Ferdinand: Some Back Story (Sorry that it's long....)

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Wed, 04/23/2014 - 10:33

So, here is the promised fan-fic for my ferret char, Ferdinand! I'm sorry that it's so long, but I have separated it into sections, so I suggest reading a section a day. Hopefully those aren't too long. They are separated by a crown (~*~) :) I hope y'all enjoy!

~*~Once upon a time...

DINNER WAS a quiet affair. But then again, it always was.

Ferdinand poked at the steamed vegetables on his plate, shoving the food around with his fork to make it look like he had eaten some of it.

His siblings kept sending him hostile glances, and he got cold feelings from his parents, who were sitting at the head of the table. The only kind person here at dinner was his tutor, Tornac. He almost always had a soft, kind look on his face, and throughout the meal he had been giving the young ferret small, gentle smiles.

Ferdinand stabbed a shrimp with his fork and ate it, staring at his cider in its wine goblet as the dill and garlic flavour turned to like ashes in his mouth.

He knew his family hated him. In all of his 4 seasons of life, he couldn't remember his family doing one truly kind act to him...except maybe when they hired Tornac, and that was probably accidental.

His stomach churned at the thought of how his parents were turning his baby sister against him. Primrose wasn't even 2 seasons old, and she made fun of him without punishment.

Ferdinand sipped his cider, but that just made his nausea worse. Setting the wine goblet down and staring at his half-eaten food, he cleared his throat and said, "Thir Marcuth, may I pleathe be excuthed?"

He felt a tiny something deep inside die as his sisters tittered at him and his 2 older brothers whispered to each-other. His father set down his fork and glared sternly at him. "Ferdinand. You must learn to speak properly. How many times have I told you that you may leave the table early if--" The Lady interrupted him, laying a paw on his. "Oh, let him go. Dinner will be more lively without him."

Ferdinand bit the inside of his lower lip to keep it from trembling as his father sighed. "Alright, Daphneah. As you wish." Sir Marcus looked at his 5th-eldest child with ill-concealed contempt. "You are excused."

Ferdinand nodded and murmured, "Thank you, Thir and Lady," stood, and stumbled as his foot caught on the leg of his chair. He fought back tears as he heard derisive titters of laughter from his sisters behind him. Gritting his teeth, he walked with regal, measured paces to the door, where the guards bowed and hit it with their spearbutts, and the guards on the other side opened it. Ferdinand knew the palace guards honestly respected him and it wasn't just an act, but it didn't make him feel any better.

The second he heard the door close behind him, he darted away, running at top speed. He was incredibly fast, even faster than his older, bigger brothers, and he had great endurance.

Zooming recklessly around corners, he dodged servants and slaves, footmen and gallery maids. They all knew him, at least a little, and so none of them told him to slow down. Which was good, because he wouldn't've listened anyway.

He only slowed when he got to the hall where his rooms were. Jogging past many doors, he veered to the next-to-last one on the right and slammed into his room, rapidly closing the door behind him with a great boom.

Lockign the door, Ferdinand threw the key across the room and slumped to the floor, sobbing. Why did his family treat him the way they did? It wasn't his fault he had a lisp! He tried really, really hard not to, but he never succeeded. He only ended up stuttering, too.

After who knows how long, he was hiccupping and coughing from how hard he had been crying. Yanking off his boots, he stumbled from his small front room into his bedroom. Crawling into bed, the brokenhearted ferret cried himself to sleep.

~*~

When Ferdinand awoke, the first thing he noticed was a clinking, scraping sound. Then he noticed how warm he was, and how soft his covers were against his cheeks.

He opened his sleep-filled eyes and saw that it was still dark. Raising himself up on one elbow, he rubbed his eyes, noting that someone -- probably a couple of manservants, possibly under the direction of Sir Tornac -- had changed him into his nightshirt while he slept. (He wondered why he hadn't woken up, at least a little. He usually slept lighter than that.)

Crawling out of his nice warm bed, the young ferret shivered a little and slipped into his heavy, monk-like hooded robe. Sliding on his soft house slippers, he shuffled to the door leading into his small front room/study/play room...although he was almost too old for it to be a play room anymore.

Bent down in front of the fireplace was a hunched, grey, weathered-looking old mouse. She was laying wood on top of some kindling. Without looking up or turning around she said, "Good mornin', Master Ferdinand. I see ye fergot to keep yer fire goin' yesterday."

The young ferretshuffled forward and crouched beside the old one, smiling sheepishly. "It had gone out by the time I remembered it. I'm thorry; I didn't mean to make your job more difficult."

