Hmm.. It's 3:06 AM here. Just barely finished my story! XD
It was actually due today for class, but I write very long stories so it takes a very long time, even if I try to make it really short =P.
Also I just bought a flute! I've been practicing like crazy, trying to mimic the "Nerevar Rising" song from the SongLeReuver youtube channel. As of yet I'm really off-note, but I'm definently improving and noticing a difference.
As for the story, the goal was to make a parody of a classic fairy tale. Mine is a parody of Puss and Boots. I took of my take of the original story since it's really long, and there is a lot of differences. For example, Valen never marries anyone and his dog is a hindrance rather then a helper unlike the farm cat in "Puss and Boots"
Now here is the parody of that story you just read. I wrote it for my L.A assignment, but I think I already mentioned that somewhere.
Here it goes. Hope you enjoy it!
A Strike With Luck
(a parody of "Puss And Boots")
Many years ago, there stood a mountain. Near that very mountain, a quiet valley was nestled where a farmer and his sons spent their lives in a rustic, two-room cottage.
After their mother abandoned her family, the father was only able to make enough money to get by. They had such a low ammount of coins that they had to leave their grand mansion, for they could no longer pay taxes for it any longer with the mother's absence. The only thing close to affordable was the old cottage they now lived in, which resembled more of a barn then a house. For the past ten years they wore long, luxourious robes that whipped down to their feet, and ate good meals with warm water. Now the sons had to walk five miles each day to a lake just to get a daily supply of drinkable water. And it definently wasn't warm. Infact, the boys' hands soon went numb from holding the pail and a layer of frost always floated on the surface of the icy water.
The lake from which the water was fetched hid far over the valley, and lay among many mountains where the snow fell all year round and the cold, winter winds always harshly greeted travellers that embraced the less then savory weather.
Above this lake towered mighty glaciars gently cascading and melting, for it was a glaciar lake.
At times, many a tusk or tooth of an ancient animal could be found buried under it's waste. Sometimes even a quick swim or dunk was awarded with the discovery of a large skull or claw. But to a poor farmer, what was a couple of old fossils worth? Maybe ground bonemeal for the pigs or a means of keeping the books in place and the door shut rather then creaking with the wind, but not much else.
Many stories have claimed of great beasts roaming in the fields of ice and debris, even great bears as white as the snow itself .
All the villagers knew these were wives tales, no doubt, and not many a listener believed the myths. They were no more probable then the whispers of black ogres donning shaggy hides that crept in the steamy jungles that explorers and young boys alike piped excitedly about around the warmth of a campfire.
Everyone would give concerned nods when it was obvious these men had lost their minds during their vast encounters. And who wouldn't?
Very few could withstand dangerous plunges in creature-infested water, let alone a dip in a frozen river. Risking your life everyday could easily leave your brain un-intact.
Most folks are sensible enough to keep their brain sane and safe from wild adventures.
And one of these was the farmer himself.
He did not enjoy the unpredictable life, and his life as a matter of fact, was quite predictable. However that would soon change.
On a mid-summer day, it seemed too peaceful that anything could go wrong. Not that any one could expect a hazard in a calm valley as this.
Sometimes expectations are not fulfilled, and that is exactly what happened.
When the sons Eval, Ruth, and Valen returned home, wiping sweat gained from tedious chores, they could not help but gasp: Their father lay on the floor.
Each sibling felt guilty as they had given the old man a good argument, and now there was not a chance left to apologize.
Those boys never cried, but even now they could not help but brush a few from watery eyes.
And so with that, the sons of Mortimer Cebbet watched with sullen faces as their father was towed away to the destinatian laid out ahead of him.
No, not the cemetary. Far, far worser. The hospital.
Not much changed since then. Every day the boys would wait at the door, waiting for the hopeful return of a limping figure. But that reunion never came.
And so with that, poor went from worse and soon the sons had nothing left but what had been given to them.
