“—a very talented fairy,” Fairy Mary finished. She gave Tinker Bell a brisk nod of assurance.
“The scepter must be built to precise dimensions. At the top, you will place the moonstone.” The Minister led Tink to an ancient tapestry and pointed to the depiction of the Autumn Revelry under a full blue harvest moon. In the tapestry, moonbeams passed through a round gem and emerged as blue pixie dust.
“When the blue moon is at its peak,” the Minister explained, “its rays will pass through the gem, creating blue pixie dust.”
Queen Clarion took up the tale. “The blue pixie dust restores the Pixie Dust Tree. Like autumn itself, it signals rebirth and rejuvenation. We are relying on you,” the queen said to Tinker Bell in a soft but commanding voice.
In the center of the chamber, a large case sat on a table. Fairy Mary opened it and they all gazed upon a gleaming blue stone carefully cushioned on a pillow. “Here is the moonstone,” Fairy Mary said. “It has been handed down from generation to generation. Be careful. It is ridiculously fragile.”
Tinker Bell could see her reflection in the gleaming, glowing surface of the precious stone.
“F-F-Fairy Mary,” she stuttered. “I don’t know what to say. Thank you.” Tink threw her arms around the head tinker and accidentally bumped the pillow. The moonstone wobbled and began to roll.
Fairy Mary reached out to catch it. “Tinker Bell, you have to be careful!” she cried. Then she closed her eyes and muttered, “One, two, three, four, five, six, seven, eight, nine, ten.”
“What are you counting?” Tinker Bell asked.
“It’s supposed to calm me down,” Fairy Mary answered between clenched teeth.
“Oh,” Tinker Bell whispered, determined not to make any sudden moves or loud noises that might upset Fairy Mary.
Fairy Mary returned the stone to its cushioned case and carefully handed it to Tink.
“Don’t worry, Fairy Mary. I’ll make you proud. All of you.” Tinker Bell bowed with great dignity to the queen and the Minister. Then she straightened her back and squared her shoulders, walking out of the room with all the poise she could muster.
Tink strode purposefully out of the hallway, through the queen’s chambers. As soon as she was out of sight, she let out a loud “Yahoo!”
Back in her own little house, Tinker Bell hardly noticed the cheerful chirp of the cricket who lived in her clock and announced the passage of time. She was too busy searching through her trunk of odds, ends, doodads, thingamajigs, doohickeys, and decorative baling wire. Her mind raced with different design ideas for the scepter.
Tink was so preoccupied, she didn’t even notice when Terence opened the door and came inside.
“So?” he asked, eager to hear about Tink’s visit with Queen Clarion.
“Terence, you’re never going to believe this. Guess what happened. Go on,” she urged. “Guess!”
Terence rubbed his jaw, thinking. “Well, I—”
“I have been picked to make the new Autumn Scepter!” she blurted out. “Me! Me!” She flew straight into the air and turned a gleeful somersault.
Terence stared. “Hey! That means they gave you the moonstone.”
Tinker Bell did another happy spin and fluttered back down. “Want to see it?” She hurried to the case and opened it.
The blue reflection immediately lit Terence’s face. He whistled softly.
“Not so close,” warned Tink. “Don’t even breathe on it. It’s fragile.”
Terence took a respectful step back. “I know all about it. The blue moon only rises in Pixie Hollow every eight years. The trajectory of the beams of light have got to match the curvature of the moonstone at a ninety-degree angle so the light can transmute into pixie dust.”
Tinker Bell stared at her friend, impressed.
“Wow, Terence. How did you know all that?”
“Oh, you know. Every dust-keeper has to study dustology.” He grinned, excited now. “You know what this calls for?”
Tink knew where he was going. They had made tea together so many times, they had it down to a dance and a science.
Tink got out the tea maker. “Two cups of—”
Terence placed the cups carefully on the counter. “—chamomile tea.”
“With extra honey,” Tinker Bell added, giving each cup a squirt.
“And some milkweed whip,” said Terence.
