In the cozy, mud-splattered village of Puddlewick, nestled between the Whispering Woods and the Grumpy Mountains, lived a boy named Timmle. Timmle wasn’t what you'd call a hero. He was short, squeaky-voiced, and had the unfortunate habit of fainting when surprised. He was, however, an expert turnip farmer—arguably the best in three counties.
One blustery morning, while pulling up a particularly stubborn turnip, the ground shook, the sky cracked with blue fire, and a *WHUMP* echoed over the hills. A giant whale—glowing with celestial markings and floating in the sky as if the clouds were water—had crash-landed into Puddle Wick’s only bakery.
Out of its mouth tumbled a panicked, pant less elf wearing a colander on his head. “The kingdom is doomed!” he cried. “The Queen of the Crows has stolen the Sky Compass!”
Timmle blinked. “I... was just getting a turnip for soup.”
The elf—whose name turned out to be Gible Snagtooth, Sky Navigator First Class—grabbed Timmle by the collar and inspected him. “You’re the one. I’ve seen it in the biscuits.”
“In the what?”
“No time!” Gible thrust a wooden sword into Timmle’s hands. “Congratulations, you’re now Sir Timmle, the Turnip Knight.”
And just like that, Timmle was swept away on the back of the majestic sky whale, whom Gible referred to as Geraldine. She smelled faintly of cinnamon rolls and sang in whale-song when happy.
Their quest: retrieve the Sky Compass before the Queen of the Crows used it to flip the sky upside-down—turning day into night, birds into fish, and soup into salad.
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Their journey was anything but ordinary.
First, they braved the Forest of Flustered Squirrels, who were hosting a very tense acorn-counting tournament. Timmle accidentally won by sneezing and blowing all the acorns into the air. The squirrels proclaimed him a prophet and offered him a cloak of leaves.
Next, they sailed over the Snoring Peaks, where the mountains muttered sleepy insults at passersby. Geraldine ignored them, but Gible shouted back every time, causing several avalanches.
Finally, they reached the Obsidian Spire, home of the Queen of the Crows—a dark tower perched on a storm cloud, guarded by her army of gossiping ravens.
Disguised in a trench coat (three ravens on each other’s shoulders, naturally), the feathered guards failed to recognize Timmle and Gible as intruders. But their cover was blown when Gible tripped over a rogue tea set.
Captured and tied to an hourglass filled with molasses, the Queen cackled as she prepared her spell.
“You're too late, Turnip Knight! The sky will never be the same!”
But Timmle, thinking fast, hurled his best, biggest turnip straight at the Compass. The enchanted root glowed with ancient farm-magic—passed down through generations of turnip farmers—and shattered the spell.
The Compass leapt into the air and zoomed back to Geraldine, who caught it in her baleen.
With a mighty 'sing-whale! ' Sound, Geraldine blasted the Queen with a sonic note of harmony, turning her into a rather startled pigeon.
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Timmie returned to Puddle wick a hero. He didn't wear armor or wield a sword of flame. He wore overalls, smelled of mulch, and still fainted when surprised.
But the village remembered the day their skies were saved by a boy with a turnip and a whale with wings.
And every now and then, when the wind blew just right, you could hear the distant 'WOOOONNNG' of Geraldine, soaring across the stars.
BY Redheart
