Smurfs: The Song of Ice and Fire

by ShineOfTheForest

When all hope seemed lost, he felt a hot surge of power, both frightening and searing. This gift, a blessing and a curse, surrounded him with whispers of doubt. Amid the darkness, shapes emerged, promising warmth and understanding, while something sinister lurked, ready to take his place.

8. Chapter 8 - A Quiet Time

«Time will come…

We will be close,

Don't rush, everything in its own time,

You are still far from sunset,

And I will just lie here,

I will wait for you,

I will wait for you,

I will wait for you.»

OoO

Gargamel, hunched over the cauldron, was muttering something for the umpteenth time, carefully adding ingredients to the bubbling purple brew. The hut was filled with a pungent smell of herbs, metal, and something bitter, almost imperceptible. The whole atmosphere seemed saturated with magic, ready to explode at any moment. The wizard nervously flipped through the pages of an old book, searching for the right spells, glancing occasionally at his cat.

— Damn it, where is it? — he growled irritably, thrusting his hand into the pouch of herbs. — Wake up, Azrael, you're sleeping again when there's work to be done!

— Meow… — The ginger cat, curled up by the fireplace, lazily opened one eye and let out a low purr, not taking his indifferent gaze off his master. Outside the hut, a heavy rain was pouring, occasionally interrupted by thunder. In the corner of the hut was a dark figure, tightly bound to an old wooden bench — a man in a tattered hoodie. His purple eyes glowed in the dark, giving his entire appearance a sinister aura. Despite his predicament, he grinned and took every opportunity to sarcastically comment on the situation.

— So-so-so, back at it again, huh, wizard? — the prisoner said with irony, glancing at the cauldron. — How many times have you tried? And how many times have you failed? You worthless fool. You couldn't even catch that blue one in the woods today. You're not a wizard — you're a clown.

Gargamel tensed, gritting his teeth. His hand froze above the book for a moment. He couldn't stand mockery, especially from his own prisoners.

— Shut up, you wretched! — he growled. — Or I'll set Azrael on you, and believe me, this flea-ridden carpet will not miss the chance to have fun with you. Right, Azrael? — Gargamel looked at the cat, who was curled up by the fireplace, trying to warm himself.

— Meow… — Azrael merely yawned lazily, not moving, indicating that the prospect of fulfilling this command was less interesting than his current nap. The prisoner smirked even wider.

— Just look at you, you can't even persuade that ginger one. I could just clap… oh wait, I can't. Perfect! Another proof of your worthlessness.

Gargamel gritted his teeth so hard that it was audible. The bubbling purple liquid in the cauldron demanded new ingredients. He began adding them, following the recipe precisely: a drop from one vial, a pinch from another. Only the final ingredient remained — the spell itself. Gargamel nervously flipped through the pages of his spellbook, his gaze darting across the ancient symbols and illustrations, but the necessary spell was still missing. He closed the book in frustration, quietly growling from disappointment.

— Where is it, smurf it all? — he hissed, clenching his fist. The purple liquid in the cauldron continued to ominously bubble, as if reminding him that time was running out. He picked up another book with a rough leather cover. It was a book he had acquired from the Parisian library when he was trying to find materials for his new Smurfulator. In it, he suspected, lay the needed formula. He nervously checked the cauldron again and opened it. The pages were dusty and dark, as if the book hadn't seen light in centuries.

— Come on… where are you… — Gargamel muttered, not taking his eyes off the pages. Time seemed to slow down. Words and spells flashed before his eyes, but none of them fit. Curses, illusions, spells of revenge — none of this was what he was looking for. His hands flipped through page after page, each word becoming a heavy burden, pressing on his nerves. Finally, he turned a page and froze, seeing the familiar purple liquid and the names of the ingredients he had seen in another book. The old letters on the parchment glowed in the dim light of the hut. The title of the spell was as ominous as what he was about to do: «Beati pacifici, quoniam filii Dei vocabuntur».

Gargamel grinned predatorily, feeling hope for success reigniting within him.

— Here it is! — he exclaimed loudly, and a predatory smile fully took over his face.

— What, you finally found it? It hasn't been a hundred years yet. Come on, surprise me, old fool, — the prisoner said with heavy sarcasm.

— You have no idea… — he began quietly. — You will become part of a great plan, — he whispered to himself. His thoughts turned again to the one who had entrusted him with this mission. Gargamel felt a grim satisfaction: «Capture one of the Peacemakers. Who exactly? It doesn't matter, anyone will do. But you… you turned out to be just perfect. So, that's done. Now the most important part remains…» — He looked at the prisoner, who was barely holding back a mocking grin, and felt a surge of malice.

— «Smurfs have no idea what awaits them… I hate them… I hate them!» — Gargamel recalled his failure in Paris — his show «Gargamania», a full house of contemptuous faces… and those damned Smurfs, like Smurfette, who ruined everything at the last moment and turned his brilliant plan into complete nonsense, causing him to doubt himself for two whole years. But now… now everything would change.

— Hey, you! Are you asleep or what? — the prisoner's voice abruptly pulled Gargamel back to reality. He glared at him with hatred.

— I told you to shut up! And… since you're so impatient… you're lucky. You will be the first to see how my new and great plan begins to take shape. — Gargamel shouted loudly, causing plaster to fall from the ceiling of the tower. The prisoner merely smirked, clearly not taking Gargamel's intentions seriously.

— «Now… I will collect my debt.» — He approached the cauldron, holding that black book in his hands. Gargamel raised it above the cauldron and loudly, in a singsong voice, began to distort the spell.

— Anima pacifici, ex tenebris surgens…

The purple liquid boiled more fiercely, as if responding to his words. Azrael, peacefully sleeping by the fireplace, opened one eye, waking up from the noise. He lazily yawned and stretched, but then closed his eye again, not wanting to concern himself with the commotion.

— In hoc corpore exanimi, lacero et attrito, adhaere et dominetur. Quod anima fragilis erat, nunc potentiae caelestis fiat vas, ad voluntatem sanctam dirigatur. Vincula invisibilia teneant, ut mentem et corpus occupes, anima divina, ac viam sacram monstras. Per viam hanc, quae ad summam gloriam tendit, cor et spiritus transfigurentur;

The liquid in the cauldron became furious: it bubbled so violently that the cauldron began to shake, and its contents ominously splashed over the edges.

— In fine mundi utriusque ira Dei consumetur!

A light flashed, illuminating the hut with a poisonous purple glow. A fiery whirlwind burst from the cauldron and flew toward the prisoner. The prisoner screamed in pain as the flames pierced his body, making his eyes glow even brighter. He writhed in agony, but it was too late to run. The spell had done its work. Moments later, the prisoner vanished, leaving only charred ropes behind. The liquid in the cauldron changed color, becoming a deep blue hue, confirming that the ritual was successful.

Gargamel merely chuckled softly.

— Now everything will go smoothly.

OoO

— Are you back again, old man? — someone said with a mocking tone. The voice sounded dull, as if it were coming from the depths of the abyss. Gargamel furrowed his brow, struggling to suppress the irritation that was spreading through his body. The wind tugged at his black robes, and the massive structure of the Eiffel Tower loomed over him like a silent witness to this meeting. It seemed majestic and frightening at the same time, reflecting his own ambitions that had long entrenched themselves in his consciousness.

— You called me yourself, Akulenko, — he replied sharply, trying to maintain his composure. — I have plenty of problems without you. I don't have time for empty conversations with people like you.

