Common Priggle
It was that time of the year again; when Mossflower Wood blushed from a deep green to the warm colors of fall. Creatures everywhere were preparing for the winter, often bitter in these parts. Sweet apples, plump strawberries, tasty roots: for the experienced woodlander, the woods were ripe for the picking.
Already the air carried a slight tinge of what was to come. A nipping wind straight from the Northern Mountains danced through the leaves, sending a shiver down everybeast's back. Safe inside the massive redstone walls yet sensing the breeze, Furlo glanced worriedly up at the sky, which was quickly filling up with gloomy clouds. A tiny grubby squirrel, having seen the same thing, peered over the sandstone ramparts upon which he was running around and shouted down to the hedgehog puttering in the luscious Abbey orchard:
-'ister Furlo, it'sa rainin' sooners I fink. We shouldda be goin' or we be gettin' wetted and mudyuck. Then Muvver Auma will calla Arven a maggit and tossa poo' Arven inna baff!
The fat hog chuckled at the irrepressible Dibbun and, gathering the last of the elderberries into his broad apron, replied in a gruff baritone:
-Well, young 'un, we can't 'ave none of that, can we? Come down 'ere and take that basket there and then we'd be a 'eadin' down to my cellar, away from this soonest mudyuck. Grinning at the thought of going down into the cellar, an area usually forbidden to small folk like him, Arven launched himself from the ramparts onto a pear tree and slid down into the Abbey grounds. Flicking his tail happily, the squirrel Dibbun grabbed the simply-woven basket filled with bright herbs and fruits and followed the Cellarhog towards the broad sandstone steps leading into the Great Hall. As the pair arrived at the steps, surrounded by like-minded Abbey-dwellers, fat drops of rain started to tumble down, turning their beloved Abbey from a dusky pink to a deep red. Hurriedly, Furlo shoved the mighty doors open and shooed everyone into the Hall, muttering:
-Dearie me, I can't unnerstand this weather here. Sunshine, rain, sunshine, rain... it's a botherin' my head! The storm was in full swing, the rain pelting the multicolored windows of the Hall. The wind raged at the Abbey, rattling the panes and doors and shaking the orchard. But, down in his cozy Cellars, Furlo didn't feel or hear a thing. Neither did Arven, who was dancing around the large barrels and singing:
-Boom crash bang bang the stormers go boom crash- ooohh, 'ister Furlo, watcha doin'?
-I'm makin' some of that these elderberry cordial ye young 'uns fancy so much.
The squirrel watched in fascination as the heavy yet delicate hands of the hedgehog crushed each elderberry and picked out the tiny seeds. Then he picked up the resulting mash and tipped it into a heavy iron saucepan. Grabbing a beaker, he poured water over it, turning the mixture into a soupy black mess.
-Eeeewww, 'ister Furlo, that looksees ver' ickyyuck an' not cordjul!
-Wait a tick, young 'un and 'afore ye'd know it, we'll be 'avin' usselves some cordial.
With that said, Furlo pulled a small white packet out of his apron pocket and opened it over the saucepan. He then shook it, releasing a brown waterfall of tiny sugar grains. After some heavy mixing, he dipped his paw in for a taste. After some unintelligible murmurs, he held the pan out to Arven and offered:
-'Ave a taste there, ye maggit. 'Ows that in the way of sweetness?
Arven gravely dipped his little paw in and sucked it, frowning in concentration.
-Me finks ver' good. But stilla not cordjul.
-Alright there, hold on to yer smock. Now 'tis boilin' time! Go stand in there corner, young Arven, miss Auma will have me for brekkers if I was burnin' ye.
-Teeeheeeee, Furlo for yumyum brekkers! I gonna in corner but hurryfast 'ister Furlo, I'ms firsty! -There, now, what are you thinkin' of my cordial?
Arven nodded enthusiastically, his head submerged in a beaker of fresh cordial. Wiping his brow with his hat, Furlo turned back to the new kilderkin and, taking a piece of charcoal, carefully inscribed in clumsy letters on the lid:
ELDURBERRI KORJULL
Well, Cellarhogs have never been known for their learning, have they? It's their brews that have such a reputation. If you ever happen to drop by the Abbey, try some and you'll see!
