Disney Fairies: Tink, North of Never Land

by Kiki Thorpe

  Copyright © 2007 Disney Enterprises, Inc.

  All rights reserved. Published by Disney Press, an imprint of Disney Book Group. No part of this book may be reproduced or transmitted in any form or by any means, electronic or mechanical, including photocopying, recording, or by any information storage and retrieval system, without written permission from the publisher. For information address Disney Press, 114 Fifth Avenue, New York, New York 10011-5690.

  ISBN 978-1-4231-5921-6

  Visit disneyfairies.com

  Table of Contents

  All About Fairies

  1

  2

  3

  4

  5

  6

  7

  8

  9

  10

  IF YOU HEAD toward the second star on your right and fly straight on till morning, you’ll come to Never Land, a magical island where mermaids play and children never grow up.

  When you arrive, you might hear something like the tinkling of little bells. Follow that sound and you’ll find Pixie Hollow, the secret heart of Never Land.

  A great old maple tree grows in Pixie Hollow, and in it live hundreds of fairies and sparrow men. Some of them can do water magic, others can fly like the wind, and still others can speak to animals. You see, Pixie Hollow is the Never fairies’ kingdom, and each fairy who lives there has a special, extraordinary talent.

  Not far from the Home Tree, nestled in the branches of a hawthorn, is Mother Dove, the most magical creature of all. She sits on her egg, watching over the fairies, who in turn watch over her. For as long as Mother Dove’s egg stays well and whole, no one in Never Land will ever grow old.

  Once, Mother Dove’s egg was broken. But we are not telling the story of the egg here. Now it is time for Tinker Bell’s tale….

  “LAST ONE TO the meadow is a gooseberry!” Tinker Bell cried. “Terence, you don’t stand a chance.”

  With a flap of her wings, Tink took off flying. It was early morning in Pixie Hollow. The air was cool and fresh. Below her, dew on the grass sparkled in the sunlight.

  As she passed a patch of larkspur, the meadow came into view. She could see harvest fairies carrying armfuls of buttercups. A herd of dairy mice nosed through the grass, looking for seeds.

  Tink glanced back at her friend Terence, a fairy-dust-talent sparrow man. He was way behind her. She turned and began to fly backward.

  “A one-winged moth could fly faster than you!” she teased.

  Terence grinned. But as he opened his mouth to reply, he saw something hurtling through the air. It was headed right for Tink!

  “Tink!” he yelled. “Look out!”

  Tink looked up. She dodged out of the way just in time.

  As the thing zoomed past, Tink realized it was Twire, a scrap-metal-recovery fairy. Twire’s arms were wrapped around a big metal object. She was struggling to stay aloft.

  A second later, her wings gave out. Twire plummeted toward the ground.

  “Twire!” Tink cried. She and Terence dove after her. But Twire was falling too fast. They couldn’t catch up.

  At the last second, Twire let go of the metal object. It slammed to the ground. Twire crashed next to it, just missing a dairy mouse. The mouse took off running with a frightened squeak.

  Twire flipped once head over heels. She came to a stop flat on her back.

  Tink and Terence rushed over. “Are you all right?” Terence asked.

  The scrap-metal fairy rose shakily to her feet. Her elbows and knees were scraped, and one of her wings was bent. But her glow was bright with excitement.

  “Look what I found,” she said breathlessly, and pointed at the object. It was round and made of brass, with a glass front like a clock’s. But instead of two hands, it had a single thin needle as long as a fairy’s arm.

  “What is it?” asked Terence.

  Twire shook her head. “I don’t know. I found it on the beach. But just look at all that brass!”

  Twire’s talent was collecting bits of unwanted metal and melting them down so that they could be remade into useful things. On a normal day, she picked up a few scraps of tin or a bucket that was rusted beyond repair. She rarely found such a large solid piece of brass.

  Terence nudged the object with his foot. “It’s awfully heavy,” he said. “Why didn’t you use fairy dust to carry it?” A sprinkling of dust could make almost anything float. Fairies often used it to carry heavy things.

