Disney Fairies: Tink in a Fairy Fix

by Kiki Thorpe

  Copyright © 2011 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: 978-1-4231-6555-2

  Visit disneyfairies.com

  Table of Contents

  All About Fairies

  1

  2

  3

  4

  5

  6

  7

  8

  9

  10

  Other Disney Fairies Books

  Queen Clarion's Secret

  Myka Finds Her Way

  Vidia Meets Her Match

  Silvermist andthe Ladybug Curse

  Prilla and the Butterfly Lie

  Tink, North of Never Land

  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 Tink’s tale….

  “PERFECT!” Tinker Bell declared.

  She set aside her tinker’s hammer and held up the watering can she’d been fixing. She turned it this way and that, admiring her work.

  The watering can was made of tin and had a long, curving spout. It belonged to Tink’s friend Lily, a garden-talent fairy. When Lily had brought it to Tink, it had a big hole in the bottom and was full of dents and dings. Tink had fixed the hole and hammered out all the dents. She’d even added a fresh coat of gloss. Now there wasn’t a single scratch. For Tink, nothing was ever finished until it was good as new.

  It was this sort of fine tinkering that made Tink the best pots-and-pans fairy in Pixie Hollow.

  “One of my better jobs, if I do say so myself,” Tink said. She put down the can. Then she turned to the workbench where she kept all the broken pots and cracked pans and other things waiting to be fixed.

  To her surprise, the bench was empty. She glanced around her workshop, hoping to spy a twisted ladle or a forgotten serving fork—anything that needed fixing. But there was nothing. Not a single teaspoon.

  A disappointed sigh escaped Tink’s lips. What was she going to do now? Fixing things wasn’t only Tink’s job, it was her favorite pastime. She liked it better than just about anything.

  “Well, I guess I’ll take this watering can back to Lily,” she said at last. Picking up the can, she flew out the door.

  Outside, Pixie Hollow was buzzing with activity. Garden fairies flittered among the flowers. Message-talent fairies darted by, delivering the daily news. Animal-talent fairies watched over the dairy mice. Tink spotted her friend Rani, a water-talent fairy, sailing a leaf-boat down Havendish Stream. Tink waved, and Rani waved back.

  Humming to herself, Tink spread her wings and set out for Lily’s garden. But she hadn’t gotten far when she heard a loud SCREEEEECH!

  Startled, Tink pulled up short. She heard the sound again. SCREEEECH! SCREEEEECH!

  The hairs on Tink’s neck stood on end. What in the name of Never Land was making that horrible noise?

  Tink looked right. She looked left. She looked down…and spotted a mouse-drawn cart making its way slowly over the mossy ground. One of the wheels went SCREEEEEEEEEEECCCH! SCREEEEEEEEEEECCCH!

  The driver, a sparrow man named Dooley, didn’t seem to notice. He was singing loudly. His sad song floated up to Tink’s ears.

  “I’ve got a squeaky wheel

  And an ear full of fluff.

  My nose is itchin’.

  As if that weren’t enough,

  My cart is heavy.

  The mice are unruly.

  It’s a sad, sad day

  For poor old Dooley.”

  Every few words, the wheel chimed in with a SCREEEECH!

  “Why doesn’t Dooley do something about that wheel?” Tink wondered out loud. “That sound is awful! It’s…it’s…”

  Tink’s heart suddenly gave a little leap. It was the sound of something that needed to be fixed!

  She quickly landed in the road. Dooley stopped the cart and looked down at her. He had a long, droopy face and big, sad eyes. “Fly with you, Tinker Bell,” he said in greeting. “Is something the matter?”

  “You have a squeaky wheel,” Tink said. “It’s making an awful racket!”

  Dooley cupped a hand to his pointed ear. “What’s that?”

  “I said”—Tink raised her voice—“you have a squeaky wheel!”

  “Sorry, Tink, I can’t hear you,” Dooley said. He reached into his ears and pulled out two big wads of dandelion fluff. At once, he let out an enormous sneeze. “AHH-CHOO!”

  The mice jumped, jerking the cart around.

  “Whoa!” Dooley tugged on the reins. “The mice don’t like it when I sneeze,” he explained to Tink. “But I can’t help it. The dandelion fluff makes my nose itch.”

  “Then why do you put it in your ears?” she asked.

  “Because I have a squeaky wheel,” Dooley replied. “It’s making an awful racket. I’m surprised you didn’t hear it, Tink.” He pulled a leafkerchief out of his pocket and blew his nose. “That’s better. Now, what were you saying?”

  Tink rolled her eyes. “Hold your mice for a minute, and I’ll see if I can fix your wheel.” She put down the watering can and darted around to the side of the cart.

  “Dooley, this wheel is covered with rust! No wonder it’s squeaking!” Tink exclaimed.

  “Yes,” Dooley said sadly. “Got caught in the rain, I did. As if that weren’t bad enough, now I’ve got a squeaky wheel. Poor, poor me.” He shook his head. “There’s nothing to be done about it, though.”

  “Of course something can be done about it,” Tink said. “It just needs some oil. Wait right here.”

  Tink flew into her workshop. She was back moments later with an oilcan.