Akulenko stepped closer, and a chill swept around them, as if darkness had wrapped both of them, plunging the space into a gloomy atmosphere. Even the sounds here seemed muffled. His bald head shone dully in the light of the sparse street lamps, and his deep black eyes drilled into Gargamel, emanating a cold, piercing energy.

— The Leviathans are counting on you, — Akulenko whispered. — You want to save your world, don't you?

— What do you want? Why me? — Gargamel asked suspiciously.

Akulenko merely smirked, as if he already knew the answer to this question.

— You're the only one who can handle it, — Akulenko sneered. — You've been told, Utopia will fall not only here, but also in your world, if you refuse to cooperate. And you understand that we know everything. Everything about every world.

Gargamel clenched his fists, feeling anger rising within him. His ambitions flared up like a flame that had been smoldering in his chest for all these years. He didn't want to be a pawn, let alone become someone's tool.

— I'm not going to be a pawn in someone's game, — he spat, gritting his teeth. — Offer me something worthwhile if you want me to agree.

Akulenko smirked again, expecting such a response. He tilted his head slightly, studying Gargamel with his gaze.

— You think magic is all you need? — he said mockingly. — Magic is just a tool. There's such power behind it, and if you trust it to the wrong hands… you can lose everything.

— What do you want? — Gargamel asked, softening his voice slightly but maintaining a harsh tone.

— Capture one of those… — Akulenko began, but hesitated at the moment he was about to say the next word. — Peacemakers… Perform the ritual. Then we'll meet again. Don't let me down, Gargamel… Otherwise… — Akulenko smirked once more, then turned and vanished into the shadows, leaving Gargamel alone under the oppressive arches of the Eiffel Tower.

OoO

— You know, I think something is missing here, — Clumsy said, looking at Vexy's dresses.

— What? What's missing? — Vexy asked in surprise, squinting and re-examining her new dresses.

— I don't know… something special, — Clumsy continued, thoughtfully rubbing his chin.

— Something special? — Vexy repeated, frowning at such unexpected criticism.

— Yes, something special. They all look exactly the same! — Handy added. — Maybe… add some bright colors? — he suggested, pointing to one of the patchwork patches lying on the desk.

— The same? — Vexy narrowed her eyes in disbelief. — How can they be the same? Have you even looked at them? Each one is a masterpiece!

Clumsy shook his head, smiling slightly.

— No, no, they're beautiful, but… they're not really different. — Clumsy tried to ease the awkwardness, feeling that he had gone too far. — How can I put it… They all seem to come from the same set, that's it.

Vexy bit her lip, feeling anger rising with every word Clumsy said.

— So you're saying we spent three weeks sewing all these dresses, and now you, barely waking up from your… — she suddenly stopped, remembering that Clumsy had just recently regained consciousness. — Fine… — Vexy abruptly turned away, hiding her irritation.

Clumsy looked at her in confusion, realizing something had gone wrong.

— Vexy… if I'm bothering you… should I leave? — he quietly suggested, weakly hoping for support from Handy, but already sensing how his words had shattered something between him and Vexy.

Vexy, trying to appear indifferent, took a deep breath.

— You know what, you're right. Better leave. — Her words sounded sharp, like a knife. — I have so much work to do… I need to redo the dresses now, and your presence makes me think they really don't stand out at all.

Clumsy hesitated for a moment, trying to hold back a new emotional surge caused by Vexy's harsh words. Hurt flickered in his purple eyes, but he quickly turned away, trying not to reveal his emotions, and, silently nodding, stepped out the door, carefully closing it behind him.

— Well, what was that? — Handy began softly, trying to hold back his concern for his friend. — Vexy, do you understand what you just did?

Vexy turned sharply, freezing in surprise.

— What? — she snapped, expecting a lecture from Handy.

— He just regained consciousness… And did you know he has his Smurf Day tomorrow? — Handy tried to explain, but the worry for his friend, who had run off to who knows where, began to overwhelm him.

— What? — Vexy whispered, shocked. — A Smurf Day?

— Yes, — Handy nodded. — And it seems you just spoiled his mood right now. He's in a tough place… And now this.

Handy's words hit her heart like a hammer. Vexy paled, realizing the mistake she had just made. She felt tears welling up in her eyes but held them back, raising her head.

— I… I didn't know. — Vexy tried to explain in a trembling voice, but her emotions were building stronger. — I wanted… I didn't mean to, smurf take me… poor Clumsy.

— I'll go after him, — Handy said quietly, looking at her with compassion. — You'll only hurt him more now.

Vexy didn't respond, only slowly nodded, feeling everything inside her tighten with guilt and regret. When Handy left, she sighed heavily, lowering her head, and sat down in a chair, trying to comprehend how everything could have gone so far. Outside, the evening was already beginning to descend upon the village. The sunset painted the sky in golden and orange hues, reflecting off the rooftops of houses and coloring the Enchanted Forest in soft, warm tones. Handy walked slowly through the village, trying to figure out where Clumsy might have gone. Approaching a few Smurfs who were discussing something, he asked:

— Hi! Have you seen Clumsy? He passed by here recently?

— Clumsy? — one of the Smurfs looked at him in surprise. — Who knows. We have more important matters right now; we're trying to figure out what to do with this roof, — he nodded toward a small ladder and tools lying next to a house. — Even if he was here, we didn't see him.

— Got it, thanks. By the way, do you need help with the roof?

— No, thanks, Handy. We'll manage ourselves, — replied the second Smurf, returning to important negotiations.

— Understood. Good luck then, — Handy thanked them and continued on. Another Smurf blocked his path, actively searching for something in a rusty barrel.

— Sorry, Handy, — the Smurf said disappointedly, pulling something resembling paint from the barrel. — I'm busy right now. I have a lot of chores at home. I can't help.

Handy looked over his work, trying not to show disappointment. He wondered: where could Clumsy have gone? The Smurfs had once promised to help him, but it seemed no one was even interested in him now. He headed to Clumsy's house, assuming he had likely gone there. Given everything that had happened in the village and how it had affected Clumsy, this decision seemed more than reasonable, as Clumsy didn't have many friends in the village.

After ten minutes, slowly making his way through the village, he approached Clumsy's home. He began to carefully look around, peering into every corner, but there were no signs of anyone's presence or any traces of the missing Smurf. The silence felt unusual for this part of the village, especially as the wind had died down, and the evening birdsong and the buzzing of dragonflies became the only symphony of sounds surrounding him at that moment. The light of the setting sun fell gently on the house, giving it an almost golden hue, as if the whole world was enveloped in a warm glow. Everything looked almost normal, except for that strange garland still hanging around the house. Colorful stones, beads, flowers, some resembling chrysanthemums, blue cornflowers, and several poppies. Handy had seen it before when he came here with Painter, Hefty, and Brainy, but back then it looked like an ordinary, silly decoration. Now, in the light of the sunset, it seemed to come alive, shimmering with golden reflections, mirroring the warm light of the last rays. Handy stepped closer to better examine these decorations, which seemed so vibrant yet softly blended into the overall picture. The ribbon wrapped around the house, as if protecting it from the outside world. It reminded Handy that Clumsy had always loved making such things — simple, yet so warm, lovingly created… just like that puzzle of verses Clumsy had made. A work of art, quiet and almost unnoticed by outsiders, but so important for the one who created it. Handy stepped back a little, thoughtfully gazing at the house, and his gaze fell on a huge oak tree standing behind the house on a high slope. The tree majestically rose into the sky, and it seemed it had stood there for more than a hundred years. This oak had always been part of the landscape visible from Clumsy's house, but today something about it seemed different — especially after everything that had happened to him.

