Disney Fairies: Tink in a Fairy Fix

by Kiki Thorpe

  “Please, Tink!” Trindle begged. “I don’t know what else to do!” One of Trindle’s hats slipped down over her eyes. She pushed it back and looked pleadingly at Tink.

  “Like I was saying, I don’t—” Tink broke off. Beneath all those hats, Trindle looked so small and sad. Tink couldn’t help feeling sorry for her.

  Maybe there is something I can do, Tink thought. After all, she was good at fixing pots and pans. How different could fixing a fairy be?

  “Tell me more,” she said.

  Trindle sat down in a chair next to Tink. “It’s the same every morning,” she explained. “I open the doors to my closet and ask myself, ‘What should I wear today?’”

  “I don’t see how it matters,” said Tink, who wore more or less the same thing every day.

  Trindle gasped. “Oh, but it does! The clothes you wear say so much about you! But I’m never sure what I want to say. Should I wear yellow sunflower petals to say I’m feeling sunny? Or should I say I’m feeling pretty in pink primroses? Or that I’m feeling bright in red begonias? In the end, I can’t decide. So I pile everything on at once.”

  “It sounds complicated,” said Tink.

  “It is,” Trindle agreed. “Not to mention hot.”

  Tink looked at Trindle thoughtfully. In her colorful clothes, Trindle reminded Tink of a fancy cake. Of course, thinking of cakes made Tink think of cake pans. And thinking about cake pans made her think of ovens. And from there it wasn’t long before her thoughts turned to oven timers, which often needed fixing.

  “Tink?” asked Trindle, waving a hand in front of her face.

  Tink blinked. Thinking about oven timers had given her an idea. “I think I know how to fix you,” she told Trindle.

  “Wonderful!” Trindle exclaimed. She glanced at the tools on Tink’s worktable and gulped. “Er…will it hurt much?”

  Tink didn’t hear her. She was busy collecting things from around her workshop—a scrap of wood, a nail, a sliver of metal, some pots of paint.

  She brought everything over to the table. Trindle watched nervously as Tink picked up her hammer. For the next several minutes, the room was quiet as Tink tapped and tinkered.

  At last she stepped back. “There it is, Trindle! The answer to your problem!”

  Trindle stared at the object on the table. It was a wooden box with a little spinner in the center. The sections of the dial were painted different colors.

  “What is it?” Trindle asked.

  “It’s a Decider,” Tink replied. “Whenever you can’t decide what to wear, just spin the needle, like this.” She flicked the spinner so it whirled on its pin. “Whatever color it lands on, that’s what you should wear.”

  “Let me try.” Trindle reached for the Decider. “What should I wear today?” she asked aloud. She flicked the spinner.

  It spun round and round and came to a stop on blue.

  Trindle gasped. “It works! And I know just the dress to wear—bluebells with a matching blue bonnet! Oh, Tink, how can I ever thank you?”

  Tink waved a hand. “It’s no trouble at all.”

  “I know! I’ll make you a dress!” Trindle exclaimed. “It will be—” She spun the dial. “A green dress! Would you like that?”

  “That would be very nice,” said Tink, ushering her to the door.

  As Trindle flew away, Tink could hear her saying, “What color should I wear tomorrow?…Ooh, red! And what color should I wear the day after that?…Ooh, purple!…”

  “Finally, some peace and quiet,” Tink said to herself. “Now I can get around to fixing Lily’s rake.”

  BUT NO SOONER HAD Tink picked up her hammer than the bell over her door jingled again.

  Tink looked up with a sigh. “Now what?”

  A round sparrow man with rosy cheeks flew in. His name was Rolo, and he was a messenger talent. “Tink!” he burst out. “Thank goodness you’re here.”

  The tips of Tink’s wings quivered. “Do you have a message for me?”

  “No, no,” said Rolo. “I need your help.” He leaned closer and lowered his voice. “Can you keep a secret?”

  Tink nodded.

  “Well, I can’t!” Rolo burst out. “No matter how hard I try. Whenever I hear an interesting tidbit, I can’t keep it to myself. I just have to tell someone!”

  Tink smiled. She already knew this about Rolo—everyone in Pixie Hollow did. There was no faster way to spread a bit of news than to ask Rolo not to tell anyone.

