Iron Tooth

 Ever since a certain old and brutish Badger's resurgence, his familiar-to-some's routine had started up again.

 It seemed a winter's hibernation extended even longer than intended hadn't dented the volunteer librarian's drive to do some helpful part for the community of Morenth, even if he was a touch slower to search and sort the ever misplaced excess of the seemingly unending reserves of books the library housed.

 Reflective eyes - pin-pricks in the dark, unlit aisles of the Library. Hardcovers shuffled, pages flipped. Heavy, slow, plodding steps. Those unfamiliar to his routine, sleeping in the alcoves, might even see it worrying such a large and heavy figure skulking about. Murmured apologies of course given nervously, whenever he was found to have woken someone with a startle.

 Come dawn, as those reflective eyes now turned blind under the harsh light filtering in, he'd secure himself some books and find his usual alcove amongst the books in the south-west of the public building. Blanket drawn over his head, as he'd read and.. Sing? as dawn drowned out the dark silence he formerly worked through.

 Songs, shanties, poems and parables. Often, if not usually exclusively, in some native language outside of Common. No passing badger would ever hear Mellic though, during these sleepless periods between nocturnal to diurnal activity. It wasn't like the linguist needed practice with his mother tongue, after-all.