Ninja Timmy

by Henrik Tamm

  He saw a couple coming toward him, locked in an embrace. Timmy tried to get their attention, but they were too caught up in being in love.

  Oh shucks, he thought. He was a little embarrassed to admit it, but he wanted to be in love too, not lost and lonely and cold. Those stupid Gribbles. If he ever saw them again, he was going to whoop their behinds, he promised himself. Not that he had any idea how to do that.

  Timmy felt drowsy, and the cold gripped him now. It was terribly late, and he was awfully hungry. He saw a group of city guards farther ahead. He didn’t want to get into any more trouble than he was in already, so he darted down another street.

  A light drizzle began to fall. It was chilly, and the mist made the streetlights glow softly. Timmy shivered. He hated the rain. (He was a cat, after all.) There was no good place to take cover, so he found a pile of boxes stacked along one of the houses and sank down behind them. He tried his best to arrange them in a way that would shield him from the rain. Finally he rested his little head against one of them and fell asleep.

  Across town, in a tall, dark building, a strange, enormous blue rabbit stood and looked out from a balcony. The nighttime view was spectacular. The city below him looked like a glowing sea of lights. Rabbit was very happy to be back here. It had been too long. He remembered having to flee this place—the place of his birth, as he liked to think of it—many years before. Since then, he had gathered his riches in the most remote corners of the world. Now he was back, and nobody seemed to remember him. And that, he thought, suited his plan just perfectly. This was where he would be born again, where he would finally gain what he had longed for: A real soul. Real life.

  Rabbit was very tall for a rabbit. Quite large across his belly too. He thought that was fitting for someone of his stature. His long ears stood straight up almost all the time. He wore a long black coat, which had been made by the best tailors west of the Black Mountains. It reached almost all the way to the floor. Shifty crimson eyes sat like little buttons in his head, and his face was stiff and expressionless, like that of a robot. The most striking thing about him, though, was his brilliant blue fur. He had never really reflected on why his fur was blue, but he rather liked it that way.

  He was just about to go into his sleeping quarters when there was a hesitant knock on the door. He knew who it would be.

  “Come in,” he said impatiently. His voice sounded hollow.

  The door swung open, and two of the Gribble cousins came in. Between them, they were carrying the stolen orange-peeling machine.

  “Hi, boss.”

  “What’s this?”

  “Dunno, but thought you might like it. You know, maybe as parts for your own machine,” the larger cousin said. “What’s your machine for, anyway?”

  “Put it down over there.” Rabbit pointed to a corner, ignoring the question. “And don’t touch anything.”

  “Sure, boss.”

  The cousins carried the contraption to the corner, careful not to knock over any of the strange-looking equipment in the large room. Then the bigger cousin, whose name was Dobie, straightened his back and looked over at his boss. “Anything else you need?” He sounded a little scared.

  Rabbit looked at him blankly. “Out. Get out. I will call on you when I need you. Don’t try to think for yourself. You will just hurt that thick head of yours.”

  “Okay, boss. Sorry, boss.”

  Dobie and his cousin bowed their heads and made their way out.

  Timmy felt himself being shaken awake. Confused, he looked up, rubbing the sleep out of his eyes. He started to make out the large, dark silhouettes of five city guards above him. They were staring at him, and they did not look pleased.

  “There’s no sleeping in the street,” one of them said. He was obviously the leader, with fancy shoulder pads and a tall helmet. “Move along. Go home.”

  Timmy slowly got up, shivering against the cold.

  “He’s a kitten. Shouldn’t be in this part of town,” someone said.

  “Yeah, he’s probably a troublemaker,” a third guard said. “A thief, maybe. Part of a gang, I figure.”

  The leader looked grimly down at little Timmy.

  “You got a name, kitten?”

  Timmy looked up at the sullen guards.

  “Timmy.”

  “Well, Timmy. What’re you up to in this part of town anyhow, huh? You’ll be coming with us. There’s a nice piece of floor for you to sleep on in jail until we find your parents.”

