Nostalgia Piece: In My Own Words

Author's Note: This piece is a bit of nostalgia for me. I wrote this between September 2013- March 2014 (theoretically, you can trace this piece back to 2012, for most of this is based off a dream I had).

This is not going to be the best piece of work in the world. I'm putting it up to show growth in Reepicheep's characterization and to present the origins of a plot-line which has grown substantially better over the past year. This was originally going to be my first Reepicheep fanfiction but it was scrapped due to reasons.

This is the closest piece to my first original piece, The Kings of the World, without actually being said piece.

This is also the first appearance of the name Kashmir, however, the character however was at one point called Hyperion and has been used since 2011.

Chapter I:

The day my life changed would be the day this poor friendless soul, whose name was Eustace, stole an orange. I, being a good sport, gave him a few lessons in, well gentlemanly behavior some might call it. Ha, ha! What a show that was, what effort he gave! I was so proud of him. Then about thirty seconds after, something amazing happened. In one of the sandbags, hanging from the ropes of the mast, you know, the one's that keep the sails in check, well, one of them just so happened to be moving as if someone were trapped in there. I was about to go and help whoever this poor soul was when the bag just ripped open. Spilling sand everywhere! It was like an annoying snow, it covered everything, and I was not a happy mouse I can tell you that. No sir, I was furious, for I had just finished deck detail, and was not about to do it again. I walked over to a bleeding kinsman who fell from the great height of the mast and said to him. "I suspect that you'll be giving me a hand in all this."

He replied with an apparent painful attempt at sitting up. I almost felt sorry for him, so naturally I apologized in the only way I knew how. I walked over and helped him up, standing, this mouse was a bit larger than me, he was obviously a skilled fighter, a proud warrior. He extended his paw and shook mine, with a firm and gentle smile he said. "Hello sir, terribly sorry about the mess, I'll take care of it."

He turned around and was about to start sweeping with a nearby broom, the broom that I would normally use, when I stopped him.

"Pardon me sir," I said, "but what is that on mark on your back?" He didn't answer with words, he just looked at me, as if the answer to that question were the most painful thing in the world to him. "Forget I asked." I quickly responded and left him to his work.

I walked away, en route to get a water bucket for my kinsman to use when I saw Eustace staring out at the ocean, looking as if he had lost something. "Lose something?" I asked.

"What?" He said turning towards me.

"I said did you lose something?" I replied with in truth, little interest if he did or not.

"I just want to go home." Eustace said, in the same way he always did, at about the same time every day. Frankly it was getting on my nerves. Stop complaining and learn to live with it. I said to him once. He responded with a roll of the eyes a quick smile and a nod that told me that he really didn't care about what I have to say anymore. I never let it bother me though. Like I said, I knew that he was born to do something.

Just then my kinsman came up to me, presenting me with a clean and spotless deck. I smiled, impressed with his efficiency.

"Well," I said to him, "I believe I owe you an introduction." I cleared my throat, I'm not afraid to admit it, but I was a bit of a ham. "Reepicheep, Chief Mouse at your service." I bowed a bit, for some reason I always said the last part. It really doesn't mean anything. I've always said that titles do not make men, men make titles. I have told this to Caspian several times, but he never seems to listen. I waited for my kinsman to answer with his name. He looked at me in confusion, as if he was trying to recall something from a distant past.

"My name?" He asked. I nodded, waiting patiently with a smile.

"My n-n-name?" He stuttered.

Afraid to say anything, I was surprised that he wasn't shaking in the knees and spewing chunks of food all over the place.

"Are you alright?" I asked him.

He shook his head.

"Can you remember your name?" I said, hoping to get something out of him.

"T-t-t-two, z-z-zero, t-t-t-two, s-s-s-seven, s-s-six, f-f-f-five."

202,765. I had no idea what that meant. It was obviously a number, and I doubt that was really his name. I was about to say something along the lines of, "Are you called by anything else?" when he showed me his tattoo. It was located on the outer left forearm, underneath his top layer of fur. There it was, staring right at me, the number 202,765. I wanted to help this poor creature who couldn't remember his name, or anything that sounded like a name, so I gave him one, for myself only mind you, I would never actually say this to his face. I called this mouse, who I will call at this point, Stenreep, which loosely translates to "brother of Reepicheep", which I strangely felt that he was.

"Who did this to you?" I asked him.

"Doctors." He said.

"Well, rest assured there are no doctors of that kind here. We'll take care of you." I assured him but he didn't seem convinced. He had that look in his eye, the look of fear, of pleading for help, and he was explicitly asking me.