The hot water, tea, honey, and whip all swirled together to create the perfect beverage.
Tinker Bell and Terence clinked their cups together and each took a sip, savoring not just the tea, but also their friendship and their ability to work in harmony.
“By the way,” Terence said. “That new bucket-and-pulley system you made? Fairy Gary loves it.”
“Awwww,” Tink said modestly. “He’s so cute.”
“If you say so,” Terence said, making it clear that he didn’t think Fairy Gary was particularly appealing. He took a thoughtful sip. “You know what? Maybe I can help you. I’m kind of an expert on this. I can collect the supplies. Give you advice.”
Tink took a sip of her own tea. “You will? That’s so sweet.”
“Hey, what are friends for? So what do you say? Can I be your wingman?”
“That would be great. To the best dust-keeper fairy …”
“… and the best tinker fairy.” Terence lifted his cup in a toast. “This is going to be a revelry to remember.”
“Knock, knock! Good morning!”
The next day, Tinker Bell opened her eyes to see Terence coming through the door at the very moment her cricket clock chirped to wake her. Wow! Terence sure is punctual, she thought. This was their first day to work together on the scepter.
Tinker Bell yawned and stretched.
Terence pointed at the calendar on the wall. “All right!” he said in a brisk, up-and-at-’em voice. “We have one full moon until the Autumn Revelry.” He picked up a leaf pen and made a big check mark on the calendar.
He darted out the door and was back in a flash with an armful of materials. “I brought you some stuff from work. Maybe there is something here you can use.” He dumped the materials next to her workbench.
Tink pawed through the items. Some of it was interesting. Some of it … not so much. Still, she was amazed at the number of different things Terence had collected. She picked up a piece of metal and placed it in the fireplace, where the flames would soften it.
Then she turned back to her friend. “Terence, how did you …” Her words trailed off. Terence had picked up a spring and was entertaining himself by pressing it against the side of his head.
Tink couldn’t help being gratified that Terence was taking such a keen interest. It took a special fairy to appreciate what a miracle of boiiinng engineering a spring was. “I can tell you’re going to be a big help,” she said with a smile.
And he was. All during the day, they worked on the scepter the same way they had made the tea—in perfect harmony.
“Looks good,” Terence said as he checked out Tink’s latest sketch. “Now remember, you get the most blue pixie dust if you maximize the moonstone’s exposed surface area.”
Tinker Bell nodded. “Right. Got it.”
They went over to the fireplace. Tink turned the softening metal over while Terence skillfully added more logs.
They smiled at each other.
They were a good team.
Day after day, Tinker Bell worked. Time was growing short. The month was flying by. The moon was more than half full, and she was beginning to get nervous.
Tinker Bell had sketched design after design, but Terence always had some opinion about ways to improve the scepter, or some suggestion for changing her approach.
It was nice having help. But the help was starting to be, well … not so helpful. She felt guilty about thinking that way—but she couldn’t avoid it. Every day, Terence arrived at the crack of dawn with muffins and advice. The muffins were great, but the constant advice was beginning to sound more like constan
t criticism. And the “help” seemed more like meddling.
The result was that, after days and days of work, Tinker Bell was behind. Way behind.
The cricket chirped and Tinker Bell sat up in bed, her stomach sinking as Terence came sailing in, punctual as always. “Knock knickity knock. Out of bed, sleepyhead.”
Tink flung back the covers and flew to the fireplace to put a piece of metal in. Before she could even position it, Terence was beside her, stoking the fire with a bellows. “You’ve got to keep the fire nice and hot,” he told her (which he really didn’t need to, because if anybody knew that a fire had to be nice and hot, it was Tinker Bell).
Terence gave the fire another puff with the bellows. The flames began to smoke and the fire belched a big black cloud.
Tink coughed. She was covered in soot. She bit back her angry words. After all, Terence was only trying to help.
Tink gritted her teeth and flew to her workbench, rubbing the sleep from her eyes and shaking off the soot. She needed every second to complete her task. She could eat breakfast later.
