Chapter Text
“You’re always reading a story from one of those weird books,” Ludwig chided, a small pout emerging on his baby face. “It’s fun and interesting,” he quickly defended. “But sometimes, they get predictable.”
Gilbert, who was about to lift the leather bound cover and start the daily routine of reading his little brother bed-time stories, chuckled at the adorable defiance. “You’re already voicing the radical. Not bad.”
“Well, it’s true.” The boy sank lower into his mattress, hugging the hand-stitched hand animal Imelda had spent one and a half hour of her long immortal life making. It was a little, well, some feline creature, with a blue and a green button for eyes that Ludwig sometimes liked to press. He had named it Herr Jonah. “They’re sometimes predictable. And,” he squinted his eyes, eyeing his brother with suspicion. “I know you change the story half way through.”
“How did you find that out?!” The Prussian feigned surprise. “I thought the theatre inside me was still burning away, smoking like a hot chimney!” He dramatically placed the back of his palm on his forehead, making Ludwig giggle and roll his eyes. “I can only improve now,” Gilbert looked to the floor with an excellent face of hopelessness. “But how can I, when everybody else is so much better?”
“You become better than them!” Ludwig offered, stretching out his tiny hands as if his answer settled everything.
“But they all are already better than me, Ludwig.” The little boy was loving the act, already giggling and feeling the urge to take part in it. “I don’t know what to do! Oh, what do I do?!”
“You destroy them!” Ludwig’s childish voice made the ill-sounding suggestion absolutely adorable. “And if they don’t stand anymore, you’ve become better than them!”
Something took place in Gilbert’s face. A sudden shift in emotion — from the immaculate mock tragedy to a sudden bolt of shock — but it was immediately covered up with another theatrical expression. Fear. “Oh, Ludwig.” He bent down and poked his nose. I simply cannot do that! For if I destroy everyone, who else will I perform to?”
“Hmm, you do have a point.” The little boy’s face scrunched into thought. “An actor without an audience is merely a day-dreamer. Let’s see……….” He looked around the dark room being only lit by the candle Gilbert held and the half-moon’s light from the curtained windows. His eyes finally found the rag-doll he was hugging.
“You’ll have my ears!” His voice simmered with excitement, too hyperactive for a child to have at half-past nine. “And, sometimes, when I’ll be away doing my exercise, you’ll have Herr Jonah to act for.”
Something happened in Gilbert’s face again. The feigned fearful expression, for a split second, turned into a look of confusion, before it showed actual fear. Then again, as skilfully as ever, it was hidden.
But Gilbert did not continue to act. He, on the other hand, dropped the act and gave Ludwig a small smile.
“I cannot perform to Herr Jonah.”
“Why not?” He took the toy he had stretched out as an offering, and eyed every fibre of the ragged thing — its every fibre already burnt into his brain.
“Because he’s got buttons for eyes,” he gave a small chuckle. “Not ones made of flesh.”
“Really?” Ludwig pressed the buttons again. “But he can see me!” He argued. “And I can see him too. He talks to me too! See?” He almost shoved the doll into the candle flame. “He said he’s going to burn if I move him too close.”
Gilbert laughed out aloud. “And this is why you never tell her to make things. Now you’re hallucinating about a little friend playing with you.”
“I’m not hallucinating!” He quickly hugged the doll again, afraid that it would somehow disappear. “And I have two friends. Herr. Johan, and well,” his voice trailed off. “Is it normal if you don’t know the name of your friend?”
Gilbert raised an eyebrow. “Oh dear, you don’t know his name? Well, unless he is nameless, then yes, very concerning.”
“But he doesn’t want to tell me!” He whined. “He says it’s a secret that he’ll tell me when I’m older.”
Gilbert let out a breath that was supposed to be a laugh but sounded like relief. “Oh, well then that’s a secret. You gotta wait till you’re older.”
“Then what do I refer to him as?” The whiny tone returned.
“I don’t know, you just call out for him.” He shrugged.
“But what if he’s asleep.”
“Then you should let him sleep.” The older man’s face turned into a soft yet stern expression. “You don’t disturb people when they sleep.”
“Oh,” there was something akin to disappointment in the little boy’s voice. It sounded very small, and Ludwig suddenly went deeper into the blanket.
“So, I can’t come into your bed at night if I wanted to?”
“Eh,” Gilbert shrugged, and let out a puff of breath. “You won't find me in bed at night these days. But I’m an exception.” He ended, smiling.
“Even when I have nightmares?”