"Do you need anything?" I asked, wanting to change the subject. Stenreep looked at me and then at his stomach, which I noticed was thinner than usual, he may have been larger than me, I was certainly fatter than he was, and for a mouse, I was rather slimming.

Without question I led him to the cellar to pick and choose to his content, I was expecting him to gorge and binge, but I would underestimate him severely.

I stood watch from the cellar floor as he crawled about the shelves, looking for what appeared to be a particular food. "Need help finding something?" I asked.

"Where do you keep your olive oil, water, and grapes?" He asked. I was puzzled, for he was very specific and it was an odd arrangement.

"Olive oil is on the top shelf right hand side, water is in the barrel directly below you, and the grapes are on the far end of the middle shelf." I answered. Stenreep scurried off to the grapes first, then the olive oil and slowly made his way down to the water. I climbed up the orange barrel to see what he was up to. He stood on the ledge and held out the grape and olive oil bottle as if he were about to drop into the water barrel. His eyes were closed and his tail was waving back and forth slowly, as if in meditation. I stood silent, waiting to see what he would do, and for a long time he just stood there. I almost gave up when suddenly he spoke.

"Brother Reepicheep, do you believe in the power of life and death?"

"Yes I do kinsman."

"What exactly do you believe?" He said.

"I believe in life, for death is only momentary, for he holds you and let's go you almost instantly." I replied, trying to be as helpful as I could. He was troubled, and looked to me as if he were about to end it all. He dropped the grape at his feet, and poured some olive oil on it. He turned and walked away, with olive oil in hand, and stood next to me, watching the grape. I watched too, hoping that there was a purpose to all this.

We waited for hours, and when night began to fall, I was about to curl up and fall asleep, when suddenly out of the shadows, appeared a beautiful young girl, perhaps seven or eight. She walked over to us, she was wearing a yellow dress with white flowers. Her face was covered with dirt, and she smelled of corpses as if she had woken up from her death. She took the grape and smiled at Stenreep, who nodded, signaling her to eat it. She did.

"Will it help?" She asked after she had swallowed.

"With pain, no? With grief? no." Stenreep answered, "but perhaps, it can give you hope."

"What sort of hope?" She asked, with her blue eyes that I couldn't escape from.

"The hope that life goes on." Stenreep responded. The girl moved to embrace him and cried tears that to me were all too familiar. For I had cried them. They were not tears of sadness, grief, or fear, but tears of joy, acceptance, and of love, something that cannot be described in words.

"I know it isn't what you wanted from me Marian," my brother answered, "but I hope you realize that you're not alone."

She nodded. Stenreep continued, "Your parents would've been so proud of you, I know I am."

"Thank you." Marian replied softly, letting go of her friend.

"For what?" said the mouse. I smiled, I already knew her answer. "For saving my life." I mouthed it, she spoke it. She noticed me, I bowed. She turned back to the other.

"I have done nothing Marian, nothing except be your friend. I have saved you from nothing, no perils, no nightmares, and no tortures. I am just as useless as a flower when it comes to war. I am merely a doctor who has lost his equipment." I smiled again, for once again I knew her response. My mouth stood still this time.

"Your equipment my friend is your heart and your heart has saved me. That's all I ever wanted." Marian said.

"To be saved?" Stenreep asked.

"To be loved, to be someone's friend, to be a daughter to someone." Marian replied. My heart was breaking, her longing for home, for light in darkness, for hope. All of these things I realized were the very things I was searching for, and for some reason she saw all of this in the one I call Stenreep. I looked over at him, and understood. His smile, his disposition, his heart, which was open, his mind was clear. All of this could been seen from his humility, and by what he said next:

"I can never replace a parent, but I can certainly love you, and I can most definitely be your friend."

She started crying again. "Will I ever see them again?"

I nodded.

"Yes my dear," Stenreep replied, with a loving, heartwarming voice that almost made me tear up, "you shall see them one day. Until then they will never leave you, they will be like the sun, the stars, and the moon, always present, always watching, and always consistent."

She nodded once more, "Thank you." She stepped back into the shadow which she came, looking fearful of going back to the place she came from.

Stenreep smiled, "You'll be alright, don't be afraid." He said sensing her fear. "Never run from fear, for it does not exist. Never run from Death, for he does not prevail." Marian smiled and disappeared into darkness, and for a moment, I could sense that she was smiling.

