Freiyon Fables A Tail To Remember

Micklang, happy that he was on his boat as he sailed down the river, chuckled as he settled down in his boat and rowed when he needed to, thinking back to how he had gotten there to that world to begin with. Around two hours later, Micklang came across something interesting. It was a sword laying in the river, abandoned. And most bizarre, it was one built for an animal like him. Taking it gladly, he began to practice with it, remembering he was meant to be a warrior.

Micklang swung it around a few times before he put it back into his belt, where it would be ready for later use.

Although Micklang didn’t want to fight anything, especially after the horrible and death-threatening experience he had just had, he yearned to have another strange, mysterious and maybe life-threatening adventure. He had been sailing for quite some time now, and all that time in the boat made him dreary and dizzy.

He sighed to himself and lied down in the boat, thankful that it was a boat that could take a good amount of weight.

It was than that he had another vision of the warrior version of himself, smiling proudly. ’Do not think of fighting now, my friend, sleep and rest, for there is no trouble to you and you need rest after your frightening experience.’ Warrior Micklang declared.

“There’s something I don’t understand, where did you come from? I never saw you in my mind before, and yet I seem to know you like I know myself.”

’When you escaped, you released me, the warrior inside of you, which was why I was able to help you against the birds that tried to attack you.’

“Am I a warrior now?”

’Not yet, to look like me, you need to complete your adventuring quest and map the things you come across. Do that now. Write on the back of your shirt with the sharp point of an arrow what you have encountered so far, my friend.’

Micklang nodded, grabbed an arrow and started mapping his progress.

“Right, I’m heading south down the faraway lake, Tursorl’s camp was where the lake got the widest, and there were mountains not far up north from there, though I never went there. So if I’m going south and that was north, then that means that east and west are to my sides and I should keep going south as long as I go in a straight line on this lake.” Micklang stated to himself as he mapped the route carefully. Then, to pass the time, he decided to come up with a small song.

“This is the song of a lonely traveler, who does not know where to go.

He met a tree chief who helped him understand what to do.

The two were joined as father and son, a certainly odd thing to see.

But another tree felt that none should be chief save he.

The two trees fought angrily, while the traveller helped out.

The battle was won by the tree that helped the traveller out.

Now the traveller is off alone with no help, save for the warrior inside his heart,

And he will travel until he comes to help, those who are close to his heart.

This is the song of the traveller, which is indeed true, the traveller with a tale blue.” Micklang sung, swinging and swaying as he did.

“Well, ain’t that a pretty ditty. That brings a tear to my eye and joy to my heart, so it does, matey.” A voice announced after Micklang stopped singing.

Jumping around at the noise and brandishing his sword, Micklang shouted.

“Who’s there?! Show yourself! Are you friend or foe?”

His echo came back at him, but then the voice replied.

“Sure, and I was thinking you were a foe until you started singing that nice song. Why don’t you swim in the lake, t’is a nice day for it, don’t you think?”

“I can swim, but not very well. Fine, if you’re not an enemy, why don’t you show yourself? I’m willing to become friends if you are.”

When no reply came, Micklang presumed the speaker had gone and he turned around, only to come face-to-face with a smiling otter.

“Well, ain’t that nice? What kind of otter are you, friend, if you cannot swim properly and have a strange looking rudder?” The otter asked.

“I’m not an otter; I’m a squirrel, a tree-climber. My name is Micklang, but you can call me Micky if you want, friend.” Micklang was slightly taken back by the appearance of the strange otter.

“Good to meet you, Micklang my friend. I’m Oscar, otter chieftain around these parts. We’ve been following you ever since you left Chief Tursorl’s place. The reason we didn’t join you was because we weren’t clear what you were and why you were sailing down this lake of ours. Tursorl’s a nice bloke, firm and strong, but nice. I’m sure you and ’im got a good chance to chin-wag. What are ya laughing at, Micklang my lad?” Oscar noticed the chuckle on Micklang’s face.

“Something is tickling me, Oscar, I can’t stop it! Oh Hahahahaha, oh, stop that, whatever you are! Hahaha!” Micklang laughed, trying to see what it was.

Oscar inspected where Micklang was standing and thumped his rudder on the boat.

Silently coming out of the water, another otter joined them and looked annoyed and sad that his fun had stopped.

“Now, Oliver, you rascal! This is our friend, ticklin’ ain’t a good thing to do unless they want you to, ok? You have to remember that you are my son and I want you to be a good commander when you grow up.” Oscar told the young otter.

“Yes father, but he is a strange kind of otter, ain’t he? I have never laid eyes on an otter with a lightnin’ shaped rudder!” Oliver replied in a slightly squeaky voice.

“If you weren’t too busy ticklin’ our friend here and listening instead, you’d learn what he really is. His name is Micklang and he calls himself a squirrel, a tree-climber.”

Micklang shook Oliver’s hand and smiled.