“ Especially when you have nightmares.”
Ludwig hummed, shutting his eyes. “Well then please read me my story and move those nightmares away.”
“Yes sir,” Gilbert mocked the military reply. “I’m just going to casually throw this away,” he placed the leather-bound book on his hand back to the floor, so that his hands could be free. He then placed the candle on the night-stand, and bent slightly down as he sat to make sure Ludwig could see his face clearer.
“You have something in your nose.” Ludwig immediately commented, and before Gilbert could do anything about it, Ludwig had already stretched out his hand and had grabbed his nose, rubbing something just at the tip of his nose, making Gilbert almost sneeze. Ludwig pulled his hand back to examine what he found, but saw nothing. He looked a little disappointed, but then when he looked up to a very humored (and a slightly blushing) Gilbert, he couldn’t see anything on his face.
“Oh nevermind, I removed it.”
“Very well then,” Gilbert’s voice quivered as he tried not to laugh. “Shall I begin my story?”
“Yeah!” He shouted, taking Herr Johan into his arms again. Gilbert immediately shushed him, putting a finger and gently pressing the little boy’s lips. Ludwig immediately complied, albeit giggling and hugging the ragged Thuringian doll tighter.
“Right, here we go,” Gilbert straightened himself by the edge of the bed and began,
“Once upon a time, there was a little white rabbit who lived down the Path of a very Long Journey. He helped the animals on the way, providing them with water from the river, food from the fields and company from his heart. As the rabbit grew up, he started to wonder “Was the Journey to The Far East Lands really tedious? What if I could just bring the East Lands to them?” His growing mind was filled with these thoughts and soon, it motivated him into starting his own house far in the Near East and living there on his own. He found animals who were not journeying to the East Lands and decided to give it to them. He used a sword and words he had learnt when he was just a helper down the Paths. The bears living there were terrified of the rabbit, especially because of his giant weapon and his voice. They called the white rabbit the “Red Eyed Demon” because even when the hair on his head was white, his eyes always glowed red.”
“Like yours!” Ludwig pointed to the eyes staring lovingly down at him. Gilbert chuckled at that, then said in a small voice “Good catch.”
“That was very nice of the rabbit.” Ludwig cooed. “To decide to help those animals get to the Paths. But I’m not sure why he thought bringing it to them would work.” That earned him another chuckle. “Yet, I wonder why the rabbit used a sword. Weren’t the words he learnt on the Paths just enough?”
“Err, yes, it was but well, you see,” Gilbert bent down, a small grin forming on his face. “He was a rabbit, and those animals who lived there would pounce on him as meat if he even opened his mouth and squeaked. Yet, he wanted to bring the Journey of the Paths to them. So he learnt how to use a sword. And soon, the rabbit became unrecognisable.”
“Unrecognisable how?” Ludwig turned to Herr Jonah. “Like him?”
Gilbert laughed out loud. “Even more different.”
“His fur became sharp spikes that made nobody touch him. He learnt how to fight and how to defend himself, and how to help those poor animals in the Near East get to the Far East by bringing the Far East to them. His paws became claws and he tore down houses and his squeak turned into a roar, scaring nearby cubs and making them run to their mother bear. The mother bear, that the rabbit would fight and successfully defeat.”
“That’s a very brave rabbit,” Ludwig awed. “But I do feel bad for the poor bear cubs. They saw their mother die.”
“Oh, trust me,” Gilbert mumbled between a chuckle. “They saw worse than that around me,” and before Ludwig could decipher its meaning, he immediately continued — “Well, anyways —”
“One day, all those bears in the Near East had enough of the Red Eyed Demon Rabbit. They decided to rip him apart into pieces. And so, on one fateful night, when what seemed like just another mere Bear to Red Eyed Demon Rabbit turned out to be a full fatal ambush. The Bears hit him and beat him, removing his claws and making his sharp fur blunt. They left him weak and soft, prey to other far more horrible horrors the poor rabbit could have experienced.”
“Oh no!” Ludwig moaned. “Did the rabbit really hurt them so much?”
“Oh yes, oh yes,” Gilbert nodded very seriously. “Yes, he did. You could say the rabbit deserved it, but then again, the rabbit did what he knew was right.”
“Isn’t what everyone considers right the same thing?”
Gilbert laughed loud at that. He did not answer the question, and instead, continued with the narration.
“Then, one day, the rabbit decided that he had to live. He may have been a healer, he may have been a messenger, but at that time, he was nobody. He did not want to be a nobody. He wanted to be somebody. So, he decided to go search for someone to become.”