A memory suddenly came to mind from the day he brought Clumsy here… so defenseless, innocent, exhausted, and unconscious. That day still left a heavy mark on his soul, and the sight of Clumsy at that moment… Handy sighed sadly, feeling the weight of that day's sorrow. He slowly surveyed the slope, knowing that no one had ever even tried to climb up there. His gaze lingered on the bushes sprawling near the cliff. They formed a narrow path that led along the slope, as if inviting him to explore this hidden route. The path was almost imperceptible. Handy approached it, trying to move in a way that would make no extra noise, as if fearing that he might disturb something. As he climbed the path, he noticed how the dense bushes parted slightly, revealing a view of the top of the slope. The oak now seemed even more majestic, its branches spread out like a massive dome over everything around, creating a thick shadow that gently transitioned into the sunset light. When Handy approached this spot, he suddenly noticed a familiar figure sitting right by the trunk of the mighty oak. Clumsy… quietly crying. He sat hugging his knees, with his head down, and the quiet sobs were barely distinguishable amid the sounds of the evening forest. Handy stopped for a moment, watching him, feeling something inside tighten. Clumsy looked so small under the enormous oak, as if everything that had happened to him over the past few weeks had suddenly overwhelmed him here. Handy didn't stand there long, staring at Clumsy. His heart ached for his friend, and without holding back, he decided to approach him. Quietly, almost silently, Handy moved closer to Clumsy and stopped a step away, already preparing to say something.

— You know, when I was alone… and when everyone thought of me as… a traitor, — Clumsy began with a heavy, breaking voice. — I somehow started thinking a lot about my life. About what… was, will be… or is.

Handy sat down beside him, carefully placing a hand on his friend's shoulder and sneaking a glance at him.

— And then… — Clumsy sequentially folded four fingers of his right hand — I almost smurfed Hefty… And I've always been curious… what is it like? To be someone who is feared?

Handy wanted to say something, but the words wouldn't come. Clumsy continued to gaze into the void, and he started to breathe unevenly, as if sinking back into that moment.

— It's all so strange… so strange… — he whispered faintly, as if those words held all the bitterness of his past weeks.

Handy decided it was time to support him. He felt very sorry for his friend and cautiously began to choose his words.

— You know… Everyone in the village loves you… I, Vexy… and others — we all care about you. And I won't allow that to happen again… — Handy suddenly fell silent, realizing he had chosen the wrong words. — Vexy already regrets how she treated you. She was just hurt by what you said. It can be upsetting when you work hard, and your efforts aren't taken seriously. This applies to everyone, and it can't be avoided. — Handy leaned slightly forward, trying to look into Clumsy's eyes, but he continued to stare ahead, his expression unchanged. He reached out his hand, but Clumsy suddenly spoke softly yet firmly.

— Look… — Clumsy nodded toward the horizon, bathed in the golden light of sunset.

Handy turned his head and froze. The view was mesmerizing: the village was enveloped in golden hues of sunset, as if the evening light had filled every corner of its cozy houses. The sun dipped behind the trees of the Forest, illuminating the treetops as if they were burning in gentle golden tones. Far below, he could see the Smurfs bustling about, attending to their business. Someone was carrying baskets, someone was running with tools, and others were laughing and chatting among themselves. For a moment, Handy thought that from the village, they might see him and Clumsy sitting here on the rise. But the realization quickly hit: if they could be seen, he would have noticed Clumsy right away when he was still there. This strange conclusion gave Handy mixed feelings — he pondered how it was possible that they were here but remained invisible to others. But Clumsy, as if sensing what Handy was thinking, suddenly interrupted his thoughts.

— I used to come here when I was very sad… — Clumsy's voice trembled. — Here, no one sees me, but I can see everyone… I can watch over them. — Handy listened intently, but he was still a bit shocked by the captivating view. — Handy… weren't you curious why I rarely come to the village? And it's not because of my… clumsiness. — Clumsy continued, still looking at the village. — And when I appear… how do you think I know everything that happens with you?

Handy wanted to reply, but Clumsy didn't give him the chance.

— Now you know… where from. — he said calmly, but with a slight shadow of sadness.

— You know… Vexy really wants to apologize to you. She truly didn't mean to… — said Handy, looking at Clumsy, who was still gazing at that amazing landscape. He perked up for a moment, but the sadness didn't leave his face — this news had cheered him a bit, but not completely. They sat in silence for several minutes, admiring the scenery. The sunset continued to engulf the village, and their gazes were directed toward that captivating view, as if they were both searching for answers to their questions in it.

— You know what? — Clumsy suddenly asked, not tearing his gaze from the horizon.

— What do I know? — Handy looked at him with mild confusion.

— Do you remember that incident with Hefty? When I almost smurfed him in the forest… — Clumsy took a deep breath, trying to push away the memories of that terrible event.

Handy tensed, trying to remember the details. Back then, it seemed to him that Clumsy wasn't capable of such a thing. He was even sure that Hefty had gotten himself into some trouble and then just pinned the blame on Clumsy. But now, hearing this again, he felt something was off.

— But that was a mistake, right? Hefty lied, didn't he? — Handy quietly clarified, still believing that Clumsy could not have acted that way.

Clumsy slowly shook his head, still not taking his eyes off the village. He released the knees he had been hugging and extended his hands forward. His right hand turned palm up, while his left remained relaxed. Handy watched him with concern.

— Well, look, — Clumsy said in a trembling voice, but there was a strange confidence in it. Handy, not understanding what was happening, stared at Clumsy's right hand, where horrific scars were visible on his forearm, causing him to feel pain for his friend once again.

— Crysto Flare, — Clumsy confidently uttered, and a small purplish-pink flame erupted from his palm. Handy recoiled in horror, unable to comprehend what kind of magic this was.

— How did you do that? What is it? — Handy exclaimed in shock.

— I don't know. But for some reason, it's there. And I know how to do it, — Clumsy whispered, «extinguishing» the flame. — Please… don't tell anyone about this.

— Of course, Clumsy, we're friends. And friends keep secrets, — Handy nodded, feeling a bit of fear for his friend.

Clumsy weakly smiled, feeling a slight relief. Handy smiled back in response. They fell silent for a few moments, gazing at the village, which seemed to be bathed in golden rays of the sun.

— You know what? — Clumsy broke the silence, turning to Handy.

— What do I know? — Handy looked at him with mild confusion.

— If… someday you see that I'm not myself… — Clumsy's voice trembled again. — That I don't want to smile or anything… don't try to cheer me up.

— So… what should I do? — Handy tried to understand, looking at Clumsy with sadness in his eyes.

— Just… — Clumsy sighed heavily, his voice becoming hoarse. — Hug me…

— Okay, I'll do that. You know I'm your friend, — Handy nodded.

— No, you won't. You don't even notice when I'm not myself, — Clumsy frowned, shaking his head.

Handy froze. Those words hit home, and he suddenly realized his friend was right. He had been too caught up in his own thoughts to notice how deeply Clumsy was suffering. A quiet sigh escaped his lips, and without saying another word, he scooted closer. Embracing Clumsy, Handy held him tightly. At first, Clumsy tensed up, but then relaxed, feeling the warmth of his friend's embrace. Handy gently ran his hand over Clumsy's soft hat, stroking his head, trying to convey his support. Clumsy buried his face in Handy's chest. For the first time in a long while, he felt a true sense of relief.