“Pleased to meet you, Oliver.” Micklang said.

“Same here, Micklang Lightning-tail.”

“Hey, that ain’t bad! Micklang Lightning-tail. It suits you well, I think. Has a bit of a warrior sight to it, especially seeing as you have the look of a warrior on you.” Oscar pointed out, rather proud of his son coming up with a good name for Micklang.

“Micklang Lightning-tail, eh? I s’pose I could get used to that name, it does sound good, doesn’t it?” Micklang responded.

“Hey chief, can we come aboard now? I’m sure our friend won’t mind, especially seeing as we stopped his boat to chat.” A voice asked, from somewhere beneath the boat.

“You stopped my boat? How did you do that?” Micklang queried.

“Simple, really, I just got the rest of my otters to hop in and stop you while you chatted to me. You don’t mind, do you?” Oscar watched his gang slide onto the boat.

“Of course not, I just didn’t notice their paws on the boat as they were holding it. It seemed to appear to have stopped all by itself.” Micklang observed.

Oscar chuckled.

“Yes, my boys can do that often.”

“And girls.” Another otter retorted, amongst the ones that had hopped on.

“Yes, and girls, Maria. I didn’t forget you.” Oscar replied, a bit embarrassed.

“So, you’re a squirrel, huh? Well I ain’t heard of them before. Slap me rudder you look stranger than any creature I’ve ever seen. My name is Maria, the only otter-girl in this group of rowdy, but fun, otter-boys. I heard Oscar call you Micklang Lightning-tail, is that your name?” Maria shook Micklang’s hand as she spoke.

“That’s right. I’m new here, I came from a strange place which had big odd creatures called humans. I was imprisoned in a small, smelly place called a zoo, with a whole lot of other animals there as well. When I escaped, I came here, though I didn’t know about this place, and ever since then I’ve been trying to find answers to where I belong.” Micklang explained.

“What be the place called you came from?” Oscar asked.

Micklang thought for a moment, trying to remember if he heard what the strange place that held the zoo was called.

“Australia, it was in a place called Australia. Where that is, I don’t know, but that was where I was, trapped in a zoo for four years of my seven year life.”

“Could we come with you to find the answers you are looking for, oh please say yes.” Oliver voiced, not able to contain his excitement.

Micklang chuckled and picked the young otter up.

“How old are you, Oliver?”

“My father says I’m too young to fight battles yet, but I reckon I could. I’m only ten, but I can be a good fighter, if you need one that is.” It was at this point in time that the boat came to another stop, although none on board were aware of the fact that the otters weren’t stopping it this time.

“Tell you what, I’ll test you. See those arrows there? How far do you reckon you could shoot one of them?” Micklang handed him a bow and arrow.

“Hmm, ’bout as far as that rock up ahead, I reckon!” Oliver pointed to a rock down the stream at least ten human steps away from the boat.

“Yeah? Well, let’s see you try, huh?”

Oliver studied his distance and stretched the arrow back in his bow, letting it go when he thought it would be good.

It landed right next to the rock that he had mentioned and Oscar smiled.

Micklang smirked at the distance the rock was away, and saw another further away.

“Well, you reckon you can get it that far, let’s see you try this.” Micklang challenged.

Fitting an arrow to his bow he studied his target and let loose, coming a good two human feet further than the rock he had been intending on aiming for.

Oscar looked in amazement at the distance in-between the two arrows and then looked at Micklang.

“How did you do that, Micklang me lad?” He asked.

“Takes practice and knowledge of how to do it, besides, it helps when you had been pretty much forced to do it like I was back at the zoo.”

Oliver looked sad that he was beaten, but Micklang comforted him and patted him on the back.

“Don’t get upset about being beaten, mate, happens all the time. Happened to me more times than I could count, that’s for sure. Just practice, be determined to beat your own record, and pretend that the shot might save your life, because in many cases, it could.” Micklang comforted.

“You really think I could get it as far as you, Micklang?”

“Of course, my friend, with practice comes perfection, you know. Remember that well, practice makes perfect.”

“Practice makes perfect, practice makes perfect.” Oliver echoed, making it sound like a song.

Micklang chuckled as he looked back at Oscar, who was laughing as well.

“Now look what you’ve done, Oliver won’t give that up for months! You sure know a lot about archery, Micklang, maybe you could teach us more about it as we go questing with you.” Oscar expressed.

“I’d love to, but the only way we’re going to get anywhere is if all your otters come on board and stop holding my boat.”

Oscar suddenly looked concerned.

“What are you talking about? They’re all here; none of them are holding the boat.”

“Then what’s been holding us here long enough for us to shoot those arrows?” Micklang looked into the lake.

Oscar pulled Micklang away from the edge just in time; a strange-looking fish shot out and snapped at where Micklang had been.

“I know what this is. Otters! Rudders ready to attack on my mark.” Oscar commanded.

“What’s going on?” Micklang asked.

