Only a few wagons were traversing the main road through town in the waning twilight, merchants pushing their reluctant horses at the end of a long day. Two young runners were competing to see who could light the gas lamps on his side of the street first. Turning a corner, Franz didn’t see the lamp lighter on his side of the street until the boy plowed into his mid-section. Stumbling backward, Franz nearly fell flat onto the muddy road, but managed to catch his balance on the side of a water trough. The boy hardly seemed to slow down, giving Franz the impression that this was not an unusual occurrence.

“Watch it boy!” Franz yelled at the lad. The young boy paid him no heed but rather seemed intent on making up the precious seconds he had lost. No matter. Franz was in a singularly good mood this evening. He had a weeks pay in his coin pouch, and for the first time in a fortnight, didn’t need to use the majority of the coins to pay off debts. He was wearing a fresh pair of trousers and tunic, but the smoky scent of the blacksmith where he apprenticed lingered. Entering the tavern, he made his way across the dimly lit room to the bar, and yelled to get the bartender’s attention over the din of rowdy voices and minstrels singing in a corner.

“What’ll it be tonight then?”, asked the bartender.

“Start me off with an ale, John”, he replied. The bartender remained motionless until Franz produced a copper coin from his pouch.

“One ale, coming right up. And I assume that you won’t be wantin’ change just yet?”

“You assume correctly, my friend. The night is young!” The bartender gave Franz a snort as he handed him the ale, then turned his attention to other customers. With his first mug of ale clenched firmly in hand, Franz navigated the taverns unruly maze of tables and chairs toward a group of friends.

“Hale compatriots! How goes tonight’s festivities?”, said Franz as he dropped his mug onto the table with a loud clonk and spilled into an empty chair.

“The, uh, festivities so far have cost me four coppers”, replied Anton, tossing his playing cards on the table. “If you want to ante into the game, fine, but try to stop talkin’ like such a ponce.” The group at the table chuckled.

“Don’t be getting on Franz just because your having a bad night”, said Renouf as he raked his winnings toward him. “Honestly Antor, your mood is as dour as your outfit. I wouldn’t be surprised if you showed up one night straight from the butcher shop wearing a bloody smock. My hat’s off to Franz here for brightening our dreary little tavern with his fancy talking.” Renouf made a sweeping gesture with his hat across the table.

“I appreciate your efforts on my behalf”, said Franz. “In repayment, let me regale you with a tale from a theatrical production I was fortunate enough to see during my last venture to the markets in the city.”

“That’s it, I need another drink”, said Anton as he stood up and headed for the bar.

“The story centers around this merchant, from the far off city of Venice,” began Franz.

After a few seconds he was interrupted by Gorlois, a balding man wearing a tan leather vest that couldn’t close around his girth.

“That’s all good, Franz. But what we all want to hear about is how you did with those big-city women. Am I right fella’s?” A chorus of ascent rumbled around the table.

“Well. In that case, gentlemen, you are in luck,” said Franz and leaned back in his chair. “I was in the city selling wares from the smith for over a month, so you have a number of tales to choose from.” He held out his hand and began counting with his fingers. “Let’s see now, there was Eugenia the cloth maker’s daughter, Branwen the niece of a parliament official, Ottilia, one of the tavern wenches…”

“Ah so he’s moved onto the ladies”, said Anton returning with a fresh mug of ale. “We’re all very impressed as always.” He walked over to Franz’ chair and put an arm over his shoulder. “I can’t help but wonder though, if we might see the lady-killer in action.”

Franz gave a weary smile and let out a sigh. “Ah, if only I could.” He leaned foreword and spoke in a low, conspiratorial tone. “Unfortunately, as you know I have a bit of a reputation, and I’m afraid that the local girls are too wary, especially in such a public venue as this. After all, the poor girls have their own reputations to worry about.”

“Ah! But that’s the beauty of it!”, said Anton, spilling some of his ale onto Franz’s lap. “She’s not a local girl. In fact she’s not a girl at all, really. She’s a fairy.”