She picked up the scepter. The base was looking good. The ornate decorations were delicate but not too fussy. While she studied it, planning her next move, Terence came up behind her with a broom, forcing her to move while he swept.
Tink cleared her throat and made a great show of being preoccupied. But Terence didn’t take the hint. He continued to sweep around her—here, there, under her feet, under her elbow. She tried to avoid him by moving, but he just followed her wherever she went.
“Excuse me, Tink. You should really try to keep that work space clean. Let me just get that little bit right … there!”
Tink let out a loud sigh and moved to the end of her bench.
“Just one more … and …”
Tink sighed yet again. She moved even more and—“ARGHGHGH!”—fell right off the bench.
Terence looked down at her in surprise. “Whoa!”
Tinker Bell gritted her teeth. She tried Fairy Mary’s calming trick. “One, two, three, four …”
“Why are you counting?” Terence asked. Then, without waiting for an answer, he turned and continued sweeping.
Tink knew she had had just about all the help she could stand. But when she looked at the calendar, she swallowed her anger. Only a few days left. Only a few. She could do it. She could finish. All she had to do was concentrate and get it done in spite of Terence’s help.
Over the next few days, Tinker Bell kept her irritation and anger at bay, determined not to let Terence know that he was driving her absolutely, positively crazy. By the end of the week, she was almost finished with the scepter.
Tinker Bell was very proud of herself. She had never worked so hard on anything in her life. Not on the scepter—or on controlling her temper.
Terence hovered, peering over her shoulder. “Watch your angle there,” he cautioned. It was all Tink could do not to scream.
Terence picked up a broom and began to sweep, whistling while he worked. The shrill whistle and scratching sound of the bristles were about to drive her mad. How did he think she could get anything done? Still, he was her friend. And … he was trying to help.
Tinker Bell held the scepter in her hand. It was almost finished. It was a masterpiece of elegant curves and graceful lines. She wanted to make sure it was finished well before the revelry so that Fairy Mary, Queen Clarion, and the Minister of Autumn could inspect it. Tink wanted it to be one hundred percent perfect.
Terence buzzed around—sweeping, tidying up, and driving Tink nuts. But right now, she refused to let herself be distracted. It was time to add the last and most important touch of all—the moonstone.
Tink opened the case containing the fragile gem.
Just then, Terence picked up the bellows and began pumping the fire. SQUEAK! SQUEAK!
Tink carefully lifted the moonstone and held it poised over the tip of the scepter.
SQUEAK! SQUEAK!
“Careful,” Terence said as he watched her work.
His interruption broke her concentration. She put the moonstone down, flexed her fingers, then picked it up again.
Terence hurried to her side. “You have to take it easy. This is the tricky part.”
Again, Tink stopped. “I know,” she said through gritted teeth.
Terence was too close. Tink was already nervous, and it didn’t help to have him practically standing on her toes. Still, she told herself, he was only trying to help.
Once again, her fingers held the fragile moonstone as it hovered over the scepter.
Terence piped up. “Now we have to match the trajectory of the light beams with the—”
“Got it!” Tink snapped. She wished Terence would hush up and let her do her job.
But Terence was determined to continue advising. “With the—”
“I know!” Tink repeated.
Terence took a step even closer. “With the—”
“Shhh!” Tinker Bell said.
Terence refused to be shushed. “With the curvature of the moonstone.”
Tink was so angry, her hands were shaking. “Will you please …”
As she spoke, one of the prongs for the setting fell off. Darn! It would have to be fixed or the moonstone wouldn’t stay in place. Tinker Bell returned the stone to its case and closed it. She grabbed a stick and tried to fix the fallen prong by poking a hole in it. She jabbed and jabbed until the stick finally snapped.
Tinker Bell angrily threw down the stick. She closed her eyes and tried to take some deep breaths.
Terence picked up the scepter and studied the problem. “Looks like you need some sort of sharp thingy to fix this.”