“How do you search to become someone? Aren’t you like, I don’t know, just born?”
Gilbert chuckled, and the soft guffaw had a certain tightness to it. “Oh, you’re just a small child, Ludwig. When you grow up, you’ll have to do the work yourself. Right now, I’m giving you a purpose. You wake up in the morning, you exercise, you do your exercise, you spent time with your brothers and sisters, read books, play in the garden, talk to the officials, have a good nap with me (but I don’t sleep), wake up and have tea, study your languages, have dinner and go to bed.”
“And hear awesome stories before that.”
“Oh yes.” Gilbert mocked seriousness. “That too. How could I forget.”
Ludwig giggled. “You didn’t forget today. I’ll call it — The Red-Eyed Rabbit Demon.”
“Errr,” Gilbert narrowed his eyes in mild disagreement. “I have a better name for the story.”
“Really? What is it?”
“You tell me,” Gilbert ruffled the boy’s blond hair. He unnecessarily cleared his throat and continued —
“He heard news from the nearby woods that there were many rabbits like him, all wounded and ruined, who went to a giant tree. They received something from that tree that made all their problems go away. He did not know where he could find this tree. So he asked a fellow hare on his journey.
“Oh, my fellow brother in suffering, pray tell me, how were you relieved from your pain?”
The other hare, whose fur was brown, with long ears wrapping his face from the cold, took pity on the wounded rabbit. He stooped down and told him — “The tree is deep in the jungle, right at your heart. But you need to abandon all the principles of your life. You must be prepared to embrace anything new. Leave the shell of your old life behind.”
“But my old life was glorious!” the red eyed demon-rabbit argued. “I don’t want people to forget that!”
The brown furred hare smiled at him and said — “Many people leave their old shell behind, thinking it to be too heavy. When they have a lighter load and go make a better life, sometimes, they come back and see that the shell they abandoned hid giant pearls of priceless worth. People came to see those pearls, and marvelled at its beauty.”
“So my shell will drop pearls too?” The red eyed rabbit-demon asked, wonder in his voice.
“The biggest and the reddest one you have ever seen.” The brown furred hare said in enthusiasm.
This pleased the red eyed demon-rabbit. He had made up his mind to leave his old life behind. So he asked, “How do I do it? How do I become something new? How do I get to the tree?”
“You don’t go to the tree.” The hare simply said. “The tree comes to you. It will present itself far off into the distance, and you will know it when you see it. But, if you want the tree to see you, you need to do something to catch its attention.”
“What must I do?” The red eyed demon-rabbit was eager to know.
“You must prove to the tree that despite your helpless plight, you have not stopped believing in goodness. That you can still do good no matter how horrible the world becomes.”
“And how do I do that?” The rabbit asked. He was very confused.
The Hare smiled. “That is up to you. I cannot tell you how to use those heavy and soggy paws.”
The red eyed rabbit looked at his paws. They looked dirty and muddy, scratched with thorns and tired of running away.
At that moment, the red-eyed rabbit-demon made up his mind.
He would become someone else.
He would become something more.
It might have been a bad thing or a good thing.
But he didn’t care how he would change.
He wanted to change.
He had never felt so utterly scared of those bears once in his life. And he did not like it.
He never felt like crying when he saw those cubs, only comparing their burning to chicken meat.
But then, that day he had.
And he did not want to feel.
So, he decided to change.”
“And was that a good thing?” Ludwig asked, his voice filled with childish curiosity.
Gilbert shrugged. “You, err, really can’t answer that about change. Change means something that is not how it was before. Was “before” good? Well, you need to live the change to the fullest to answer that. And sometimes you’ll find that there’s not much difference.”
“You’re not talking sense.” Ludwig deadpanned, then picked up Herr Johan and mimicked a voice. “Oh dear, Big Brother Gilbert’s gone all flamsy-pansy with his mouth. He’s talking like someone tied his tongue up!”
Gilbert laughed in exasperation. “Come on,” he flipped a hand. “It's not that hard to explain. I mean, listen — What’s the difference between my bed and your bed?”
“Errrr……..” Ludwig dragged the syllable for a very long time, trying to keep the energy of the conversation while figuring out what to say. Then, he picked up Herr Johan and almost shoved it into the fire again.
“You!” Ludwig said, in a tone that would have made the hardest and largest icebergs in Iceland melt.
Gilbert had gone speechless for a few seconds, clearly expecting a different reaction. Then, he laughed and ruffled the young boy’s brilliant blond hair and unnecessarily tucked the blanket.