Franz choked on his drink, nearly spraying it across the table. “That’s…that’s not possible, not in here, not in a tavern.” A relieved smile came across his face. “You’re having a jest at my expense, aren’t you Anton? What would a tiny little thing like that be doing in a place like this?”

“Oh, no,” interrupted Anton. “This is no jest. And she’s not such a tiny thing, either. Fairies can change into normal sizes you know.”

“That’s right,” said Gorlois, his ample stomach spilling onto the table as he leaned forward. “And she definitely had the right size in the right places.” A round of laughter and cheers erupted around Franz, rattling his efforts to appear calm and nonchalant.

“She’s sitting over there in one of the private booths,” said Anton.

Franz spun his head around, but could see nothing but the green and gold curtains along the side of the booths, the dim lighting of the tavern insufficient to peer inside.

“That’s right,” said Renouf, obviously enjoying Franz’s growing nervousness. “And we haven’t told you the best part. You see, this is no ordinary fairy.”

Anton leaned close to Franz’s ear. “It’s Tinkerbelle herself.”

“What! No! No, you can’t be serious! You mean …Peter Pan’s Tinkerbelle?”

“That’s right,” said Renouf. “She came in about an hour ago, strolled up to the bar and ordered a bottle of the stiffest whiskey that ol’ John had. It was quite a sight. One brave soul tried buyin’ her another drink and chattin’ her up a bit, but she told him that she had enough gold pieces of eight from Captain Hook’s stash to take care of herself, and he could stick his drink up his… Well, it was very un-fairy like language that’s for sure. Then she ordered lamb cuts with potatoes and sat down in that booth.”

“So,” said Anton, still standing behind Franz. “What’ya say? Are you up for a little challenge then?” He slapped Franz on his shoulders. “Challenge? What am I saying? One little fairy won’t be a challenge for someone as, accomplished, as you now, will it?”

Franz’s head was spinning. Obviously he had to do something, but for the life of him, he had no idea what that should be. He shot to his feet. “Well, gentlemen, this sounds like an…interesting opportunity.” For a second he pondered the idea of bolting for the exit. As tempting as that seemed, he knew that it wasn’t really an option. No, if he did that he would never be able to show his face in the Saucy Wench Tavern again. “I think I’ll top of my ale, and, consider my … , plan of attack, as it were. If you’ll excuse me.” He tipped his head in a mock solute, and strode around the tables and up to the bar.

“John,” Franz said, a little too loudly than he had intended to. The bartender set down the mug he had been cleaning and walked over to him. “John, I need a drink, something strong.”

“With what you’ve got left on your tab, you can have a quarter shot of the good whiskey, or half a shot of the local stuff.”

“Oh for god’s sake! You cheap, conniving little…I know for a fact that that’s not what you normally charge.” The verbal assault did not have its intended withering effect, and the bartender remained motionless.

“Fine. Just fine,” Franz said as he clawed into his money pouch and slammed down two coppers onto the bar.

“One full shot of fine imported whiskey it is then.” The bartender deftly swept the coins of the bar, replaced them with a shot glass, and filled it with a clear amber fluid. Franz tilted his head back, downed the liquid in one gulp, and promptly let out a loud wheezing cough. He looked over at his friends’ table and saw them all staring at him, laughing, and exchanging coins as if they were placing bets on him.

With his nerves settled a bit, he summoned his courage and began walking toward the private booth. In reality he wasn’t quite the ladies man that he portrayed himself to be. He exaggerated a little to his friends whenever he returned from a trip to the city to sell wares from the blacksmith’s shop. Okay, he exaggerated quite a bit. But he was a reasonably handsome man, and he had his moments where he could be quite charming. It was all in the presentation, the first few moments were critical, and the opening line was crucial. He had to exude confidence. Say, what’s a fairy like you doing in a tavern like this? No. My, those are a lovely pair of wings you have. No, no. He was almost to the booth when it came to him.

