Loamhedge Quotes II

Picture by Dawnfinder
"I couldn't really say, missy, but one thing's shore, we ain't goin' to Redwall. 'Tis Loamhedge we want. So stop lookin' backwards an' let's go for'ard."

Toran felt that Carrul had taken enough verbal fencing. Recalling the arrow which had been shot to slay his Abbot, he came forward, placing himself in front of Carrul. In one paw he held a long cook's knife; in the other, a pepper bomb. "Wot would ye like, silvertongue-a bit o' this or a bit o' that?" He indicated both weapons as he spoke. "Make yore choice, 'cos that's all ye'll get from us. Redwallers aren't born fools. We know scum, even when they try to talk fancy!"

Time stood still, Martha's voice had deserted her. She was holding herself up with her paws still gripping the chair arms. In front of her, Abbot Carrul stood, smiling at the haremaid and cheering lustily. Behind him, the Searat raised his dagger, preparing to stab at the Abbot's unprotected back. Alarm bells were clanging furiously in Martha's brain, coupled with the voice of Martin the Warrior, thundering at her, "Save your Abbot!" It was over in a flash! Martha stood upright. Charging past Carrul and pushing him to one side, she hit the Searat, knocking him right out of the dormitory window. Toran came bulling forward. He grasped the haremaid's waist, pulling her back into the room. "You walked, Martha! You walked! You walked! You walked!"

"So you never did anything, you were nowhere near, it all had nought to do with you, you are innocent of everything? How many times has that same excuse been made? Think of every bully, cheat, plunderer or murderer before you who has lied with those same words. Once a villain is caught with no pack around him, then everybeast is to blame, except himself, of course.
He will lie, betray and cheat to save his hide. But sometimes there is justice in this world, and fate catches up with him. So speak truly to me, or you will die slowly. You have my word on it-and I never lie."

"Barrum, babba, whum! Pole to the beat o' the drum!/Our Cap'n is a bad ole shrew, I wish I never signed to roam./He feeds us worms and mudpies,too,/oh ma, let me come sailin' home./Barrum babba whum! Pole to the beat o' the drum!"

Saro wiped mud and moss from her paws. "See, we never killed ye after all." Springald muttered under her breath. "Pity."

"Me'n Saro knows wot we're doin'. We can't look after three young 'uns who are still wet be'ind the ears, we've lived one summer too long fer all that!"