Chapter Three: Smurf and Young Smurf

"Help! Somebody, please, help me!"

The shrill, plaintive cry carried across the flower-speckled meadow. Its desperate tones reached the ears of a tiny, blue Smurf with a short, golden beard who was stretched out, enjoying the shade of a tall maple tree. This Smurf was wearing yellow pants and a floppy, yellow cap, both just a shade brighter than his beard. He had a rucksack stuffed with supplies and berries slung over his shoulder and a sturdy hiking stick leaning against the tree by his hand.

"Help me!" the cry sounded again. The little Smurf jumped to his feet and started racing in the direction of the desperate cries. Leaping up onto a rock, he shielded his eyes with one blue hand and swiveled his head, searching for the source of the pleas. What he saw astonished him.

A young Smurf dressed in baggy, brown overalls and a hat made of fine strands of woven grass was cornered against the trunk of a slender oak sapling. A large snake was coiled before him, its wide mouth open and its glistening fangs fully extended.

"Help!" the young Smurf shrieked, backing even harder against the sapling.

"Hang in there, youngin'!" the older Smurf cried. The young Smurf looked up in surprise. "I'll smurf you out of this pickle!"

Raising his hiking staff like a club, the bearded Smurf leaped into the air. He landed on the snake's flat head, bringing his staff down as hard as he could. The snake stopped its advance towards the trembling young Smurf, turning its attention instead to shaking the older Smurf from its head. But, the older Smurf would not be thrown. He brought his staff down again and again and again. Finally, after one final blow, the snake stopped its struggle and collapsed to the ground, unconscious. The Smurf with the golden beard jumped off and strode over to the young Smurf in the grass hat, who was trembling harder than ever.

"W-who are you?" the young Smurf asked in wonder. "Where did you come from? I-I've never seen another being like myself before."

"You can call me Smurf, youngin'," the bearded Smurf said with a kind smile. "I was just hiking by this way and happened to hear all that clamor you were making. Thought I might try to be of some help, if I could."

The young Smurf's eyes widened. "And so you were! You were amazing! I can't thank you enough." He held out his hand. "My name is Smurf," he said, then he chuckled. "Just like yours!"

The older Smurf took the proffered hand and shook it.

"Then I'll call you Young Smurf. That should keep things from getting confusing."

"All right," the other Smurf smiled.

Just then, the snake gave a small twitch. Young Smurf jumped with a startled gasp.

"We'd better be smurfing tracks, youngin'," said Smurf. "I don't know about you, but I wouldn't want to still be smurfing around when your friend wakes up."

"Me neither," Young Smurf agreed. "I have a small house not far from here. Perhaps you'd like to join me for some lunch? I have some very smurfy seeds and roots."

"Don't see why not. I've got nothing much smurfing on today. In fact, before I heard your cries, I was about to smurf down for a spot of lunch myself."

"Then come on," Young Smurf grinned. "I'll lead the way."

Young Smurf's house was located in the hollow of a tall tree by a wide, rushing river. The hollow's opening had been covered with a sturdy wooden door and a roof of thatch and there were several small windows cut through the bark which gave a lovely view of the water. Inside, there was a cozy room complete with a stone fireplace, a carved wooden table, several nice chairs, and a comfortable looking bed. On a shelf in one corner was a small pile of hand-written books next to a sparse collection of clay pots and dishes. The sounds of rushing water and cheerful birdsong permeated the tranquil spot, creating a pleasant, calming atmosphere.

"This is my home, Smurf," said Young Smurf, holding the door open politely for his guest. He suddenly felt a bit self-conscious. "I do hope you like it. I've never had a guest before."

The bearded Smurf entered and looked around, pleasantly impressed. "Why, youngin', I don't believe I've ever set eyes on a smurfier looking home. If I wasn't so fixed on smurfing around the world, I believe I could settle down in a place like this."

Young Smurf beamed. "Thank you, Smurf!" He patted the smooth wall fondly. "This old tree has been my home for the last seventy three years. I was just a little Smurfling when I found it."

Smurf gave Young Smurf a good looking over. He hadn't realized how very young he really was until just now. Why, he reflected, he couldn't be much more than one hundred years old, barely an adult. Smurf himself was nearly four hundred sixty years old. In another forty years, he'd be middle aged. His golden beard would gradually whiten and his perfect eyesight would start to diminish. But, he didn't want to think about that yet. He still had plenty of years of youth and vitality left to him and he didn't plan to waste a single moment.

"Well, I must say I like it," said Smurf. "And it's in such a smurfy location."

Young Smurf nodded. He didn't think he'd ever felt so proud.

"So, erm, would you like some seeds?" he offered awkwardly, moving towards one of the clay jars on his shelf.

Smurf held up his hand. "I've got something in my bag much smurfier than seeds," he said. Young Smurf paused, his arm still stretched towards the jar.

"What is it?" he asked with interest.

