Babes And The Beast

Chapter 8: Helping

Gideon was fuming in his luxuriant bedroom. Three weeks! And still no word about the Pines twins' whereabouts! People told him time and again not to worry, but what did they know? They didn't have the combined IQ of a woodchuck!

He played with his cravat pin. The jade stone flashed yellow for a second.

"They're silly." He grumbled outload.

They're silly.

The boy jolted. His pin hadn't just spoken did it? There was an eye looking at him.

I can help you.

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It had become almost routine for the twins to curl up with Ford before dinner and read his stories aloud. He really did know a lot of legends, not just ones from the forest, but from all over. He told them about fairy rings that led to worlds full of talking animals, faraway lands where people could commune with the elements, a race of star women with gemstones embedded in their bodies. Stan and the others would listen in, and sometimes even sit down next to them.

"Tell me more about your Uncle Fiddle." Stan asked from the couch one night. The kids sat on the floor by the fireplace. Dipper looked up from Ford to answer.

"Well, he's not really our uncle. We just call him that. He was a friend of our parents, who died when we were three. We don't really know that much about our family."

"Ah. Okay. And I think you mentioned he was some kinda' inventor."

"Oh yeah! He's made some great stuff; a storage box to keep food cold, a lamp that runs on pond scum, he even made head gear that straitens Mabel's teeth while she sleeps."

"It's agonizing. But it's worth it." Mabel beamed, then perked up. "Can we call YOU uncle?" she asked, "It's such a nice term of endearment. And it's perfect for you!" They had been up late and the drowsiness was making her bold.

Stan shrugged. "Meah, call me what you like. I'm probably old enough to be your great-uncle."

Mabel giggled. "Heh, 'great uncle'. 'Gruncle'. OOH!" she perked up again. "I like that! You like that Dipper?" he nodded. "I like that."

"Excellent! Gruncle it is!" She turned to Ford. "And the same goes for you. From now on, you are Gruncle Ford."

HA! Sounds good!
Wendy glanced over at Stan. "It's too bad we didn't get to know that guy better before the whole 'incident'." She made air quotes with her scarf.

Stan stretched and cracked his neck; "In defense of what happened, most of the people who come here are looters. One guy took Soos and a bunch of others in a sack halfway through the woods before I caught up with them."

"Seriously?" The twins looked at the hammer, who shrugged his prongs.

"He dropped the sack when he heard us screaming. That was a fun three hours."

"How often do people come here?" Dipper asked.

"Not often. Apparently one of the curses side-affects is that no one can find the castle except by accident. Or if you have a guide from here."

"Fascinating." the boy quipped as he took out his new notebook and started scribbling. He'd been writing down everything he could about the castle and the curse, hoping the information would help him find a solution.

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They kept cleaning the West Wing. Within a few days it was somewhat presentable. They started spending more and more time there, playing in the playroom, star-gazing on the balcony, or just hanging out with Stan on his bed.