  “But can’t I just go home? Like you said at first. Remember? I promise I’ll go straight home.”

  Timmy looked at the big guard with pleading eyes. For a split second, he thought the guard might let him go. Then the guard’s face turned stern again.

  “If we let all criminals go, this town would be a circus.”

  With that, he picked Timmy up by his nape. He was about to toss him into a sack that the guard behind him was holding open when they heard a voice behind them.

  “Excuse me.” The voice had authority.

  The guards spun around.

  An old, rather rotund man dressed in an extravagantly patterned overcoat stepped up to them through the mist. His face was round and friendly, with an impossibly long, thin beard that snaked down from his chin. A pair of round spectacles sat on his big nose.

  “Is everything as it should be over here?” the man continued.

  “Mind your own business, old man,” the lead guard sneered.

  “Oh my. How rude.”

  The old man withdrew something from his big coat. He held it up in front of him. The guards, surprised, looked at it. It looked like a little toy dragonfly made of metal and wood, with thin paper wings.

  “Sir, you better put that away, or we—”

  Suddenly the toy started glowing and buzzing, and to the guards’ surprise, it took flight. It swooped around them, glowing with purple light, leaving a faint trail of sparkles. The guards stopped, completely mesmerized by the strange flying object. Big smiles soon spread across their faces, and they started to giggle like children.

  “There, there,” the old man said soothingly.

  The guards’ spears fell to the ground. They did little pirouettes, all the while trying to keep the dragonfly in their sight. Timmy momentarily looked on in amazement, then saw his chance and carefully snuck around the dancing men. He walked up to the bearded man, who gazed down at him through his round spectacles.

  “It’s a magical toy,” he explained matter-of-factly. “It makes people joyous.”

  Timmy was grateful to the man for getting him out of this trouble, but he was also a little suspicious.

  “Did you make it?”

  “I did indeed. I’m a toymaker. My name is Alfred. Alfred the toymaker.”

  “I’m Timmy. I’m an inventor.”

  “Well, Timmy, it seemed like you needed a bit of help. You’re a long way from home, aren’t you?” His tone was gracious and sincere.

  “Thank you, kind sir. Yes, I’m a bit lost, I suppose.”

  Alfred smiled. Next to them, the soldiers were giggling and playing hopscotch. Timmy thought the entire thing absurd.

  “Now then. It’s quite late,” Alfred said. “Why don’t you come have a cup of tea with me in my shop? And perhaps some cookies? You must be hungry. I have a back room where you can sleep a bit more too.”

  Timmy wasn’t sure. Should he trust this stranger? He looked around the deserted street. A cold fog was slowly rolling in, and he shivered slightly. His day had already gone as badly as it could, he figured. And this man had gone out of his way to help him.

  “A cup of tea would be quite nice.”

  “Very well. It’s settled, then. My shop isn’t far.”

  With that, the two started down the street. Timmy turned around one last time. Through the fog he could still see the soldiers. They were playing tag. He giggled.

  Chapter 3

  ALFRED PUSHED OPEN a heavy wooden door, revealing a small, dark room. He shuffled ins
ide and lit a small oil lamp.

  “Please come in, Timmy.”

  Timmy timidly stepped inside. The warm glow of the oil lamp lit up a space that took his breath away. On every shelf and table (and there were many of them) stood the most wonderful toys Timmy could ever have dreamt of. Some were big, others small. Some looked like intricate machines, and others were just simple shapes. As he walked around in amazed silence, the toymaker regarded him ruefully.

  “They’re wonderful. Just wonderful” was all Timmy could think to say. “Did you make them?”

  “Not all of them. Some were made a long time ago by my father and grandfather. And my grandfather’s father too, I suppose.”

  “Alfred…are all these toys magical, like that dragonfly?” Timmy asked. He was as nervous as he was excited.

