Fanfiction.net Link:
https://www.fanfiction.net/s/11983183/1/Red-ReflectionI posted this in June as my first toe dip into The Land Before Time fanfic world. It's about Littlefoot's thoughts and feelings during and after Chomper's hatching, so that required playing through those movie 2 scenes over and over again so I could portray it accurately. The only proof reader available is me, so I might have missed some grammar stuff. But I'm mostly happy with how it came out and hopefully this gives some entertaining insights into Littlefoot and his bond with Chomper.
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Red Reflection
by The Analyzer“Look.”
At Ducky’s single word, any other distractions that might be on Littlefoot and the others’ minds vanished. Unwaveringly, they watched the egg as cracks snaked across its surface. Ducky briefly put her ear to it to hear out for any life inside. Petrie flapped off the egg and settled on the edge of the tree stump just in time. A single three-clawed foot kicked itself out.
“It hatching.” Petrie said.
The egg turned and a short, triangular tail was the next to be freed. Littlefoot felt his heart beat in anticipation when an upward pressure struggled to push through the egg. All of the egg but the top came apart, revealing another three-clawed foot and a pair of skinny two-fingered arms. The last of the round shell covered its head, further driving up the suspense of what kind of dinosaur the hatchling was. But with the revelation of all of its body so far, Littlefoot felt a stirring of unease.
*Hang on.* Littlefoot thought. *What kind of guy is this?*
Judging from its upper limbs, it didn’t seem the type to walk on all fours. So it would use just two feet like Ducky. But Littlefoot couldn’t recall any swimmers who had only two fingers on their hands, nor had young that started out this big. There were possibly other kinds of swimmers Littlefoot hadn’t seen but his instincts told him that this hatchling wasn’t one of them. Maybe it was a domehead? No, the head shape didn’t seem right and Littlefoot was pretty sure they had more than two fingers.
The closest species that came to Littlefoot’s mind that matched this hatchling was Hyp’s kind. Littlefoot wasn’t hearing good word about Hyp in his time in the valley but he wasn’t going to hold it against this hatchling. But again, those two fingers discounted that possibility. There was something about the hatchling’s shape that made Littlefoot’s tummy start to tighten, not helped when the hatchling briefly looked around in what seemed like a predatory manner. Littlefoot tried to tell himself he was being silly, there was nothing to be scared of about a baby, and they were going to make sure the child would be taken care of to the best of their ability.
Then the hatchling gracefully threw the shell off of its head and smiled down at Ducky, its complete shape clear to all in the glen.
“It’s – it’s a –” Littlefoot said with dawning realization.
The hatchling opened its mouth in greeting, revealing tiny teeth, pointed teeth, and a bolt of terror struck everyone present.
“Sharptooth!”
Ducky and Petrie scrambled away from the sharptooth, catching up with Cera and Spike in the hasty retreat from the glen.
“Sharptooth!” Cera screamed.
Littlefoot glanced at the sharptooth, his running friends, and back again, momentarily unable to comprehend the situation. Then he locked eyes with the sharptooth and got another glimpse of those pointed teeth, and pure instinct kicked in.
“Run!” Ducky yelled.
Littlefoot needed no further encouragement, scrambling in the dirt to try catching up with his fleeing friends. But by the time he picked up speed, his neck got caught in a low-hanging vine. Littlefoot was too much in panic to do anything but continue running in place, hoping sheer momentum would break the vine. His struggles only reared him on his hind legs, his front limbs uselessly digging the air, before the vine returned all that force onto him and he was sent flying, landing on his back for his troubles.
Dazed, Littlefoot found himself right back next to the small sharptooth. He stared at it, and Littlefoot raised his head for a better look. The sharptooth turned away to coo at the air. Then it regarded Littlefoot with those red eyes, the same red eyes of the sharptooth that killed Littlefoot’s mother, that tried its hardest to kill Littlefoot and his friends, those eyes that still haunted Littlefoot’s nightmares…
Littlefoot screamed. He ran off, hoping the sharptooth didn’t have the persistence of its older brethren and got distracted by something shiny which would hopefully lead it out of the Great Valley forever. But he slowed, remembering the shock on the sharptooth’s face and cautiously puttered back. Littlefoot saw the sharptooth had lowered its eyes, gaze searching the ground and he heard indistinct mumbling. There was still a smile but a tinge of sadness was starting to come in.
