Author's Note: When I first fell in love with "Happy Feet," I wasn't that fond of Noah the elder penguin, but after I read a curiously charming fan fiction called, Noah the Elder by Reverend Lovejoy, I was interested in him as a character. After all, Noah's not a bad 'guin, he's just afraid of the unknown and too proud of his faith to deny his principles. It's surprising that I like such a conservative-archetype character, but maybe that proves that I've moved past my overly liberal ideals. Anyway, this is the result. If you ever read this Reverend Lovejoy, this is for you!
*S. Snowflake
A Helping Flipper
"Mumble Happyfeet! Mumble Happyfeet!"
Those were the words that the Emperor Penguin colony chanted continuously after the return of their fish. They knew that the hairless "aliens" had indeed stopped their plundering of the fish, and now they had a hero to thank. The young, brave Mumble had been the first to communicate to the strange, amazing creatures beyond the ice using his unusual gift of tap dancing.
A hero's treatment was a stark change of respect for the penguin that had once been exiled from Emperorland for his differences and supposedly heretic ideas. Now he was not only accepted for his talent, but he was honored as a unique individual for it. No penguin saw a problem with this new diamond in the rough, except for one; Noah the elder.
Other than his father had been, Noah was the oldest Emperor penguin there ever was. His old, faded feathers lay flat and short upon his slender body that heaved up and down with each breath that his lungs sucked in then pushed out. The skin that had once given Noah great flexibility now hung in bags under his chin and eyes, and his spine was curved into a slightly crooked angle from the back of his neck down. He was truly a sad sight to behold these days. He looked almost like a bag of feathers and bones waddling upon his pedestals of glacial ice high above his peers, attempting to preach about their God, the Great Guin, in his raspy voice.
Perhaps it was this old age that was causing the problems, or maybe they lay in the stupidity of this generation of young penguins.
Yes, those have to be the reasons! said the hopeful voice in the back of Noah's mind. But deep down he knew they were not.
There was another reason for the sudden lack of respect the young penguins had for him, and that was the sudden popularity of Mumble. After witnessing his power of alien speech through his tapping happy feet, the colony largely looked up to the young penguin as almost a leader.
The idea was repulsive to Noah for two reasons. One reason was, no matter how true Mumble's crackpot theories of aliens and the lean season had been, Noah still had a hard time accepting the penguin that he had always considered a nonconformist. The other reason was the idea of losing his position as the leader. If he were not an elder, what would be left for Noah and all the other elders as well? Would traditions begin to die with his resigning?
Alas, the changes had already begun. The generation of penguins Mumble had been born into half the time missed one of the weekly sermons, asking instead to hear fortunes from a Rockhopper penguin named Lovelace or to ask Mumble about the aliens. Even when they did show up for the sermons and ceremonies, Noah noticed an increasingly loud murmur rising from the crowd that overpowered his words. Even some of the other elders had begun to disrespect him. They often discredited his faith in the Great Guin and how faith in Him would also help with the return of the fish. Noah recalled someone asking if a new faith should be established in sacrificing and communicating to the aliens with Mumble as the sermon leader.
A cult with that boy as leader! Great Guin, what next? Noah wondered, panicking slightly inside. Would this uprise get out of hand? Would the new waves of revolution destroy all that tradition stood for? Fools, fools, they do not know what they do!
But, sure enough, the younger penguins eventually did upraise against Noah, asking to impeach his position and have Mumble take over for him. It was an unsuccessful attack, but an attack nonetheless, and it hurt Noah's pride. Though Noah had never seen the boy being part of the attack, it cut into his heart like a skua beak. He looked over his old, wretched body, and believed that he could lead his people no longer. He would have to give in to the crowd, or else take on a fight that he was too old and tired to fight. All that there was left to do was surrender his position to Mumble Happyfeet.
Noah was now waddling back and forth in his secluded ice cave, waiting for the youngster Mumble to arrive. He had not prepared what he would say to the boy, being he had only thought of talking to him on the spurn of the moment. Honestly, he had only spoken once to Mumble one on one, and that was to banish him from Emperorland. It would not be easy to get over such a large past confrontation.
"H-hello?" asked the somewhat quiet and nervous voice of a young male penguin outside his ice cave. Noah knew the voice well.
"Come in, my boy," replied Noah with his raspy voice before the younger, downy-feathered penguin entered.
Mumble was somewhat shorter than most other penguins. He always had been something of a runt, but nevertheless he carried himself confidently with a slight spring in his step that reflected his tap dancing abilities.
"You wanted me to come here?" asked Mumble.
"Yes, I summoned you here to speak to you about some… things," the old penguin said to his guest.