Renaissance.
-Overlay by
Sui- (full-size).
-Forest image found here and abbey here.
Already the air carried a slight tinge of what was to come. A nipping wind straight from the Northern Mountains danced through the leaves, sending a shiver down everybeast's back. Safe inside the massive redstone walls yet sensing the breeze, Furlo glanced worriedly up at the sky, which was quickly filling up with gloomy clouds. A tiny grubby squirrel, having seen the same thing, peered over the sandstone ramparts upon which he was running around and shouted down to the hedgehog puttering in the luscious Abbey orchard:
-'ister Furlo, it'sa rainin' sooners I fink. We shouldda be goin' or we be gettin' wetted and mudyuck. Then Muvver Auma will calla Arven a maggit and tossa poo' Arven inna baff!
The fat hog chuckled at the irrepressible Dibbun and, gathering the last of the elderberries into his broad apron, replied in a gruff baritone:
-Well, young 'un, we can't 'ave none of that, can we? Come down 'ere and take that basket there and then we'd be a 'eadin' down to my cellar, away from this soonest mudyuck. Grinning at the thought of going down into the cellar, an area usually forbidden to small folk like him, Arven launched himself from the ramparts onto a pear tree and slid down into the Abbey grounds. Flicking his tail happily, the squirrel Dibbun grabbed the simply-woven basket filled with bright herbs and fruits and followed the Cellarhog towards the broad sandstone steps leading into the Great Hall. As the pair arrived at the steps, surrounded by like-minded Abbey-dwellers, fat drops of rain started to tumble down, turning their beloved Abbey from a dusky pink to a deep red. Hurriedly, Furlo shoved the mighty doors open and shooed everyone into the Hall, muttering:
-Dearie me, I can't unnerstand this weather here. Sunshine, rain, sunshine, rain... it's a botherin' my head! The storm was in full swing, the rain pelting the multicolored windows of the Hall. The wind raged at the Abbey, rattling the panes and doors and shaking the orchard. But, down in his cozy Cellars, Furlo didn't feel or hear a thing. Neither did Arven, who was dancing around the large barrels and singing:
-Boom crash bang bang the stormers go boom crash- ooohh, 'ister Furlo, watcha doin'?
-I'm makin' some of that these elderberry cordial ye young 'uns fancy so much.
The squirrel watched in fascination as the heavy yet delicate hands of the hedgehog crushed each elderberry and picked out the tiny seeds. Then he picked up the resulting mash and tipped it into a heavy iron saucepan. Grabbing a beaker, he poured water over it, turning the mixture into a soupy black mess.
-Eeeewww, 'ister Furlo, that looksees ver' ickyyuck an' not cordjul!
-Wait a tick, young 'un and 'afore ye'd know it, we'll be 'avin' usselves some cordial.
With that said, Furlo pulled a small white packet out of his apron pocket and opened it over the saucepan. He then shook it, releasing a brown waterfall of tiny sugar grains. After some heavy mixing, he dipped his paw in for a taste. After some unintelligible murmurs, he held the pan out to Arven and offered:
-'Ave a taste there, ye maggit. 'Ows that in the way of sweetness?
Arven gravely dipped his little paw in and sucked it, frowning in concentration.
-Me finks ver' good. But stilla not cordjul.
-Alright there, hold on to yer smock. Now 'tis boilin' time! Go stand in there corner, young Arven, miss Auma will have me for brekkers if I was burnin' ye.
-Teeeheeeee, Furlo for yumyum brekkers! I gonna in corner but hurryfast 'ister Furlo, I'ms firsty! -There, now, what are you thinkin' of my cordial?
Arven nodded enthusiastically, his head submerged in a beaker of fresh cordial. Wiping his brow with his hat, Furlo turned back to the new kilderkin and, taking a piece of charcoal, carefully inscribed in clumsy letters on the lid:
Renaissance.
-Overlay by
Sui- (full-size).
-Forest image found here and abbey here.
