For my Father, who let my imagination run wild.
There once was an otter who lived in Old Ireland. He spent his days chasing fish, eating spiny urchins and playing with his many relatives. As an otter, he was happy as can be expected.
Life on the coast had its own dangers and hardships: an otter was as likely to end up covering the back of a great Norseman or Gael, as dying of old age. But this otter was still young and gave these things no great thought.
One day swimming off on his own, he spotted movement up in the green and brown grass that covered the black sea cliffs.
Except for heads sticking out of huge black ships, he had never seen a human. He knew this red haired creature was human, but only from the descriptions of his elders. He had been warned against them and so he was curious.
He followed her along in the water, watching her make her way down some path. She eventually disappeared, climbing down behind an outcrop of rock.
The otter swam to where he might find her, careful to skirt the rocks which the water dashed itself upon. Eventually he found a secluded little cove, the water calm, washing upon a small seaweed covered beach.
He did not see her, so waited, climbing out onto a rock. The morning sun was out and warmed him nicely, so much that he fell asleep.
The sun was already high in the sky when he woke. The sound of falling rock had jerked him out of fish full dreams. It took him a moment to remember where he was, seeing the girl climbing back up and out of the cove.
The next day he was back waiting, for his curiosity had not been satisfied. And she came. He watched her as she went in and out of caves, leapt from rock to rock, climbing up others, splashing through shallow pools. All the while, singing, talking and laughing as if she was accompanied by hundreds of others.
But there was just the otter, and when she finally noticed him he hurried back into the water, just in case his elders were right about humans.
He was, of course, back the next day, as she was. And the day after, the day after that, and so on. She didn't always come, but more often than not. And sometimes, she would bring a friend, another boy or girl, and they would dance around the cove and surrounding rocks together.
She noticed the otter every time and soon was looking for him as soon as she arrived. He stopped rushing away and she would sit nearby and talk in her language to him. He didn't understand a word, but it sounded nice.
She would then, laughing chase him from the rocks, and still laughing watch as he swam about the cove, to find another rock.
One particular day, the otter was laying on a rock basking in the rare sun, letting the sound of muffled waves lull him into a sleep. It seemed as if the girl would not come today. He woke when he heard a stone bounce down the rocks and splash into the water.
He pulled himself up on the rock and looked around expecting to see the girl. To his surprise, he saw a tiny little man crawling down the rock face towards the water.
Barefoot and dressed in ragged dirty clothes, the little man reached the bottom and peered over into the water, stroking his long beard. He looked up straight into the eye of the otter.
"Otter my dear fellow," shouted the Leprechaun.
The otter was too surprised to hide, which was all he wished to do. There was no mistaking from the bright green eyes twinkling with mischief. Nobody wanted to get mixed up with the Little People, even he knew that. His Elders had more than enough stories to convince.
But as he had been seen, there was not much else he could do but go. The only thing worse than getting involved with a Leprechaun was making one cross.
"Otter, please help a poor man."
The otter slipped into the water and swam towards the Leprechaun, pulling himself onto the rock where he crouched.
"There's a good fellow," he said, patting the otter on the head. "It seems I've dropped something of great value to me in the water. Could you help me fetch it? It's a small ball of glass. You can't miss it, wonderful colors."
The otter dove in and began to search. When he cam back up with nothing, the Leprechaun begged him to try again.
"I'll reward you handsomely," he said.
By the third time the otter came up, the Leprechaun had his feet up on a rock and was smoking a small pipe, blowing fantastic smoke rings into the air. Looking, almost, as if he was enjoying himself.
After an hour, the otter getting tired and wondering if the Leprechaun hadn't just dropped a rock, an accidental brush with a paw uncovered a crystal glowing with all the colors of the rainbow. He took it carefully in his mouth and came up.
The Leprechaun went mad with delight, taking the ball and dancing, the colors of the ball bouncing through the cove. Breaking into song, he began to climb away. When he was halfway up the cliff though, he suddenly stopped and the colors of the ball dimmed.
"I'm so sorry," he said, picking his way back down the cliff. "I was so carried away, I almost completely forgot the reward."
The Otter hadn't moved, so amazed was he with the Leprechauns reaction.
The Little Man crouched back down next to where the otter was in the water, holding the ball out in front of him.
"You see this little ball?" he asked. "You can make three wishes on it. I've not made one yet, and I'll give you the first. Will you take it?"
The otter thought he would.
"Be careful what you wish, "The Leprechaun started. "You just might..."
The otter knew the wish he wanted.
"Oh dear, you'll not think it over?" The Leprechaun said, his eyebrows knit in concern.
The otter wouldn't.
Otter woke up with a terrible itch. He brought his leg up to scratch, but found it too long, horribly long. His hand found a face... Hand! he thought and his eyes flew open.
He lay in a patch of tall grass. The grass framed a now grey sky that looked as if it would soon rain. He could not remember what happened, a sudden welling of color and then the blackness of sleep.
The Leprechaun, he remembered.
The itching came back to him and a chill. He'd never seen a human uncovered; how is it they are without fur, he thought. So cold without, where do they get their hides? Off the backs of otters! He shuddered.
Otter took some time to examine his new body, arms, penis, legs, his face, nose, mouth, ears and miserably small bits of hair. He tried to stand several times as he had seen the girl do but fell each time, unable to maintain his balance. Being closer to the ground is much easier he thought, crawling through the grass.
He had now warmed up because of his exertions and rested for some time, using his new eyes to examine the grass around him, his new hands to scratch the itches.
Rested he pushed himself up. Wobbling to his feet, the sea appeared before him and the sound of waves washed over him soothingly.