— I will always be here, — Handy whispered softly in his ear, trying to infuse those words with all the tenderness he could muster. — I'm here with you. Everything will be alright.

They continued to sit in silence, watching the majestic sunset that enveloped the village in golden hues. The trees of the Enchanted Forest on the horizon looked like guardians watching over their homeland. Handy had no intention of letting go of his friend, knowing that right now, it was the only thing that could bring him even a bit of peace.

— Maybe you want to go back to the village? — Handy finally asked, not breaking the tranquility of the moment. — Vexy wants to apologize.

— If she wanted to apologize… she would have come here herself. Just like you, — Clumsy whispered peacefully, pressing against Handy.

— Just like me, — Handy repeated. — So what? Shall we go back?

— Let's… not? I don't want to leave… — Clumsy requested, trying to sound calm, but his hoarse voice slightly betrayed him.

— You're right… I don't want to either, — Handy agreed, observing the landscape and Clumsy in his arms, who seemed ready to fall asleep. — By the way, I have a lot of important things to do tomorrow! — Handy reminded him with a smile.

— Really? Like what? — Clumsy asked, lifting his gaze to Handy.

— Oh, let me tell you everything! — Handy laughed and winked. They sat under the tree for a while longer, enjoying the silence and tranquility around them. The sunset grew deeper, and the colors of the sky began to shift into soft shades of lavender and pink. Handy still held Clumsy in his arms, occasionally stroking his head.

— I think it's time, — Handy finally said, smiling faintly.
Clumsy just nodded silently. There was no strong desire to return, but it seemed the moment had come.

SEVERAL MONTHS AGO

Smurf village was adorned with colorful flags fluttering in the gentle breeze. The communal table was filled with treats, and Smurfs had already begun gathering, exchanging cheerful greetings. Clumsy slowed his pace, surveying the festive crowd. There was something special about this day, but he couldn't immediately grasp what it was. Why was everyone so busy? And why did he feel so excluded? The Smurfs looked festive: each wore a holiday outfit or at least a hat, while he... He glanced down at his usual attire: white pants, a white hat… slightly dusty from several falls. This only heightened his sense of alienation. He trudged on, trying to understand what was happening, and soon he heard loud music coming from the center of the village.

As he got closer, Clumsy saw some Smurfs joyfully dancing around a large table. On the stage, which stood off to the side where they had recently rehearsed a dance for the Blue Moon festival, a Smurf in a blue overall, whom Clumsy recognized as Handy, was setting something up, adjusting the lights. Handy looked focused, checking every wire and lamp, clearly hurrying to finish preparing for the celebration. Clumsy felt an unexpected urge to join in. He tried to step closer but immediately tripped over his own foot and, losing his balance, fell to the ground with a thud, skidding over the gravel and leaving some scratches on his hands and stomach.

— Papa Smurf? — Clumsy asked carefully, as if afraid to spoil something. — Can… I join too?

— Clumsy… —Papa exhaled, as if he believed a walking disaster had arrived. — I'm sorry, but today is Hefty Day. It's a special day, and I'm sure he would want to spend it with those who helped him prepare. You still have things to do in the village, and it would be better if you took care of them. Everyone has worked hard for the festival, and they deserve to rest and have fun.

— Yes, we've been preparing for a long time, — someone added.

— Everyone has their day, — another voice chimed in, — and today is for the Hefty.

Clumsy felt something tighten in his chest. He nodded silently, turned around, and slowly walked away from the table, feeling a multitude of eyes upon him. Ahead lay the ordinary village life, while behind him, the laughter and merriment continued. The music started again, but now it sounded distant, as if it were fading into the daylight. He couldn't understand why he was always left out. It seemed he did everything just like the others. Yet every time someone had a celebration… he was never invited. Yes, he had responsibilities, tasks in the village, but so did everyone else. Why did they have their days, while his always remained in the shadows? These thoughts, like dark shadows, followed him as he walked away from the center, step by step distancing himself from the bright lights and festivities, where everyone seemed to find their place.

OoO

«The leaves will paint the cold evening,
Hoping to become a little warmer,
And warm the roofs of the houses,
The sun is tired of shining so brightly;
It urgently needs a rest — and I am not ready for that.
At night, the last leaves will freeze,
The trees will fall asleep, and in the morning…
…I will be all alone.
Autumn will color my soul with flowers — the likes of which we have never seen;
Autumn… steal me away.»

The morning sun continued to rise higher, enveloping the village in warm rays. The air was still cool, and a gentle breeze played with the leaves that Clumsy was slowly raking into a pile by the houses. This task was almost meditative for him — he wasn't in a hurry, and each leaf willingly submitted. The sounds of nature around him filled the space with tranquility: the chirping of birds, the rustle of the wind in the treetops. Suddenly, an unpleasant but familiar feeling welled up in his chest, and Clumsy stopped. He coughed sharply, pressing his hand to his mouth, and felt a sharp metallic taste on his tongue. Blood. Red droplets glistened on the back of his hand, reminding him that the illness was not retreating. He involuntarily squinted, took a deep breath, and tried to act as if nothing had happened. But soon, this idyllic scene was disrupted by someone's voice. Someone called out to him, and the voice sounded familiar enough for Clumsy to turn around immediately. Not far away, he spotted Handy, who was leisurely walking towards him. Handy waved his hand, smiling, and Clumsy nodded in response.

— Hey, Clumsy! I see you're already hard at work this morning? — Handy asked as he approached. Clumsy quickly tucked his hand behind his back, trying to hide the traces of blood on it. He straightened up and smiled reservedly, barely nodding.

— Yeah… I just… decided to do something nice while everyone's asleep, — he mumbled, not meeting Handy's gaze, as if he feared that he might notice his unease. But why right now, when everyone is asleep? Clumsy thought it would be the perfect moment to do something right without ruining anyone's mood or causing another disaster. Handy glanced at the neatly gathered leaves and appreciated Clumsy's caring effort. He carefully scrutinized his friend from head to toe, as if noticing something unusual about him. But instead of asking too many questions, Handy patted him approvingly on the shoulder.

— You know, I have an idea… How about… a walk? — Handy suggested enthusiastically.

— A walk? Where to? — Clumsy asked, slightly bewildered. A walk with Handy would be nice, but thoughts of the events from the past weeks still kept him on edge.

— I was thinking… we could go to the forest; I know a really beautiful spot there, — Handy tried to create intrigue, but immediately realized he wasn't doing a great job, as Clumsy looked at him strangely, as if he had seen Gargamel trying to lure him into a trap. — It's really beautiful.

— Uh… maybe I'll come by… later? — Clumsy said, lowering his gaze a bit, but then met Handy's stubborn yet friendly look.

— No, no, no «later». The weather is just perfect today, — Handy insisted, lightly tapping his foot and adding a playful seriousness to his words. — Come on, let's go. Work can wait!

Clumsy smiled faintly in response. Still, Handy's persistence was working, confidently pulling him out of the depths of any worry. Considering the past few days, and despite the previous weeks, Clumsy genuinely noticed how people had started to care for him again and how he was being recognized as part of the big family. Of course, Handy and Smurfette cared about him the most, genuinely trying to help. They dedicated part of their time to spend with him, even though they could have used that time for something productive: Handy could have built some new device that would simplify life a hundredfold, while Smurfette and Vexy could have organized some beauty contest or something similar together. But since Handy truly wanted to go for a walk with Clumsy… why not?