  “What’s so bad about that?” she asked.

  “I’m a messenger,” Rolo explained. “Fairies trust me to carry their news safely. But how can they when I always spill it? That’s why I’m here, Tink. I need you to fix me.”

  “But I don’t fix fairies,” Tink explained. “I only fix pots and pans and things.”

  “You fixed Dooley,” Rolo pointed out. “He says you’re the best fix-it fairy around.”

  The best fix-it fairy around. The words rang in Tink’s ears. It was the exact same thing Trindle had said. Tink liked the sound of it.

  “Maybe I can help,” she told him.

  Tink reached into a little drawer in her worktable. She pulled out a small magnifying glass. She began to examine Rolo, just as she would a pot or a pan.

  She peeked into Rolo’s ears. She looked into his eyes. “Open wide,” she said as she peered into his mouth.

  “What are you looking for?” Rolo asked.

  “Leaks,” said Tink.

  Finding no leaks, Tink put the magnifying glass away. She tugged her bangs, thinking. If leaks weren’t the problem, then what was?

  Maybe Rolo is like a pot that keeps boiling over, Tink decided. Every time he has a secret, he bubbles up and spills it. Tink only knew one way to fix such a pot−put a lid on it!

  She went over to the corner of her workshop and began to rummage around. At last, under a pile of polishing rags, she found what she was looking for. It was a metal box with a little silver key. She brought them to Rolo.

  “This is a Secret Keeper,” she told him. “Carry it with you at all times. Whenever you have a secret, whisper it into the box and then lock it. Your secret will be safe.”

  Rolo turned the box around in his hands. “How does it work?”

  “I can’t tell you,” Tink said, giving him a mysterious smile.

  Rolo winked. “Oh, I get it! You have a Secret Keeper, too! What a clever invention. You’re brilliant, Tink!” And tucking the box under his arm, he flew out the door.

  Tink sighed with satisfaction. How she loved a job well done!

  She sat back down at her worktable and picked up Lily’s rake. But she just couldn’t concentrate. She was still thinking about Trindle and Rolo. Tink had never realized how much fun fixing a fairy could be. It was as good as fixing pots and pans.

  In fact, it’s even better than fixing pots and pans, Tink thought. What pot had ever said, “You’re brilliant, Tink”? What pan had exclaimed, “How can I ever thank you?”

  Was this what Spring had meant by “bigger things”? Tink wondered. Were there other fairies out there who needed her help?

  That moment, the door of the workshop burst open yet again. Tink’s friend Rosetta, a garden-talent fairy, flew in.

  “Tinker Bell!” she cried. “I need your help!”

  “WHAT’S WRONG, ROSETTA?” Tink asked in alarm.

  The garden fairy’s face was pale. Her wings trembled. Tink realized she was quite upset.

  Rosetta flung herself onto a stool next to Tink’s workbench. She put her wrist to her forehead and fluttered her long eyelashes. “Oh, Tink,” she wailed. “It’s a disaster!”

  “What is it?” asked Tink. “A broken fence post? A hole in a bucket?”

  Rosetta shook her head. “Worse than that.”

  Tink tried to think what was worse than a hole in a bucket. “A wheelbarrow without a wheel?”

  “No.” Rosetta sighed. “It’s Herk.”

  “Herk?” Tink asked. “You mean the harvest talent? What
did he do?”

  “He hasn’t done a thing,” Rosetta sniffled. “That’s just it. I might as well be a gnat, for all he notices me.” She blew her nose into a rose-petal hanky. “You don’t think I’m a gnat, do you, Tink?”

  Tink scratched her head. What was Rosetta talking about? She couldn’t make any sense of it. “You’re nothing like a gnat,” she told her friend. “You’re much nicer and prettier. And better dressed.”

  “Do you think so?” For a moment, Rosetta looked pleased. She smoothed her dress. It was made of pink rose petals, with red buttons.

  But a moment later, Rosetta’s face crumpled. “Oh, what does it matter if I have a pretty dress when I don’t have anyone to dance with!” she wailed.

  Tink patted her hand. But she was more confused than ever. First gnats, and now dances? What was going on?

  “All alone…,” Rosetta said between sobs. “Dance…and he couldn’t care less…. Tink, my heart is broken!”

