Trials and Tintinnabulations
Part 3: When Boober Howls
by Kim McFarland
*****
I've grown a little leaner
Grown a little colder
Grown a little sadder
Grown a little older
And I need a little angel
Sitting on my shoulder
--
We Need a Little Christmas from
Mame
*****
Boober forced himself out of his bed. It was the day of the solstice, and the sickroom was full. He had moved everything else out to make room for Fraggles. They were running low on firewood, despite Gobo's Uncle Matt's frequent trips to bring back whatever supplies he could—how he could volunteer to face the cold over and over was beyond Boober's comprehension—so Boober burned whatever could be spared.
The stew he had set to simmer before he went to bed was ready. It was made up of anything he could find, which was not much, as all the Fraggles who normally brought food in during the winter were in no condition to forage. The stew was thin, but at least it was flavorful, thanks to the spices he had used, and full of herbal nutrients.
He went into the sickroom. Despite the fire bowl and the warmth of dozens of feverish Fraggles, it was chill in here too. Those who had been assisting him had fallen asleep on the ground around the fire bowl. They were as weary as he was. He went around and returned the blankets to those who had thrown them off. When he came to his own family, he just stopped and looked at them. Mokey and Red, bracketing Poncle and Sage. Gobo. Wembley. Janken. All lay still but for their slow breathing.
"Everything's slowing down," Boober murmured to himself.
"It's time to ring the bells," said The World's Oldest Fraggle as he sat creakily up.
"Nobody's in any condition to ring bells," Boober said.
"You are. I am." He gestured to the others around the fire bowl. "We'll wake them and they will!"
"Five Fraggles. The Great Bell will never hear us."
He was surprised to feel a sharp smack on the side of his head, just hard enough to sting for a moment. The World's Oldest Fraggle had bopped him with his staff! The elder said, "Listen to me, sonny! As long as we're alive we won't give up! We've got our bells. It's time to use them!"
There were bells by most of the Fraggles in the sickroom, a detail that Boober hadn't thought much about. When they had come in they had brought their bells, expecting to ring them from their beds. Boober picked up one of the bells and rang it suddenly and hard. The silvery ringing pierced the quiet of the sickroom, startling the Fraggles around the fire bowl awake. The World's Oldest Fraggle picked up a bell and rang it too, and so did the others.
Boober glanced around. A few of the sick Fraggles had awakened. He put bells in their hands. They shook the bells weakly. One slipped out of a hand and clanked on the stone floor. Boober laughed, then slapped a hand over his mouth.
No, don’t you dare! he thought.
The few who were alert were staring at him. He said, "I've made some stew. See if you can get anyone to eat it." He picked up another bell, then turned and left.
He walked into the Great Hall. It was cold and dark; only the frost and ice reflecting what little light the Ditsies put out made the cave recognizable. Shivering inside his clothing, he rang both of the bells. At first he rang them softly, gently, as they would during the festival celebration. Then he swung them at arm's length and clanged them as hard as he could. When he stopped, the echoes were swallowed by the cold, bleak stone, leaving him alone in the silence.
"I failed," he whispered.
**
Boober dragged himself back to his room. The pot was gone from the stove, he noticed. Not that it mattered now. He would care for his friends until the icy end came. That was all he could do, ease their final hours. When there was nothing else he could do, he would simply walk into the Great Hall and wait for the cold to take him too. He had heard that freezing was a merciful death; it was like falling asleep. To go to sleep and not wake up. That was a comforting thought.
All right, I've had enough of this gloom and doom! Have you forgotten what day it is? Come on, let's celebrate!
In a harsh whisper Boober said, "Celebrate? How can you talk about celebrating while everyone else is dying?"
Oh, lighten up. They won't die. They never did before!
"This hasn't ever happened before!"
If you don't celebrate the Festival of the Bells, I will!
"No, you won't! All you know is how to play around and get me into trouble! This time it's not just me! You'll get everybody killed!"
A moment ago they were dying. Now they've recovered? Excellent job, Doctor Boober!
"Go away, you—you
disease!" Boober snapped out the most vicious insult he knew.
I'm not a disease. Don't you remember? I'm you!
"You're worse than a disease. If you were a disease I could look forward to getting better and then never suffering from you again! Why don't you leave me alone?"