Pulling back the curtain, he was about to say ‘after so much time with a bunch of lost boys, I bet you’re eager to meet a man who knows where he’s going in life’, but he didn’t. He had expected to see a radiant creature, looking up at him beautiful, hypnotic eyes. What he saw was a fairy whose wings were bent forward across her shoulders as she slumped against the back of the booth with her eyes closed. Her mouth was gaping open, a line of drool was running from her bottom lip down to her chin, and she was snoring. Sitting on the table were the remains of her dinner and a half empty bottle of the whiskey, the same imported type that he had just made use of.

If she had drunk all of that in the short time that she had been here, she was going to be out for a while. He was about to back away and let the curtain fall back into place when he had an idea. He threw his head back as if laughing uproariously, careful to be quiet, then turned towards his friends at the table across the room who were staring in rapt attention. He gave them a knowing smile, then stepped inside the booth, carefully sat down across from Tinkerbelle, and remained perfectly still. With each passing moment, his friends’ imaginations were running wild the possibilities of what could be going on in here. The longer he remained, the better the story he could concoct to tell them later.

Suddenly Tinkerbelle let out an especially loud snore that snapped her out of her slumber. She sat up straight, blinking her eyes.

“Hey! Who the hell are you?”

Panic shot through Franz as he though of something to say. Every muscle in his body clenched. Looking down at his hands, he saw that they were wrapped tight around his shot glass. His shot glass that he had carried from the bar, which he hadn’t noticed he had been carrying until now. Inspiration flashed down upon him like a ray of sunshine pouring down from the heavens.

“Tink, you slay me, you really do. Here we’ve been having a good ol’ time, you telling me all about your adventures with Captain Hook. Then you go have yourself a nice little nap, leaving me to polish off this bottle all by myself.” He grabbed the bottle and filled the glass still clutched in a death grip in his left hand. “And now pretending that you don’t remember me. Hah! You are such a kidder. Now don’t try pretending that you don’t even remember my name. How could you forget a name like Franz anyway.” He put the glass to his lips and sipped gingerly, wary of the caustic beverage.

For long moment, she stared at him. Disbelief was waging a battle with her spotty recollection of the past few hours and Franz’s calm, familiar demeanor.

“So”, she began slowly. “We were talking about Captain Hook then?”

Franz could not believe his luck. She was buying it!
“Yes, you were telling me all about how he was eaten by that crocodile.”

“Ah yeah, that was great. To be honest though I thought it was too quick. That miserable S.O.B. should’ve suffered more. Getting eaten by a croc was too good for him. If it were up to me we would’ve cut off his head and put it on a pike. But nooo, Peter wouldn’t have any of that.”

Franz was a bit taken aback by her comment and tried to change the subject. “So, the legendary Peter Pan. Is he really as great as the tales make him out to be? After all, he’s really only a boy, right?”

Tinkerbelle stood up and stabbed Franz in the chest with her finger. “He’s better! More heroic, more handsome, more anything than anyone can ever put in some stupid book!” She slumped back into her chair. “Oh, Peter,’ she said rubbing her hands across her arms.

“It sounds like you miss him a lot.”

“Yah, you could say that. Though I’m sure he doesn’t miss me nearly as much.” She let out a long breath that was almost a sigh. Then she grabbed the whiskey bottle, noticed that it was almost empty, and drained it dry not bothering with a glass. “You know, you’re no Peter Pan. But you are kind of cute Franz.”

His heart started to race. Not believing his incredible string of luck, and doing his best not to appear too excited, he finished the whiskey left in his glass. “And you are the most beautiful creature I have ever laid eyes on.” She smiled and gently started stroking his hand with her finger.

“Go on…”

“In fact, I think Peter Pan is a fool if he would leave someone like you to run of with that Wendy.”

Tinkerbelle froze. She snatched her hand back and gave Franz an icy stare. He didn’t know what he had done wrong. She grabbed the whiskey bottle and threw it out of the booth.

