Chapter 11: Weepy Mount Quaffle

Soundtrack: Donkey Kong Country 2 - 'Lanterns' by Radiowar

Abner stared at the spot where Bumpty's face had disappeared. Surely this could not be happening, none of it could be real. This was impossible, there was no way that Bumpty could be gone.
"BUMPTY!" he screamed with every ounce of strength still left in his lungs, as if he was dying. "BUMPTY, PLEASE, YOU CAN'T! YOU CAN'T BE-" Abner stopped, refusing to say the word; saying it outloud would only make what had just happened final, and he couldn't handle facing the simple, horrifying truth. Instead, he ran, stumbling, to the edge where Bumpty had fallen, simply to look down. Peering over the mountain, he expected Bumpty to somehow still be there, alive and with that same old penguin smile. But as he looked downwards, seeing nothing but smooth rock and the cloudline below, he knew. Bumpty would never keep him waiting, especially when Abner was screaming for him as if his life depended on it. The truth was that Bumpty was gone.
'No, not gone,' Abner thought to himself. 'He hasn't left to go the grocery store to pick up some milk and Sour Patch Kids; he's dead. He'll never laugh, or cry, or have hopes and dreams again. He's dead, and he's left me here, and I can't do this anymore.'
The boy sank to his knees, and the tears streamed freely on to his face, the harsh North Pole winds stinging. None of it mattered anymore, it was all pointless; his quest to find Santa Clause suddenly seemed even more childish than it already had. He just wanted to go home to his mother; surely she would understand that he couldn't do it, and that he had tried. These thoughts, however, just made Abner cry even harder. Shuddering, he completely collapsed to the ground; his will was completely shot.
'Please, just let me die here. There's nothing left, I tried everything, and instead of making things better I've just made them worse. I don't deserve to live; it's my fault Bumpty's gone.'
Before these thoughts could consume Abner, he heard Bumpty's voice in his head.
'My dear boy! Nothing is your fault; I chose to give up my life for your sake. Without you, I'd have never returned to Shiver City to redeem myself and liberate my fellow penguins. To top it all off, you're the first friend I've had in years, and the only true one I feel I've ever had. Ensuring your safety to Santa Clause is the least I could do to repay you. But you won't be doing either me or yourself a service by just sitting here moping about it. Now get up!'
Smiling despite himself, Abner slowly got to his feet. Looking at the path ahead of him leading up the mountain while ignoring the rather sickly sight of the torn apart Wise Seal, Abner realized that he had come too far to give up now. It was true; his greatest protector had died for him, but that sacrifice would be in vain if he were to stay here now. Carrying onward was really the only option.
Abner walked onward. The pain of loss still tore at him from the inside, but it was somehow lesser, more distant; a terrible storm somewhere far off on the horizon. As much as he wanted to not only grieve, but give up on the world entirely, Abner knew he couldn't. Not when so many people depended on him.
And still he walked onward.
His mother was in desperate need of him now, and regardless of what Mount Quaffle and Santa Claus had in store for him, he had to get home as soon as physically possible. And then there were all the other people in his life; his friends, who had always known Abner as the consummate optimist - what would they say to him if he were to let the world back him into a corner like this?
The trail was becoming wider.
If there was one thing he had learned while on this insane, non-sensical journey to the North Pole, it was that he had to be his own umbrella through the weather. As much love as he had for the people in his life, and even though he knew they would do anything for him, the childish dream of always having someone there to protect him had to die along with Bumpty. Loving is a strength, yes, but he no longer could live for other people; he had to live for himself.
Abruptly, the path ended, and Abner looked upwards; the aurora borealis had come into view, and a flock of seagulls drifted lazily by (how these things were happening so high up was anyone's guess). And there, a mere 50 feet from where he stood, stood a small house made out of what appeared to be emerald. Somehow, Abner knew he had made it; this was not some final trick of Mount Quaffle's. Elated with having finally made it, Abner seemed to float over to the door. He reached up to knock on the door, and immediately, as if he had been expected, a deep, warm voice called "Come in."
Abner opened the door, and walked into a small yet unbelievably cozy room. Looking around, Abner saw two inviting seats facing each other in front of a fireplace with a table in between them. One of the chairs was empty, and in the other sat-
"Santa!" Abner gasped.
"Ho ho ho," the jolly red clothed plump man answered. "Yes, my dear Abner."