The candle was half its original height.
Gilbert cleared his throat and continued.
“The red-eyed rabbit wanted the tree to notice him. He wondered, how would a tree find him? Maybe it was like other trees. It needed friends to live with, water to survive, and the sun to dance in. Maybe he could have something like that with him, so that the tree could come find it, and eventually find him.”
“That’s a weird logic.” Ludwig frowned as he suddenly turned his head to Herr Jonah. “He says that trees don’t need rabbits to find sunlight for him. They have leaves that cook the food there.”
Gilbert narrowed his eyes, yet widening his smile at the audacity of the child in front of him. “Are you trying to insult me?” He asked, in a playful accusatory tone.
“No!” Ludwig was still at the stage where he couldn’t distinguish between a playful chide and an actual berating. “I’m just telling you what Herr Jonah told me! He insulted you, not me!”
“Ugh!” Gilbert melodramatically put his dorsal palm on his forehead. “Pin the blame on your only partner. How typically human.” He noticed Ludwig look at Herr Jonah with wide eyes. “And that,” He poked the little German’s nose. “Doesn’t end well, because both get cursed.”
“Really?!” Ludwig sounded genuinely terrified, making Gilbert drop the act.
“Yes, so don’t do that. If you did something wrong, don’t blame someone else.” Something caught in Gilbert’s voice. “You’ll lose lovely people in the process.”
Before Ludwig’s idiotically adorable place could scrunch in confusion, Gilbert hastily continued —
“The rabbit’s eyes were big that night. He wondered why. Maybe the sun hadn’t risen. Why hadn’t the sun risen, he wondered? He looked at the black sky. Maybe the sun did not want to see him.
No, that was not it. The sun always shone on everything, no matter now good or bad. But it hadn’t at that time. Whatever must have happened? Maybe the bears told the sun not to, just to make him feel afraid of the dark. He decided to go and find a bearcub to ask. He left his grass patch where he had hid, and found a bear cub he had fought earlier.
“What have you done to the sun!” The red-eyed rabbit demon demanded. “Why is it so dark?”
“Why do you want to know?” The bear cub hissed back. “After all, you loved living in the dark — surprising us with your giant sword.”
“Well, I want the sun now,” The rabbit said proudly. “So that the tree can come find me.”
“The tree?” The bear cub spat. “You mean the monster with twelve tentacles that swoops you and deforms you into a completely different person?” He smirked. “Don’t tell me you’ve become that helpless.”
“I have merely changed.” The rabbit replied calmly. “And soon, so will you.”
The bear cub laughed. “You will never change, red-eyed rabbit demon! You may wear white fur, or rise up and have it combed for you, but your hands will always be heavy and soggy with the waters of the people you hurt, and will always weigh you down.”
The rabbit did not know how to answer, because he had asked the very same question to himself many times. But, this time, he knew the answer. His determination to change made him realise.
“Well, then there is nothing I can do about it. If I was given these paws, I would have no choice but to live with it. But, there is something I can do. I can use it. I used it to hurt you. And I will find a way to use that skill to save people. Bad people need to be hurt.”
The bear cub laughed again. “I am not a bad person, yet you hurt me.”
The rabbit nodded. “Then why do you think your parents hurt me?”
The bear cub shrugged his shoulders. “Because that was what the Horses who roamed those lands made my parents do.”
“Horses?” Ludwig tilted his head. “Who were they?”
“They were the mighty heroes who galloped the land I lived in. The Bears knew them. I di — I mean, the red eyed rabbit demon did not, only his giant sword did.”
“His sword knew the animals the rabbit met!?” Ludwig’s voice was soft and coarse with awe. “That’s awesome!”
Something happened in Gilbert’s face. Maybe it was how utterly childish Ludwig had sounded, maybe it was because of how Ludwig wasn’t understanding what Gilbert was trying to say, but whatever it was, Gilbert laughed out loud. And it was an actual laugh, something he had to put his hand over his mouth to stifle it. However, his eyes were also glassy. Too glassy than just the glaze of a votive.
Few drops of cooled melted wax had dried on the blanket.
“You think the rabbit’s sword was cool?” Gilbert’s hands were itching to swoop the boy in his arms and hug him tight.
“Yeah, it can remember things!” the little boy’s voice held immaculate innocence. “Normal swords don’t do that! Why,” his face suddenly went small. “Did the rabbit not think his sword was cool?”