Tinker Bell’s eyes flew open. “That’s exactly what I need! Could you go out and find me something sharp?” she asked Terence.
“You got it,” he said. “I’ll be right back.” Terence flew out the door in a streak. “Take your time,” Tinker Bell called out after him, hoping he would be out looking for a long, long while.
Meanwhile, at Tinkers’ Nook, Clank was putting the finishing touches on his own new invention. He hammered a stake into the ground just as his friend Bobble came flying in with a set of bagpipes. “Clank, what is that?” Bobble asked.
“A fireworks launcher,” Clank said proudly. “Iridessa and Rosetta will mix light crystals with flower pigment. The mixture will go into the launcher here. Then I tighten the spring, like so.”
Clank loaded the launcher with the fireworks, not noticing that one of his feet was tangled in a coiled rope. “When you throw the trigger, the fireworks shoot into the air.” He hit the launcher and the contraption sprang. The coiled rope tightened around Clank’s leg and—SPROING!—hoisted him into the air, where he swung back and forth, dangling upside down from a tree branch. “Like sooooooooo,” he concluded.
Bobble applauded. “Clanky, that’s brilliant!”
Clank continued to swing, trying to decide whether or not to pretend he had done it on purpose, when Terence came flying over. “Hey, Bobble. Listen, do you know where I can find a sharp thingy?”
“A sharp thingy?” Bobble repeated.
“How about a stick?” Clank asked, swinging past Terence’s head.
Terence looked around, unsure where the voice was coming from. “Huh? No, a sharp thingymajiggy.”
Clank swung back the other way. “A stick can be pretty sharp.”
“I need something to help Tink,” Terence explained.
Clank swayed again. “Oh! For Tink? Did you try the cove?”
Terence snapped his fingers. “Of course! That’s where all the Lost Things wash up. Thanks, Bobble. Thanks, Clank.” Terence waved to them both and took off.
“Our pleasure,” Bobble called out politely. “So long, Terence.”
Clank decided that nothing really looked all that good upside down. “I’m getting a little dizzy,” he announced. As the words were coming out of his mouth, the rope broke and he fell to the ground. “Ahhhhh! That’s better,” h
e said, grateful that matters had straightened themselves out so nicely.
“Perfect!” Tink stepped back and admired her work. With Terence out of the way, she was making speedy progress. Ever so carefully, she placed the moonstone on the scepter’s tip. She blew on it and gave it a polish. “And now, for the finishing touch: a spattering of silver shavings.”
Tinker Bell placed the scepter in a special stand made out of a spool and went to her supply chest to find some shavings.
She had just put her hand on a little box of spare shavings when she heard Terence. “Hey, Tink! I’m back!”
She turned and saw Terence rolling a huge compass through the door. “What is this?” she demanded.
“It’s your sharp thingy,” Terence said happily.
Tinker Bell could feel her temper rising, so she counted quickly. “Onetwothreefourfivesix …” It was no use; she was too mad. “Terence, this is not sharp. This is round. It is, in fact, the exact opposite of sharp.”
Terence didn’t seem to be listening. “But if you look inside, it’s—”
Tinker Bell cut him off. “I need to work, okay? Now would you please get this thing out of here?” She bumped her hip against the compass to get it out of her way, and it began to roll … straight toward the spool and the scepter!
The compass knocked into the scepter, the scepter hit the floor, and the moonstone popped out and rolled across the room. Terence quickly leaned down and scooped it up. Across the room, the compass began to wobble like a coin standing on its edge.
Tinker Bell watched in horror as the compass fell sideways on top of the scepter, shattering it. The silver shavings fell from Tinker Bell’s hands. “My scepter!”
“Tink,” Terence pleaded. “I am so …”
Tink picked up a fragment of the broken scepter. So much work. So much time. So much care. And now … now it was all for nothing. And it was all Terence’s fault. She snatched the moonstone from him and exploded. “Out, Terence! Just go!”
Tinker Bell and the Lost Treasure Page 2