  “I did. I guess I didn’t use enough,” Twire admitted. She looked sheepish. Twire always used as little fairy dust as possible. She couldn’t help it, really. As a scrap-metal-recovery fairy, she was thrifty by nature.

  Tink said, “I’ve seen one of these before. It’s called a compass. Clumsies use them to keep from getting lost.”

  “Clumsies” was the fairies’ name for humans. Tink knew about Clumsies from her adventures with Peter Pan. For years she had lived in his hideout and run wild with the Lost Boys. Those were some of her favorite memories.

  “Compasses are very useful,” she added, remembering what Peter had told her.

  Twire looked dismayed. If the compass was still useful, she couldn’t melt it down. “But this one’s no good,” she blurted out. “See how tarnished the brass is?”

  “The brass doesn’t matter. It’s the needle that’s important,” Tink told her. “Whichever way you turn the compass, the needle always points north.”

  To show them, she began to turn the compass on the ground. Terence gave her a hand. They pushed the compass in a full circle. But instead of pointing north, the needle turned right along with the compass.

  “It’s broken!” Twire cried gleefully.

  “I can fix it,” Tink said.

  Twire scowled at Tink. Tink met her gaze. Although the two were friends, they were often at odds. Tink always wanted to fix broken things. Twire, on the other hand, always wanted to melt them down.

  For a moment, the two fairies glared at each other. Then, with a sigh, Twire said, “All right, Tink, it’s yours.” She took a last longing look at the brass and flew off to search for more metal.

  When Twire was gone, Terence leaned in and pretended to examine the compass. He didn’t really care about it, though. He just wanted to be close to Tink.

  Terence liked Tink. He admired her dimples and her springy blond ponytail. He marveled at her talent for fixing pots and pans. In fact, he thought it was the best talent next to fairy dust. He loved Tink’s smile, but he didn’t mind when she frowned. Frowns were part of Tink, too. Above all, Terence liked that Tink was always herself. There was no other fairy like her.

  Now Tink placed her hands on the compass. Her wings quivered with excitement. She had never fixed anything like it before. But she knew she could. She was the best pots-and-pans fairy in Pixie Hollow.

  “Want me to help you take the compass to your workshop?” Terence asked. Tink nodded.

  Terence sprinkled the compass with fairy dust. Then he remembered Twire’s crash landing and added an extra pinch for safety. Together, Tink and Terence lifted it into the air.

  They reached Tink’s workshop, carrying the compass between them. But the fairy-sized door was a problem. When they tried to push the compass through, it got stuck. They shoved with all their might. But it was wedged in good.

  “Now what?” asked Terence. He slumped against the brass side of the compass.

  Tink thought for a moment. “I’ll make it shrink,” she said at last. The magic would be tricky. It wasn’t usual pots-and-pans magic. But Tink was sure she could do it.

  She threw more fairy dust on the compass. Then she closed her eyes. Terence stood by, ready to lend a ha
nd.

  Terence is sweet, Tink thought. He would do anything to help a friend. She recalled the time he had gone with her to Peter Pan’s hideout to get a hammer she’d left there. He had known, without being told, that Tink needed his help. And he’d offered it without being asked.

  He’s also very talented, thought Tink. He can measure out cupfuls of fairy dust without losing a speck. And he has a nice smile. His smile sparkles.

  With a start, Tink realized that she wasn’t thinking about the compass. She was thinking about Terence.

  Tink opened her eyes. She was looking right at him. Terence smiled.

  Tink frowned and looked away. She turned so that her back was to him.

  “Can I help, Tink?” Terence asked.

  “I don’t need help.” Tink wished he weren’t hovering so close. In fact, she suddenly wished he weren’t there at all.

  She closed her eyes again. This time, she thought only about the compass. She imagined it getting smaller, the metal contracting, compressing….

  The compass began to shrink. It was only a smidgen, but Terence was ready. As soon as he saw it change, he gave a hard shove. With a screech of metal against metal, the compass rolled free and into the room.