“Erh,” Gilbert shrugged. “The rabbit never really thought much about his sword, it was just something he always had.”
“Well the rabbit’s being very ungrateful!” Ludwig’s face turned into a pout that made Gilbert want to pull his two cheeks. “He did not know how cool swords were.”
Gilbert laughed quietly. “Well, if you want to, I’ll show you the rabbit’s sword.”
There was silence. Ludwig stared at his elder brother weirdly.
“What’s wrong?” Gilbert asked, noticing the puzzled expression.
“You actually have his sword? The actual sword a rabbit used?” There was a small tone of defiance in Ludwig’s voice. As if Gilbert having a sword a rabbit used was utterly impossible.
“Oh yes.” A sudden twinkle came in Gilbert’s eye. “I have more than just a sword. I have a photograph of the rabbit itself.”
Ludwig’s eyes lit up at that, somehow. “Can I see!? Can I see?!” He lunged forward, almost burning his beautiful blond locks.
“Not now, boy!” Gilbert laughed as he pushed him back down. “It's time to sleep now.”
“Well, your story’s long.” Ludwig shot back.
“Sorry about that,” Gilbert chuckled. “I’m not that much of a storyteller. If you want a true story-time experience, you can go ask the heart of Germany himself.”
And again, before Ludwig could figure what that meant, Gilbert immediately cleared his throat and continued —
“Those Horses don’t roam these lands,” the Bear cub said. “And that is all your fault.”
“And there is nothing I can do about it.” The rabbit simply put.
There was silence in the night. The sun still hadn’t come up. The wind brushed through, drying the waters surrounding them. However it did not make any sound. There was no sound in the air except for the silence that remained after the pause. Then, the bear cub spoke — “The Shepherd is the one who makes the sun rise. He lifts up his staff to the black sky and says “Emerge, New Dawn!” and the sun slowly rises up from the horizon, while the sheep he guards bleat in encouragement. But, I remember my parents telling me that the Shepherd values his sheep. So, they decided to take the sheep away, so that when it is time to make the New Dawn, he will see that his sheep are missing, and will go look for them. And he will never find it, and hence, there will never be a New Dawn.”
“What did your parents do to the sheep?” The rabbit asked.
“They sold it to the Wolf in the Cave on the Hill.”
“What has the Wolf done to the sheep?”
“He has kept them locked up, and will use them some time later.”
“Can I save the sheep and bring them back to the Shepherd?”
“Yes, you can. You will find the Shepherd in the Valley Down the Hill. He will stand at the sharpest point down, with his staff ready to bring the New Dawn. Give him the sheep and the Sun shall Rise again.”
The rabbit squeaked out a small thanks before it hopped away, leaving the Bear cub alone.
He knew where the Cave on the Hill was. He always knew where it was. He climbed that very Hill up and down almost every moment of his life. He soon found it after crossing the Forest he trudged through everyday. The foot of The Hills. The night was very dark, with only the moon and the stars to guide him through. He saw the dull silhouette of the Shepherd standing in the dull valley, absolutely still. His hands were on his staff, but they did not bring the Sun out.
Yet.
The Rabbit knew what to do. He climbed up the Hill, remembering how the Cave looked. The Hill was covered with trees and small plants. And the Cave hid itself as a small hole under one of those trees. He climbed up the Hill, how much his wounded, weak, yet determined paws would allow him to do so.
Then finally, he found it. That sneaky little hole where the Wolf lived in.
He sometimes wondered how the Wolf could crawl through.
Maybe he had transformed himself into a sheep to trick the sheep into being taken?
The rabbit took a deep breath and hopped inside the hole. He could not see anything. It was dark and silent. It was as if Everything had Stopped.
Then, with a small thud, he landed on a soft mop of dry leaves. In front of him were all the missing Sheep.
“That was very easy,” the Rabbit thought. “Too easy.”
He whispered to the Sheep — “I’ve come to save you, come on, let us go away.”
The Sheep heard him. They all turned their curious little eyes on the tiny Rabbit. Then, they looked at each other. “How do we trust him?” They murmured among themselves. “What if he’s the Wolf in disguise?”
“But we only know how to listen to the Wolf or the Shepherd!” another Sheep reasoned. “How do we listen to him?”
The Rabbit heard them. He felt very sad hearing those words. “I am not the Wolf!” He cried. “However, nor am I a Shepherd. I am just a rabbit. And I will bring you back to the Shepherd and bring back the Sun.”