  Dooley climbed down from the cart. He stood beside Tink, watching as she oiled the wheel. “I don’t suppose it will work,” he said gloomily.

  Tink gave the wheel an experimental spin. SCREEEECH.

  “I knew it couldn’t be fixed,” Dooley said as Tink added oil. “Nothing ever goes right for me. Today it’s a squeaky wheel. Tomorrow it will be a leaky roof or a lump in my porridge. It’s a squeaky, leaky, lumpy life for poor old—”

  “There!” Tink set down the oilcan and spun the wheel. It whirled smoothly. “I fixed it!”

  Dooley blinked. “Well, I’ll be. So you did.”

  Tink oiled the rest of the wheels. Then she tucked the oilcan into the back of Dooley’s cart. “Keep this,” she told him. “You can oil the wheels whenever they squeak.”

  “That’s ver
y kind of you, Tink,” said Dooley. “Now I’d best be on my way.”

  Dooley climbed into the driver’s seat. He tucked the dandelion fluff back into his ears and sneezed twice. “AHH-CHOO! AHH-CHOO!”

  The mice leaped forward, startled.

  “Whoa!” cried Dooley, tugging on the reins. He shook his head sadly. “Itchy nose. Unhappy mice. Nothing ever goes right for me. Ah, well. That’s just the way it is.” He clucked at the mice, and the cart started down the road.

  “Dooley, wait!” Tink called after him.

  Dooley stopped the cart. He squinted down at Tink. “Now what is it?”

  “I fixed your wheel. It doesn’t squeak anymore,” Tink reminded him.

  Dooley nodded patiently. “That’s right, you did. Very kind of you, Tink.”

  “But don’t you see? If your wheel doesn’t squeak, you don’t need to put dandelion fluff in your ears,” Tink told him.

  “Hmmm. I suppose I don’t,” Dooley said. He took the fluff out.

  “And if you don’t have fluff in your ears, your nose won’t itch,” Tink continued. “And if your nose doesn’t itch, you won’t sneeze. And if you don’t sneeze, you won’t scare the mice.”

  Dooley’s eyes got rounder. He touched his nose. Then he turned toward the mice. They stood calmly in their harnesses, chewing bits of hayseed.

  “Well, I’ll be!” Dooley exclaimed. And suddenly, he smiled. It was a big, beautiful, beaming smile. Tink realized she’d never seen him smile before.

  “It seems things are going my way after all!” Dooley doffed his cap to Tink. Then he set off down the road again, singing.

  “My wheel is rolling.

  I’m on my way.

  The mice are happy

  With their bit of hay.

  The sun is shining.

  I think it’s truly

  A lucky day

  For good old Dooley!”

  “Funny old Dooley.” Tink chuckled to herself. Then, picking up Lily’s watering can, she went on her way.

  “LILY!” TINK CALLED. She peered into the heart of Lily’s garden. Poppies, bluebells, and buttercups grew together in a colorful jumble.

  Tink brushed past a cluster of lilac blossoms. “Lily!” she called again. “Are you here?” There was no answer. Tink landed on the petal of a large golden flower and looked around the garden.

  “Don’t step on the daylilies!” someone squawked. The voice was loud and shrill.

  Tink spun around. She came face to face with a curly-haired fairy sitting on a leaf. The fairy, whose name was Iris, scowled. “Didn’t you hear me? No dillydallying on the daylilies!”

  Tink quickly hopped off the flower. “I was just looking for Lily.”

  “That doesn’t mean you can go around using her daylilies as a doormat,” snapped Iris.

  That voice! It sent a shudder down Tink’s spine. It was every bit as screechy as Dooley’s squeaky wheel.

  Iris studied the petal where Tink had been standing, as if inspecting it for footprints. “Tsk-tsk.” She darted over to a fat book that lay open on a leaf and jotted something down.

  “What are you writing?” Tink asked worriedly. The petal had looked all right to her.

  Iris glanced up. “It’s garden-fairy business,” she huffed. “None of your concern.” She went back to writing.

  Like Lily, Iris was a garden-talent fairy. She kept a big book about all the plants in Pixie Hollow, and she was always writing in it.

  There was still no sign of Lily. Tink decided to find a place to sit and wait for her. But each time she tried to land, Iris stopped her.

  “Mind the marigolds!” Iris called. “Don’t sit near those daisies—they just bloomed! And don’t you dare disturb the baby’s breath. It needs its rest!”

  Tink hovered in midair and sighed loudly. She hoped Lily would show up soon.

  “Tinker Bell,” a gentle voice behind her said.

  Tink turned. “Lily! There you are!”

  Lily set down the basket of seeds she was carrying and hugged Tink. “It’s nice of you to drop by.”

  “I brought your watering can,” Tink told her.

  “And she trod on the tallest daylily,” Iris tattled from her leaf.

  Tink hung her head. “I didn’t mean to—”

  But Lily just waved her hand. “Don’t worry, Tink. Daylilies can be hardy. They can stand up to a few fairy footprints. Now, I can’t wait to see my old watering can. I know I have others. But this was the first one I got when I Arrived.”

  “Good as new.” Tink held it up proudly.