  At once, Terence knew he’d made a mistake. The compass was rolling straight toward Tink’s worktable, with its teetering pile of pots and pans. He darted forward to stop it.

  As he did, his wings swept a small silver bowl off Tink’s shelf.

  The bowl spun across the floor, right into the path of—

  “No!” Tink cried.

  Crunch! The compass rolled over the bowl, which crumpled like paper.

  Tink pushed past Terence. She picked up the crushed bowl and cradled it in her hands.

  Terence began to apologize. “I’d fly backward—”

  “Look what you’ve done, Terence!” Tink exploded. She was shaking with anger. “Wherever I turn, you’re underwing. If you really wanted to help me, you’d leave me alone!”

  Terence drew back as if he’d been slapped. Without a word, he turned and flew away.

  TINK WATCHED TERENCE leave. She half hoped he would turn around and come back. But he didn’t. Soon he was out of sight.

  She frowned and tugged her bangs. Perhaps she’d spoken a little harshly, and a little quickly.

  “But Terence is always in my way,” she complained, trying to convince herself. “I can’t even turn around without tripping over him. And now look what a mess he’s made.”

  She examined the crumpled silver bowl. Flattened as it was, it looked more like a plate.

  “There, there,” Tink murmured. “I’ll have you put right in no time.”

  She ran her fingers lovingly over the silver. Tink adored anything made of metal. But this bowl was particularly special. It was the first thing she’d ever fixed as a pots-and-pans fairy, just after she’d arrived in Never Land. She hadn’t been sure she could fix it. And she was so pleased at the way it had finally turned out.

  As soon as her tinker’s hammer was in her hands, she relaxed. Before long, she was lost in her work. She almost managed to forget all about Terence.

  As Terence flew through Pixie Hollow, he hardly saw where he was going. Tink’s words kept running through his mind. He’d never known she felt that way. He’d been hanging around her for years. Had he been a bother the whole time?

  “I’ll leave Tink alone from now on,” Terence vowed. The idea made him sad. But what else could he do? She didn’t want him around.

  These heavy thoughts weighed Terence down, until he was flying just inches above the ground. His feet brushed the tips of grass blades as he flew over them.

  Without noticing how he’d gotten there, Terence came to Minnow Lake. The lake was really no more than a puddle. But to the tiny folk of Pixie Hollow, it seemed vast. Although they couldn’t swim, many fairies and sparrow men went there to enjoy the sunshine or just to dip their feet in the cool water.

  Terence flew straight over the lake. His toes kicked up a spray. His boots got soaked and he didn’t even feel it.

  Suddenly, something whipped by him in a blur. Terence looked up and saw the water fairy Silvermist. She was gliding across the top of the lake on one foot, as graceful as an ice-skater. Her long blue-black hair waved behind her like a banner.

  Silvermist skated up to Terence, smiling. Right away, she noticed his gloomy expression.

  “Why, Terence, what’s wrong? You look as if you lost your best friend.”

  Terence looked at her in surprise. How did she know?

  Silvermist didn’t know. But like all water fairies, she was very sensitive. She could tell Terence was hurting.

  “I know what would cheer you up. Water-skating!” she said. “Want to join me?”

  Terence watched as she twirled. “Sure, but I don’t see how,” he replied. “Only water talents can walk on water.”

  “Wrong!” said Silvermist. She spun on her toes and sped away.

  Moments later, she returned. In her hands was a pair of green sandals with wide flat soles. She handed them to Terence.

  “Put these skimmers on,” Silvermist instructed. “They’re made from lily pads. They’ll keep you afloat.”

  Terence eyed the lily pad skimmers doubtfully. But he strapped them on over his boots. Gingerly, he set one foot, then the other, down on the surface of the lake.

  He was standing on water!

  “Whoops!”

  Terence’s feet slipped out from under him. He caught himself with his wings before he fell into the lake.

  “They take some getting used to,” said Silvermist. “Try walking. It’s easier than standing still. You can use your wings for balance.”