Eval, the good-looking, silver-tongued heart-throb with the tousled red hair took the farm cat and ventured off to the castle of Hyrule where we was quickly wedded with Princess Peche. Of course they got divorced soon after, though he retained his status as ruler of the mushroom-headed people and unbelievable wealth, similair to Peche who now ruled the volcanic regions of Vulgarth, where she had the reputation of a bubbly, pink-trimmed tyrant whom whacked peasants with her umbrella.
Next was Ruth. The chestnut-locked boy inherited a great white stallion of great speed and strength and rode off to a land that was said to be "Far, Far Away". Not many had travelled there however, so it was not certain just how far it was.
He became a famous hero in those lands, and his deeds are still told in hushed tones to this day.
Last and sadly also least was Valen. Fortunately he was the youngest. Unfortunately luck did not favor him. Nor did it pity him. Infact, luck disliked him.
No, not fate, although that stood true too. Luck wasr a unruly, aged Golden Retriever who was just as infamous as cruel Peche was, and now the responsibility of Valen. However, it was for very different reasons.
As many know, dogs cannot hold umbrellas though Luck would most certaintly use his in the same manner if he could.
Simply said, Luck merely could not be trained.
He also was not a favorite among his poor neihbors. Many a scar would he gain, and many more would he inflict.
Now although history may not agree, millenia ago the means of communication was rocks. That and yoddeling gnomes, however rocks were much more reliable then those knee-high tricksters.
And so each week he would get a ring from a stone, and a loud, screeching insult about how a woman's little "Pootsie", a Great Dane, had been terrorized by the flash of gold and grey seizing him to the ground in a matter of seconds.
Dillary Huff and the queen of the country, Haris Pilton offered a reward of sulphur and silver, gold and ore to any soul who could tame the dog. Thousands arrived at the castle door, though all left empty-handed.
In desperation, he searched out the domain of the "Great Council Of The Four-Legged", the leading representitives of the government.
Every saturday night the pooches banded togethor and had a poker party, before of course checking out every wooden fire hydrant in sight and traditionally chasing their tales.
Yes, the group was made out of the same dogs in the painting you are most familiar with.
"What can we do for you, my good man?" A Bulldog shouted under wrinkled, warm eyes.
"I've come for advice on my dog, Luck. I've tried everything! Positive Reinforcement.. Crates.. nothing works!"
Luck stood growling behind his master's heels.
A tall Doberman snorted "Him! Pa! Your wasting your time kid. In other words, your wasting ours. Go home."
"But..." Valen began.
He paused when two bulky, anthromorphic Rottweilers guarding the entrance gave him a warnful glare.
"I guess I should go."
"Yes, that would be wise." The now irritated Doberman replied.
The walk home was very dissapointing for Valen, whom had been hoping some success could be made.
"Why can't you behave? Could you try to not get me in trouble.. for a day at least?" he grumbled as he walked down the cobblestone road.
Luck curiously tilted his head as he gleamed through intent brown eyes, as if he were trying in vain to understand the question's concept.
It was hard not to like the clown, even if he did cause more pain then he was worth.
"I wish dad was here. You always liked him"
He solemly said as he playfully ruffled the old dog's fur.
Luck groaned in satisfaction, rolling onto his back and wagging his tail furiously.
Valen just smiled.
It didn't take long for it to fade.
"Shoo stupid Pigeons!" He hollered as large rocs glided down beside him to peck at the seeds scattered in the soil, tearing out fields of corn in the process.
In fright they all flew off in unison, their waxy, tawny feathers shining in the bright sunlight, almost seeming to brim the clouds with effortless wing beats.
You call them Thunderbirds.
Despite his annoyance, he could not help but watch in awe.
"I wish I could fly" he thought.
Luck just sat there barking noisily, obviously not seeing any amazement in their grace.
Just then the earth shook as a purple carriage that could be compared to as a pumpkin perched precariously at a quick stop almost at his toes.
Naturally he ducked, only his pale, honey blonde hair visible above the now torn corn stalks.