It – he was alone, Littlefoot realized. The hatchling had only just come into the world and there was no one there for him. From the way he looked down, he probably wondered what he did wrong to end up like this. Some part of Littlefoot, the part that still remembered the agony and isolation of that loss, resonated with the hatchling sitting by himself on the tree stump. Littlefoot felt a wash of sympathy.
“Oh, he doesn’t look so dangerous,” he said.
Littlefoot slowly stepped closer, the hatchling watching him with that sad cautious smile.
“It’s alright. I won’t hurt you.” Littlefoot said soothingly.
The hatchling jerked back slightly. Littlefoot wondered for a moment if he should have invaded the hatchling’s personal space when the latter lifted out his tongue and licked Littlefoot straight across the cheek.
Littlefoot laughed. “Friendly, aren’t you?”
The hatchling opened his mouth in the biggest smile, showing his teeth, and putting his hands against each other. He gazed at Littlefoot with all the love that someone so young could have and Littlefoot raised his head in realization.
“Hey, I bet you think I’m your mama – a, papa.”
The hatchling pressed his hands together bashfully, worshipful eyes on the only person paying him any attention. Littlefoot’s heart melted. Up until now, he sometimes pondered why parents could be so mushy with their children even when those children did something foolish. Now Littlefoot could see why. He looked at the hatchling and felt a powerful surge of affection. He didn’t care that the hatchling was a sharptooth. At the moment, all he thought was that the youth in front of him was sweet and beautiful and perfect.
*Is this how Mom thought about me? Is this how my grandparents think about me now?*
Then Littlefoot remembered his own eyes also had a kind of reddish tinge. If he and the hatchling weren’t different species, Littlefoot could have conjectured they were distant relatives of some sort. Littlefoot resisted the urge to laugh. There he went, doing another parent thing, comparing what traits of his own had been passed on to his charge. That was silly, but Littlefoot found he didn’t mind being silly one bit.
Then a touch of reality struck Littlefoot. He wasn’t this hatchling’s parent and he was still a child himself. If the hatchling started to think of Littlefoot simply as his papa, that might lead to issues when the hatchling came to question how he came under the longneck’s care. Best to be truthful of the complexities of their bond, and make clear that just because the hatchling had a different family arrangement didn’t mean he was loved any less.
“Well, I’m not really. But don’t worry, I’m going to take good care of you. My friends will too, once they see how nice you are.” Littlefoot began to walk out of the glen. “C’mon, I’ll show you around.”
Littlefoot couldn’t wait to show the hatchling the Great Valley. The thought of touring the majestic sights of his home, seeing those young eyes shine with wonder, caused happiness to swell in Littlefoot’s chest. Littlefoot looked back in time to see the hatchling get to his feet to follow, lifting one leg…and unable to finish the stride. He flailed his arms as gravity took over and fell chin first. Littlefoot winced. He now remembered one important part of child raising he neglected to address. Sighing, he smiled fondly.
“Oh, I guess I better teach you to walk first.”
The hatchling had opened his eyes and sat back up, watching Littlefoot expectantly, already knowing a lesson was coming up.
“First, you lift one foot.” Littlefoot made sure to lift that front foot in plain view of the hatchling. “And then you put it down in front of you.” He gently placed that foot on the ground. “Then you lift the other.” He took several steps and faced his sharp-toothed charge. “Now you try it.”
The hatchling got to his feet again. He put one foot in front of him – success. Then he took another step, and another. The hatchling started gaining speed, still looking so uncertain with operating these lower limbs. Littlefoot’s encouraging expression turned to worry.
“Slow down, you’ll hurt yourself.”
The hatchling looked panicked but before Littlefoot could do anything, the former took a wrong step and landed nose first in the dirt. Littlefoot immediately closed in to look over him.
“Are you okay?” Littlefoot asked.
The hatchling lifted his head and cooed reassuringly, all smiles.
Littlefoot sighed. “You’re going to have to be more careful.”
The hatchling’s smile vanished. He cringed, scared, sad. He lowered his gaze awkwardly, a single tear falling from his face. Littlefoot felt as though a sharp stick of guilt struck his chest.
“It’s okay. I’m not mad, um…” Littlefoot cast about for something reassuring to bring that smile back and suddenly discovered he was fishing for a particular kind of word. “Hey, you need a name.”
Even as Littlefoot said this, a buzzing rose in the air. The hatchling brightened as a flying buzzer hovered over his head. A determined gleam entered those red eyes and he chomped at the buzzer. The buzzer swerved and the hatchling glanced at it in consternation. He tried for another chomp, and missed again. The buzzer unwisely perched on a plant not far off and the hatchling grinned in anticipation, gaze never wavering from it in the slightest. Those two bite attempts gave Littlefoot inspiration.