  Alfred took a deep breath. “Most of them. And some of them have a magic that you would barely notice. Unless you knew exactly what to look for.”

  Timmy didn’t know what that meant, but before he could ask, Alfred disappeared into a small kitchen area. Timmy could hear the clinking sound of teacups being taken from their cabinet. A minute later, Alfred returned with a large tray holding not only a teapot and cups but also a huge plate piled high with pastries and cakes.

  “Come, we’ll take the tea in my workroom.”

  He led Timmy through a maze of little rooms. It reminded Timmy of the alleys earlier that day, but this time he didn’t feel unsafe.

  “This is where I create my toys,” Alfred announced. They had reached a large room filled with vials and glass globes containing all kinds of strange liquids and powders. The room looked like a laboratory. A very strange but wonderful laboratory, Timmy thought.

  Alfred cleared off a small table and set down the tray. He poured the tea and offered a cup to Timmy. Timmy carefully sipped the hot liquid; it tasted of mint and spices. The toymaker studied his guest curiously.

  “Do you like it?”

  “Yes, it’s quite nice.” Timmy took another sip.

  “So? Had a rough day?” Alfred inquired.

  “A bit rough, I suppose.… It was all going well, until…Well, it was my fault. I tried to take a shortcut, and the Gribble cousins…suddenly they were just there. And they stole our orange-peeling machine that we had just finished.”

  The toymaker nodded slowly.

  “The Gribbles…” Alfred looked as though the name meant something to him, and as if he was going to comment on it, but instead he poured some more tea and started telling Timmy of his many years in the shop.

  “You see, this shop has belonged to my family for as long as anyone in Elyzandrium can remember.” Alfred’s face glowed in the warmth of a kerosene lantern while he talked, and his smile was broad.

  They drank more tea, and Timmy began telling a little about himself.

  “I grew up in an orphanage, and that’s where I met my best friend, Simon. Neither he nor I liked it much; the people who ran it were very mean. So we managed to escape.”

  “Where did you live after that?” Alfred said, peering over his teacup.

  “On the streets. It was tough, but we managed. We started inventing things, and people wanted to buy what we built.”

  Timmy sipped his tea and continued. He told Alfred that he had heard rumors that his mother belonged to one of Elyzandrium’s finest families and that his father was an alley cat.

  “But I have no idea where they are today. In the alleys there was this old-timer, Vince, who always seemed to keep an eye out for me. I often wondered if he could be my dad, but he never said anything, and I never dared to ask.”

  Alfred saw longing in Timmy’s eyes, but also a quiet strength.

  “Now I have my friends,” Timmy continued. “They are my family. Our invention business is really taking off, you know. I guess I’m pretty happy.”

  Timmy began to get sleepy. It was very late, and his eyelids were drooping. He listened some more to Alfred’s stories and soon curled up into a little ball and fell asleep. He dreamt of the toys that night, how they suddenly came alive and Timmy was in the middle of all of them, conducting them as though they were a symphony orchestra. The toys and Timmy played, jumped, and laughed together.

  Timmy woke with a start the following morning and found he was tucked under a blanket. He looked around, confused at first, squinting his large yellow eyes at the strange new surroundings. The pale morning light made the toys look even more impressive, and everything that had happened the night before streamed back into his mind. What a strange turn of events, he thought.

  He got up, stretched out his hind legs, and shifted his ears toward a tinkering sound in the next room. He walked softly in the direction of the sound.

  As he entered the room, he saw that Alfred was sitting at his workbench, hunched over a minuscule object. His stubby fingers were assembling something that resembled a mechanical spider. A new toy. He looked up at Timmy.

  “Well, good morning, young sir. Sleep well?”

  “Yes. I had the most wonderful dreams.”

  “Of the toys?” Alfred asked in a hopeful voice.

  Timmy nodded. “They all came alive, wanting to play with me. And it was as if I could speak to them. Not with my voice but with my mind.”