Because you've given up!
Sidebottom, Boober's alter ego, seized control. The Fraggles who had seen Boober muttering to himself now stared as he ran back into the sickroom and grabbed all the unused bells. He tied them to his arms, legs, and tail so that every move he made sounded like a wind chime in a storm. Holding the last two bells in his hands, he ran out into the Great Hall, ringing the bells as hard as he could and laughing maniacally.
**
Sidebottom scampered through the Great Hall, then into the frigid tunnels beyond. He saw a white, furry thing clinging to a stalactite. He thrust a bell into its forepaw and said, "Happy Festival of the Bells!"
Nonplussed, the creature looked at the bell. "What's this for?"
"It's for ringing! Like this!" Sidebottom rang his hard, then ran off. The creature gave it an experimental shake, then, finding it liked the tinkling sound, continued ringing it.
**
Sidebottom yelled and rang his way through a tunnel. The Great Bell was in here somewhere, and when he found it he'd ring it himself! Along the way he gave bells to any creature he met that could hold one.
He skidded to a stop when he saw a small tunnel with a flat floor: a Doozer passage. Whatever was at the other end of the tunnel was more brightly lit than the dim caves. He crawled in, the bells scraping on the rock walls as he squirmed through the tight passage. When he emerged into an open space he found himself in the presence of dozens of astonished Doozers wearing tiny parkas. He jumped off the ramp—the Doozer stick bridge wouldn't hold his weight—and began ringing two bells. He cried, "Happy Festival of the Bells!"
The Doozers milled around, shocked by the invasion of the Doozer Dome. Sidebottom spied a crane, and began hanging bells from it. Soon one Doozer, a redheaded female, shouted up, "Hey! What are you doing?"
"You're invited to the Festival of the Bells! And since you aren't in the Great Hall, I'm bringing it to you! C'mon, live a little! Ring the bells!"
The others watched, dumbfounded, as the Fraggle scrambled back out. The jangling sound receded in the distance. Then one of the Doozers asked, "What was that all about, Cotterpin?"
"He wanted us to share in their party, the one they have every winter."
"Those Fraggles are crazy."
The other Doozers muttered agreement. Cotterpin looked at the bells speculatively. Maybe Fraggles were crazy by Doozer standards, but they were all right by their own. And... why not? It might be fun. She climbed into the crane's control seat and began working the controls. Soon the crane was swinging back and forth, causing the bells to chime over the heads of the other Doozers.
**
Sidebottom scampered through tunnels, heading upward. The Doozers had given him an idea. Soon his head popped out above the ground's surface. The land here was covered with a thin layer of snow. The giant stone walls were dusted with flakes. The garden was empty, the plants having been harvested long ago. It was a bleak sight for a hungry Fraggle.
Sidebottom ran down the side of the rock and through the snow, clanging his bells and shouting at the top of his lungs, "Hey! Gorgs! Get out here, you mountains of hair! C'mon! All-e all-e all's-in-free!"
Junior Gorg looked out the door. Sidebottom stood out against the snow. Junior came out and lowered himself to the ground; he'd learned that it was bad manners to pick Fraggles up without permission. "What's up, little Fwaggle?"
"Haven't you heard? It's the Fraggles' Festival of the Bells!"
"A festival? Is that like a party?" Junior asked, interested.
"Exactly! It's a party for all the Fraggles to celebrate not being dead! And since you can't come down there, I'm bringing it to you!"
"Oh, boy, I like parties! What do I do?"
"I'm glad you asked. You just take a bell and ring it for all you're worth!" Sidebottom held out a bell.
The Gorg took it carefully between his thumb and forefinger. He tried to ring it, but it was too small for him to hold without muffling it with his fingers. "Aw, I can't wing this teeny-weeny one. But I got an idea! Wait wight here, little Fwaggle!" Junior dashed into the castle. Soon he appeared in the belfry. He pulled a rope, and the bell tolled hugely.
Sidebottom laughed and cheered. On the other side of the part of Fraggle Rock that rose into the Gorgs' garden, the Trash Heap stirred. "What's all this noise?" she asked.
Philo and Gunge, her two rodentlike friends, were perched on top of the rock. Philo turned around and said, "One of the Fraggles told Junior to ring a bell."
