Chapter Five: In Which Ralph the Timid continues to seek his purpose.

As Lady Ann was falling silent to muse upon the illogical nature of villianous captors, far away on the other side of Ablet, at the edge of an unspecified clearing on the deeply wooded slopes of the Eastern Mountains, Ralph the Timid was also falling silent.

He had been having a jolly walk down towards the foothills so far. The day was sunshiny and warm, but not too warm. His pack wasn't too heavy, his shoes had no little stones in them, and the birds were singing. He whistled as he walked, trying to imitate the bird songs. Ralph had always had quite a knack for this and every now and then a bird he was copying would fly up to see what intruder was invading his pitch. He was good at the bluebirds and blackbirds and redbirds, and he was getting the hang of the strange chirrups of the Stocking bird, but there was one bird call Ralph had never been able to master. The melancholy warbling melody of the Unexpectedly Large Warbler, a rarely seen gray bird found only in densely wooded areas, had long intrigued Ralph and he longed to replicate it. Alas, he had never quite managed it.

Suddenly, just as Ralph the Timid was about to purse his lips to try one more time he heard it. The song of the Unexpectedly Large Warbler was ringing clearly through the air, and it was coming from nearby. Excited, and distracted momentarily from his search for his purpose - what was five minutes after eighteen years, anyway? - Ralph turned towards the source of the sound, and moved slowly towards it, eyes scanning the trees and bushes for any sign of the shy gray bird. He had no desire to frighten it off. And so it was that Ralph the Timid came silently to the edge of the clearing and fell completely silent, hardly daring to breathe. Because there, barely three metres away from him, perched on a solitary shrubby tree which was bending under the strain in the middle of the clearing, was the ominous bulk of the Unexpectedly Large Warbler.

It was, as its name suggests, unexpectedly large. Ralph, although he had seen one once before, was startled by its size. It was somewhere between the size of a large sheep and small cow, and he marvelled at how amazing it was that these birds could avoid being seen - and how astonishing unbeliveable that they could manipulate their way through the forests at all, let alone with ease. It was one of those things only fathomable by the omniscient and omnipotent wisdom of the gods. Not that people in Ablet had gods, of course.

There are many superstitions attached to birds. Some depend on the number of a certain species you see at a time "One for sorrow, two for joy..". Others interpret the birds behaviour as meaning something. A fantail in the house, for example, means you should expect a death in the family. A stork or crane building its nest on the roof of your house means good luck. An Unexpectedly Large Warbler building its nest on the roof of your house means it's time to move. Happening on one in the wild is said to be a sign that wisdom will be bestowed on you.

Ralph the Timid stood and gaped. He wasn't completely certain that such superstitions were true, but surely this was a sign. He was finally off to seek his purpose and he had just happened across the rarest bird in the woods. And it was the bird, so it was said, that would be able to give him jewels of wisdom. Perhaps he would tell him when he was born, and then Ralph would be able to go home and the chartmaker would at last be able to accurately tell him his purpose.
These thoughts raced through Ralph's head, and he waited eagerly for the bird to do something, or say something.

The sun slowly crept lower on the horizon and less of its shining rays filtered into the clearing. The bird hadn't moved or made a sound. Neither had Ralph, although he really wanted to. Standing still like this was giving him cramp. Suddenly, something broke the silence.
"Well? What do you want, boy?" A raucous voice said from the direction of the Unexpectedly Large Warbler.
Ralph the Timid started violently. "I - you can talk?" Surely this was unusual behaviour, even from such an unusual bird.
"Of course I can talk!" the voice was impatient. "Now, do you want something, or are you just one of those annoying live statues? Because I've got to tell you, boy, your act will do better in cities. More people to throw coins there!"
This was too much for Ralph, and he let it go, clinging to his original question. "No one told me Unexpectedly Large Warblers could talk! I'm sorry, I just wasn't expecting it. I thought they gave their pearls of wisdom some other way. " And then, because Beryl and Harold had brought him up to be polite, he added "Not that I'm expecting any pearls of wisdom, of course. And - and - I'm sorry for staring, it's just - you are an unusual bird, you know."
He was just getting used to the idea of a talking bird, when he had to adjust his thinking once again. The shrub on which the Unexpectedly Large Warbler perched swayed as from behind it a figure rose to its feet, chuckling. "Sorry, young man. I didn't realise you could see me. They call me Mad Pete, and this is my friend Ethel." He indicated the bird. "She's a good girl, but she doesn't say a word. Now, what are you doing in this neck of the woods?"
Ralph said something exclamatory, and then blushed profusely. It had been really rather a rude thing to say.
Mad Pete just laughed. "Come and sit down to tea with me, and tell me your story." He indicated a picnic rug on the other side of the shrub. "And then we'll see if Ethel can provide any pearls of wisdom for you."

[Word count: 5154]