Smurf reached into his rucksack and pulled out a handful of firm, red berries. He placed them in a bowl on the table. "These," he said, "are a special kind of berry I found on an island not too distant from here. A nasty old sea witch lives there with flocks and flocks of sea gulls. I outwitted her and stuffed my bag with all the berries I could smurf my hands on. Here, youngin'" he held out the bowl, "smurf a few for yourself. I call them smurfberries. It's the smurfiest name I could come up with for the smurfiest food I've ever tasted."

Young Smurf took a few of the red berries and popped them in his mouth. His eyes widened in surprised delight. "Amazing!" he exclaimed.

Smurf ate a few himself. "Smurfatootie!" he grinned. "No matter how many I eat, I never get enough. Here, youngin'." He reached into his bag and pulled out about ten small, shiny seeds. "These are smurfberry seeds. I'm giving them to you so as you can grow your own smurfberry bushes."

Young Smurf reached out his hand and Smurf dropped the seeds into it. "I thank you, Smurf," said Young Smurf, "but, why are you giving them to me? Don't you want to plant them yourself?"

"I would, youngin', but I'm a traveler at heart," he said. "If I stay put in one place too long, I get itchy feet, if you know what I mean."

Young Smurf nodded, even though he didn't truly understand. He had always lived in one place, and he was very happy in his little home. Smurf continued.

"In fact, it's about time I was smurfing off."

Young Smurf's head snapped up. "What, so soon? You haven't even had any seeds, or-"

"Now, now, youngin', don't go getting all upset. It's my nature never to stay in one spot too long, and I can't deny it. Once I hear the great wide world calling to me, there's no way I can shut it out." He stood up and headed for the door.

"I like you, youngin'," he said with his hand on the door frame. "If I ever head back this way, I hope you won't mind if I smurf you a call."

"Oh, not at all!" Young Smurf exclaimed. "I don't think I've ever smurfed a more pleasant afternoon. I've never smurfed another Smurf before, and it does sometimes get a bit lonely in the forest, with only the animals and insects and birds and fish to talk to. Please, tell me one thing before you go."

"What do you want to know?"

Young Smurf hesitated for a moment before answering. "Are there-well, in all your travels, have you ever smurfed across others like us? Other Smurfs? Are there many?"

Smurf took in a breath through his nose. "Well, youngin', I'd have to say I haven't smurfed across very many, and I've talked to even fewer than that. You see, we Smurfs are generally rather timid beings. It's our instinct to remain hidden when other creatures come too near. I don't know how many Smurfs there are in the world, but I do know this. When enough of us get together in one place, a very special kind of magic starts to happen. Down in that country the humans used to call Gaul, back when I was just a young whippersmurfer myself, I once saw fifty Smurfs get together to ward off the evil effects of a powerful sorcerer's spell on their forest. I don't quite know how they did it-neither did they, as a matter of fact-but I must say, it was quite a sight to see."

Young Smurf listened, fascinated. "Did these fifty Smurfs live together, like in a human village?" he asked eagerly.

Smurf shook his head. "No. Smurfs generally like their privacy. These fifty came from all parts of the forest. It's a wild place that stretches for many miles. They had never met before then, and they likely will never see each other again. They only came together that one time because their forest was in terrible danger."

Young Smurf nodded slowly. "Well, thank you for your story, Smurf, and thank you for the smurfberry seeds and especially for saving my life. I can only hope we will have the good fortune to meet again soon."

"Thank you for your hospitality, and for showing an interest in my travels." He stepped outside and took a deep breath of the fresh, forest air. "I must admit, I do like this location."

Young Smurf joined him at the door. "Well, I would ask you to stay on a few days, but I know you want to be going."

"Quite right, youngin'." He slung his rucksack over his shoulder and took up his walking staff. "Fare well, little Smurf. And, good-bye."

Young Smurf waved at the departing blue figure until he was nothing more than a tiny speck on the horizon. Then, he turned thoughtfully and went back inside. He had never known that other Smurfs existed in the world, or that they possessed any magical abilities. That Smurf with the golden beard had given him a great deal to think about.

That night, Young Smurf found it very difficult to go to sleep. His head was filled with strange new thoughts and imaginings. Somehow, he knew he could never again be content until he'd found out more about his kind. He had to learn everything there was to know about Smurfs, from their taste in hats to the strength and extent of their magical abilities. He felt his need for knowledge like a shove in the back pushing him to move almost against his will. He got out of bed and slipped into his rough overalls and grass hat. He now had a mission and he would carry it out, even if it meant he had to leave his smurfy little home by the river in order to do it.

It seemed unreal, like a dream, but Young Smurf packed his few belongings and some food into his tablecloth and tied the bundle to a sturdy stick, which he slung over his shoulder. Just before he closed his wooden door for the last time and bid a bitter-sweet farewell to his little house in the tall tree, Young Smurf planted his smurfberry seeds. If he ever came home, it was nice to think he would have such a pleasant treat to welcome him back.