In a Time Far Away

In a Time Far Away Part 7

It was the king's turn to be confused. He glanced over at Ned who shrugged his shoulders and commented, "He has some strange ideas about magic."

The king looked back to Tim. "You can't make food?"

"Oh, I can make food," Tim confirmed to the baffled king. "I just can't turn one thing into another. That's magic."

There was some sort of communication problem which the king couldn't quite identify. He rephrased his question. "Can you make us a cooked deer?"

Tim waved his spoon. Next to the unprepared animal appeared a fully cooked, steaming, aromatic buck ready for eating. The elves working on the first animal jumped in surprise, dropping it into the dirt.

Hmm, the king murmured. His eyebrows rose, and a smile eased onto his face. Ned slapped his brother's shoulder and laughed.

The animal the king had brought home was no longer needed, so they dragged the carcass into the woods and left it to rot. It was an unusual thing for them to do; in fact, they had never done such a thing before.

That night the elves feasted. The meat was delicious, and it had been prepared with no effort at all. Ah, yes, thought the King. This could be very easy to get used to.

No one got much rest that night. Tim entertained them with dancing lights, much like what Joan had seen at the sprite party. When the elves settled into their beds, Tim would wake them to ask what they were doing, or how a teapot worked.

Evidently wood sprites didn't need sleep.

The next day Tim ran about amazed by all the new magic he discovered in camp: the baker had magically turned wheat into bread; the cook had turned a goose into a meal.

"Tim," asked the King. "Can you make those things appear?"

Tim's instant versions of the bread and goose were delicious. The cook and the baker shrugged their shoulders and threw their utensils to the ground.

The most magical discovery of all, however, occurred when the elves revealed the secrets of the pencil.

"Look," said the wood smith. "It writes." Taking a sheet of paper, he scratched the dark point of the pencil over it. Then he held up the paper so everyone could see the mark.

Tim was utterly amazed. Tossing his spoon aside, he took the pencil in hand and began marking up another piece of paper. And then another and another. He sat for days writing. It seemed his fascination with the item would never end.

"I think we know how to keep him here," said Ned.

So the elves learned to make pencils. They interrupted Tim when they needed something—a meal or a toy or some other diversion. Tim was happy to comply, just as long as he could return quickly to his work.