  “Your heart?” Tink asked. Her eyes widened.

  Rosetta nodded. “That’s why I’m here.” She dabbed at her eyes. “I was hoping you could help me. They say you’re the best fix-it fairy around.”

  Rosetta wants me to fix her broken heart! Tink thought. She had never fixed anything like that before. She wondered how it was done. It couldn’t be easy.

  But I’ll have to try, she decided bravely. Rosetta was her friend, and she clearly needed Tink’s help.

  Rosetta looked up at her through wet eyelashes. “Tink, I feel awful. It’s as if there’s an empty space right here.” She tapped the place over her heart.

  “Oh, dear.” Tink clutched her head. Could she patch up a broken heart with some putty? Or maybe a bit of wood? Or Never silver?

  “Will you help me?” Rosetta asked.

  “I’ll do everything I can,” Tink promised her friend.

  As if a cloud had lifted, Rosetta’s face suddenly brightened. “I knew I could count on you!”

  “It’s the least I can do,” Tink said. But she was worried that this might be her most difficult job yet.

  First things first, she decided. Before she could fix the cracked heart, she needed to know how big the problem was. She put her ear close to Rosetta’s back.

  Rosetta frowned. “What in the name of Never Land are you doing?”

  “Shhh!” Tink put a finger to her lips. “I’m listening for the crack.”

  Rosetta stepped back. “The crack? Tink, what are you talking about? I thought you said you’d help me.”

  “I’m trying to,” Tink told her. “But I have to know how big the hole is before I can fix you.”

  “Fix me?” Rosetta exclaimed. “What about Herk?”

  “What about him?” asked Tink, startled.

  Rosetta sighed and put her hands on her hips. “Tink, haven’t you been listening to a word I’ve said?”

  Finally, Rosetta explained. The full-moon dance was coming up soon, and Rosetta had her heart set on dancing with Herk. But Herk didn’t want to go to the dance.

  “I’ve done everything I can think of,” Rosetta told Tink. “I wore my nicest dress. I smiled my friendliest smile. I even showed off my dancing skills with a few twirls in the tearoom. But he still doesn’t notice me.”

  Sadly, Rosetta lowered her eyes and pursed her lips. “I need you to fix Herk. Make him go to the full-moon dance with me,” she said.

  “How can I make him go to the dance if he doesn’t want to?” Tink asked.

  “You’re the best fix-it fairy in Pixie Hollow. You’ll find a way. And besides, you promised you’d help me,” Rosetta reminded her.

  Tink sighed. “I did, didn’t I?”

  “You can find Herk in the orchard,” Rosetta told her. “Now I’m off to watch the fast-flying races. Don’t forget to let me know what he says!”

  She wiggled her fingers at Tink and flew to the door. Then she darted back. “And don’t tell him I sent you!” She flew away.

  Tink stared after her. She had no idea what to do next.

  But a promise was a promise. Tink squared her shoulders and set out for the orchard to see if she could fix Herk.

  IN THE ORCHARD, harvest talents wove in and out of the trees’ branches, plucking fruit for the kitchen. It was hard, dangerous work. They wore walnut-shell helmets to protect their heads from falling fruit.

  Tink flew over to a little group of fairies. They were piling cherries near the roots of a tree.

  “I’m looking for Herk,” Tink said. “Can you tell me where he is?”

  One of the fairies pushed back her helmet and squinted. “Try that crab apple tree,” she said. She pointed to a tree that was heavy with fruit.

  Tink thanked the fairy and started toward the tree.

  “Wait!” said the fairy, calling her back. She took off her helmet and handed it to Tink. “You’ll need this.”

  Tink put on the helmet and flew over to the crab apple tree. She spotted Herk among the leaves. Herk was one of the largest sparrow men in Pixie Hollow. He had a broad, square head and wings as big as a meadowlark’s. Tink noticed he wasn’t wearing a helmet.

  “Herk!” she called to get his attention.

  Herk didn’t seem to hear her. He had both arms wrapped around a crab apple. He was trying to wrestle it from the branch.

  Tink flew closer. “Herk!” she said again.

  “Grrrr!” Herk grunted. He strained with all his might. The crab apple still clung to the branch.

  As Herk pulled, he shook the tree branch, causing other fruit to fall.