A tall, slender woman walked out of the door, quickly tossing her soft, swaying hair. It almost radiated the light on the farm with it's rich, velvety red color.
Her face was perfectly smooth, with features seemingly painted by a talented artist.
Biting a chunk out of a slab of meat picked out of a bowl labeled " K.F.C. Kantookie Fried Chocobo", she paused, almost nearly spotting me.
However, her voice did not seem to match her flawless beauty. It felt illy befitting to see her hark out the words over her polished lips.
In a throaty, husky voice she yelled " Where's Edwin? Bring him to me immedietly!"
It was Cindere Ellan, the heir to Haris Pilton's high, coveted status.
Behind her, a little chihuaha followed.
"Ooh.. your poor little toesies got dirty, did they? Aw, come here wittle poppsie.. Don't worry, Mommy has you.." she chided as she carried the struggling puppy in frail hands.
Suddenly her gentle eyes hardened, and her smile swiftly flashed to an expression of utter disgust.
"Edwin! There you are! Why aren't you bowing? Have you not heard about the rules? Do you not care about the kindness I have showed in hiring you? If I hadn't, you'd still be a little beggar living on the streets!"
".. Yes Ma'am!" he stuttered fearfully.
"Ungrateful merchant! Look me in the eye when you speak to me! Mom said precisely that there were to be no chihuahas running anywhere on mangy land that has been contaminated by drooling peasants. It was the first law she made as Queen! Do you not understand they are royal, and royal property for that matter?"
"Yes Ma'am!" he again stammered with trembling movements.
"Don't call me that. You're fired!"
"My wife... How will I affo-"
"You are no longer my burden. Leave my sight at once!"
The young man turned anxiously, his eyes dilated with excitement. "What is it, my Lady?"
"Take your filthy Mutt!"
She wrinkled her nose in revulsion.
"But, my Lady, in all due respect, he does not belong to me."
"A little orphan is he? Take him with you - maybe the chef will find some use out of him"
"Worthless Mutt!" she chuckled.
As soon as the words played across her mouth, the elderly canine lunged himself at her model-like legs, ripping her velvet dress.
She raised her purse above his head, obviously an immitation of Peche's trademark Umbrella Smack.
Before she could place the inevitable blow, Valen rushed in front of the calamity, skidding to a swift stop.
"Please, Princess. This dog belongs to me." He stopped for a moment before adding "He's all I have left."
"Step aside unsightly urchin, this is none of your business." She sneered with little thought.
"Yes. It's completely my business. He's my dog. Now please step aside."
The young servant wheezed. No one had stuck up to the Princess before!
At once the dog ran out of the sight. And suprisingly, rather fast too. For his ripe age, he could run all right.
With a regal youth eyeing him like a trophy to be placed above the fireplace, it really is no wonder he did.
Now he was alone with a unpleased princess.
"Coward!" He roared after the dog, now just a speck wheedling around the horizon.
"Well, well. Now what ever should we do with you? Hmm.. the strap? Too unelegant.. No no... Wasps are much too complicated.."
Suddenly her eyes grew wide with enlightment and the effect of a lightbulb literaly hovering above her head, now glowing in accompiance to her bright idea.
"I know just the thing!", she grinned, "As of now, you are sentenced to banishment from this land! Oh.. and if you ever come back you'll be thrown in the dungeons to rot the rest of your miserable life!"
"... The one with the two-headed rabbit?" Just the mention of it sent shudders down Valen's spine. Just the stories told of it's terror could send the bravest man into tears.
"Now that I think of it, that's not a bad idea.." Her eyes had a new menacing hint to them.
"Well, aren't you going to run off, little rat? Or is your life just too meager to matter?"
Now at that time two thoughts were going in his worried mind.
One, he could defend himself and instantly aquire a lifestyle of dodging giant, angry rodents.
Second, he could run and possibly starve. Whatever could happen out in the uncharted wilderness was sure to be more prefferable to what plots the princess had flowing in her brain.
So as most would, he chose his second option.