  “Hmm…how very wonderful.” Alfred raised his eyebrows in thought. “They do have that effect on you,” he said after a moment. In fact, that wasn’t true at all. Alfred knew full well that those dreams happened very, very rarely. To the chosen few. This little cat was very special indeed.

  Timmy leapt up to the table. Alfred wound a small widget, and the spider started to move across the table, lifting its long spindly legs over the surface. Timmy watched it with fascination. Alfred saw the sparkle of wonder in Timmy’s eye. But he also recognized a curious understanding and an unmistakable empathy.

  “I can teach you how to make some of this stuff, if you’re interested,” Alfred said.

  “Teach me? Really?”

  “Yes. But you would need to be patient.”

  “I could be patient,” Timmy mumbled softly.

  “Good. Well, the first thing you have to do is find the magical ingredients.”

  “Ingredients?”

  “Sure. Magic doesn’t come out of thin air, you know.”

  Timmy had never thought about it before, but he guessed that made sense. Then he thought of his friends, that they might be worried about him.

  “My friends must be waiting for me.”

  “It won’t take long,” Alfred said kindly.

  “I suppose they could wait just a little longer.”

  “Then let’s go right away.”

  “What kind of ingredients?”

  “Come. You will see.”

  Chapter 4

  ALFRED SLUNG A leather bag over his shoulder and motioned for Timmy to follow. He led Timmy down an old corridor.

  The room at the end was filled to the brim with discarded experiments and odd-looking pieces of scientific equipment. Behind the rubble was a small iron door. The toymaker unlocked it, lit an old kerosene lantern, and pulled the heavy door open. It gave a dull squeak.

  The air smelled stale and musty as Timmy peered into the thick blackness. Holding the lantern high, Alfred spoke calmly while feeling his way along a stone tunnel.

  “This tunnel is many centuries old. Nobody knows who built it. It was a stroke of luck that my great-grandfather’s great-grandfather found it.”

  Within a few minutes, Timmy’s eyes had adjusted somewhat. He wondered what could possibly be at the other end.

  “This way.” The toymaker held the lantern toward a steep staircase. He led the way down the slippery steps. The rough stone walls glittered with minerals. The air smelled of damp earth, and there was also a strange sweet smell that Timmy couldn’t quite place wafting up from below.

  They seemed to descend for hours. Timmy stepped carefully, so as not to slip, and held on to the walls with his paws. Alfred’s large back bobbed side to side as he continued
ever downward.

  A faint blue glow emanated from below. It grew stronger, and suddenly the steps ended. Timmy looked around. To his surprise, they stood in a vast underground cavern. Giant stalactites and stalagmites loomed around them, and hundreds more, in all shapes and sizes, could be seen in the distance. He realized now that the blue glow came from tiny plants that grew all over the rocks. They looked like glow-in-the-dark pinpricks. Some were blue; others were green and purple and orange and yellow. Some were like lichen; others were in the shapes of little mushrooms or flowers. The scene looked truly magical.

  Slowly Alfred moved forward, careful not to step on the glowing plant life.

  Timmy felt as if he were an explorer on a strange planet. Alfred looked back, making sure he was keeping up.

  Suddenly there was a swooshing sound, and Timmy felt something fly by right next to his head. He dove for cover. Alfred burst into a giggle.

  “What was that?” Timmy exclaimed.

  “Bats!” Alfred said, chuckling now. “Quite harmless, but they do have a knack for scaring you silly if you aren’t paying attention.”

  With his pride only a little bit ruffled, Timmy got up again.

  “I saw him coming a mile away. I was just testing my reflexes,” he mumbled.

  Alfred smiled and said nothing more on the matter. He pointed ahead and started walking again.

  Every now and then, Alfred would lean down and pick a few of the flowers or mushrooms. He placed them carefully in one of the different compartments in the heavy leather bag over his shoulder. He explained how mixing the different species, in just the right amounts, in just the right order, and at just the right temperature, would make lights or sounds, or create illusions, and some of them would have magical effects.