  Tink ducked as crab apples rained down around them. Soon there was a pile of fruit on the ground.

  But Herk didn’t seem to notice. With one last tug, he finally managed to pluck the crab apple.

  “Got one!” he bellowed, holding it up. Just then, he noticed Tink. “Tinker Bell, what are you doing here?”

  Tink landed on the branch next to him. She glanced down at the fruit on the ground. “Shouldn’t you be wearing a helmet, Herk?” she asked.

  “Nah! Not me! My head’s hard as a rock,” he replied proudly. He rapped it with his knuckles to prove it.

  At that moment, one last crab apple fell. It whistled down and bonked Herk right on the head.

  Tink gasped. “Are you all right?”

  “What did I tell you? Hard as a rock,” said Herk, looking at Tink cross-eyed.

  Tink decided she had better get on with fixing Herk. “You know, there’s a full-moon festival coming up soon. Have you thought about who you’ll dance with yet?” she asked.

  “I don’t like to dance,” said Herk.

  “That’s silly,” said Tink. “Everyone likes to dance!”

  “Not me,” said Herk.

  “When was the last time you tried?” Tink challenged him.

  “Well.” He glanced right and left, then lowered his voice. “The thing is, I don’t know how to dance.”

  Is that all? thought Tink. Fixing Herk would be a breeze! All she had to do was teach him.

  “It’s easy,” she said. “I’ll show you how.”

  “Here?” Herk looked around. “Now?”

  “Why not?” said Tink. “No one can see us. The leaves of the tree will keep us hidden. Now, watch me.”

  Tink fluttered up in the air. She opened her arms wide and did a little twirl. “Now you try it,” she told him.

  Herk fluttered up next to her. He opened his arms wide—and smacked Tink.

  “Whoops,” said Herk.

  “It’s okay.” Tink checked her arm for a bruise. “Twirls are hard. Maybe we should try something easier. Like a swoop! Watch this.”

  Tink dove off the branch and swooped through the air. She ended with a flourish. “Your turn,” she told Herk.

  Herk took a deep breath and dove off the branch. But when he tried the flourish, his wings got tangled. He crashed into Tink. They both slammed into a branch.

  “Are you all right?” Herk asked as he helped her up.

  Tink rubbed her sore knee. Fixing
Herk was turning out to be more dangerous than she’d imagined.

  But I promised Rosetta, Tink reminded herself. I can’t give up yet.

  “Swoops are tricky,” Tink told Herk. “Anyway, all you really need to know for the full-moon dance is the spin. We can do that together!”

  Tink held on to both of Herk’s hands. Flapping their wings, they began to spin around.

  “See?” said Tink. “It’s easy!”

  “Look, I’m dancing!” Herk whooped with delight.

  Round and round they went. They whipped through the air, faster and faster…too fast!

  “Slow down!” Tink cried. They were spinning out of control!

  “Ahhh!” Tink yelled as they crashed through the tree’s leaves. They bounced off a branch. Crab apples started to fall again.

  Tink and Herk stopped spinning. They ducked for cover as the hard crab apples dropped all around them.

  Just when they thought it was safe, one last crab apple fell. It bopped Tink on top of her walnut-shell helmet. “Ow!” she squealed.

  Herk shook his head. “Maybe we should just forget the lesson. I’ll never learn to dance,” he said.

  “But you have to!” Tink cried in exasperation. “There’s a very special fairy who wants to dance with you!”

  “There is?” Herk asked.

  Tink nodded. “She told me herself.”

  “She did?” A smile spread across Herk’s broad face. “Who is it?”

  “I’ll give you a hint,” said Tink. “She’s pretty as a flower.”

  Herk’s face brightened. “Is it Sparkle?”

  “No,” said Tink with a little frown. “What I meant to say is, she’s pretty as a rose.”

  “Hmmm,” said Herk. “Is it Spring? Silvermist?”

  Tink tugged her bangs. She was starting to think that Herk had been hit on the head by one too many crab apples. “I’ll give you one last hint. This certain fairy has been paying a lot of special attention to you!”

  “Special attentio—Oh!” Herk’s eyes widened. He stared at Tink.

  Tink grinned. At last she had gotten through! “So, do you think you might like to be her dancing partner, too?” she asked slyly.