Now our Valen never was a good runner. But when your sprinting on adrenaline, and you're in a life-or-death situation, you don't exactly think "I'm getting tired. I think I'll take a rest and let that wolf eat me" If there was a man with an axe chasing you, and you had arthritis, you'd probably still run as fast as your legs would allow you to, even if it was painful, right? And so he did.
He didn't keep track of how far he ran. He didn't even know where he was going, or what awaited when he realized he had no food, shelter, or a universal rock remote.
Yep, talking is not all rocks were used for in those days. Sometimes a bored individual would stand in front of an reflection, grab a rock, and watch the new images flash before them.
Occasionally one would even be found eating a bag of tomato chips, and a case of candy corn all day long. Sometimes they watched dramatic tales of knights, and others, science fiction episodes of a society of humans who could actually control light right at they wished - even on the blackest of nights, while drinking water that magically materialized out of a silver tube. Ridicolous imaginations they had, isn't it?
And no, they didn't get the sweet, brightly coloured kind of treat we know today. Back in those times, candy corn was well put a raw cob of corn with poppyseed glued on with mollases. These entertained people were called " Bed Tomatos" for they could often be found laying all day long, endlessely watching the programs flickering on the water.
When our exhausted, puffing Valen finally came to a halt, he had discovered he covered miles that evening. That's thrice as much he could handle in one exercising class!
He looked back. The only visible remains of his childhood memories was the tip of the castle he grew to know so well. Now most of it was covered in oaks and poplars, firs and aspens.
Well, at least from his view. Now that he thought of it, there were trees everywhere! More then he had seen in his lifetime, even if he had only been breathing for fifteen years.
Everywhere you looked there was green. The sky was filtered out with green, the ground was green. Even the tree bark was green, as it was invaded with moss and moist ferns from the tip of it's branches, to it's roots. Sight was very vague, for thick vines that bulged like coiling snakes criss-crossed every path. Not that there were any trails here.
"How could I not notice I was headed for "The Forest Of Mist?" he wondered.
Ever since he was a babbling infant, lullabies were mellodically sang to him and stories were told of brave adventurers who passed through the lush, tangled labrynth of vegetation... and never returned.
Just his luck. Remembering his father's advice on keeping a optimistic attitude, he straightened his slouched shoulders and forced a smile. Not that he liked reminding himself of his father's words. As a matter of fact, you could say he was trying to forget all recollections associated with the man.
Grabbing a stick splayed out between two rocks, he began to make a primitive means of sleeping, and cover for the rain he sensed was coming.
It didn't take long before he had several hollow tree trunks levered into place with a couple of boulders, and a good campfire.
Once the dancing flames began devouring and consuming the wood, he noticed something very strange.
The whole time he had been building his shelter, he had unknowingly arranged it , although very slight, to the appearance of the old cottage he had long left behind.
Sighing, he kicked a few trees, grasping his foot in anguish after, and curled up into an absurd ball under the shadow of the new makeshift "hut".
Although his wishes said otherwise, he gave way to the heat and let it's comforting motions lull him into slumber.
He had a very odd dream that night. Now I'm sure all of you have had one worth note before so this would be nothing new to you, and certaintly he has too.
Many a raised hand would appear if the question was asked, but this one broke the limits for him in ways none had before.
Valen woke to the sound of trickling water. As he rose, he could see nothing but granite corridors pointing in every direction, though no river was in sight. Large avians struggled to flitter in the sky, their wings weighing them down just enough that sustained flight was bearable.
On closer inspection, however, one would find they were not birds of any sort, or at least any he had seen before... they were dogs! Was that actually possible?
In confusion, he squinted his eyes. Yup, his eyes had not fooled him.
Next he tried sharply pinching himself.
"Ow!" he yelped.
"It can't be.." he added.
Those dogs.. they looked similair. Those dogs... were Luck!
Squawking clones jabbered in hoots as they swerved through the air, nearly missing his head by an inch.