“Don’t you ever mention that little slut’s name around me! You got that?”

“I’m sorry. I didn’t mean … I was trying too… I mean I would never…” Try as he might to recover, it was all too much for him. All Franz could do was stammer incoherently as he saw the glorious possibilities of a few moments ago begin to fade away.

“Yah, yah. I know your type. Just like all the rest of them. I’ll tell you this, I’ve traveled more placed than anyone, and haven’t come across anyone who’s ever come close to Peter Pan! Just a boy? Ha! He’s more man that you’ll ever be, that’s for sure.”

She crossed her arms and turned her head away from him, silent. After a few moments, not thinking of anything else to say, Franz was about to leave. Then she turned her head back toward him and smiled.

“I’m sorry Franz. It’s not your fault.”

The embers of hope began to rekindle inside of him, but something in her smile didn’t seem quite right.

“You seem like a decent enough guy. I think you deserve a little something for having to put up with a moody little fairy.”

His instincts were telling him was telling him that something was definitely wrong. But the possibility, however dim, of something going very, very right was more than enough to keep his doubts at bay. She reached inside her garments and pulled out a pouch and placed it on the table. Opening the drawstring that tied it, she dipped her fingers inside and retracted a pinch of a glittery substance.

“Do you know what this is, Franz?”

His mouth gaped open in amazement. “Is that, pixie dust?”

“You got it", she said and gave Franz a wink.“Can it really, can it make people fly?”

“Oh I can do more than make people fly. I can do lots of things with this, wonderful things, amazing things.” She closed her eyes and licked her lips. “Would you like me to show you what I can do, Franz?”

His pulse was racing, his mind was reeling with the possibilities. This could be the greatest experience of his life! “Yes,” he said.

Tinkerbelle brought the pinch of pixie dust close to her lips, and blew. Franz saw a golden, shimmering cloud of dust flying towards him. In his excitement, he inhaled sharply, and he felt the dust enter his lungs. For a moment, nothing happened. Then he began to see a glow all around him, looking down at his arms, he saw that the glow seemed to be coming from inside of him. In fact, he could feel the glow, emanating from the center of his being. It was amazing! He closed his eyes and could feel warm pulses of energy flowing up and down his body, one after the other. Then he felt light, like he was floating. He opened his eyes and saw that, yes, he was floating over the table!”

“Incredible isn’t it Franz?”

“Yes, yes! This is the most incredible thing I’ve ever experienced!”

“It gets better Franz, just close your eyes and wait." Obeying without hesitation, Franz closed his eyes. Already enraptured by the sensations he was feeling, he couldn’t imagine what else there could be, but he tried his hardest to open himself up to whatever else awaited him. Had he kept his eyes open, he would have noticed the change in Tinkerbelle’s demeanor. He would have seen her smile turn into a snarl, then a look of wicked delight spread across her face.

She got up, and stepped outside of the booth. Reaching back in, she grabbed hold of Franz by the sleeve of his tunic. Not wanting to interrupt his otherworldly state, not yet, she pulled him gently and he floated out of the booth and into full view of everyone in the tavern. The raucous conversations and music came to a dead stop. She grabbed him, roughly this time, by the front of his tunic and pulled his face close to hers. At this he opened his eyes. “Are you ready Franz?” Without waiting for him to reply, she pulled back her arm and hurled him with incredible speed across the tavern. His loud scream was cut short by a thud as he slammed into the far wall. Still floating, now several feet in the air, Franz looked around, panicking.

“What, what’s going on, why?”

“Why do you think you buffoon?”, Tinkerbelle yelled from across the room. Did you really think you could seduce me with that pathetic little act of yours?”

“But I didn’t ... I meant...” Looking around the tavern, he noticed that all card-playing, whiskey drinking, and piano playing had stopped. Every set of eyes were watching the far more entertaining show that was being put on before them.

