Abbot Durral was awake, but still dreaming.
He was inside Redwall Abbey, helping Rollo and the others to prepare for the Midsummer's feast. He was carting an immense cake over to the outside table, where Dibbuns were playfully romping about pretending to be bees.
"Now, now little'un..." he mumbled, "don't jostle me. You know how much the brother's like this cake. The cook really outdid himself. Hey, put that down, there. Haheheh, sit still, you. You're going to-"
The loud noise woke the Abbot to reality. Not in Redwall, but in the captain's quarters on a corsair ship where he'd been taken captive. Dingy wood and hard floors surrounded him on board this ship of Pirates.
And someone was knocking at the door.
"Who...who is it?"
"It's Romsca, Abbot! Open the bloody door already!"
Durral breathed a sigh of relief. It was Romsca, not the lizards. He went up to the door and undid the locking mechanism on the wooden door.
Romsca promptly burst in. The ferret corsair seemed irate - she had been arguing with Lazk again. She stepped in and nearly slammed the door on the Abbot's fingers.
"What were ye doing, sleeping? Ye WANT me to yell out where ye'are? Pay attention already! Listen!"
"I-i-I'm sorry, my daughter." Durral replied humbly.
This seemed to calm Romsca down slightly. "Don't call me 'Daughter', fer the last time. And don't worry, yer fine. No lizards 'round here. Here." She handed Durral a small bowl of something and a half-filled beaker. "Snuck these from the barracks. Eat up. It'll probably be yer last real food fer a while."
"Don't mention it. I gotta go change." Romsca walked over to the other side of the small room.
The ever-modest Abbot, upon seeing this, quickly turned around in his seat and began to eat. Romsca noticed his shift and let out a small chuckle before changing into her nightclothes.
It wasn't very tasty, but at this point Durral didn't care. The Corsair food laid heavily on his stomach and made him wish he was in Redwall again...
Now they were in the middle of the feast, the immense cake almost half gone. He was among friends now, and he started to chat again.
"Sister, what did you think of that cake? Like it? I found it very dry. Don't smear that over your face, littlun. You remind me of someone I knew. What a grand Midsummer's feast. Do you know any -"
Durral woke up to see a bewildered Romsca standing over him. She had changed, but the Abbot didn't see much difference between her corsair's rags and her bedclothes. But perhaps that was the case with all corsairs.
"Yer not goin' spacey on me, are ya, messmate?"
"What? Er, no, I was just...um... reminiscing."
"Ya always reminicse out loud?"
"Uhuh." Romsca went over to her hammock. "What were ya reminiscing 'bout?"
"Oh, the midsummer feast Redwall always has. We eat good food - our cook is phenomenal, you should taste his candied chestnuts and cake - oh, and the wine! Feels like sunlight in your mouth. I tired a bit of our new variety last Autumn's feast and oh, it was grand! I could go on forever, but my stomach can't handle it..."
"Hehahahah. Soun's lovely." Romsca chuckled. "What else did'ja do, or do ye just eat an' drink?"
Durral began to smile again. "Oh, we have games and entertainment, fishing contests, jugglers, clowns we bring in...although I recall one feast where we regretted bringing in clowns. Don't like to talk about that. But you should see the Dibbuns...that's what we call the little ones. They have a sack race, a fetch contest, a game where they get to throw fruit at each other until someone isn't wet. Hehah. I got a great stain on my Habit during the last Feast of Martin the Warrior..."
Romsca looked puzzled. "Midsummer's feast? Autumn feast? Feast o' Martin? D'ye Redwallers ever NOT have a feast?"
Durral laughed. "Hehah. We always celebrate when we feel we can celebrate. We only not celebrate when we have reason for concern..."
"Like when th' abbot's kidnapped?"
Durral stopped smiling, and there was a silence.
"Yeh - yes." Durral finally spoke.
Romsca, feeling a bit stupid, shuffled into her hammock. Eventually she broke the silence.
"Ya think yer mateys at the Abbey are gonna come up wit' the pearls?"
"Yes. I know they'll help me. I can count on them." Durral replied confidently.
Romsca smiled. "Help ya with or without the ransom, eh?"
"Heeeh. Wouldn't be surprised. That mouse from the beach...What was 'is name? The one wit' the sword."
"Martin, you mean. He's our Abbey warrior. He's named after the founder of Redwall, Martin the Warrior."
"A warrior called Warrior. Heeh. He seemed pretty determined. Good wit 'is sword. He'd make a good corsair."
Durral chuckled. "Perhaps."
Romsca yawned. "Get some sleep, Durral. Gonna be a long day tomorrow."
The Abbot lay down. "Good night, my daughter."
"Don't call me daughter, messmate..." Romsca mumbled before falling asleep.
Durral followed suit, dreaming about yet another Redwall feast.