"Cut it out!" he shouted.
But the "birds" kept coming.
Afraid push would soon come to shove, he ran.
Soon something nudged him in the elbow.
He turned to see a young, golden Chocobo, approximately at his third year.
With pleading eyes, it nudged him again, this time tugging on his sleeve as if to say "Come on!"
"No" Valen said as he continued his journey.
Again a tug on the elbow, this time much sharper returned.
"Alright.." he said.
The Chocobo seemed to be smiling, if that's possible.
The climb on was quite akward, as he had never done such before. This was also his first time actually experiencing a close encounter with these feathered creatures.
He couldn't help but gulp as he surveyed the beaked animal. Valen was at least half it's size.
With wobbled grasps, he heaved himself onto it's warm body, and grabbed the long, lemon-coloured head feathers positioned in silky tufts. There was now a fresh, tender bite mark where the tense, living missile had nipped him.
Now Valen had ridden many horses before - even wild mustangs.
But this was different.
One, there were no saddle and reins, and two, he did not expect what happened next.
At first it merely just stood there, calmly blinking under the moonlight's rays. Wasn't it sunny just a few minutes ago?
Before he could jump off, two rapid legs suddenly thrusted themselves into motion, and Valen was finally riding a Chocobo for the first time.
It was suprisingly fun. The wind in the boy's face was absolutely exhilirating, and the fast blur of his surroundings was breathtaking.
He had no idea where it was wanting to take him, but it must be important if it coaxed a feral bird out of hiding and into human contact.
Seconds became minutes.. minutes became hours..
Now time almost didn't matter. Nothing but the breeze
whipping his body and the twirling azure above his head mattered.
Soon the ride halted, and Valen was hurled towards the dirt.
Gravity also disliked him.
Spitting soil out of his mouth and winding up looking like a creature from Strankenfrein - a program on "H20 Live", was understandibly not his most enjoyed pastime.
He felt his hair. It was now spiked up, almost competing with the Chocobo's partly upright feathers. The force and impact of the aerial currents was to blame.
Now the mount seemed to be laughing to itself at this point, it's beak bobbing without a sound.
"It's not funny" he replied.
But the gentle giant continued it's "laughing".
Infact, it seemed to increase in speed and length.
"Wark!" it chirped.
"What's wrong?" Vallen answered, stroking it's feathers.
"Kweh" it cooed, pushing his small body towards whatever seemed to have caught it's attention.
Obediently he faced the direction. At first he didn't see anything. But then he shuddered.
Waterfalls slowly cascaded between lush, vibrant wildflowers of every colour, some he hadn't even seen before, and large rocks. But these weren't just any rocks. These were "The Rolling Stones", and as their name suggests, they were rolling, round grey slabs of rock. It was not his "what" caught his eyes, but "who". Standing across the beautiful masterpiece of flora and harmonic animals was a figure, watching motionlessely as if the lithe being was covered in cement.
Valen's body froze too.
"Is it possible.... Father?" he whispered.
The figure noded.
Time stopped that night as Father and Son embraced eachother.
"I'm so proud of you" he softly breathed in his son's ears.
It was obvious he was straining to hold back the tears.
"Me too" he replied.
Just then the loving hold ceased, and where the parental figure stood was now replaced by an armful of dust.
"No! This can't be happening!" He screamed.
He kept on shouting until his lungs were sore and he could no longer, all the while thrashing everything unfortunate to be in the way of his rampage. Leaves, Tree branches, rocks, even shrubs were uprooted and thrown however possible.
Valen thumped to the ground. He could lie there forever for what he cared..
When Luck stared at the scene playing before his eyes, his stubborn heart sank. His ever alert ears had picked up the sound of a frightened scream, and after following the traces of the scent of the screeching's origin, the result wasn't exactly pleasant. At first he thought it must be Valen. He worried what the monster had done with him. Whatever it was, it most certaintly wasn't human. Those deep eyes.. the sweet, chime-like voice... No, it definently was not human.