— Well… okay. Let's go… — Clumsy agreed hoarsely.

— Smurfaroo! — Handy exclaimed joyfully and immediately ran towards the forest.

— Hey, wait for me! — Clumsy shouted after Handy and ran after him.

OoO

«I won't get any better, but it could get worse.
I want to laugh again, I want to drift along the streets,
Among the yellow leaves, autumn is hiding somewhere, and I
So want to find meaning in it, so want to find myself.»

The forest welcomed them with a carpet of wet red and yellow leaves that covered the ground beneath their feet. A light mist curled between the trees, making the air cool and damp. Weak light from the overcast sky filtered through the sparse treetops, leaving blurred patches on the path. A gentle breeze rustled the dry branches and brought the scent of pine and damp earth, reminding them of deep autumn. Handy walked slightly ahead, leading Clumsy somewhere, occasionally glancing back at him. Clumsy followed him slowly but looked unusually pensive. For a moment, he averted his gaze, and a picture from the past flashed before his eyes: he and the Artist had once walked the same path together, gathering smurfberries, but the tranquility of that time was now but a memory — only silence remained. He sighed involuntarily but quickly caught himself and looked at Handy, who was ahead. His kind face always expressed calmness, and his gaze was directed forward, towards the opening space ahead. Clumsy made an effort to push the sadness away — now was not the time to succumb to sorrow. The path soon led them to the edge of the forest, where an endless sea came into view. The gray sky blended with the horizon in a mist, the water was covered with a slight ripple, and occasional waves slowly rolled onto the shore, leaving wet stripes on the sand. The sun, hiding behind the clouds, barely broke through with a dim light, as if trying to conceal itself behind heavy leaden clouds. Handy stopped and inhaled the fresh scent of the sea breeze.

— That's how the sea breeze smells. — Handy unexpectedly broke the silence, looking into the distance. Clumsy also took a deep breath, trying to feel the freshness, but instead felt a strong pressure in his chest. He coughed, hunched over from the fit. It was as if all strength had left his body, but fortunately, there was no blood this time.

— Hey, buddy, are you okay? — Handy asked with concern in his voice, approaching Clumsy and gently patting him on the back. — I don't like your cough at all.

Clumsy, still holding back his cough, lifted his head and tried to smile, attempting to show that everything was under control.

— Yeah… I'm fine, — he nodded, trying to smile encouragingly. — I think…

— Does Doctor say anything? Maybe there's some cure? — he asked hopefully, but seeing Clumsy's reddened eyes, he realized that his friend was not very optimistic about the treatment.

— I haven't seen him again… — Clumsy admitted in the same hoarse voice, wiping his wet eyes with his right wrist. — I'll have to go again… thanks for reminding me.

Handy nodded and momentarily shifted his gaze to the shore, where the waves washed over the sand, breaking upon its surface and leaving barely noticeable white traces.

— You definitely should go. — Handy paused for a moment, then gestured towards the surf — Should we sit here?

Clumsy nodded, and they both, as if by unspoken agreement, settled onto the damp sand, allowing the sea breeze to gently caress their faces. They sat in silence for several minutes, enjoying the moment and gazing at the gray, endless sea.

— How did you even catch this… tuberculosis? — Handy suddenly broke the silence, leaning a little closer to his friend.

— I don't know. Probably when I left the village and got caught in that rain… — Clumsy replied, turning his gaze to the water and making a thoughtful face as if trying to recall the events that led to his illness, then he hugged his knees.

— So you got caught in it too? — Handy looked at him in surprise.

— What do you mean? — Clumsy glanced at him, slightly puzzled.

— We went looking for you right in the rain. It's interesting how we even managed to find you in that pitch darkness, — Handy recounted, trying to remember those sad events.

— I see… and how was it? How did you look for me? — Clumsy asked, tilting his head slightly.

— It was quite amusing, in my opinion. — Handy began his tale with a smile. — Papa Smurf split us into three groups, and we searched the entire forest. By morning, we merged into one big group and searched in the direction this path leads. — He turned and nodded toward the path they had come from. — Then I noticed this place and decided I'd definitely show it to you one day.

— And what happened next? — Clumsy asked, leaning forward.

— Then we saw a deep trail leading into a cave. That's where we found you, — Handy finished his story.

— And how did I end up back in the village? — Clumsy inquired, biting his lip slightly.

— At first, something strange was going on with you… remember when you woke up, I asked about it? — Handy asked, eager to uncover the whole truth.

— Well, yeah… — Clumsy replied, slightly dejected, nodding.

— So you were speaking in a voice that wasn't yours, saying strange words, getting angry at us… Then I carried you back to the village, along with the others.

— Interesting… after all those days when I was pushed away… — Clumsy said with a sad smile.

— Yeah… smurf take it, yes. Every time I remember that… I feel… very unsmurfy. — Handy exhaled and looked at his friend. Without thinking, he extended his hand toward him and opened it in a palm.

— Give me your hand. — he whispered, not averting his gaze.

— Why? — Clumsy looked puzzled at the open palm of his… friend.

— You'll see. Come on, just the right one.

Clumsy hesitated for a moment but still extended his right hand, which bore old scars, and Handy squeezed it tightly.

— Now look me in the eyes. — Handy whispered as well.

When Clumsy turned his head to Handy and looked at him with what seemed to be "tearful eyes," he was overwhelmed by a wave of resentment for his friend. But there was something new in his gaze—his purple eyes, slightly reddened from "tears," shone like two endless crystals, harboring pain and loneliness. The hat, always slightly pulled down over his eyes, gave him an even stronger appearance of a defenseless smurf. Handy felt a tightness inside him as he once again saw that unfamiliar, previously unknown color in Clumsy's eyes.
«It suits you… oh, smurfness, what am I thinking about?» — crossed his mind, and he smiled slightly, though sadness lingered in his smile.

— We all behaved wrongly towards you. — Handy began, sadness in his voice, pausing occasionally to find the right words. — We all made terrible mistakes… but I know you. — He carefully ran his palm over the scars on Clumsy's right arm, as if trying to wipe the salt from the wounds on his skin.

— You know me? — he raspingly asked, coughing slightly. He turned his gaze to the endless sea again. — No… you don't know…

— Forgive me, but… that's the problem. You don't know you. — Handy clarified, tilting his head to the side and looking straight into Clumsy's purple eyes.

— What do you mean?

— I don't know, but… Constantly, when I see you in the village… you always smile and try to help everyone. — Handy said with warmth in his voice.

— What am I gonna' do now?

— I'm grateful for the fact… that I now have such a wonderful friend. — Handy smiled, not letting go of his hand. — As for what to do… we'll figure that out together. After all, we're one big… and friendly family.

— But I still don't believe in nothing. — Clumsy sighed heavily and raspily, lowering his head. Handy chuckled softly, as if showing that Clumsy should believe in himself more, and squeezed his hand tighter, feeling the slightly rough skin on his friend's wrist. He stared at him intently — as a response to the deep longing that flickered in Clumsy's «tearful» purple eyes.

— Often neither do I… but then, I meet someone like you. And everything makes sense. — Handy said, trying to convey his confidence to him.

— You're too smart for me, Handy. — Clumsy tried to laugh, and he even succeeded, but the hoarseness in his voice gave him away. — I guess…

He took a short pause to gather his thoughts and find the right words.