“Why do you want the Sun over you?” The Sheep asked back. “I’ve heard from the Wolf that the Red-Eyed Rabbit Demon always fights the best in the Dark.”
“I don’t want to Fight anymore.” The Rabbit shot back, angry at the accusation. “I’m going to change. The risen Sun will make the Tree come to find it, and it will reward me with Life.”
“That is not true.” The Sheep calmly said. “You may change, but you will never stop Fighting.”
“I agree,” the Rabbit sullenly said. “Hence, I will Fight for the Better. For the New Dawn.”
The Sheep murmured among themselves again. The Rabbit felt tense. What if they won’t agree to be rescued?
Finally, the Sheep said. “We will come with you.”
The Rabbit was overjoyed. “Come, let us climb this tree and leave through the Hole outside.”
And the Sheep did what he told him to do. One by one, they used their small hooves and gripped the Wood, slowly hoisting themselves, forming a long rope, until the first Sheep saw the bed of the Forest on the Hill. Soon, the other sheep followed. And the other. And the other. The Rabbit made sure he would come last. He did not want a single Sheep do feel lost. Finally, his paws felt the crevice of the Hill’s Forest and he pushed himself up.
He was something horrible.
Firstly, the Sheep had escaped. He could hear them bleating and their hooves stamping the ground as they ran back to the Shepherd.
Secondly, he saw the Wolf himself.
He stood there, as if he was waiting for him. Calmly, with a sickeningly calm grin on his face.
“Red-Eyed Rabbit-Demon, finally, I get the chance to meet you.”
“Oh no!” Ludwig cried. “Why did the Wolf find him!?”
Gilbert sighed to empathize. “I know, it’s unfortunate, isn’t it? But don’t worry. It has a happy tale.”
“Really?” The little boy slowly peaked up from his covers. “The Rabbit will find the Tree?”
“Oh that?” Gilbert snorted. “He would find the Tree either way.”
“What was th —” Ludwig began to ask, but Gilbert immediately cut him off, swatting his hand away, almost extinguishing the candle flame.
The candle had become smaller.
“The Rabbit did not know what to say. He was terrified that the Wolf found him and would eat him, but he was glad to know that the Shepherd would get his sheep back and bring the Sun. Then, maybe the Tree might find him.”
The Wolf took out a long sword. It resembled his, but he did not find any use in that observation. The Wolf swung the sword. The Rabbit stood there, slowly waiting for his death, his round red eyes closed.
Instead, he felt a piercing pain in his head. He screamed and opened his eyes, releasing the tears.
“You have hurt so many animals with a sword,” The Wolf snarled. “That you’ve forgotten what it is like to be the one receiving it.”
“Are you going to kill me?” The Rabbit asked, pain in his voice, as he saw his own blood trickle down his face.
“No, no!” The Wolf laughed, his howl filling the Dark Night. “What a waste it would be! Never! Instead, I am reminding you.”
“Of what?”
“I did not take the Sheep. I didn't do it willingly. It was the Bears who told me to do it. And they told me to do it because they did not want you to see the Sun.”
The Rabbit was quiet. He knew this. The Bear cub had told him this. Why was the Wolf telling him this again?
“Don’t you understand?” The Wolf snarled. “You are the reason the Sun did not Shine. You are the reason the Sheep were taken. You are —”
He raised his sword and pointed it at the Rabbit’s head. He did not slice it off. Instead, he cut the skin under the fur.
He wrote something on the Rabbit’s head. So that when people saw him, they will know him as —
“The Sheep Carrier.” The Wolf spelt it out. “The one who carried the Sheep to bring the Darkness. That is what you will be called. And whenever people see you, they will be reminded of what you did in the Darkness.”
The Rabbit was angry. He was determined to change, to become a better person. He wanted to serve the New Dawn. How could he serve the New Dawn when he was constantly reminded of the Dark Night? He could never leave his shell behind.
The Wolf gave the Rabbit one last grin.
“Enjoy the New Dawn, demon.”
He lunged back into the Cave on the Hill, and never showed itself again.
“That’s cruel!” Ludwig shouted. “He was so close to finding the Tree!”
Gilbert laughed. “That’s a story from your elder brother for you! It’s not going to be a simple fairy tale. Do you like it?”
“Yeah,” Ludwig giggled in delight. “It sounds like one of those big people books — what’s it called again —”
“A novel?” Gilbert offered, frowning his confusion but not abandoning the smile.
“Yeah, that one. It sounds like a novel Heinrich was reading.”