“I know, I’ll call you Chomper.”
The newly-christened Chomper lived up to his namesake even before Littlefoot finished the sentence, his third chomp on the buzzer hitting its mark. Littlefoot cringed away as yellow fluids sprayed across Chomper’s maw. Right then and there, Littlefoot was reminded he was still dealing with a sharptooth. A sweet and beautiful and perfect hatchling sharptooth but a sharptooth nonetheless. Littlefoot’s love for Chomper didn’t waver but he became cognizant that his charge had a particular need that must be addressed.
“I guess…you’re hungry, huh?” Littlefoot said hesitantly.
Chomper chewed, wiggling his feet, gazing innocently at Littlefoot. For a second, Littlefoot wondered if the murderous sharptooth that dogged him and his friends also gazed up at its – his – parents with such sincerity and love while chewing meat. Inside, Littlefoot shuddered. What could lead such sweet children into becoming such terrifying and brutal killing machines? The thought of Chomper acting like that to fulfill his hunger, that sweetness gone, hurt Littlefoot’s soul. Littlefoot tried to think of a way to circumvent that – maybe there was a route to peacefully address Chomper’s unique diet.
“Gee, I know what sharpteeth like. But, well…” As the idea came to him, Littlefoot had a problem meeting Chomper straight in the eye. “Maybe I can teach you to eat green food like me. After all, I’m your papa now.”
Littlefoot emphasized that last statement with a nuzzle, and Chomper cooed with delight, turning to watch him with that innocent interest. Out of the corner of his eye, Littlefoot spotted a branch of leaves within reach that would be suitable for this test.
“Here.” Littlefoot broke off a stick and laid it at Chomper’s feet. “These leaves are really tasty. Try some.”
Intrigued, Chomper loudly bit the stick of leaves and chewed, trusting Littlefoot’s word. Those red eyes were turned to the sky thoughtfully as more and more of the leaves vanished into his mouth. Littlefoot got closer to watch, hope rising. Maybe the food thing wouldn’t be an issue after all.
But Chomper suddenly spat out the stick of leaves in disgust with enough force to fall on his backside. Chomper let out a “blargh.” The green food apparently seriously disagreed with his taste buds and Chomper glanced at Littlefoot as though currently doubting his guardian’s wisdom.
Littlefoot shook his head. “Whew, this is going to be harder than I thought.”
Nevertheless, Littlefoot was undaunted. He circled around so he could face Chomper.
“Chomper, you stay here, okay?”
Chomper nodded happily and made an affirming noise. Littlefoot smiled.
“You won’t go anywhere?” Littlefoot gently pressed.
Chomper shook his head, and went “Nuh-uh.” He remained firmly seated on the ground.
“Good.” Littlefoot raised his head. “I’ll be right back. After I get some advice from my grandparents.”
With that, Littlefoot started off to where he remembered his grandparents were, eating green food by the lake. He felt the weight of this new responsibility and yet soldiered on. He was going to have to word his questions carefully so his guardians would be none the wiser over Littlefoot’s little project. At times, they could be eerily perceptive over what was traveling through Littlefoot’s mind. It was a risk that some wouldn’t take and Littlefoot could picture one particular person’s reaction to his attempt to involve the grownups even tangentially.
“If Cera ever finds out, she’ll kill me,” he muttered.
Still, Littlefoot felt this was a risk worth taking. Chomper needed to eat and Littlefoot didn’t want to leave the hatchling hungry if he could help it. Littlefoot himself was still young and didn’t know much about the world. There could still be a way to have Chomper favor green food. If that didn’t pan out, Littlefoot would find some other source of nutrition for Chomper. The dangers of raising a sharptooth were probably great but Littlefoot found he didn’t much care so long as Chomper was content.
If told that morning he would find himself with the task of taking care of a meat eater, Littlefoot would have fled from the responsibility as fast as possible. Now Littlefoot couldn’t even conceive of abandoning Chomper. The very thought of filling those sweet and innocent eyes with disappointment and betrayal broke Littlefoot’s heart. He became determined to stand by Chomper through thick and thin. A bond had been forged, a powerful connection that came into being the minute red eyes met red eyes, that made Littlefoot want to do anything within his power to make his charge happy. However events might turn, whatever challenges lay ahead, Littlefoot shall continue loving Chomper and do his best for the sharptooth with a soul that reflected his own.
The End