this hard sour fruit wot’s fallen? Well, that’ll go for preservin’ an’ picklin’. All those green nuts, too—they’ll be used in the cheesemakin’. Toss the lot into yon barrow, an’ we’ll take ’em to the kitchens, that’ll please the Friar greatly. Come on now, let’s see those big muscles bulgin’!”
    Squeaking with delight, the Dibbuns rushed to obey Brink.
    Banjon spotted some of the