“Heinrich was reading a novel!?” Gilbert’s voice had suddenly grown loud, and a weird mischievous twinkle came in his eyes.
“It was a big book.” Ludwig said, dragging the ‘i’ in big. “I asked him what it said. He shooed me away saying it wasn’t meant for small boys like me.”
“Well I never,” Gilbert laughed, staring at the window in disbelief. “Heinz, reading a novel……”
Ludwig took Herr Jonah in front of him. “You see that face, Herr Jonah?” He whispered to the ragged doll, making sure Gilbert could hear him. “We broke something inside.”
He pretended to be Herr Jonah talking. “Mission Success.”
“Oi,” Gilbert playfully glared at him. “Nobody can break my mind. It is very strong.”
“I can!” Ludwig said defiantly. “I can break it! I am stronger! And I will be the only one who can do it!”
Gilbert was silent for some time, trying to understand why Ludwig phrased it like that. Then, he chuckled. “Well, I suppose you’re right. You can break my mind, if you make faces and say things like that.”
Then again, he continued swiftly. The night was growing darker, and the candle light seemed to suddenly become brighter.
The candle had become smaller.
“The Rabbit took some leaves and covered his head, as he hopped down the Hill to see the Shepherd. He arrived at the Dark Valley, finding the Shepherd standing there, facing the sky. His eyes were closed, and he held his Staff tightly.
He saw the Sheep slowly come towards the Shepherd, in their own slow pace.
The Rabbit took a deep breath. He was seconds away from bringing the Sun back.
“Shepherd.” he said in a firm voice. The man opened his eyes and saw the white furred rabbit with red eyes standing by his feet.
“I have brought you your Sheep back. Bring the New Dawn.”
The Shepherd blankly stared at the creature below him.
Then, he narrowed his eyes.
“Are you not the Red-Eyed Rabbit Demon?” His accusation was calm, yet there was a certain sense of dread that managed to worm its way into the Rabbit’s heart. “Who was the reason the Bears asked the Wolf to take my Sheep away to the Cave at the Hill, and hence prevent me from bringing upon the New Dawn?”
“Yes I am.” The Red-Eyed Rabbit Demon said simply, because he knew nothing else to say. “The Wolf reminded me too.” He unwrapped the leaves around his head to show the mark.
S.T — Schafträger. Sheepcarrier.
The Shepherd was silent and he observed the mark. He said nothing.
The Sheep bleated to announce their presence. The Shepherd turned back to see them slowly come towards him, and his blank face twisted into a small smile.
“Very well Rabbit. I will bring the Sun back.”
He turned to the Sky, and stretched out his hands. His Staff was on his Right Hand.
“Emerge, New Dawn.” He simply said.
Nothing happened. The Rabbit eagerly stared at the sky.
The Rabbit blinked.
And when he opened his eyes, the World was bright again. The Sun was in the Sky, bringing the light of Day into the Sky.
Everything had come back to normal. The birds chirped, the Wind blew into the Valley, and the people in the Shepherd’s village murmured their daily banters.
The Rabbit had tears in his eyes. “Thank you!” He hopped and snuggled onto the Shepherd’s feet to show his gratitude.
The Shepherd gave a quiet chuckle. “And what must I give you in return, Rabbit?” He immediately asked, going straight to the point.
“Nothing!” The Rabbit looked up. “Now that the Sun is back, the Tree will come look for it, and it will notice me, and make me a better person!
The Shepherd stared at the little Rabbit at his feet with an indecipherable expression. He was trying to understand what the Rabbit had said.
Then, he smiled. “Alright Rabbit.” He said.
He thrust his staff into the ground.
The Rabbit was confused. What had he done?
The ground beneath them rumbled. And lo and behold, before the Rabbit could make out anything, the Shepherd transformed himself into The Tree. It was tall, so tall the Rabbit could not see its top. Its branches were large and thick, and were filled with the greenest of leaves. Few birds chirped away from it, carrying long strings of ribbon in their beak.
The Rabbit exclaimed. “You are the Tree!?”
“I am The Tree who makes you Anew.” A deep voice came from the thick dark trunk. “And I have Seen you, Red-Eyed Rabbit Demon.”
“Make me someone.” The Rabbit immediately begged. “Make me someone better.”
“Or worse?” The Tree asked back.
“Your wish,” The rabbit said. A sudden desperation came into him. He just wanted to change. And here was his chance. “Just make me someone else.”