Gunge added, "Something about a Fraggle festival."
The tolling of the bell resonated through the garbage. It was a not unpleasant sensation. "Oh, that sounds nice! Why don't we join in too?"
"How we gonna do that, Marjorie?" Gunge asked.
"Let's see..." she searched around herself for a few moments, then raised a broken cage. It was one of the Fraggle traps that Junior had thrown away long ago, after he realized that the Fraggles were people, not vermin. The bells that had served as alarms were still attached. The Trash Heap shook them, producing a cheerful jingling.
**
The Fraggles in the sickroom heard the low tolling of the bell thrumming through the rock. The World's Oldest Fraggle said, "Is that...?" It didn't sound like the Great Bell had in the past, but what else could it be? Hopefully he rang his bell again. The others who were conscious began ringing their bells, some strongly, others barely a faint cling, but all with the same amount of hope.
**
Scooter was sitting in his room in the boarding house. He was trying not to miss Janken, and not succeeding. The bell he had given him was on the nightstand. It was time, he realized. He picked it up and rang it. The bell's peal was a bright, cheery sound.
**
Sprocket's head was jammed into the hole in the wall. He barked intermittently, his tail whipping from side to side. Doc, his human, asked, "What's up, boy? Is somebody coming to visit?"
Sprocket looked up at Doc, then mimed shaking something vigorously with one hand. "What's that? They're rolling dice?"
Sprocket shook his head vigorously. He shook his hand and tried to imitate the sound of the bells, but it came out as barks. "You want to play tug-of-war?"
Exasperated, Sprocket dashed over to the Christmas tree. He found a reindeer ornament hung with jingle bells and shook it, then barked emphatically. Doc asked, "They're ringing bells?" Sprocket nodded and barked again. "Why didn't you say so? I guess everyone's celebrating." He picked another reindeer off the tree and shook it.
**
The Doozers felt the rock vibrate gently beneath their feet. Strangely enough, it was not a malevolent sensation, like a tremor that might herald a deadly cave-in. Rather, it was like the quiet beating of a heart. Then another sound joined it. Cotterpin paused in ringing the bells and listened. It sounded like reed instruments, and singing.
**
Sidebottom had turned to run back underground when Boober stopped him. "Wait, get some of those leaves!"
"What leaves?" Sidebottom asked, looking around.
"There, on that bush! They'll help bring down fever. I need them now that I'm out of bluerose!"
Sidebottom picked the dry leaves and sniffed them. The smell was familiar. Then, under the bush, he noticed a few weedy plants that the Gorgs had not seen. One was threeseed. Its seeds were useful, nourishing during a hard winter. He gathered as many of these as he could find, bundled them together in a sack made of a wide leaf tied into a cone, then set off back into Fraggle Rock.
**
He rushed through the Rock. He only had one bell left, and it was tied to his tail; his hands were full. It was easier to navigate the tunnels on the return; they were better lit now. He did not notice the singing that drifted faintly through the caves.
After what felt like an eternity he was back in his home, stamping and shivering from the cold. He put down his bag of seeds and leaves, and only then did he notice the sound of bells coming from the storage room. He went in. The World's Oldest Fraggle, Traveling Matt, and the others who had managed to keep their health were ringing their bells. Janken and Wembley, the two who had fallen ill first, were ringing theirs as well. Their fur was damp with sweat; their fevers had broken. The World's Oldest Fraggle told him, "I can feel it. The Rock is moving again."
He stood still, and, yes, he thought he could feel it beneath his feet, just a hint of vibration. The Gorgs' bell? Somehow he didn't think it would penetrate this far. He murmured, "It's moving. It's moving..."
"Yeah," Wembley said quietly. He looked tired and weak, but he was smiling.
The small Fraggle dropped his bell and stood silently for a moment, then looked at Wembley and exclaimed, "Hi, Wem! Long time no see!" Then he bounded out of the room.
Wembley's eyes widened in surprise and recognition.
**
The small Fraggle went into the kitchen and put some icicles in a pot to melt. While waiting he hulled the threeseeds, then minced them up fine. The gruel they made wouldn't be up to his usual standards—though he could spice it to give it a pleasant flavor, there was nothing he could do about the mouthfeel—but it would keep body and soul together. As he worked he belted out,
"There's a rhythm, there's a rising,
There's a dream of green that needs to wake!