“Oh I know exactly what you meant, you little piece of crap.” She reached into her pouch and grabbed another pinch of pixie dust. Rolling it between her fingers it turned from a glittering gold to a fiery red color. She put it to her lips and blew. Lances of shimmering red shot across the room and stabbed into Franz as he hung suspended on the wall.

The waves of golden energy that had been pulsing throughout Franz’s body came to an abrupt stop. Looking straight down, he saw his poker playing compatriots pointing and laughing. Their laughter quickly turned to shouts of alarm as he crashed down into a table, sending cards and coins flying in all directions. The heavenly bliss that he had been experiencing just moments ago was now replaced by dull aches in several places.

Tinkerbelle walked slowly across the room, every footstep echoing in the silence. “Now Franz, you have two options here. You can tell me that your sorry for all of the grief that you put me through tonight, bow politely, and walk out that door. Or…”

Franz climbed to his feet, and stumbled backwards until he hit the wall. Leaning forward, shaky on his feet, he let out a harsh laugh. “Sorry!? You want me to say that I’m sorry? Fairy or not I’ll teach you a lesson you little bitch!” Still in a confused state, Franz looked around, grabbed a leg of a chair that he had smashed when he crashed to the floor, and steadied himself to charge at the fairy not five paces in front of him.

Tinkerbelle smiled. “I was hoping you’d choose option number two.” She raised her hand and snapped her fingers.

Franz took one step toward her and then stopped. His hand started to itch badly so he dropped the chair leg. Then his other hand started to itch and he rubbed them on his trouser legs. When his legs started to itch he stopped and looked at Tinkerbelle.

“What did you do?”, he cried out in a hoarse voice. She didn’t reply. Franz’s entire body, even his toes began to itch violently. He ripped off his tunic in a frenzy, kicked off his boots, and pulled off his trousers, but the feeling only grew worse. Naked now except for a loincloth, Franz saw a pitcher full of ale sitting on a table and grabbed it.

“I wouldn’t do that in I were you,” said Tinkerbelle, who had taken a seat at the bar to enjoy the show.

In his current state, Franz didn’t even hear her as he poured the pitcher over his chest. Instead of the cool relief he was expecting the itch turned into a blazing fire where the ale touched his skin.

“Alcohol only makes it worse Franz. I suggest you find a nice lake to go jump in.”

Franz ran screaming out of the tavern and dove into the nearest water trough. Mercifully, this cooled the fire burning on his skin, but only on the parts of his body that were submerged. The trough, unfortunately, was designed to provide drinking water for horses, not for an adult to bath in. After a minute of thrashing around trying to keep his body moist, he gave up, climbed out of the trough, and ran screaming down the main road in the direction of Willow Lake. His loincloth, however, remained .

Back inside the tavern, the music was already playing again, and everyone was talking and laughing about the best show they've seen in years. Sitting at the bar, Tinkerbelle was given a wide berth by any man who was brave enough to approach near enough to order another drink. Reaching into her coin pouch, she pulled out two gold pieces and set them down. “Sorry for the trouble I caused, barkeep.”

The bartender smiled, and took just one of the gold pieces. “I needed to get a few new tables anyway, and I never like that arrogant little snot. And besides, this was the most entertainment we’ve had around here in a long time.”

“Thanks,” said Tinkerbelle. “One more thing, if you don’t mind.”

“Anything. You name it, miss.”

“I know it’s not likely, but, if Peter Pan ever comes in here, can you give him a message for me?”

“Of course. What shall I tell him?”

She looked down at the bar and spoke softly. “Tell him that Tink says hi. That she misses him.”

“I will at that miss. I will at that.”

“You’re a very kind man, and I thank you for that.” She reached forward and kissed him gently on the cheek. As she did so, she suddenly transformed into a tiny size, her wings flapping as she hovered in place. She gave the bartender a final smile before flying out the door and into the night.

The bartender couldn’t help but smile himself, and he shook his head as he began to wipe the bar with a rag.

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