The Irish Tales

Chapter Ten

And so it was that Patsy and Jay and Bravura set off into the bible black night in search of the Jabberwocky, a semi-mythical creature who may or may not exist and who may or may not have the power to steal a hound’s voice.

Sounds a little unlikely, doesn’t it ? Until you realise that there is a wondrous world out there, beyond the bedroom window, where many unlikely things may happen.

And where good, though it doesn’t always triumph over evil, is usually a safe bet.

Anyhoo, Patsy, guided by Bravura with a nudge of his nose here and there, carried hound and human across the silent country until they landed in an evil-smelling place where strange plants and moss grew and the shadows were seldom what they seemed.

Bravura padded on a pace or two, then stopped suddenly, his tail high and his nose sniffing the wind.

"And as in uffish thought he stood, The Jabberwocky, with eyes of flame, came whiffling through the tulgey wood and burbled as it came," whispered Patsy under her breath.

Jay, who was getting a little irritated by Patsy’s little poetic moments was just about say as much when a low burbling sound made the hairs on her neck stand up.

Patsy gave a low hiss…and through the shifting shadows came two pinpoints of light.
Bravura went rigid with shock ; so did Jay, as a strange burbling sound reached their ears.

Only Patsy stayed calm and relaxed – indeed, a large grin spread over her Scaremonster’s face.

Then she stood up, stood up to her real height, which was both majestically tall and comfortingly reassuring and she spoke these words with an awesome power :

"ONE, TWO ! ONE, TWO ! AND THROUGH AND THROUGH, MY VORPAL BLADE GOES SNICKER-SNACK !"

Well…. there was a terrible SMACK! and an awful SLASH! and then all the night broke in two and was filled with light of the very finest kind !

A roar of rage filled the ears and would have made lesser beings quail, but not Jay or Patsy or Bravura. And besides, it didn’t last long.

Of a sudden, the glade was green and wholeseome and sweet-smelling and the shadows were just the normal shadows you find at night anywhere.

Jay coughed, cleared her throat and whispered. "Cake mix ?"
"Lewis Carrol, m’dear," replied Patsy, with just a touch of arrogance in her voice.

"Damned effective, whatever it was," came a weak voice from the darkness.
"Bravura ! You can speak !" squeaked Jay. The hound looked in abject admiration at Patsy.

"Indeed, but can I sing ?"
"Time enough for that later, little dog, when you have slept and recovered your strength. Now…we should all return home to our beds."

Wise words, followed by wise deeds.
Patsy flew Bravura home and left him coughing but happy at the kennels.
And then the two of them flew back to the little cottage which nestled in the hills.

And Patsy put Jay comfortably to bed and watched over her till sleep should come.
And while she watched, she murmoured, "And hast I slain the Jabberwock ?….."

Jay stirred in her dozing and said sleepily, "Come to my arms, my beamish boy!" and promptly fell asleep.

And as she did so, a lone hound sang lustily in the vale :
"O frabjous day ! Calloooh ! Callay!"
And he chortled in his joy.



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