“T’is pike, my land friend, I’ve dealt with them before. They push a rock or something in front of a boat such as this and then attack whoever is in it when they look over the edge like you just did. Then, from there, they work their way through each of the boat’s crew, killing anything they can get their teeth into.”

“Pike? But aren’t they meant to be small, dumb fish?”

“Not these ones, my friend. These one are as big as boulders and smart to boot, that’s why they almost got you when you looked over the edge. Problem they have is that they are dealing with me, and who better than to take revenge on those savage fish than me and my otter group. It was those vicious pike that attacked my ol’ father and killed him and his crew, it be me to have vengeance. Stand back, Micklang my friend, this is otter business now.” Oscar pushed Micklang away just as another pike tried to attack..

Micklang watched in fascination as the whole otter tribe gave the vicious fish beneath a good thrashing with their rudders.

“Steady there, otters, these pike mean business, don’t show ’em you’re ’fraid of ’em.” Oscar commanded.

Some pike were brave or stupid enough to try and leap into the boat, but Micklang dealt with these by slashing at them with his sword, sending them back into the water with a blood trail showing behind them.

“Uh, oh, now we’ve got trouble. Brace yourselves, mates, the pike love blood, even if it is their own. They’ll give each other a good gnawing at it until their blood lust has gone. Thankfully they won’t bother us, but just stay the course and keep away from the sides, whatever you do.” Oscar announced.

The boat rocked violently in the water, sending Micklang thudding into the front of the ship. The waves went rough like the middle of a storm as the raging pike killed and gnawed at any in their way.

But within minutes, the pike stopped suddenly and the attack was over.

Micklang rubbed his head and looked around.

“They are either dead or retreating, either way, I don’t want to be hanging around this place any longer. Quick paddle, Micklang good chum, and let us get away from this place. Then we can start this venture you want to do.” Oscar gave Micklang a hand to get up.

“Hmm, you’re probably right about that, Oscar, something tells me that’s not the last time we face trouble on this lake.” Micklang replied.

“Aye, but with us around, you’ll be just fine, Micklang. No-one knows these lakes better than us, my friend, ’cept maybe the platypuses.”

“The what?”

“I hadn’t heard of them either until they appeared a few months back, but they are our friends now because they know about rivers and lakes as well. They are funny looking creatures with webbed feet, a small rudder and a paddle shaped beak with brown fur. The first platypus I came across, fellow by the name of Pistachio, said he had come from some place called Australia, said he had found this place by total accident, but said he’d prefer here than anywhere else in the world. Funny accent too, that’s for sure.”

The forest surrounding them, Micklang knew, was full of trees that could talk. He hoped they would come across ones that were as nice as Tursorl and nothing like that strange and evil tree Eucalicta.

Micklang watched the water carefully, just in case, but was fascinated to see something splash into the water from the bank.

“Hey, Oscar, something’s coming towards us!” Micklang announced.

“Where is it matey? Arrhh! There be the big blighter! Woo, it certainly is a big one, wonder what it is? It doesn’t look like a fish, but then again, t’is hard to tell when the water is slightly murky,” Oscar prepared himself with his rudder and Micklang preparing himself with his sword.

“Ready friend?” Oscar asked Micklang.

“Ready when you are.”

Micklang’s sword glittered in the sunlight as they prepared to attack whatever was coming towards them.

Then, just when they were going to attack.

“Blimey, mate, you wouldn’t want to hurt a defenceless platypus out looking for good grub, would ya, Oscar?!” A voice announced from behind them, surprising everyone.

“Pistachio, you ol’ rascal! You gave us quite a scare, matey. Should’ve let us know you were around.” Oscar replied, giving the platypus a hug and a friendly pat on the back.

“I would’ve if I knew you jokers were here. I was only out with my mum lookin’ for grub when I spotted ya. Well, ’ello there, who’s this?” Pistachio asked, turning his attention to Micklang.

“He’s new here; his name is Micklang the Squirrel Warrior, although we’ve decided to call him Micklang Lightning-tail.” Oscar replied.

“Warrior, huh? I’ve had previous experiences with warriors, trained one meself, ya know. Let’s see what you’ve got.” Pistachio said. Micklang darted in and out with his sword, full swings, half swings, jumping thrusts, upper-slashes and other types of attacks. Then, to add a bit more surprise to his show, he did an amazing thrust out and under with a twist of his hand. Pistachio was astonished and clapped with excitement. “Well done, Micklang, well done. Ah, here comes trouble.”

Another Platypus appeared out of the lake and smiled at the group. “Mates, this is my mum, Penelope. A good ol’ lady with a bit of an angry attitude when she doesn’t get her way.” Pistachio introduced the new Platypus. “You keep that up, Pistachio, and you won’t get any grub for two weeks, crikey this is a big group. What, may I ask, are you? You ain’t an otter, I saw that straight away.” Penelope stared at Micklang in wonder.