The elderly mouse smiled softly. "It's alright, young 'un. Anythin' to stall from goin' into 1 of yer sister's rooms. How was yer sleep?"

Ferdinand sighed and looked at the floor. "I remember being thcared, but I don't remember why. That'th a good thing, right, Lizie?"

Lizzie nodded, then groaned as she rocked back into a sitting position and watched the infant fire grow on the grate. "Yes, it's usually a good thing to ferget the dreams that make ye scared."

Before she could say more, the door from the hallway outside opened and a young adult otter came in, pushing a covered trolley. A pained look entered his eyes when his gaze alighted upon Lizzie. Quickly mouthing the words 'I'm sorry', the otter let the door close behind him as he loudly said, "'Urry up and light that there fire, Granny! I don't wanna hafta report ya!"

Lizzie let him and the young ferret help her up, mock-grumbling in a loud voice, "I'm workin', I'm workin'. Don't wake the young Master!"

After handing the mouse her cane, Ferdinand quietly scooted into his bedroom and softly closed the door. Putting an ear to the wood, he listened to Lizzie hobbling out the door, the chain connecting her ankles together scraping on the floor. "Good mornin', yer Lordship," she called. The young master bes still abed." The young ferret bit his lip as he heard his father's voice rumble something back.

After a few minutes of silence, the ferret heard the otter say, "It's alright now, Master Ferdinand. Yer father be gone now."

Sighing with relief, the young ferret slipped back out of his bedroom and smiled at the otter, who was unpacking all sorts of cooking necessities. "Thank you, Falcor. I wath afraid Father wath going to check on me."

Falcor smiled and nodded, the chain around his ankles clanking as he prepared to cook over the cheery fire. "Does 'e walk around before the sun shines often?"

Ferdinand nodded and scooted 2 wooden chairs over to beside the fireplace. Seating himself, he said, "Almotht every day. He never thleepth well."

The otter sat and started pouring water and oats into the large pot over the fire. "Well, good, and more bad luck to 'im, I say," he declared, stirring the warming concoction. "He bes a 'orrible creature, keepin' slaves and yellin' at 'is poor son like 'e does."

The ferret fidgeted nervously. "Watch your mouth! You never know who may be listening." He looked over at the hall door. "You're new here, tho you don't know how cruel my father can be to thlaveth. He oncthe had a a thwuirrel beaten to death for thomething the had thaid to a kitchen worker, thinking that the guardth wouldn't tell. You have got to be more careful!"

Falcor shrugged irritatingly and grinned. "Don't worry, young master. I'll be alright. What would you like in yer oatmeal?"

Ferdinand gritted his teeth in frustration. They had had similar conversations almost since Lord Marcus had bought the otter from a slaver. But he never listened.

Sighing, the ferret decided to let the subject drop for now. Scooting forward, he cast a quick glance over the contents of the trolley, calling out what all he thought would be good. "Apple, plumb, apricot, almond, honey, blackberry, rathberrey...eew!" He exclaimed, giving the otter a shocked glance. "Why ith there garlic on here?"

Falcor laughed. "I wanted to see if ye'd catch it or go ahead and eat it in yer oatmeal. Stir this."

Ferdinand grabbed the spoon and stirred, watching tentatively as the otter slave mixed the ingredients he had mentioned in a bowl. "And nutmeg and thinomen, maybe?"

Falcor laughed and added those ingredients. "Don't be so shy about it, young master. "It's yer food; try stuff!"

The ferret cracked a smile. "Well, then, add all the other nutth....and thtrawberrieth!"

The otter saluted and poured in the foodstuffs. "As you wish, young master!"

After a little while, the oatmeal was done, and the 2 youngbeasts ate together. In addition to the oatmeal, there was buttered toast and jam, scones, tea, juice, warm spiced cider, tarts tiny nut pies, and small little cakes.

After they were finished feasting like kings, Falcor put all the dirty dishes on the trolley. Just then, a small male squirrel entered, his fur grey and his back hunched, and asked in a small, gently, wavery voice, "Is my young Master Ferdinand done breaking his fast?"

The ferret smiled and nodded. "Yeth, thank you, Ithaac."

Isaac smiled and gestured towards the dressing room. "Well, go pick your clothes, young sir, and we'll see how your eye for colour has developed."

Ferdinand nodded eagerly and rushed off, waving to his friend as the otter trundled the trolley out the door.

~*~

The bright, sunny, balmy outdoors happily greeted the young ferret as he stepped out of the palace doors into an inner courtyard. Breathing deeply, he smiled, paws on his hips, ready to go to lessons.