A password and a promise
That the earth will never ever break!
It's coming, feel it humming,
In the hearts we share with rock and sky,
So raise your voices high!"
**
By the time he finished the gruel, and added some spices to make the bland fare more palatable, he had calmed down. He carried the pot into the sickroom and set it on the hot slate atop the fire bowl, then began ladling out servings for any Fraggle well enough to eat.
When Wembley accepted a bowl he leaned forward and whispered, "Is that you, Sidebottom?"
He paused, surprised. Then he said, "He's still watching... but he let me go."
"That was him ringing the bells, wasn't it?"
"Yeah."
Wembley smiled. "Tell him thanks."
**
Boober finished his task in thoughtful silence. Then he went back and sat on his bed. He closed his eyes, and was back in the cave of his mind. Now it was larger, with air flowing free, rather than a tiny, unstable pocket under a rockslide. Sidebottom was there with him. Boober began, "About what I said... about you being worse than a disease..."
"I frighten you," Sidebottom stated simply.
"Yeah."
"I'm the fun side of you, which you keep on the bottom. I'm the part that takes joy in laughter and jokes. I'm the part that has fun testing other Fraggles' baloobiuses!" He leaned close, wearing a sly grin. "You say I'm the part that never knows when to stop. Well, you're right there." He poked Boober in the chest with an accusing finger. "You were giving up. I saw you. You needed me. So out I came!"
"You're right," Boober admitted. "I haven't seen you for so long."
"I've been here all this time. Within you." Sidebottom held up one hand. Two fingers were crossed.
"But... you went back today. You've never gone back by yourself before."
Sidebottom said softly, "I didn't go away. You took me back. You gave me something besides the unwanted parts of your personality when we gathered the leaves and seeds, then cooked that mess."
"Oh..."
"We're one, Boober. Let's stay together, all right?" Sidebottom offered his hand. Boober took it.
And there was one.
**
Days later, enough Fraggles had recovered to send out a team to forage. When they set foot in the Great Hall they found piles of Doozer sticks, with more being brought it by the Doozers. Cotterpin, the de facto ambassador to the Fraggles, told Wembley, "Some strange Fraggle came when he heard the bells. He and his musicians stood around and sang, and before we knew it we were singing too. I've never seen anything like it."
"That must have been Cantus the minstrel," Wembley said.
"After that he told us that you needed these. It's too cold for us to build now because the water that powers our equipment is frozen. But we had these in storage, left over from last year."
She could barely hear Wembley's reply over the sounds of ravenous Fraggles crunching into Doozer sticks. Wembley paused long enough to say, "You Doozers are lifesavers! Mmm, these are the best tasting Doozer sticks I've ever eaten!"
The Doozers all stopped in mid-step, taken aback. Cotterpin piped up, "Hey! What's that supposed to mean? They taste much better after we've built with them!"
"Oh, sorry, sorry! I mean, these are
really delicious. Almost as good as your buildings! But not quite."
"That's better," she said, satisfied, and drove off to get another load.
**
Once they had taken the edge off their own hunger, half of the Fraggles began carrying the sticks back to the sickroom to feed those not well enough to leave their beds. Boober, Janken, and Wembley, the latter two of whom had recovered rapidly after getting over their fevers, continued through the tunnels and up to the Gorgs' Garden. It was still snowy.
Junior Gorg had been keeping watch for the Fraggles since he had rung the bell. Now, seeing them in the garden, he bounded out. "Hello, little Fwaggles! How was your bell-winging party?"
All the Fraggles startled. Then they looked at Boober. Boober glanced around, embarrassed, then said, "It was good. We could hear your bell all the way down in our caves. We couldn't have had it without you."
"Oh, goody!" The Gorg said, pleased. Then he said, "Nothing gwows in the garden during the winter. Are you hungwy?"
Boober replied, "Yes. Very... hungwy."
"Just a minute. Don't go anywhere." Junior tromped bouncily off around the side of the castle, then returned with a large bunch of radishes. "We keep the harvest in the storehouse duwing the winter. I'll make a little hole in the door so you can get what you need, okay?"