  Terence took a careful step. He was surprised to find that the water was springy. It felt like walking on deep moss.

  He took another step. Then he took three giant steps, flapping his wings in between. Each time he set his foot down, it bounced off the water. Soon he was bounding around the lake.

  For the first time since that morning, Terence smiled.

  Tink stretched out the crick in her back and sighed happily. She had worked hard all afternoon. After she’d fixed the bowl, she had started on the compass.

  “At this rate, I’ll have it working again by tomorrow,” she said.

  She stood and flew out of her workshop. Outside, she headed toward the orchard. “I’ll go pick a cherry,” Tink said. “I’m feeling kind of hungry.”

  She followed the bank of Havendish Stream. As she passed Minnow Lake, Tink heard laughter.

  That’s Terence’s laugh, she thought.

  Suddenly, she remembered what had happened that morning. Maybe I was a little mean, thought Tink. After all, the bowl had been easy to fix. Tink shrugged. Oh, well. She’d give him a friendly smile and show him that all was forgiven.

  She flew to the lake and landed at the edge. There was Terence, skipping across the surface of the lake like a water strider. Silvermist skated along beside him.

  Tink waved at them from the shore. Silvermist didn’t see her, but Terence did. He was about to wave back. Then he remembered his vow. He kept his arms at his sides.

  Tink frowned. Hadn’t they seen her? She waved again. This time she was sure Terence glanced in her direction. But he turned and skipped away.

  Tink lowered her arm. “Well,” she said at last. “I’m glad Terence found someone to play with, at least.”

  And with a toss of her ponytail, she went on her way.

  THE NEXT MORNING, Terence was up early. As the first rays of sunlight warmed Pixie Hollow, he filled a gunnysack with fairy dust. Then he set off to make his rounds. His job as a dust talent was to make sure all the fairies and sparrow men of Pixie Hollow had enough dust to do magic.

  As he flew, Terence tried not to think about Tinker Bell. But it wasn’t easy. He passed cornflowers the color of her eyes and buttercups as golden as her hair. By the time he came upon the light-talent fairy Iridessa, Terence had been unsuccessfully not
-thinking about Tink for more than an hour.

  At that moment, Iridessa was headfirst in a large day lily. The lily glowed from within like a giant orange lantern. Terence gently tapped Iridessa’s foot to let her know he was there.

  Iridessa shrieked and popped her head up. She had yellow pollen in her hair. More pollen was streaked across one cheek.

  “Terence! You could scare the fairy dust off someone, sneaking up like that!”

  “Wouldn’t you know it?” Terence said with a sigh. “And it’s my job to put the fairy dust on fairies.” He scooped a cupful of dust from the sack and poured it over Iridessa. She shivered lightly as the dust settled on her.

  “So, why are you collecting pollen?” Terence asked. “Have you turned into a garden fairy?”

  “Come on,” she said to Terence. “I’ll show you.”

  Iridessa grabbed the basket of pollen. She led Terence to a nearby clearing and told him, “Take a seat.”

  For a moment, Iridessa hovered, focusing. Then she held up her hands. She began to pull sunlight out of the air.

  Terence looked on in wonder. Every fairy and sparrow man had a magical talent, and Terence loved his best of all. But he was always amazed by the magic other fairies could do.

  When Iridessa was done, she and Terence were sitting in a halo of darkness. It was like the circle of light a camp-fire casts on a moonless night. Only instead of a bright spot in the darkness, it was a dark spot in the daylight.

  “Amazing!” Terence said.

  Iridessa glanced at him. The sunlight she had gathered sat in balls at her feet. “That’s not even the good part. But I need darkness, or you won’t be able to see what I’m about to do.”

  She took some of the sunlight and formed it into a bubble. Then she filled the bubble with pollen from her basket. She drew her arm back and threw it into the air as hard as she could.

  Terence watched the bubble of light travel up, up, up. It burst with a pop. Golden pollen rained down. It looked like fireworks. But there was no fire—only pollen, light, and magic.