Timbertwig

#####Timbertwig

It was a clear autumn morning as the sun rose high above Wiggly Wood The badgers stretched and yawned. The squirrels scurried around searching for nuts. And in the old, gnarled oak tree, the brown leaves shook at the sound of Granny Knot’s piercing voice.

“Timbertwig! Timbertwig! Are you awake yet? I want you to fetch me some mushrooms and toadstools.”

“What, right now?” said Timbertwig sleepily.

Granny Knot burst into his bedroom. “Yes, this very minute, or there’ll be nothing to eat for dinner.”

“Oh, all right then.” Timbertwig kicked off his blanket of dry leaves. “Come on, Abigail. Let’s go.”

Timbertwig dressed and picked up his hat, where Abigail the magic spider lived. As he put it on his head, he jolted Abigail out of bed and she woke up with a start. “What’s going on!” she cried.

“Good morning, Abigail.” “Who are you talking to?” said Granny Knot. “Oh it’s that revolting spider, isn’t it? Spiders should not be pets. Spiders belong in pies and puddings.”

“She’ll never make a pie out of me,” thought Abigail as she listened from the safety of Timbertwig’s hat. “If my magic didn’t go wrong so often, I’d turn her into a fly and catch her in one of my webs!”

“Be quick now,” said Granny Knot. “And be sure to bring back some tasty toadstools and some mouldy mushrooms.”

For hours Timbertwig skipped among the trees of Wiggly Wood, but he did not see a single toadstool. “Granny won’t be very pleased with us.”

Abigail lowered herself on to the brim of his hat. “Well, we can’t go back with our ten hands empty!” So they went on searching, laughing and joking as they wandered deeper and deeper into the wood.

Suddenly they stopped in their tracks. In the distance, someone was crying.

“Oh dear!” exclaimed Abigail. “It sounds as if somebody needs help.” “Yes, it’s coming from over there,” said Timbertwig.

“Let’s hurry. We can take a short cut through this valley.”

“No!” cried Abigail. “Look at the sign!”

Timbertwig read the notice standing at the entrance to the valley. “I can’t quite read the middle word,” he said.

“Beware of the … um, something trees’. It looks as if we’ll have to take the path over Bluebell Bridge.”

As Timbertwig ran through the woods towards Bluebell Bridge, the sobbing got louder. But when he paused for breath halfway across the bridge, the crying stopped.

“Perhaps we scared it away.” said Abigail.

“I hope not,” said Timbertwig, “I’ll try calling. Hello! Is anyone there?” But there was no reply.

“Well, is nobody there?” he called.

“Yes, nobody much is here,” a voice replied. “So please leave me alone.”

“But we’ve run all this way to help you!” said Timbertwig as he scrambled down the bank and peeped under the bridge. A miserable looking creature was sulking by the edge of the river.

“Hello. My name’s Timbertwig.” “That’s a nice name,” the stranger sniffed. “I’m Dennis.”

“Well, that’s a nice name, too,” replied Timbertwig.

“Dull, dreary, down-in-the-dumps Dennis. That’s what they call me.”

“I’m sorry,” said Timbertwig, “But why?”

“I don’t need a reason.” Dennis sniffed again. “Ever since I can remember I’ve been sad. I don’t know what it’s like to be happy.”

“But it’s so easy!” cried Timbertwig. “We’ll show you, won’t we Abigail?” “Of course we will. I’ll just pop back inside the hat and find my book of spells.”

“And while she’s gone, Dennis, I’ll tell you a joke.” Timbertwig sat down beside Dennis. “Why is a dentist so miserable?” he asked.

But Dennis had already heard it. “Because he’s always looking down in the mouth. People used to call me Dennis the Dentist for that very reason!” And Dennis began to cry again.

Abigail appeared from her little door in Timbertwig’s hat. In one hand she clutched her blue book of spells, in another her magic wand.

“Abigail is a magic spider,” Timbertwig explained, “She can bring you anything you wish for. Surely that would make you happy Dennis? Think hard and tell us what you would really like.”

“I’ll try,” sniffed Dennis. “I’d like… Um, I’d like an apple pie, please.”

“An apple pie it shall be,” said Abigail, thumbing through her book of spells. “Now, let me see. Adder puddings… ant cakes … ah! here we are. Apple pie.”

And she started to jump up and down and wave her magic stick.

“Zappity pop and a zammity zie, Please bring our friend a large apple pie!”

There was a brilliant blue flash and a thousand specks of sparkling dust floated to the ground.

“Did it work?” coughed Abigail, rubbing her eyes. “What’s this round my neck?” said Dennis. “Oh no!” “Silly Abigail,” Timbertwig chuckled. “You’ve made him an apple tie!”

Dennis was just about to burst into tears, so Timbertwig said, “Come on, Dennis. Think of something else.”

Dennis looked down at his scruffy clothes. “All right. How about a gold suit and a frilly shirt?”

Abigail found the appropriate spell.

“A zappity zoot and a wizzle de wirt, A natty gold suit and a frilly shirt.”

This time there was an even brighter blue flash. But before the dust could clear, Dennis caught sight of his reflection in the river and screamed. “Oh no! It’s all gone wrong again. I’ll never be happy.” And he ran away into the woods to hide.

“Abigail, what’s happened?” asked Timbertwig as the magic dust settled.

“You haven’t made him vanish, have you?”

Abigail peered at her book. “Oh dear, I really must have my eyes tested. Instead of a natty gold suit and a frilly shirt…”

“Well? What have you given him?” “A tatty old boot and a frilly skirt!” “No wonder he ran away,” said Timbertwig. “Come on, we must find him.”

Timbertwig and Abigail rushed through Wiggly Wood, following Dennis’s footprints.

The footprints led right to the valley with the warning notice. They stopped again to try and read it. But suddenly they heard a terrible scream from the valley. “Aaah! Please! No! Stop!”

“It’s Dennis and he sounds as if he’s in awful trouble. Hurry!”

As they ran, the screams grew louder. But when Timbertwig and Abigail finally found Dennis, they could not believe their eyes. He was rolling around on the floor while the twigs of the trees poked and prodded him. “Oh, ha ha, ha. Stop it. Please, no more, ha, ho, he.”

“Now I know what the word was on the sign,” cried Timbertwig. “It said Beware of the TICKLING trees!’ “

Finally the trees stopped tickling Dennis. He caught his breath and wiped the tear from his eyes.

“Why are you laughing?” he asked. “Did the trees tickle you, too?”

“No, it’s your skirt. You look so funny!” laughed Timbertwig helplessly.

“And I feel so happy,” said Dennis. “For the first time in my life, I’ve learned how to laugh. And it’s all thanks to you.

But please, Miss Abigail, do get me out of these ridiculous clothes!”

“Of course,” giggled the spider. “And this time there won’t be any mistakes!” “Wishity, washity, zaggity zen, Please let Dennis be normal again.”

When all the blue dust had settled, there stood Dennis, just as he had been before-but smiling!

At that moment, Timbertwig felt several taps on his shoulder. One of the tickling trees was trying to catch his attention. The branch pointed to a spot close to Timbertwig’s feet. And there, on a damp layer of moss, was a large group of toadstools and mushrooms.

Dennis and Timbertwig collected twenty toadstools and as many mushrooms and carried them home to Granny Knot. She served toadstool toasties for dinner, followed by mushroom mousse.

Everyone agreed that it was a wonderful meal.

Dennis said it was a perfect end to a perfect day.

“You see, I didn’t just find happiness,” he said, giving Granny Knot a big kiss. “I found three good friends as well!”

[ Follow another adventure with Timbertwig in Part 6]