Dawn arrived by that time and we had emerged onto the deck. The crew beginning to have breakfast, the same old thing, oats, wheat and fish. Oats, wheat and fish. Oats, wheat, and fish. Did I mention oats, wheat and fish? Because that's all there was. We ate the same damn thing every day for breakfast, lunch, and dinner. I was getting tired of it.

I escorted Stenreep to the line. He grabbed his plate and utensils, and stood there like everybody else, but when it got to be his turn to receive food he flinched and ducked a bit, as if he were afraid of it. He cowered behind his plate.

"Bitte Rühre mich nicht, ich werde, ich werde senden!" He cried.

What? I had no idea what was happening, but it doesn't take a genius to know that he was deathly afraid. The cooks were laughing at him as I approached. "It seems that you need to rub off on your relative there 'ey Reep!" They cried with hoots and hollers. Stenreep was shaking, he was bracing himself for a thrashing, his eyes were closed painfully tight and sweat poured from him. I gave a threatening stare towards the cook crew, and led Stenreep towards the stern of the ship.

He threw his plate and fork down on the ground as if he were angry at the world. He broke down right in front of me. This is where my sympathy stopped.

"No, you're not going to do that." I ordered, if there was one thing I absolutely hate is when people break down because of fear.

Stenreep just fell on the deck, and cried, "I'm sorry," he said to no one in particular. "I can't be there to save you." He turned over on his back and looked at the sky, "Kashmir!" He cried. Who? I thought he was delusional, perhaps the sea was getting to his head.

"Kashmir! Carry me, carry me, carry me!" He sat up, extended both arms as if he were praising something. He smiled and laughed hysterically, "You're dead!" He laughed again, this time louder with a deep bass.

Everyone turned towards our direction and stopped all conversation. I turned towards everyone who was expecting me to say something, but I can't be expected to say elegant speeches twenty-four seven now can I? Stenreep began babbling on about some sort of camp, as if it were the most interesting subject in the world. According to him it was pure torture. Literally. Everyone was malnourished, beaten to a pulp constantly, cussed at, pardon my French here, pissed on, forced into slavery, crying and death were commonplace, and everyone was gloomy. Then he said something that made everyone's heart break.

"The children's shoes. The mountain of them, rising higher than Olympus, the dead bodies, naked, defiled, and fear stricken, here is where the world ends. The train pulls in everyday, carrying more, the same number that come in are the same number that die. All of it for no reason." He looked at me, with big tearful eyes, "It's for no damn fucking reason at all!" He broke down at my feet, begging me either to end his life or to help start it. I choose the later.

I don't do embraces much, but I felt like I could make an exception for a broken soul who needing mending. I stood him up and hugged him, something that he probably hasn't felt in several years because he didn't know how to react. He just took it, and looked out onto the sea.

"Kashmir where did you go to?" He said.

I let go of him, having enough hugging to last me the rest of my life. "Who is that sir?" I asked, part in curiosity and part because if this Kashmir person could make him feel better, I would become desperate to find him, for there is only so much sadness and pity one could take.

"He is a bird," Stenreep answered, "a faithful friend, and-" he paused, the sound of splashing and thrashing in the water.

He quickly made his way over to the rail, climbing the small wall and standing on it, surveying the surrounding area. On starboard (the right side of the ship if one were facing the bow for all of you non-mariners) swimming, fighting or drowning, for it was difficult to tell with all the jerky movements this fellow was making, was an owl. To me it looked like he was doing all three.

"Die damn you!" The owl screamed.

Well I got the fighting part down.

He clawed and battered whatever it was that seemed to be keeping him in one place, and it seemed to be relatively easy for him to escape. Whatever it was that was holding him, it wasn't very strong and probably shouldn't have done anything in the first place. It was a useless attempt. He looked down at the sea, seeing for the first time what it was that was grabbing him. His face was unforgettable, regret consumed him and he plunged into the depths. I thought he was crazy.

"He's insane." I said aloud, "Owls aren't particularly known for their-" I was stopped in mid-sentence because this owl was not an ordinary owl. He surfaced, carrying in gently in his talons, the body of an unconscious man carrying a child in his free hand. They both appeared dead, I sure thought so.

The owl flew towards the ship, landing safely and as gently as he could. Stenreep jumped down from the railing and scurried over to the two seemingly lifeless souls. The bird stood over him.

"What do you need?" He asked.

"Dish rags, a bucket of cold water, soap, needle, thread, alcohol, gauze, and a bit of luck." Stenreep said.