— I guess I… I'm afraid. — Clumsy lamented sadly and looked at Handy with the saddest gaze imaginable: red «tearful» eyes, a sorrowful expression on his face—all of this created an image of a tormented being.

— There's nothing to be afraid of, Clumsy. You have us. And it doesn't matter what happens, we will always be there and will always help you. Just like you helped us. Well… you tried.

Clumsy glanced at his… friend again, and for the first time noticed how attentively and with some mystery Handy was looking at him; he looked away, a bit embarrassed and snorted.

— Well, in the end… not everything is so bad, right? — Handy said encouragingly, releasing Clumsy from his grip.
Nodding and deciding to lighten the mood a bit, Clumsy waved his hand towards the water.

— Do you think… the water is warm now?

— I don't know, why do you ask?

Clumsy looked at him skeptically and easily got up from the sand, leaving Handy with a somewhat puzzled expression. Then he carefully sneaked up on Handy from behind and pushed him into the water. Handy fell into the water with an unexpected splash, surfaced, wiped the water from his face, and looked at Clumsy with strong surprise.

— Oh, you're clever, buddy. — Handy shouted, and for a moment he scooped water into his hand and splashed it right at Clumsy.

— Oh, is that so?! — Clumsy laughed, keeping his eyes on his friend, and quickly waded into the water up to his knees. Quickly dismissing his awkwardness and swinging his arms, he splashed water at Handy too. Trying to fend off Handy's new attack, Clumsy got carried away and didn't notice how the water began to rise higher and higher. Handy, laughing merrily, didn't immediately realize that Clumsy had moved too far from the shore. When Clumsy sent another splash, his merriment was suddenly cut short — he started to sink under the water. Without having time to wave his arms, Clumsy disappeared from sight, not even managing to scream. For a second, everything went silent. Feeling intense tension and emptiness, Handy immediately dove after him. He plunged into the murky water, trying to see something in the darkness. Cursing himself for his carelessness, he felt along the bottom, stretching out his hands in the hope of finding Clumsy. After agonizing seconds of fruitless searching, he finally felt him, tightly grabbing his hand and pushing off from the bottom, surfacing. Once on the shore, he gently laid Clumsy on the sand, feeling his own breath slowly returning to normal. However, his friend did not respond, and anxiety gripped Handy. He knelt beside him and began to shake him, but Clumsy just lay there limply, not opening his eyes.

— Hey, Clumsy… can you hear me? Open your eyes. — Handy's voice trembled treacherously. — Say something!

— Clumsy, please… Say something! — Tears welled in his eyes, and that feeling of helplessness was unbearable. Suddenly, as if by magic, Clumsy abruptly lifted his head and started coughing, struggling to expel the remaining water. The cough was hoarse and painful, ragged. Handy sighed in relief, reconnecting with reality as his breathing became even again.

— What… happened? — Clumsy said in surprise, losing his orientation.

— CLUMSY! — Handy exclaimed joyfully and immediately embraced Clumsy tightly—Thank smurf for that! Don't scare me like that again!

— Oh, come on… why are you so nervous?

— You almost drowned! — Handy articulated the words as if convincing himself that everything was fine. — Don't do that again, do you hear?

— Okay, okay, — Clumsy agreed — I promise, I won't do it again. Let go, or you'll choke me!

Handy, chuckling slightly, finally released him, and both of them caught their breath a little. Meanwhile, on a thin branch of the nearest tree sat an inconspicuous yellow-eyed bird. It didn't blink, as if memorizing every moment. Its small eyes sparkled, and its head tilted strangely, catching every movement of the two smurfs. At one point, it froze, then suddenly took off, rising into the sky, blending with the gray horizon. It gradually disappeared into the distance, but when it rose high enough, it suddenly began to change. Where the bird was, now in the clouds

floated the silhouette of a man in a black cloak, with huge, sinister black wings, resembling the ominous shadow of Mofman. Gradually, this figure blurred in the sky, completely disappearing from sight.

OoO

The sun was beginning to set on the horizon, painting the sky in crimson and golden hues. A light breeze swayed the treetops, and the soft rustle of leaves blended with distant bird cries. Handy and Clumsy walked along a forest path strewn with fallen leaves, and bright spots of sunset light danced on their faces. Handy glanced at his friend, unable to shake the anxiety that had gripped him after Clumsy had nearly drowned.

— Are you sure you're feeling okay? — he asked cautiously, trying to hide his worry. — That was dangerous.
Clumsy, still a bit bewildered, adjusted his hat and smiled uncertainly. His purple eyes sparkled with gratitude, though a faint glimmer of fear lingered deep within.

— I'm fine, it's just… the water was much colder than I expected, — he glanced at Handy and, feeling the warmth of his support, added a bit more confidently: — But I'm glad you were there.
Handy smiled and gave him a friendly pat on the shoulder.

— I'll always be there for you, — he replied calmly. Clumsy nodded, feeling the awkwardness fade into a warm sense of appreciation. They walked silently through the dense forest until the trees began to thin out. Ahead, a clearing revealed a view of their village. The sunset rays touched the houses, casting long shadows, and Clumsy noticed that it was suspiciously quiet around. As they stepped into the open space, the village appeared strangely deserted: not a single Smurf in sight, and the usual noise and chatter had vanished, as if someone had turned off the sound.

— Where is everyone? — Clumsy whispered in surprise, glancing around warily.

— I don't know, — Handy shrugged, pretending to be serious. — Maybe… everyone died?

— You fool! — Clumsy snorted and lightly nudged his friend in the shoulder, to which Handy just laughed, rubbing the spot. They took a few more steps deeper into the village when suddenly, from behind the corners of houses and all possible hiding places, a whole group of Smurfs sprang out, as if from the ground. Their joyful cries shattered the silence, echoing across the area.

— HAPPY SMURF DAY, CLUMSY!
For a moment, Clumsy stood in complete shock, staring at all these smiling friends who were clapping loudly and looking at him with adoration. Surprise, joy, and excitement mingled inside him. Clumsy stood there, bewildered and amazed, feeling warmth rising to his cheeks and his heart pounding so hard it seemed ready to burst out. He couldn't immediately grasp that all of this was for him. He looked at the smiling faces of the Smurfs, heard their applause, and beside him, Handy joined in the cheers, looking at his friend with support and warmth. He turned to him, smiling shyly, trying to hide his excitement. He saw how genuinely happy Handy was for him. Surrounded by attention, Clumsy felt more significant than ever, as if everything he did now had meaning. He and Handy exchanged a brief glance, and that made Clumsy feel even warmer inside. Meanwhile, the Smurfs drew closer, surrounding them, and cheerfully invited the birthday boy to the center of the village. Clumsy and Handy moved along with the others, and soon the village square opened up before them, adorned with bright ribbons, garlands, and various trinkets sparkling in the rays of the setting sun. A long festive table was filled with treats, and in the center, slightly elevated above the rest, sat Papa Smurf, whom Clumsy hadn't seen for several days, patiently waiting. When everyone settled down, laughter and chatter suddenly hushed — Papa raised his hand, calling for silence. All eyes were on him as he began to speak.

