The cool stones were well familiar beneath aged paws. Over seasons of care, a pattern of movement had treaded itself into the memory of these stones; the path remembering the walker as much as the walker the path. To the hedgehog warden of these casks and barrels, those stones may as well have been the softest and most comfortable of walking paths. To Ellis of the Tap, the weighty atmosphere laden with the knowledge and flavors of innumerable seasons was Home. He traversed it on this most important of days now with a most sacred task in paw. In fact, his paw rises now and, with a languorousness born from confidence and practice alike, raps upon the lid of a cask. A gentle thud bounced back to his ears. "Three quarters." He responded immediately, his words sparking the movements of his till-now silent follower. The younger Hedgehog, Grant, swiftly penned down this declaration on a parchment he bore. "Hm..." Ellis continued, before tapping the wood again and listening closer. "...Four-Fifths, to be true." Grant paused, then rectified his inventory. "Father, I'm quite proud of that one." The younger spikebeast added with a chittering tone. "I think it's ready, and it [i]is[/i] Nameday-" "Lad, tis ready." Ellis assuaged his son's ramble before it could even begin. "The fifth missing has been my own sippin' and samplin'. I got downright tipsy with the brew preparing for the feast. You did good with it; Buttercup, for sure, and I taste Burdock- strange comb'nation, but ye've got the quantities well enough. You sof'nd the bitterness well, tis some honey in there, but the brew has some bite! Sipping draft, not a quaffing ale, for true. There is a hint of something else to it, what craftiness gripped you?" Ellis played the coy mentor for now, trying to stoke Grant's confidence with some light praise and analysis. If the young man could have the confidence with the Craft that he did with the maidens, Redwall would never remember sobriety! Beaming, Grant replied; "A taste of Chestnut, father." "Ah! That marks the smoothness beneath! Well made, lad, well made. It bites the tongue, soothes, then slides down soft. I 'spect it'll go well. Did ye name it right?" "I've been calling it Chestnut Bitters." "...Decent enough, rolls off the tongue. Bit like the brew, that name; it'll do. Keep it on the list. Mm...What does that put us at for the preparin'?" "The last of elder October Ale stores, we've plenty of a newer brew to supplement needs, as well as plentiful Strawberry Cordial and Nutbrown..." The two followed the familiar path as Grant's voice filled the air; after a few moments, Ellis was no longer listening to his son. The words in the air carried with them familiar tones, the way the sound bounced off the stones was soothing to the greying Hedgehog, but he found himself listening not to the content of the words and rather the sounds. The way they flowed through this most sacred of places, the way the wood of the barrels and the stones of the cellar amplified and carried them. His eyes shut and he walked the familiar paths of the Cellar as the sounds reverberated and echoed around him in their soft and subtle ways. When the sounds finally made their convoluted adventure back to Ellis' mind, twas a strange occurrence indeed; [i]"Ellis, my love, you canst be resting upon your feet just yet."[/i] Ellis went stock still, suddenly rigid- his spikes rising briefly and causing Grant to stumble to a halt. "--Is everything alright, Father?" Ellis tensed, his eyes opening wide. He let out a breath he hadn't realized he'd been holding and suddenly thumped a paw into the palm of its companion with gusto. "There should still be a bit of the Wildberry an' pear cordial, aye?" "Aye." Grant allowed, his eyes studying the elder with concern. "Then let us rid ourselves of it on this day, add it to the list. I was tryin' to 'member which of the brews was running empty and it finally came back to me jus' now." His spines relaxed, returning him to his admittedly still impressive stature for a Hedgehog; a stature that Grant himself was steadily approaching as the seasons carried on. "Now harken to me lad, listen well; my eyes need some proper light after spending the morn' doing this, I'm goin' to be trusting you to handle the rest of the sampling and servicing whilst I go check on affairs above and make sure there isn't some small request or preference we'd be missin'. Nobeast deserves to go through a Nameday with disappointment on their tongue." And before Grant could fully formulate a response, Ellis was barreling his way through the cellars with Haste. Grant looked down at the parchment in his hands, then around at the various casks and barrels now left to his sole purview. "...Aye, sampling indeed. Gotta make sure it all tastes tip-top for the Nameday. Aye... Better start with the Strawberry...Needs straining...and sampling..." [hr] Ellis' haste brought him out from the cellars in short order. He let out a huff as he hefted the cellar doors closed, dusting his hands off unnecessarily to mark the conclusion of a task. "Mm... Need to be rememberin' to take it easy on stairs." He muttered to himself, before turning and adjusting his gait to a more natural and calm pace. His eyes were open now, but narrowed still; that voice he'd heard had troubled him, sent him into a remembering mood. It had been [i]her[/i]... "Good day to ye fellows." He said in a polite and warm manner, stopping by the doors to the Abbey as Rigby, Zaris, and company, approached. The bulk of the Hedgehog transitioned itself out of the way as they approached. He was all smiles and good cheer. "Welcome to Redwall, and on Nameday too!" He offered towards the Vermin. "Tis a good day to visit. Hope you lot are hungry; I know I am!" He began to walk back down the path, nodding to Rigby then to Zaris. His spikes rose fractionally, then settled back down, as he passed the Vermin. He had offered the vermin an inviting warmth that those familiar with his history, but not with the Hedgehog himself, would find puzzling at first glance. Briefly he extended a paw to Zaris and pat him companionably upon the shoulder in passing, but said nothing further as he made his way towards the gate and out into Mossflower Country. His wanderings did not take him far from the vaunted abbey walls. His meandering gait lead him down the path and towards the wood, sure footfalls soon leaving the beaten path and guiding him to a bend in the River Moss. Kneeling down at its bank, the greying creature stuck a paw into its cool waters as the wind flowed around him. If he closed his eyes and made himself let go of the now, the wind almost sounded like a voice to him- some far off whisper reaching his ears. Stirring old memories, bringing a chill to his bones, and filling him with a mortality. Silence reigned for a time, until at last Ellis' voice rose out over the River's Bend; [i] Adelaide. Oh, Adelaide. A time had come again Where I could hear you... Adelaide. Oh, Adelaide. You greet me in mem'ry You hold me in song! Your smile always was sweet to me... It has been so long! Beloved, oh sweetness of my life! What more is there? What more tasks my life? Why can't I rest yet? Why can't I stop? The boy is yet grown; I've tended that crop. Adelaide! Oh, Adelaide! I see you in him, my dear! The way he walks The way he talks It keeps you, oh Adelaide! It keeps you so very near! I can hear you, my dear... Speak up, let me hear what you say! Speak up, dearest Adelaide, before your voice fades...Away... [/i] His baritone trembled as the song came to an end, strength seeming to sap from the hedgehog's shoulders as he stooped to dip his paw back into the river. The wind coiled through the air and seemed to grow calmer to his ears. He heaved a quiet sigh and pulled his paw from the river to wipe at his cheeks. "Tis not a day for rain." He mumbled quietly to himself. "Hoist thyself, Ellis of the Tap, and carry the spirit with you." Strength surged back into his limbs and body as he rose up, leaving this most sacred of places- where the bend met the wood, where the sunlight gleamed with mirth through the trees overhead, where the wildflowers grew in thick, where he and Adelaide had spent many a moonlight hour- as he returned to Redwall Abbey. The lad could handle the Cellar; someone had best see that those glorious smells weren't being disrupted by some well-meaning mischief. Taps aren't the only thing that needs sampling, after all, and some dibbuns grow older without growing up...