"Hail, Ferdinand," a voice to his right said. Opening his eyes, the ferret turned and happily jogged over to the source of the voice; his tutor. "Hail, Mathter Tornac. How are you thith morning?"

The tall sable smiled and patted his student's shoulder. "I am well, thank you, as I hope you are?"

Ferdinand nodded. "Indeed, I am, thank you." Not only that, but he had dressed himself with absolutely no help from his valley, Isaac, which he knew was something none of the rest of his family could do, not even Lord Marcus.

Tornac's smile widened slightly as his tone softened. "I am pleased to see that you are in a better disposition than you were last night."

Ferdinand's happy mood faltered slightly, as did his smile. "I had...thort of forgotten about it."

The sable nodded. "Sleep is kind that way. I had Isaac help me change your clothes at around midnight. I am surprised that you did not awaken."

Ferdinand nodded a little absently, then voiced a sudden question. "Wath it cowardly for me to leave like I did?"

Tornac shook his head and vehemently replied, "No. You left to avoid worse emotional injury. Had it been a battle, your actions would have been considered a tactical retreat; you fell back to regroup. Discretion is the better part of valour; remember that, Ferdinand." As the young ferret nodded, the sable smiled and added in his Mr. Teacher tone, "Now, then, what are the rules for dividing decimal numbers?"

And so the morning went. They wandered through the gardens, orchards and vineyards, discussing mathematics, history, philosophy, logic, biology, anthropology, and sociology. After a quick lunch in the kitchens (where they discussed many things culinary with the slaves) the duo went to the sable's study/personal library and went over battle strategy, fencing, penmanship, reading, anatomy, more history and math, and proper protocol for young royals. They brought out star charts and studied astronomy. The tutor promised to take his student out star gazing very soon.

Late afternoon found Ferdinand finishing his copy of the saga of Martin, son of Luke, warrior founder of the famed Redwall Abbey. His quill pen scratched and scratched over the paper as he wrote the last few sentences, then with a satisfied smile he set his pen down and sprinkled pounce on the fresh ink. It had taken him 5 days, but he had finally finished copying it down. Stretching his cramped paw, he took the scroll over to his tutor, who took it, scanned over the words, and nodded in aprooval. "Very good, Ferdinand. Your penmanship has has improved remarkably."

The young ferret beamed and bowed slightly. "Thank you Mathter Tornac."

Before the sable could respond, a knock sounded on the door. He smiled slightly and rolled his eyes at his student, went over to the door and opened it, revealing a rat footman.

Bowing, the rat said, "I was sent to remind Master Ferdinand that the tournament between himself and the other young royal males shall begin precisely in 1 hour, and he must not be late." Bowing again, the footman scurried off, not waiting for a response.

Ferdinand felt a sense of dread wash over him. He had intentionally forgotten about the tournament. He knew he was smaller than almost everyone he was going up against. He noticed his tutor watching him and asked, "Do I have to go? Can't I jutht thay I'm thick and not go fight?"

Tornac nodded his head. "Yes, you must. You need to prove that you are greater than your family thinks you are. Saying you're sick to avoid doing that which your father has ordered would not only be cowardly, it would also prove them correct. Do you want them to believe that their folly is in actuality truth?"

The ferret hung his head shamefully and whispered, "No."

The sable nodded again decisively. "I thought not. So, then. Go fetch your sabre and we shall quickly review all that you know. And if we do not run out of time I shall have you do a rapid read through of some of the techniques."

~*~

Ferdinand was nervous as he and his tutor exited the palace. He hated these tournaments. Someone always got injured, from minor scratches to the one time when 1 of his uncles had died from a stomach wound. Ferdinand had only been 2 seasons old at the time and hadn't fought, but it had been such a frightening experience, he remembered it quite vividly still.

He grasped his sabre hilt firmly to hide his shaking. All his cousins and brothers who would be in this tournament were so much bigger than him, he just knew he was going to lose! And probably get hurt in the process!

Toranc, who was beside him, rested a paw on his shoulder and said, "Now remember, do your best and keep moving. The one who stands still is an easy target and shall be quickly defeated. Keep your sword up and your wits about you, and your opponents shall be hard-pressed to defeat you."

Ferdinand nodded, hardly reassured, then gulped at the crowd gathered in the courtyard. The smell of all sorts of foods drifted by his nose, but he was feeling skittish and nervous enough that the scent made him feel queasy.

A figure detached itself from the crowd and ran to the duo. It was a pretty female ferret, about Ferdinand's age, and as she got closer, he unconsciously relaxed and smiled. It was his cousin Marie-Francis, but she insisted that he call her Marie. As she got closer, her infectious smile became more and more clear. Coming up beside Ferdinand, she spun around, causing her deep blue velvet skirts to swirl and billow around her, and started walking with the malebeasts, making the duo a trio.