Mumble nodded anxiously, secretly hoping that he could return to his girlfriend Gloria and his true amigos soon. He tip-tapped his way over to Noah, wondering why this elder (the one that his mother had once called a 'daffy old fool'), had called upon him. Still, he stood tall and proved his bravery, not forgetting the day he had been banished.
"So, what do you need to talk to me about? If it's anything about my banishment, I think I've proven myself…"
"No, yeh've proven yourself worthy to stay here, Mumble Happyfeet. More than worthy," Noah replied, almost trying to apologize, "What concerns me is all this alien business. I've seen many of my penguin brothers and sisters lose their faith in the Great Guin because of these aliens and your journey to find the fish. I fear that there will be an uprising that will put down all our traditions."
"Oh… No, no, Noah-sir," Mumble replied earnestly. "I think everyone's just a little crazy after the fish started coming back. They won't give up on the Great Guin."
"There's more to it than that," Noah gulped heavily and swallowed a wad of spit, "I'm not young anymore, and many of the young ones want me removed from my prime councilor position before I die. They want a new leader."
"Gosh," muttered Mumble. "Who are they thinking of?"
Noah looked over at Mumble, visibly surprised. "Isn't it obvious? They want you to lead them."
"Me? But, I'm no elder. I-I'm just Mumble." The young penguin shook his head, a few feathers falling off his back in the process.
"There's no need to panic, my boy... Not yet." Noah sighed deeply then. "All I need you to do is tell me when yeh'd like for me to resign."
"I don't want to lead the others!" Mumble proclaimed, "It's your job to do that, not mine. I wasn't hatched into the families of wisdom."
"Aye, but as ye've said, times have changed."
Mumble was taken aback by these short and hopeless replies from the elder that he had always known as the passionate to Emperorland. He had never thought this rule stickler would give up on something until now.
"But we still need the things we believe in. How could we live without our families, our heartsongs, the Great Guin, and our leaders? I can't give them any of that, but you can," said Mumble.
"What do you mean, boy?" asked the old penguin.
"Well, think about how many fathers you've led out of the dark winter. If it weren't for you, I know that Pa would've never made it with me." Mumble smiled and began thinking again. "A-and what about singing to the Great Guin? I can't sing a note to him, but the others need someone to sing to."
"But… I am old. I am ugly. I do not bend to their ideas. My brothers do not want me."
Mumble shook his head. "That's not true, Noah sir. Maybe some of us have gotten a bit impatient with the Great Guin, but Pa always taught me to believe in him. I know they'll listen too if you just try a new approach."
"A new approach?"
"Yeah. Tell them that the Great Guin will watch over us and protect us from the aliens' lean season. It won't be a lie, and I'm sure you'll have everyone's support."
Noah's eyebrows of sorts shifted upward. "Maybe. Maybe…" He looked to Mumble again, and for some reason or other felt compelled to confess something to the youngster; something that he had told very few souls in all his years.
"Ye know, sometimes I watch all the little ones hatching, finding the songs of their hearts and their loves, having families of their own, and it makes me wish that I hadn't been born in the families of wisdom," said Noah. "I guess that we're meant for one thing or another."
"-And I was never meant to be an elder," Mumble concluded, "-But you shouldn't regret your life. If there's one thing I've learned, it's that you have to know who you are to be happy with whatch'ya got."
And for once in their conversation, Noah smiled. He was actually listening to this young penguin, and he could somehow relate to him. "Thank you, Mumble Happyfeet," he said, "I'm beginning to realize why so many have followed your path."
Mumble smiled back and bowed his head slightly in respect before turning out of the ice cave, knowing that his audience with Noah was over. Just before he left though, Noah interrupted him once more.
"Listen, if yeh ever do decide to become a council member, ye have my approval, Happyfeet," the old penguin said.
"Thanks," replied Mumble before he took a few steps forward, but then he turned around. "-By the way, Mrs. Astrakhan has been very lonely since Mr. Astrakhan disappeared at sea last year. Who knows about your heartsong?"
Although Mumble could not tell from his distance, Noah blushed at the idea of somehow courting the operatic Mrs. Astrakhan. "Yes, well, maybe," Noah coughed and nodded modestly in return. "Farewell, Happyfeet."
And as the young grey-feathered tap dancer left the ice cave and descended down the ice slide below, Noah's heart began reawakening. He was not old and dying, he was wise and enduring nature's great hardships. He was Noah, the Prime Councilor of Emperorland, ripe in his age and leader of the glorious today. He had heard it said that a leader was nothing without his people, and now he knew that it was true. Sometimes you just need that ordinary, or perhaps extraordinary, helping flipper to get back on your feet.
The End.