What he found was far negative then what he had earnestly been hoping for.
It was not a boy, but an old man. And it looked like he did not have much time left.
A man whom he presumed had caused the shrieks was advancing towards unconciousness. Nearby, a dark brown bear lumbered by, it's legs resembling tree trunks covered with rippling muscles.
Suddenly it saw him, scanning the retriever's body with cold, black eyes.
Behind it peeked three small cubs.
Furiosly, she roared the most ravaged and enraged holler Luck had heard in ages. And Luck had lived for many ages. Infact, he was sure he had suffered hearing loss just from the incident.
Seething with anger, it rushed towards him.
Huge prints lay where it's paws squashed the terrain.
The mother bear was stronger, but Luck was quicker.
With fluid agility he dodged a frightening blow, missing it by just a few centimetres and trimming his fur.
Next it was his turn.
Swiftly he flung himself like a cat pouncing upon a mouse. Of course felines are much better at doing such, and his non-retractable claws flopped clumsily on the ursine's rigid back.
Easily she swatted him like a fly, sending Luck whirling towards a tree.
The dog almost blacked out from the unbelievable pain, but he decided he had to pull through for the weakened stranger.
Again he lifted himself up off the ground, and hurtled his body dizzily towards the moving enemy.
His life was flashing before his eyes.
His first steps.. The warmth of his mother.. The cruel abandondment and the kind, hospital man whom found him.. and then all the times he had flown in battle, always aiming for the neck.
That was it!
Focusing on his winning strageties, he throttled at the bears thick hide. In a twist of seconds, he had his advantage. He was leaning on top the brute, ready to give the final strike. He bared his teeth, preparing for what must happen next. He sighed, or at least the best a dog can. It just could not be done. That.. thing was alive.. even if he almost owed losing his life to that very same thing, she had cubs.. she had a family of her own too." Feeling somewhat cowardly, he jumped off the large, heaving animal and released his firmly held grip.
He looked back.
Perhaps she was immobolized. Or perhaps she surrendered.
Carefully he padded away, limping the pads of his paw tenderly and walking towards the bearded man. But it was too late.
The bear rolled over. Soon she had him pinned to the ground.
Just the pressure and heavy weight from the opponent was enough for him to faint.
He could feel the Bear's cold breath nearing him.. edging closer to his throat.. to his last ebb of life.
Luck wasn't given his name for any old reason.
Before the Bear's fangs sank into fur, a sharp-edged object hit her constricted, beady eyes, and skidding her nose.
It was a rock.
Luck turned towards the rustling underbrush.
It was the man. The man had saved him.
As for the bear, she was stumbling in confusion, tripping over wayward pebbles and sticks.
Although she would eventually regain her senses in time, for now they were useless.
In frustration she wandered off, mind you away from her prey. Her toddling cubs soon hopped after her.
Cautiously, the dog lobbed over in the direction of the shaking man.
Luck could not understand the human language fluently, though it was obvious he was hungry. It looked as if he had not eaten for many days.
Dutifilly he caught all sorts of critters, returning each morning with his newly captured "gift".
Partridges... Rabbit.. Duck.. Mole.. They were all the same to him.
"Thank You" The grizzled man would say each time after a quick pat.
It seemed as if he was not used to harnessing his voice often, for his words were quiet and odd-sounding. He would often talk about an accident, and how "It's difficult to have a part of you remember something the other cannot" Of course Luck could only translate so well, and the well greeted spews of nouns and verbs were troublesome.
For hundreds of years he and his ancestors had been bred and trained to harmlessely fetch their prey without leaving a scratch. But Luck was no ordinary retriever.
Bright sunlight shone throught the veil of leaves blocking out most of the wild blue yonder.
Soon more figures stirred.
Squirrels began climbing with monkey-like speed up and down trees, and on both vertical and horizontal surfaces.
Fish swam in their constant search for food.
The whole forest seemed rejuvenitated, all except for Valen who was still snoring loudly, one of the only organisms left still sleeping in the leafy habitat.