The owl nodded and was off to make deliveries. The bird was completely helpless as the crew had stupefied faces to not lend a hand. I of course did, and grabbed what I knew I could. It took a while, but I managed to tow three dish rags, needle, thread, some gauze, and started praying that I was lucky.

The owl finally convinced Tavros, the minotaur, and Eustace of all people, to assist him. Together they grabbed the bucket of water, soap, alcohol, and each prayed that they were lucky.

When all the supplies were gathered, Stenreep started cleaning the wounds of the man and his child. It looked pretty hopeless.

"Are they dead?" Eustace asked.

Stenreep stopped his procedure, "I wouldn't jump to conclusions just yet."

He opened their eyes and looked at their pupils, they were moving, but just barely.

"Comrade," the owl said placing a wing on Stenreep's shoulder "it's over, I'm sorry."

Stenreep shook his head, "I sick of tired of death Kashmir!' He screamed, "If I could, believe me I would stop it."

"We all wish for those things sir." I said, I quickly realized that I shouldn't have said that.

Stenreep, looked at me. If rage had a definition, I was looking at it.

"DON'T YOU DARE SAY THAT AGAIN!" He bellowed demonically. Apparently I messed with a switch, because he started advancing towards me as if he were about to kill me. I instinctively drew my blade, not really wanting to get into a duel, but it was just to be safe.

Stenreep laughed despicably, "I'm dreadfully sorry about this." He said, advancing and pulling out a curved sword. \

It was magnificent, silver, sharper than a dragon tooth, and could cut through a human leg. I knew. He was obviously a more trained hand than me, that or knew something I didn't, but that didn't necessarily stop me.

"Listen to me," I said, "there is something wrong with you, you're not yourself."

To be frank, I have never known this mouse to be himself, because all I ever saw him as was troubled. I knew that he was going through pain, some type of misery, and the suppression of these emotions were finally being spilled out onto the floor in front of me. He was just about to strike when Kashmir grabbed his back and pull him away back towards the presumed dead bodies, I sheathed my blade and saw Stenreep looking at the bird with all the malice in the world.

"Get out of my way!" He barked.

"No," Kashmir said shaking his head, "you aren't going to become one of them." He said, "I'm not going to let you fall."

Stenreep laughed, "Fall? I have already fallen!"

The owl raised a talon and struck him so hard to the head that Stenreep was bleeding on the deck less than two seconds later. Kashmir stood over him like a giant, about to crush and do him in. "The Germans have made you a mind slave now?"

Kashmir grabbed the mouse in his talons, which judging by the look of them have had years of target practice and were about to put those hard earned years to the test.

"Don't kill him." I said.

Kashmir looked at me, "Believe me I don't want to, but I might have to."

I nodded and produced my blade again, "Just be prepared to face me if you do."

"Why is that?" Kashmir answered.

"Marian." I said.

"Marian?" Kashmir looked at my friend with confused and hopeful eyes, "she's alive?"

Stenreep nodded. "She is."

Kashmir let him go, I still keep my blade handy, I wasn't about to let my guard down. Personally, I don't trust owls, or any bird for that matter, for obvious reasons. Just then the man whom I thought was dead slowly opened his eyes, as if the mention of Marian's name was the magic cure of his spell.

"M-m-Marian?" He stuttered and looked around, seeing if she was there.

Eustace looked over and immediately recognized him. "Godfather Henri?"

The man looked up and saw Eustace, smiled a bit, and knew he was safe. "Eustace!" He cried with all the strength he could muster.

Kashmir and Stenreep quickly moved out of the way to let Henri up. After which, Henri embraced his godchild. "It's been too long Eustace, far too long."

Eustace asked a rather stupid question, "How are you?"

As they were catching up on Eustace's boring life, and Henri's miserable one, I looked over to the child. He was a young boy of age seven, and by the looks of things he was undoubtedly dead. Stenreep checked his pulse. When he was finished he made a cross like symbol and hung his head. I removed my feather and bowed slowly and gave solemn rites: "Take this child into your embrace, whatever war caused this, make it cease, let it be over and done with, and may all wars end justly."

I lifted my head once it was finished, and noticed that Stenreep wasn't finished. His head was still bowed, his eyes were watered, but a tear did not fall.

I noticed that Eustace and Henri turned and noticed the commotion. Henri shook his head and fell to his knees next to me. He cried.

"Not Samuel," he cried underneath the tears. "Not him!" He wept, his salty grief got all over my fur, but I didn't care in the slightest. Here was a man who was grieving his eyes out and he was doing it all over me. I didn't move, I just let it take its course. Henri had every right to drown me out with tears, and I had every right to join him.