Before the legend, before the glory....a peek into the past. Part 2

Before you read this log, you need to read this on so it'll make more sense: http://rwmuck.limitless.org/rwmuck/content/legend-glory-peek-past-part-1 Enjoy!

In the house of Farrer Strongpaw, on the Tuscani plains, the tension in the air is so thick, you could probably cut it with a knife. LilyMoore has helped her brother search the house, and DoraRose has scoured the grounds, not fearing the howling storm outside, and both have come up with no mop. After hours of searching, they sit at the table, tired, discouraged and, in DoraRose's case, sopping wet. Thier mother, the fair Lady Lydia Sparrowsong, checks on her pizza cooking in the oven, asking her son, without looking at him, "Do you have any clue as to where the mop is, Emyuil?"

Emyuil scuffs his footpaws against the floor, without looking up. "Um...no, Mum," he whispers meekly.

Sighing, Lady Lydia closes the oven and looks sadly at her youngest son. "I was going to let you get away with not telling your father if you had found it. But now you must. Oh, Emyuil, why did you play with it? You know it's a tool and not a toy. And yet you insisted on playing with it. Why?"

"Um..." Emyuil scuffs the floor again. "I...d'nno, Mama. 'm sorry," he finishes in a whisper.

Lydia sighs, then walks over and hugs him tightly. "I'm sorry, too. But you must face the consequences of your actions. Alright?"

Emyuil buries his face in Lydia's apron, getting flour all over his face, and he sniffles. "Y-...yes...mum."

Lady Sparrowsong kisses the top of his head and holds him for a little while, then takes a step back. "You need to get your father now...it's almost dinnertime, anyway." ruffling his ears, she turns to DoraRose, with whom, for some reason, she doesn't get along with very well, and says gently, "Will you please walk with him? Maybe you can be a peacmaker of sorts." The eldest daughter sighs slightly, then stands, reaching for a dry cloak. "Sure. C'mon, let's go. You'll need a cloak...it's very wet out there."

"Ok, 'rose," Emyuil says, starting to perk up just a bit again. He nabs an old ragged cloak, too large for him by quite a bit, but it's low enough on the cloak rack for him to reach, so he wraps up in it and waits for his sister.

DoraRose smiles slightly, pulls the hoods up over both their ears, then goes outside. The storm has clamed down to a steady downpour, and there is still evidence of hailstones on the ground.

Emyuil totters a bit unsteadily over the ground, the rain making him, in his cloak, all but invisible. "Where's Da'?" he yelps over the rumble of the rainstorm.

DoraRose glances at him, then grabs his paw and helps him stay upright. "He's still in the forge, fighting with Centurion Flaxentails' claymore. It's not working out to well." they are on a path that connects the house and the forge. It is cobblestone, and is bordered by fruit trees. Over the steady patter of the rain can be heard the distant hammerings of Farrer's work as he tries to defeat the stubborn blade.

"Y...y'think Da's gonna be real mad 't me?" Emyuil suddenly asks, looking up into his sister's eyes beseechingly.

DoraRose shrugs. "It depends. If he's made progress with the blade, he might just ban you from dessert for a week. If not...well, I'll talk to him." they are nearing the forge now, and a warm glow is spilling out from the halfway open door.

Emyuil looks in fearfully, peeking around the doorframe with wide, glassy dark eyes. "Da'?" he whispers reluctantly.

The forgeroom is large and airy, with the forge itself in the center of the room. The walls are literally /covered/ with all sorts of fearsome weapons, all sharp and battle ready. Standing at the forge itself is Farrer Strongpaw himself. Dressed in black pants and a matching sleeveless tunic and a forge apron, his children can clearly see his rippling muscles as he beats a red swordblade with his hammer. His back is turned to them, so all the can see of his face is his brown-furred cheek and the muscles in his jaw, which is clenched. DoraRose swallows and calls "Papa!"

Emyuil stays silent. Looks like this isn't their lucky day. He doesn't see his dad's face, but the clenched jaw is all he needs to see to have reason to gulp audibly in unison with 'rose.

The resounding clang of metal on metal drowned out DoraRose's call, so she tries again. "Papa!" He hears it this time, and turns to look at his children. If blue eyes can blaze when thier owner is /happy/, then Farrer's do. Without another sign of hearing them, he puts the blade-in-progress where it goes and sighs heavily, setting his hammer on the anvil and leaning on it, and says in a surprisingly soft, gentle voice, "I take it supper is ready, and I haven't made much progress in the claymore blade." His daughter nods, then adds, "Emmy has something to tell you." she nudges him foreward slightly as thier father looks at him.

Emyuil gazes at the floor as he steps into the forgeroom, wishing he could disappear into the ground and fade like the raindrops plinking to the floor around him as they cascade from his cloak's ragged, frayed, threadbare edges. He does indeed mumble something, along the lines of "mmxmblxmbxlmblxmx lossa mop 'dr 'dbed, didn' fin' it..."

Farrer Strongpaws' eyes harden. "Stand straight! Speak up! What did you say?" DoraRose looks at Emyuil, trying to decide if putting a paw on his sholder is a good idea right now.

"Um...Lost th'mop swo'dfightin' bruvvers inna house, dunno where 'tis," Emyuil mumbles.

Farrer frowns and asks, "Did you look for it?" Behind her brother, DoraRose nods vigorously, pointing at him, trying to help without him knowing.

"Um, yeah. Fer hours, Da'," Emyuil mutters. "Um...Erm...Mum sedd tha' if we found i' she wouldn' tellye but we didn' fine it so she send me out t'tell ye an' we walk t'rewa rainn..." He's babbling a bit now and probably telling his dad the bits that he WASN'T supposed to...Oops! He chunners on and on and on.

"Enough! Enough! Loose lips sink ships. Learn to control your tongue, lad!" Farrer looks slightly frazzled, and a bit less ticked off. "Is what he said true, 'Rose?" DoraRose Strongheart nods. "Yessir. 'Tis the truth, the whole truth, and nothin' but the truth."

"Yessir, you's right, loose plips rink thrips...Nowait, tooth trips pink slips, no..." Emyuil gives up as he slowly recovers from the minor panic attack. "Ahyeah, izza tooth," Emyuil says, mispronouncing by accident, backing up his sister. "Um, wot?..."

DoraRose insictively wraps her arms aroudn her brother as they listen to thier father speak..."You need to calm down, Emyuil. Be like the river I named you for. As punishment you don't get dessert for a week." (Later, DoraRose will be all like, "I told you so!") "But since you came and told me yourself, that is all. Just obey the rules." Hugging them both, he kisses his daughter on the forehead and ruffles his son's ears. "Let's go eat, shall we?"

"Le's go Da'!" Emyuil grins and hugs his father tightly. Later the loss of dessert will irk him somewhat, but right now everything's all right. As of this moment, Emyuil Streamstone, son of Farrer, proclaims that the world is perfect! He laughs and streaks for the house, a lingering call of, "Beatya t'the table, 'rose!" trailing in his wake as he disappears into the now slowly vanishing rain, the first sunbeam piercing the clouds and highlighting a rainbow that arcs over the house, over the green-gold plains of beautiful Tuscani, and sinks beyond the horizon beneath the golden, sun-illuminated skies...

And his sister races him, laughing joyfully along with him. Thanks for reading!