The startled Fraggles all thanked him at once. A little embarrassed, Junior said, "Aw, it's nothing. You little Fwaggles don't eat much."
Janken said, "I've brought something for you," and held up some paper envelopes.
Junior took them. They were smaller than his fingertips, and he could just barely make out the tiny images on them. "What are they?"
"More seeds from outer space. A bunch of different things—snow peas, strawberries, melons, and daikons."
Junior got up, excited. "Oh, goody! I'll save them until spwing, and we can plant 'em together!" Janken had been bringing new seeds to the Gorgs for several years now. Some wouldn't grow, but others did, and in the Gorgs' garden anything that lived grew to enormous size. The daikons had been an especial hit; even the smallest of those radishes was twice the length of a Fraggle. The Fraggles helped the Gorgs plant the seeds, because in Gorg hands the seeds were the size of sand grains. In return, the Fraggles were learning about how to coax food out of the ground, a process that some Fraggles, including Mokey, found fascinating.
**
On the way back, Wembley said quietly to Boober, "When everyone's better again I'll help you move your stuff back into that room."
"Thanks, but there's no need," Boober replied. "I burned most of it."
"You
burned...?"
Boober shrugged. "We were low on peat and wood and everything, and I didn't really
need that stuff anyway."
"Well, at least you still got those blankets you sewed out of old clothes."
"I'll burn those too." Boober shook his head, looking at the ground.
"You sure?"
"Yeah. I don't need them either."
"Well... I thought they were kind of neat. Mine was a patchwork of socks, and I kept finding patterns in them when I was sick. It kept my mind off the poison cacklers."
Boober looked at Wembley. The green Fraggle was perfectly earnest. Boober said, "You can have it, then."
"Thanks! I bet other people will want them too. But, well, they'll need washing first."
"Washing?"
"Yeah. All those blankets. That's gonna be one huge load of laundry."
"The biggest load of laundry I've ever done," Boober said, imagining it. Hour upon hour, day after day of scrubbing and rinsing and wringing, losing himself in the suds. Pleasant evenings spent watching the cloth change colors as it dried on the line. Dreamily he said, "It sounds heavenly."
"I'll help you," Wembley offered, patting Boober on the back.
"That sounds even better."
Janken said, "I'll help too. I feel kind of bad. I'm the one who brought this flu in."
Boober said, "If there's one thing I've learned, it's that disease is inevitable. If you hadn't gotten us sick, someone else would have."
Wembley said. "Yeah! Wait a minute—I mean, Boober means it's not your fault. It's not like you planned to get sick, after all. Hey, Boober, why didn't
you catch it?"
Boober said, "I've caught everything at least once. I must not have room for any more diseases." Then he groaned and fell forward onto the ground.
Wembley exclaimed, "Boober!"
Janken knelt. "What happened?" he said, alarmed.
Boober looked up at them. "Gotcha."
Wembley rolled his eyes as Boober got to his feet. "Very funny, Sidebottom."
"I'm not Sidebottom!" Then he reconsidered. "Well... he's me, so I guess I'm him. Funny, it doesn't sound as bad as it used to."
"Whoever you are, we love you," Wembley said, putting an arm around Boober.
"What he said." Janken put his arm around Boober's shoulders.
"Aw..." Boober murmured, and that was all. Nothing else needed to be said.
**
The three returned to Boober's home together, not talking and not needing to. They passed by one of the warning signs Boober had posted at the mouth of a tunnel leading into the back of the Great Hall. Below the sign, scratched into the frost, were the words "Listen with your eyes, see with your ears, feel with your heart. Even when we do not see each other, we are all joined in song."
*****
Fraggle Rock and all characters except Scooter and Janken are copyright © The Jim Henson Company. Scooter is copyright © The Muppets Studio, LLC.
Pass it On and
The Promise are copyright © The Jim Henson Company.
Turn the World Around is by Harry Belafonte.
We Need a Little Christmas is by Jerry Herman.
I Got it from Agnes is by Tom Lehrer. All copyrighted properties are used without permission but with much respect and affection. Janken and the overall story are copyright © Kim McFarland (negaduck9@aol.com). Permission is given by the author to copy it for personal use only.
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