— Dear Clumsy, — he started warmly, — first of all… my dear little Smurf, I want to apologize for the terrible events you had to endure. You are not just a Smurf; you are the heart of our village. You always bring joy and wonder; you make us smile, even in the toughest situations. Everyone can count on you because you are always there and ready to help. And today we are all gathered here to show how much we appreciate and love you.
These words penetrated deep into Clumsy's soul. His eyes began to betray him with tears. For the first time, he heard such words about himself, and although he tried to hold back, his face reflected a storm of emotions. Handy, noticing this, placed a hand on his shoulder, giving it a gentle squeeze to support him. But Clumsy could no longer hold it together. Tears streamed down his face as he sobbed and jumped up from the table, running away without looking back. Everyone froze in surprise, not expecting such a reaction. Papa looked after him with concern, while Handy jumped from his seat, addressing the others.

— Don't worry, I'll be back with him, — he promised and ran after Clumsy.
Intuitively, Handy understood where his friend was headed. He had already found him in this place yesterday, and perhaps he knew where to look for him now. Making his way through the village streets, he soon reached Clumsy's house. But looking around, he didn't see him. Then Handy went around the house and climbed up a slope covered in thick bushes, knowing there was a large oak tree higher up that Clumsy often chose as his refuge. Indeed, there, under the sprawling canopy, he saw his friend hunched over. Handy approached cautiously, sat down beside him, and after a short pause, quietly asked.

— Why did you run away?

— Handy? — Clumsy sniffled. — And why aren't you with the others?

— I'm your friend, Clumsy. You don't have to cry… or else I might start crying too, — Handy replied, his voice filled with the same sadness. He hadn't seen anyone cry for a long time, so he had no idea what to do to support Clumsy.

— You know… I've never really celebrated… Every time it was just… like an ordinary day. I was alone… but this tree was with me.

Handy listened, frowning. He could not imagine that Clumsy had always been alone on this day. Clumsy continued, slightly lowering his head and looking at the ground.

— And I… I only saw from afar how others celebrated. They gathered together, laughed, and then… blew out the candles on the cake? I was curious… what it was for… and I wanted once to… blow out the candles on my cake too, — he said bitterly.

— Clumsy, no one deserves to celebrate Smurf Day alone. You know they're happy to see you now, right? Let's go back to the table — everyone is waiting. — Handy gently touched his shoulder.

— Exactly… «now». What about before?

— We've already talked about this, Clumsy. Back then we were fools and didn't understand what we were doing. Now we need to live in the present and not think about what was. Come on, buddy. Let's go back, — Handy suggested, getting to his feet.

— No… I'm not leaving here. — Clumsy softly refused.

— Why not?

— I want to stay here. Under this tree, — he looked up at the mighty oak above him — I want the celebration here.

— Hmm… okay. Wait five minutes. — Handy smiled, nodding slightly.

He quickly left, leaving Clumsy alone, and unable to hold back, he burst into loud tears, burying his face in his knees. This day, which he had looked forward to so much every year, suddenly filled him with a strange feeling… The warmth inside was replaced by pain. For how many years had he celebrated this day alone, without friends, in silence under this oak — it was the only witness to his birthdays. But now, with so many kind eyes around him, he felt somehow almost lost. Breathing heavily, Clumsy began to hear some muffled, yet increasingly clear sounds — as if someone was dragging something along the ground, puffing and talking to one another. In the distance, he heard Handy's voice giving instructions. Then, after a few minutes, he appeared on the slope, carrying a heavy part of the festive table with other Smurfs who looked ready to do anything for their friend. Seeing that Clumsy was still sitting in the same place, Handy left the table and quickly approached him. When their eyes met, he couldn't help it and immediately rushed to him, enveloping him in another strong, friendly hug. Clumsy gratefully squeezed him back.

— So what do we have here? — someone nearby said, the voice familiar. — Who is this who isn't having fun?
Vexy approached them, firmly holding the scowling Grouchy by the hand. And Handy, without letting go of Clumsy, sadly said:

— It seems Clumsy is finding out for the first time what Smurf Day is…

— I hate understanding Smurf Day, — Grouchy grumbled ominously, for which he received a light slap on the back of the head from Vexy. — I hate slaps on the back of the head.

— Stop grouching for smurf sake!— Vexy ordered sternly. She gently patted Clumsy on the shoulder — Well, let's make sure this never happens again. Look, even Grouchy has come

— I hate coming — Grouchy grumbled again, earning a sad sigh from Vexy.

Meanwhile, Handy turned to the others and asked them to quickly set everything up and prepare for the celebration. When everything was ready, Greedy arrived. He looked over the small group with a slightly sad but understanding expression, slowly placing beautiful dishes and several bottles of some strong drink on the table
Handy, Vexy, and Grouchy helped Clumsy to stand and seated him at the table, while they themselves sat next to him. This time everything felt more special: the celebration set up under the oak seemed to breathe life into the old tree, which gently rustled its leaves in the evening air, as if supporting the atmosphere. Then Greedy returned with a huge cake. It was decorated with berries, flowers, and small chocolate figures, with lit candles sparkling on top, as if inviting Clumsy to make a cherished wish. He looked at the cake with excitement, barely believing that it was really for him. When Greedy placed the cake on the festive table, Papa Smurf arrived, joining the celebration, repeating the same warm words he had spoken earlier, but now, in the circle of friends and under the shady oak, they sounded even deeper and warmer. Then, Papa smiled proudly and finally uttered the cherished words

— Come on, Clumsy, blow out the candles!

Handy and Vexy nodded encouragingly at him. Clumsy took a deep breath, preparing to blow out the candles, but at that moment, a cough echoed: a guest named Tuberculosis couldn't stay aside, and Clumsy coughed, unable to blow out the candles on the first try. Handy gently patted Clumsy on the back to help him. After that, Clumsy gathered himself again and finally blew out the candles, making his first wish in life
As soon as he did, Papa applauded loudly, and everyone else followed suit. The whole group, with smiles and joyful shouts, began to sing:

— Happy 111th birthday, Clumsy!

Later, under the light of the night stars, when the fun was in full swing at the celebration, Clumsy and Handy sat apart, discussing the mysterious bottles brought by Greedy.

— Do you think we should open one and try it? — Clumsy asked mysteriously.

— Are you sure? — Handy replied with equal mystery.

— Just one or two... no more? — suggested Clumsy, picking up one of the bottles containing a strong drink. — Right, Handy?

— Of course, let's just try it. No big drama. — Handy agreed, taking the second bottle in hand. After the first sip, Clumsy immediately choked on the bitterness of the liquid that flowed down his throat. Handy repeated the same gesture, and his face twisted in distaste.

— What a horrible drink! — Clumsy exclaimed loudly, coughing and wiping his mouth with his hand.

— We need to go to him... and find out what kind of smurf-tasting drink he gave us... — Handy suggested resolutely. But Clumsy, already feeling the effects of the drink, approached him with a wide smile and, winking, suggested taking another sip.

— Why not? He seems to know what he's doing... — Clumsy said cheerfully, excitement gleaming in his purple eyes.

— That's the trouble. You never know what he might give you. — Handy said, taking another sip and feeling the flame race down his throat.

— What are you getting at? — Clumsy asked, gripping the bottle in his hands and taking another sip.

— Well, I mean, I done seen a lot of crazy, crazy stuff, but Greedy…

— «I seen a lot of crazy, crazy stuff» — Greedy unexpectedly repeated, standing right behind them and hearing their whole conversation.

— Will you shut up? — Handy suggested, but Greedy didn't back down and repeated his words with a cheeky laugh.

— «Will you shut up?»

Clumsy laughed, hugging himself, while Handy took another sip of the alcoholic drink, trying to ignore the interruption.

— Be quiet, buddy. — Handy suggested again.