There was silence for a few seconds. The wind gently blew on the Tree, making a few leaves fall on the ground. The Rabbit’s wet fur ruffled in the breeze. He heard a river trickle water nearby, and a few children playing, trying to fly a kite. He heard the men rowing boats catching fish, and the women on the field picking grain.
“As you say so.” The Tree finally said. A sudden wind shook the tree, and something came down from the tree and fell beside the rabbit.
It was heavy, and had a brown covering over it. It was a perfect square, like a box, and it could be opened.
“What is this?” the Rabbit stared at the fallen thing.
“That is a Book. Read it, and you will be a better person. Leave your Sword, leave your Armour, leave your bowls of Soup, and pick up a Quill, a Paper and a beautifully stitched Tunic. Fight your battles with your mouth. You have the blood of a killer coursing through your veins. I cannot change that. However, I give you a life where you can find a way to use it for the better. Leave your tent. Live in a House. A Castle. Be the Rabbit you always were. Because I cannot change that. But, I will give you a life where you can at least do it for a good cause.”
The Rabbit looked up to the Tree, a weird feeling in his chest. “Thank you.” He said, but it felt odd.
“Good Bye Red-Eyed Rabbit. I will see you again.”
“Again?” The Rabbit was confused. “You will change me again?”
“I will change you all the time, Rabbit.” The Tree answered. “I change everything about you. I am the reason your left behind shells become round red pearls. And one day, you will fall again, and come looking for me. I will find you again, and will give you another gift to change you.”
The Rabbit did not know what to say about that. He understood the Tree’s words, but he had nothing to say. He simply nodded.
“See you soon, Tree who made me Anew.”
The rabbit hopped away, the book in his hands.
“The Shepherd was the Tree all along!” Ludwig called out. “So it was the Tree who made the Sun rise.”
Gilbert laughed. “That’s one way to put it.”
“What was in that book?” Ludwig asked. “Was it a story?”
“Eh,” he shrugged. “What do you find in books, Ludwig?”
“Stories!” He immediately said, giggling. “And Herr Jonah loves them too!” He hugged the doll tighter. “Did that book have a story?”
“Errr, kind of. It was more of a……declaration.”
“A declaration?” Ludwig repeated. “What does that mean?”
Gilbert laughed. “Eh, I don’t know how to explain it to you. Grow up and learn it yourself.”
“That’s not fair!” Ludwig flung his hands wide, almost making Herr Jonah burn in the candle light.
The candle had become smaller. As small as a palm.
“You’ll just have to wait, that’s all.” Gilbert smiled exasperatedly. “It's not that hard.”
“It’s very hard! Like waiting for you to finish this story!” He shot back, pouting.
“Oh, dear me,” Gilbert feigned condolences. “I will finish it right away.” He cleared his throat and continued —
“Time passed, and as told by the Hare, the Rabbit became a better person. He did not pick up his sword and instead found a Master who could teach him how to use a Quill and Paper, and taught him how to wear expensive Tunics. He still lived in the Eastern Lands, but he had a castle instead of a Tent.
And hence, the Rabbit had changed his life.”
Gilbert stopped talking, looking at Ludwig with a small smile.
“Then what?” Ludwig asked. “That’s it? That’s the end?”
“Oh, no, no!” Gilbert laughed. “That was definitely not the end of the Rabbit’s story, Ludwig. But,” he glanced out of the window. “That was the end. For now.”
“So something happens to the Rabbit in the Castle too?” Ludwig had eagerness in his voice, as if he was ready to listen to the next story too.
“Oh yes. Life wasn’t very nice to the Rabbit. It gave him adventure after adventure.”
“And the Rabbit enjoyed those adventures!” Ludwig enthusiastically ended the trail of thought.
Gilbert stared at the little boy tucked in bed, with cleaned white sheets over him, hugging that ragged doll probably made from a Hessian sack. The bed was huge, and small curtains hung from the sides, but they were drawn out, because he wanted a better view of the boy during his sleepless nights.
Then, he stood up. Ludwig’s blue eyes followed him. Gilbert went to pick up the candle.
It had become smaller. As small as a thumb.
“Yes, Ludwig.” Gilbert said, staring into the flame. He did not smile, but there was emotion in his face. He did not look sad, angry, nor afraid. He just felt something. “The Rabbit enjoyed his adventures. He found utter happiness and joy, and truly felt blessed and happy to have his life changed.”
And, yet again, before Ludwig could question it, Gilbert stooped down, gave the boy a small kiss on the forehead, put Herr Johan beside him and blew the candle off.
“Good night, Ludwig. Sweet dreams.”