That is, until slivers of solar illuminance blazed on his tired eyes.
Groggily he hauled himself upright with his hands.
Then his sleepy expression changed to one of suprise and bewilderment.
"Dad? Dad?" He called.
Then dissapointedly, though half-relieved he whispered "It was just a dream.."
Streneously he attempted to make his day as normal as possible.
He managed to find a cold, though fresh river where he was able to ambush some wild, stubby horses. A herd of Przwalskis to be exact. Equus Ferus if you want to be fancy.
Of course bent sticks and rocks smoothened from the water's currents strapped togethor with bits of shredded grass aren't exactly deadly hunting tools. Or useful.
And so he went without breakfast.
Fortunately he managed to pluck a few aphids from some plants, and dig up some roots. Not filling, but better then absolute starvation.
And so while he, a young boy, was getting little to no meals, the old man no longer fit his clothes from the constant supply of meals his four-legged waiter served him.
As to continue adjusting, he dipped himself in a brisk, frigid lake. The water stung him as he dived into it's icy clasp, but it gave him a feeling of acceptance, and of comfort. It was so similair to home.. The thought pained him, but he knew he truly craved the sensation no matter how often he denied it.
Afterwards he clung two home-made pails filled with water he carried to the fort as he would often do that time of day if he was still at the farm.
Or, at least he was planning to. Unfortunate for him, he wasn't the best swimmer. You could say he was terrible. Even the novice swimmers could still tread liquid more comfortably and easily then he. Also, unfortunately he was not thinking. The water level was higher then the regular norm, and it's waves were thrashing violently. More lay hidden underneath as under-currents, and just as dangerous they were as the ones above.
The strong rapids quickly lifted him off his feet and shook him in a disturbing manner, as if he was a small child.
"Help! Anyone! I'm drow-" His sentences were garbled from the roar of the rushing water, sweeping him with great force.
If you had been walking by, all you would have heard was "Kelp! Anna's One. I'm Drow!", and most likely walked the opposite direction in wonder.
Perhaps if there was an animal with more accurate hearing, say a feline or canine, things could be different. And they were.
Luck bounded away, gliding over rocks and stray branches. He was sure he had heard it.. He had to!
A few meters wobbled the laborously heaving man, still unsure if he should continue on for the sake of the risk of hyperventilation.
Luck paused to turn around, give a few encorouging barks, and then returned to dashing away to his chosen destination, only interested on what laid ahead.
Flailing helplessely at the rocks for support, Valen tried in vain to keep afloat, kicking against the wrestling water.
Luck springed into the river, submerging with a splash as he paddled across the stream, shaking his drenched fur.
The neck-high surges of H20 threatened to strangle him, but somehow he was able to keep his balance in the churning waves.
He was shivering. Not from the cold, for his oily fur was adapted to these situations.
Luck was scared for the first time in his life.
Eyes closed, he strained to reach the boy. Just a little further..
Suddenly a thick, unexpected wave crashed over Vallen and turned him over like a surfer hit by a tidal wave
Soon Valen trailed off, bobbing beneath the waves. And that was very, very horrible.
There was a waterfall in view.
Valen knew this was the end. He had always imagined what it would be like, though he did not ever picture it as this... so vivid.. so terrifying. He always wanted his to be quick. And from the looks of it, it looked like it would be. Valen let his body go limp as it floated past Luck.
"Maybe that dog wasn't so bad as I gave him credit for afterall.."
He wished he could now tell the dog how he really felt, but there was now no longer time.
"Just like father" he mouthed.
Then it happened. His body spiraled towards the bottom of the pointed, jabbing boulders below. He shut his eyes, wrapping his arms around himself as the last act of comfort he would feel.
He was still there.
Curiously, he opened his eye to see why he had not yet met his doom. His shirt was snarled from a jutting branch.
Relief washed over him, though it did not last for long.
The stick could not hold out forever, and it was already shaking from the weight it dangled.
A small, light pebble fell.