The male ferret smiled a little more widely. "Good evening, Marie. How are you?"

Marie beamed, her fascinating grey-blue eyes dancing with happiness at simply seeing her cousin. "I-I-I'm g-g-good. An-and h-h-h-how are y-y-you t-two?"

Tornac smiled and said in a kind voice, "I am also well, thank you. That is a lovely dress you are wearing."

Marie blushed and ran a paw over the embroidery on the bodice, stitched in black and silver threads. "Th-th-thank y-y-y-you."

Ferdinand smiled even more broadly than he had been before. "It ith, indeed. And I'm alright, I gueth. Forget the fact that I'm about to duel my relativeth, who are all bigger than I am, and I'm thcared out of my mind. Other than that, I'm great." He wondered, like he did every time he saw his cousin, if this was why they got along so well together. If maybe his lisp and her stutter were what made them relate to one another and be such good friends.

Marie gave him a sympathetic look. "D-don't w-w-worry, y-y-you'll d-do fine. I b-b-believe th-that y-y-you'll w-w-win, s-s-so l-l-long as y-y-you d-d-don't l-l-lose y-your h-h-h-head."

Ferdinand grinned at her encouragement, then felt himself being shepherded away from his cousin. Glancing around, he swallowed as he noticed that they were at the ring for the tournament. Alarm crept back with alacrity, and he glanced quickly at his tutor. Tornac took a step forward and layed a paw on the guard's shoulder. "I shall escort him." The guard grunted and nodded, going to rejoin his companions.

Smiling over his shoulder at Marie, the sable herded his student to the group of males that were waiting for the tournament to start. Before leaving, the tutor whispered in Ferdinand's ear, "Keep your arm supple, your wrist firm, your feet moving and your mind fearless," then walked back and rejoined Marie.

The young ferret gulped and clutched his sabre hilt. I'm gonna die, I just know it! He grit his teeth and blocked out those thoughts, refusing to let them have any control over him, wanting desperately to make his tutor proud and not get injured. Closing his eyes, he focused on everything he knew about sabres and fencing. He grimaced as he remembered one of his cousins getting an arm chopped off. Okay, maybe reviewing everything that could happen isn't such a great idea. He opened his eyes and decided that keeping his thoughts in the moment might be a better idea. He saw the old veteran rat soldier who was going to act as referee start leading the contenders in stretches and warm-ups. The young ferret joined in, and he could feel his muscles limbering up.

All too soon, it was time for the tournament to begin. Lord Marcus made a speech, but Ferdinand was getting nervous again, so he heard not a word, which was a pity, because had he paid attention, he would have heard that the fighters were going to be split into 2 groups, and the ultimate winner from each group would then fight each-other to see who the greatest fencer was. He jumped as a soldier touched his arm, then, realizing that Lord Marcus was done talking, the young ferret allowed himself to be guided to one side of his parents seats. As the soldier began to tie a yellow handkerchief around his upper arm, he frowned and asked what it was for. After it was explained that it was so the crowd watching would know which group he was from and the soldier walked away, Ferdinand smiled. Maybe he did have a chance of winning, or at least coming in second...

Ferdinand was chosen to start fighting in the 3rd match for the yellow group, and the tournament began.

The other group's colour was red, and the 2 groups took turns with the red group going first, so by the 5th match, Ferdinand wasn't so sure he would even come in second. But when it was his turn, he gave it his all and won...and then won again. He always pulled his swings so as to not injure his opponents, but it was always obvious that he was the victor. Some he defeated so quickly it could hardly be called a duel, even though many of his opponents were older and bigger than him. In between his fights he saw, much to his growing dismay, that his oldest brother, Christoph, was having the same amount of success. He was a good head and shoulders taller than Ferdinand, and the young ferret dreaded any duel between the 2 of them.

Despite his nervousness, Ferdinand soon had defeated all of his yellow group opponents. As he watched Christoph defeat his last opponent in a rather brutal fashion, the young ferret felt apprehension creep along his spine. As the defeated fencer was helped out of the ring, blood pouring from a bone-deep wound on his upper arm, Ferdinand gulped and drew his sabre. This was it. He was either going to win and be covered in glory, shocking his family as he did so, or he was going to get an arm lopped off and probably die from infection. He figured the latter option was the one that was the most likely.

Ferdinand and his brother entered the ring and faced each-other sideways, pointing their swords at each-other, becoming as small of targets as possible. The veteran referee held up a small white cloth. Ferdinand felt nervous perspiration start to form on his palms as he watched the old rat hold the cloth in the air, a slight breeze making it move a little. The cloth suddenly fluttered from the rat's paw to the ground, and the deadly dance began.