  Lily took the can. As she looked at it, her smile dimmed a little.

  “Is something wrong?” Tink asked.

  “Well…,” Lily said. “It’s just that it’s so perfect.…”

  “Exactly,” Tink agreed happily.

  “But it doesn’t really look like my watering can,” Lily finished.

  “Oh, it is!” Tink assured her. “I just fixed the hole and hammered out all the dents and dings and gave it a fresh coat of paint. Don’t you like it?”

  Lily nodded. “It’s very nice. But,” she added more quietly, “I’ll miss some of those dents and dings. They were sort of like old friends.”

  Iris had been pretending to be busy with her book. But now her curiosity got the better of her. She flew over to see the watering can.

  “I don’t see what all the fuss is about an old tin can,” she sniffed. “Why, any gardening fairy knows the best watering cans are made of copper.”

  Tink rolled her eyes. Why did Iris have to be so rude?

  But Lily hardly seemed to notice Iris’s behavior. She turned back to Tink. “I wonder if you would take a look at my gardening rake. There’s something wrong with it.”

  Lily led Tink over to a small toolshed. The rake was leaning up against the wall.

  “Oh!” Tink gasped. The rake hardly looked like a rake at all. Its tines were twisted together like a snarl of spaghetti. Its handle was nearly broken in half. “What happened?”

  “I had a tangle with some tangleroot,” Lily replied. “And the root won. It’s my only rake, so I hate to throw it away. But a rake that doesn’t rake isn’t much use, is it?”

  Tink agreed that it was not. “I might be able to fix it,” she said.

  “Could you?” asked Lily hopefully.

  Tink grinned. Fixing the rake would be challenging—and she loved a challenge! “Leave it to me,” she told Lily. Taking the rake by the handle, she turned to go.

  “Don’t hit the hollyhocks on the way out!” Iris called after her.

  What an unpleasant fairy, thought Tink. Shaking her head, she flew away.

  Tink was eager to start fixing the rake. But when she got to her workshop, Spring, a message-talent fairy, was standing on the doorstep.

  “There you are, Tink!” Spring exclaimed. “I’ve been looking all over for you. Tell me—what did you do to Dooley?”

  “What do you mean?” Tink asked in surprise. “What’s the matter with him?”

  “Not a thing!” Spring informed her cheerfully. “That’s just it. He’s glad as can be. Going around with a happy song on his lips and a smile for every fairy he meets.”

  “Dooley?” Tink asked in astonishment.

  Spring nodded. “He’s completely changed. And he says it’s all thanks to you, Tink.”

  “Me?”

  “So how did you do it? Everyone wants to know.” Spring raised her eyebrows.

  “But…all I did was fix a wheel on his cart,” Tink said.

  “I’d say you fixed more than that,” said Spring. When Tink didn’t reply, she added, “Is it a tinker-fairy secret? Don’t worry, you can tell me.” Spring leaned toward Tink, her eyes twinkling. Message-talent fairies loved secrets.

  “I don’t know,” Tink said with a shrug. “I just oiled the wheel on his cart. I’d better get to work now, Spring. I’ve got Lily’s garden rake to fix.”

  “If you ask me, you’re wasting your time with pots and pans a
nd garden rakes,” Spring replied. “You could be using your talent for bigger things.” She waved and darted off.

  Tink stared after her. “Bigger things?” she echoed. “What bigger things?”

  But Spring had already flown away.

  “NOW, HOW SHOULD I fix this rake?” Tink asked herself as she went into her workshop. Just as she picked up her tinker’s hammer, the bell over her door jingled. A fairy poked her head inside.

  “What is it?” Tink said with a scowl. She didn’t like to be bothered while she was working.

  But when she looked up, Tink forgot to be annoyed. The fairy standing in the doorway was an astonishing sight. She wore a dandelion-leaf tunic over a poppy-petal dress topped by a pink-carnation tutu. Her cornsilk stockings were tucked into purple pansy slippers with twice-curled toes. And on top of her head, she wore three hats—a purple puff, a daisy sunshade, and a pink raspberry beret. A small, round face poked out from all that finery. This was Trindle, a sewing-talent fairy.

  “Fly with you, Trindle,” said Tink, trying to hide her surprise. “What can I do for you?”

  Trindle hovered just inside the doorway. She looked around uncertainly. “I need your help,” she told Tink.

  “With what?” Tink asked, getting excited. “A leaky pot? Or a dented pan? Or…” She trailed off, noticing that Trindle’s hands were empty.

  “I can’t decide,” Trindle whispered.

  “You can’t decide if it’s a pot or a pan?” asked Tink, confused.

  “I can’t decide anything!” Trindle exclaimed. “I can’t decide if I should wear a blue cloak or a yellow jacket. I can’t decide if I should wear a red skirt or green overalls. I simply cannot decide!”

  “Oh,” Tink said. Why was Trindle telling her this?

  “So, do you think you can help me?” Trindle asked. “They say you’re the best fix-it fairy around.”

  “Oh!” Suddenly Tink understood. Trindle wanted Tink to fix her! “But I don’t fix fairies,” Tink explained. “I only fix pots and pans.”