Valen watched in horror as it shattered, it's remains flying in every angle.
It was a long way down...
He looked up. His hands were slipping.
A piercing pain spread through his shoulder. It felt like every vein in his body was screaming. He turned his head as best he could in the position he was in. There was Luck, biting his upper arm fiercely through fiery, determined eyes.
A new figure appeared next to him. He looked like a man who had lived in a hole all his life.
His long beard ended in tangled knots, and his eyebrows were so bushy you could hardly see his eyes, though what you could see of them gave you the impression that he was friendly.
With troubled grumbles, he, along with Luck pulled on every limb they could hold, only increasing the pain.
In a sputter of coughing, Valen rised to his feet, sharing grateful glances with his heroes.
"Good boy, Luck. Good boy." He smiled as he uttered his first word of praise to him.
Luck just wagged his tail frantically, roughly jumping upon Valen and licking him rapidly with his wet tongue.
Valen had to look twice. It seemed so strange. He felt as if he had seen the old man somewhere before..
"Who are you?" he asked.
"Mortimen. At least I think. It's been so long.. I feel like I can't remember who I am anymore."
"Dad?" Valen's eyes lit up. "Dad! Remember me? I'm your son! Valen!" It felt like he was choking. Hurriedly he ran up and hugged the man whom saved his life.
"I'm sorry.. I don't have any kids." He pushed back the sandy-haired boy's loving arms.
"But it has to be! Please, you have to remember! The farm house.. My brother Eval!"
"I said no" he replied.
The conversation went from bad to worse as Valen continued to stream out desperate pleas, which were all denied.
"Look, I'm sorry things didn't turn out the way you wanted them to. But I'm not your fa- " The words muttered stopped as a slim, long-legged woman in a carriage stopped and lingered at the area for a few moments before stepping out with graceful movements.
"I believe this is your father?"
"No, he isn't" a voice answered.
"So then the boy is alone?"
Then her eyes followed Valen "And you do realize you are violating rule section 9'08?"
Valen gazed around. He did not notice until now, but he was standing on as we speak on government property. Infact, he was now between the borderline of his home country and the "Forest Of Mist".
"Yes, now I do"
"Then there should be consequences, am I right?"
"Come with me"
"I'm sorry, I can't do that your honour."
She gawked at him with eyes that looked like they might pop out any second.
"Now look at me and tell me again what you just said, young man."
"I said I cannot come with you." he replied.
"Well don't just stand there! Drag him by the heels if you have to!" She ordered as two men ambled out the carriage door.
In precise order, they marched out with outstretched hands like they had been practicing for this day from the time they were hired.
"Hurry before he gets away!"
"Yes your majesty."
Valen just stared in suprise. He had insulted the queen of the land, Haris Pilton. She was the ruler of the whole country of Kantookie, and the mother of Cendere Ellan. Now that took guts and deserved respect.
It didn't take long for the guards to gripe his wavering arms.
"Father! Father!" He screamed on and on again.
The man just gazed uninterested, although slightly sympathetic, before turning away.
The still panicked boy was pushed into the small, cramped vechile.
"Father!" He continued to yell through the window.
"What's wrong with you, boy?" One of the guards sneered.
Then something odd happened. The old man swavered so suddenly and unexpectedly that the poor boy that he was having a heart-attack. But then the man turned and ran, approaching the vechile with amazing speed. "Valen!" He cried.
Epilogue: Soon after the Queen, Haris Pilton, had discovered that her and Mortimer had been friends together as school-children. When the Queen had heard the horrendous story of her daughter's awful behavior, she gave the family a loan of gold in apology. After seeing their dreadful cottage, she took pity in the poor state of her old friend and offered to pay for a new mansion to be prepared immedietly for them - after the dog, Luck had chased out the mailman residing there. In other words, most certaintly Valen would have to admit the story ended well afterall, and everyone, well, mostly everyone in the valley lived happily ever after - except for Cindere Ellan, who was grounded for four months.