The 2 ferrets circled each-other, Christoph grinning unnervingly. He probably figured that this duel was just as decided as all his others. Ferdinand gulped. He had to tilt his head up to look into his brother's face. He swallowed again and forced himself to be cold and tactical. It was the only way to drown out his fear. Some little part of his brain wished that his father hadn't made the special declaration that he had to fight, but he hardly had time to register that thought because at just that instant, his brother lunged, bringing his sword slashing down towards Ferdinand's shoulder.

The young ferret barely had time to bat the opposing sword away and dart to one side. Keeping his guard up, he blocked a series of numbing blows from his heavier, stronger brother. He noticed that he was faster than the older ferret, and so started to use that fact to his advantage, going on the offensive aswell as the defensive. His brother managed to block all but the lightest, quickest blows, but Ferdinand could see trepidation creep into his brother's countenance.

Back and forth across the ring went the dueling ferrets. They were both tiring, but Ferdinand could tell that Christoph was more exhausted than he. Perhaps because Ferdinand defeated his opponents mostly through skill, while his brother mainly used brute force.

That thought had just formed itself when Christoph suddenly changed tactics slightly and started using less strength and more wilyness. Ferdinand was relieved, since his brother was much stronger than he was, but then slight trepidation entered and replaced his relief as he noticed that Christoph knew a few more techniques and stances than him. But the young ferret was still much faster.

The cheering crowd that had been rooting mostly for Christoph was now silent as the duel went on, twice as long as the longest fight before. The 2 ferrets were much slower than when they started, but they were still equally matched.

Then. Ferdinand darted forward, swinging his blade. Christoph batted it aside with arm-numbing strength, then roared as he sliced at his younger brothers neck.

Ferdinand vaguely heard Marie scream his name as he bent over backwards, his brother's sabre whistling as it past a mere inch away from his face. Coming back into a standing position, he awkwardly sliced up with his sword, hardly seeing what he was doing.

Christoph screamed as the blade sliced his left cheek, cutting a thin line from beside his mouth up to almost his temple. He stumbled back and clapped his paw to the wound, trying vainly to stem the blood pouring down his face to the collar of his tunic. Ferdinand took this opportunity to attack with renewed vigour, driving his brother back, back, then to his knees. Christoph scrambled back, his sword laying a good yard away, blood still covering half his face, terror flooding his eyes as his younger brother stood over him, the edge of his sabre pressed against the defeated ferret's throat.

The crowd was silent with awe and fear, and the air was still as if even the very wind was in shock. Ferdinand stood with his sword pressed against his brother's neck for a few minutes, then said in a loud, clear voice, "If thith had been a real fight, brother, I would not have thpared you. But I will now. Becauthe I am a warrior, and I have honour."

Christoph's mouth dropped open as the sword vanished from his throat. Then he gulped, lowered his gaze, and covered his eyes with a paw, and so surrendered.

The crowd erupted in wild cheers and broke into the ring, Tornac and Marie reaching Ferdinand first. The sable pounded him on the back, yelling that he knew he'd win. Marie threw her arms around he cousin's neck and kissed his cheek, but Ferdinand didn't have time to react because the crowd swept him up onto their shoulders and carried him to the winner's platform, placing a woven grass crown on his head and draping him in a royal purple, hooded, generously embroidered cloak that was a bit big for him. His father grudgingly pinned the winner's medal onto the young ferret's tunic. A ceremonial sabre with a gilt pawguard was placed in Ferdinand's paws.

As the night wore on and the feasting began, the toll of his many fights and tightly-wound emotions made Ferdinand slowly loose touch with reality. The last thing he remembered was clutching his sabres and a claw from the scores of crabs imported from the coast as Tornac picked him up with strong, safe, Daddy-like arms...

~*~

Ferdinand opened his eyes the next morning and looked around. His victor's cloak was draped across the foot of his bed. His woven crown was on his bedside table next to his medal, and his new sabre was leaning against the wall. He could hear Lizzie and Falcor talking about last night's fight in the other room. And he smiled.

Maybe life wasn't always going to be so horrible, after all...

~*~THE END

I'm terribly sorry this thing was so long. I shortened it as much as I could. But hooray! You read it through! Good job! (For those of you who just skipped to the end, go back and read it, plz.) Thanks for reading this. It explains why Ferdy doesn't talk very much unless he trusts a person. I did have to do some research for the fencing scene, so if y'all want to know what all I read and watched, I will provide a bibliography in the comments. Thanks again! :)

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