Someone gasped and he turned around to find himself facing the girl with red hair. They stared at each other a moment, Otter wondering what he should do, how to do it, how to speak, why she was so much smaller. But then she looked down at his penis, shrieked with laughter and ran in the other direction. He tried to run after her but stumbled over something in the grass and crashed to the ground.
"Oh dear," Otter heard.
Looking around, he saw the Leprechaun, sitting on the ground, rubbing his head and glaring at Otter.
"It wouldn't be too much to ask to watch where you're going?"
Otter tried to speak, to answer, but nothing came out of his mouth.
"Not used to your new legs then." The Leprechaun sighed, stood, and on his tiptoes peered over his head and in the direction where the girl had gone. "It seems you have the luck of the Irish; that is to say, no luck at all."
"Never mind," said the Leprechaun brightening, patting him on the shoulder. "Another will come along. For the time being we'll have to do something about your speech problem."
The Leprechaun pulled a handful of gold sand from a pouch at his belt and sprinkled it over him. "You'll have to get used to your new limbs on your own." He clapped his hands to get rid of the excess and without another word walked away into the grass.
Otter opened his mouth, "Why did you do this to me!?"
"I didn't", Otter heard from the grass. "It was you."
A moment later the Leprechaun's head reappeared. "And I warned you," he said and was gone.
When Otter managed to get back to his feet the Leprechaun had disappeared. He looked down the path where the girl had gone, then down to the sea. He collapsed back into a heap in the grass and for the first time cried.
Otter woke a while later, the sky already beginning to darken with night. It was cold and something was rhythmically and loudly thudding against the ground, along with the sound of metal clinking metal. A voice shouted in the distance, struggling against the wind to be heard. He stood up to look.
And screamed.
The horse reared just shy of him, it's rider clinging wildly to the horse's neck. When it calmed, the rider dismounted and started to shout something at him, but then stopped and walked the horse to the cliff face just a few feet away. The man stood a moment, his face gone pale below his great beard, carefully leaning over to look down the dark cliff face. He looked again at Otter, giving a short choked laugh.
Otter still shook with the fright and cold, wondering was going to happen, watching the man remount his horse. Otter had never seen one so close and it was huge. The man was twice his size and on the horse seemed to tower way above him like the cliffs when he was in the sea.
The man brought the horse close, took off his cloak and threw it over the boy. He said something in a strange language and laughed again. Otter, taken to the ground by it's weight, gladly wrapped himself up in it, despite the smell.
Another man rode up on another horse and spoke with the first, not giving Otter a look until the first pointed. The second man was even larger than the first, wore a great sword and a helmet like Otter had seen in the Norsemen's ships. He stank like his elders said they would, even worse than the first man.
"Gael, my lord thanks you for saving his life," said the second man, sneering as he spoke.
The lord said something more. The Norseman hesitated but spoke, "What's your name? and where do you live?"
Otter thought a moment, but could only come up with Gaelic for an otter. He pointed at the sea. That was his home.
The Norseman looked at him, confused, and spoke to the lord. The lord laughed, "Otier!"
The Norseman's face darkened with anger and began to speak out. The lord held up his hand and looked at the boy, now huddled in the cloak watching the two men. He spoke again to the Norseman. Their voices went back and forth at length. The first man finally raised his voice and pointed at Otter.
"Get up!" The Norseman shouted. "You've earned the favor of my lord."
Otter stood up and let himself be dragged up on to the horse behind the Norseman. The trotting of the horse was uncomfortable and fearing he would slide off, Otter clung to the Norseman. His hands gripped fur and he wondered if it was an otters. Tears seemed about to drown his eyes.
The big man turned to look at him from the corner of his eye and spat.
"Your no Otier, Gael," he hissed. "You've none of my blood, you remember that. You'll get no favor from me."
William Otter was remembering that Thale Otier was none of his blood, and was glad of it. He sat atop a horse, looking down a cliff at the sea. He was aware of Thale and his horse a ways back from the cliff. Angry THIS time that he'd had to take William to this spot. So angry that he'd worn his fur cloak, the one he knew William despised even the sight of.
The spot was where his Norman lord Luke said they had found him, naked. He wondered why the memory was so vague, why he could remember nothing before. Lord Luke said William had called himself an otter in Gaelic, Oter in his Lord's tongue; too close to Thale's last name for either of their liking. He had pointed across the sea to his home. He thought William had been shipwrecked so took him in reward for saving him from going over the cliff.
He could remember arriving in Cork for the first time, several years before, clinging to Thale, and trying to shut out all the strange noises and smells.
He had got used to it soon enough. He'd taken the English name given to him, William Otter, a joke of sorts. But he had no other. At least he could speak English directly to his lord now. Luke had treated him well, despite Thale; the other servants had taken to him too, because of Thale. Cork, that was his home now.
The sea, despite the grey clouds, looked inviting somehow.
"Good day m'lord," said a man and woman in unison.
He waved at the couple as they walked passed, heads bowed. The woman somehow looked familiar and she lifted her head and looked at him. She looked as puzzled as he felt, for he had seen her.
The man caught their glance and his hand went to his belt knife, glaring at William. The woman smiled, pulling on the man's arm, whispering something into his ear. The man's look softened, but glanced back several times to make sure William wasn't following. She looked back once to, but quickly.
William felt sad and looked back at the sea. Where had he seen her? It would come to him, he thought, if he stayed here long enough. But the horse shifted beneath him, impatient, and a cold wind leapt from the sea, as if pushing him away.
He hugged himself and thought about exploring a little along the cliffs. But the wind howled about his ears and his horse neighed. Maybe some other time, he thought, and turned the horse to go home.
And but a few days before his death he did return to the cliff. When he came home that day, he told his sons, the MacOtters, the sons of Otter, this strange story, and they took it with the name and gave it to their sons. Through war and famine, fortune, destitution, joy and sorrow this tale and name has come to me, a Cotter.
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