Greedy laughed loudly and snatched the bottles of alcoholic drink from them, lifting them up like trophies.

— They're dullards. My Smurf, you are dull…

— Hey! Give that back! — Clumsy asked sadly but with the same cheerful tone. His cheeks were slightly flushed from the drink.

— I told you to give it back! — Handy ordered loudly, trying to take the bottles from Greedy himself.

— Don't bother with that fool. — Clumsy said cheerfully, trying to lighten the mood. And that's when Handy's patience began to snap.

— «Don't bother with that fool» — Greedy repeated, standing with the bottles in hand and mocking them.

— Listen, buddy... — Handy patted Greedy on the shoulder, trying to look convincing. — you're a charming cook and all... but Clumsy and I need to discuss important matters... Could you... leave us alone? No offense meant.

— Some smurfs are never satisfied. — Greedy agreed and handed the bottles back, then turned and started to walk away. — I just... wanted to be hospitable.

Handy and Clumsy, taking the bottles in hand, clinked them together with a light tap and began to celebrate the moment. They took their first sip, and the drink enveloped them in warmth, filling every cell of their bodies. Clumsy shrank from the unexpected bitterness but quickly straightened his shoulders, shaking off his doubts. Then, laughing, they moved to the table. Clumsy jumped onto the surface, knocking a couple of snacks onto the floor, and Handy followed him with a smile. Lying on the table, they continued to drink, and each new sip felt bolder and more determined than the last. With every gulp of the strong drink, the world around them began to bloom in bright colors, and the sounds of the party blended into a single melody of joy.

— That's great, buddy! — Clumsy exclaimed in an even more cheerful voice, applauding as he thanked Harmony for the excellent piano performance. — Handy? Handy, where are you?!

Clumsy walked across his familiar field, located near a mighty oak, and noticed a smurf that vaguely resembled Gutsy.

— Hey, do you know where my friend is? — Clumsy asked cheerfully, swaying and grinning.

— Sorry, I don't know. — Gutsy replied negatively, and Clumsy moved on.

— Handy, where are you?! — he shouted loudly, trying to spot his friend in the crowd of smurfs gathered right byhis tree. — Hey, Handy!

He approached Grouchy, hoping to find out where Handy had gone.

— Hey... buddy... — Clumsy began, but his wide smile and cheerful tone revealed something unusual about his condition. Grouchy just turned away from him, saying nothing. Clumsy headed for the festive table, which was nearly empty, and spotted a familiar figure leaning against it.

— What are you doing, kid? — he asked cheerfully, realizing he had found his friend. Handy was trying to balance a glass on his head. When Clumsy came closer, Handy lost his grip and dropped the glass, shattering it. Both smurfs burst into laughter.

— Hello, Clumsy! You know what, I don't know. — Handy replied in the same cheerful voice as Clumsy. He handed Clumsy a bottle, and when Clumsy took it, Handy somehow magically pulled a second bottle from behind his back and clinked it with Clumsy's. They took a few more sips and began laughing at everyone who passed by.

— Why didn't you marry Smurfette? — Clumsy playfully asked, winking, to which Handy just rolled his eyes.

— She wouldn't have me... — Handy replied sadly, taking another sip as if trying to drown his doubts. Clumsy jumped cheerfully in place, and Handy, laughing, encouraged him, occasionally applauding.

— That's the thing, you see... 'cause it… — Clumsy started, but then noticed that Handy had disappeared again. — Handy?

Looking around, Clumsy couldn't find his friend.

— Handy! Hey, Handy, where are you? — he shouted.

After looking around a bit more, his gaze fell on his house, and he noticed Handy energetically wrestling with someone below.

— Slippery little shit, ain't he? — a familiar voice reached him, and without a second thought, Clumsy rushed down.

— Handy, where are you? — Clumsy shouted, still not understanding where his friend had disappeared to, but he headed down to his house, hoping to find out what was going on. Coming down the slope, Clumsy saw Handy

actively jumping and trying to hide from Jokey and Vexy, but he didn't understand what they wanted from him.

— Leave the kid alone, you goddamn animals… — Clumsy shouted, pointing his finger at his friends to catch their attention.

— Who do you think you're talking to? — Jokey asked sternly, turning to Clumsy.

— Nobody. I'm talking to nobody... — Clumsy declared menacingly, stepping closer to them.

All three immediately turned to him.

— What did you say? — Vexy frowned in surprise.

— What?

— I said, what did you say?

— Get lost, girl... — Clumsy replied, lightly pushing her, and at that moment the cheerful music coming from the direction of the oak suddenly stopped.

— Shut up, Clumsy! — Jokey exclaimed, approaching them.

— Yeah... shut your mouth, Clumsy. — Vexy said, swinging at Clumsy.

The whole group — Handy, Clumsy, Jokey, Vexy, Gutsy, and Grouchy — began to dance the polka, moving in a chaotic but harmonious rhythm. Laughter and joy merged into a single melody of friendship, creating an atmosphere of fun. In the next moment, for some reason, Clumsy found himself behind his house. Getting to his feet and swaying, he made his way back to his tree, where the others had gathered. The music played again, bringing cheerful cheers, but Handy was missing once more.
— HANDE-E-E-H-H-H-H-H! — Clumsy shouted loudly throughout the forest, trying to call Handy, but there was no response. Approaching a blue creature, he recognized Handy's face in it and immediately felt joy, grinning widely.

— Handeh, my boah! — he exclaimed, hugging Jokey.

— Do I look like a Handy to you? — Jokey pulled away from the hug and walked away. Clumsy stepped slightly to the right and spotted another blue creature, again recognizing Handy's face.

— There you are, hednaH! — Clumsy said cheerfully, but his joy was immediately interrupted by an old, wise voice.

— Handy? Clumsy, I think you need to get some sleep. — Papa said sternly.

Clumsy took a few steps away from Papa and saw the blue creature that reminded him of Handy again. He ran toward it, but tripped over his own foot and fell to the ground with a loud thud. Instantly getting up, nearly falling again, he rushed to the smurf.

— I've been looking for you everywhere, Handeh!

— How many have you had, pal? — asked Greedy with interest, looking at Clumsy. But he didn't answer and kept going.

— Hand-e-e-e-h-h, where are you hiding? — Clumsy tried to call out again, but no one responded. Spotting another blue creature sitting at a table with Handy's face, Clumsy headed towards it again.

— Ha-ha, found ya Handeh!

— Handy? Clumsy, go get some sleep, — said Vexy sadly. Clumsy felt upset again and continued searching.

— Damn it, Hand-ee-h-h, stop hiding from meh!

— I'm Brainy, Clumsy. I'm not the one you need. — unexpectedly replied the nearby Brainy. Clumsy felt down again, but then someone placed their hands on his shoulders and turned him around.

— Clumsy, Clumsy, what are you doing? — asked Handy in a strange but cheerful voice. Clumsy couldn't help himself and slapped Handy. Handy laughed and returned the favor, which made Clumsy moan a bit, but he quickly became excited again. Laughter and joyful shouts from the smurfs filled the air as Clumsy and Handy began to slap each other's cheeks. Each hit was accompanied by friendly encouragement from the surrounding crowd. They leaned towards each other, laughing, trying not to fall, and continued to slap each other, increasing the intensity.

— You, you're... a good friend to me, Clumsy. — encouraged Handy, sitting at the table and taking another sip while holding Clumsy's back.

— Shut up… cheers!— said Clumsy, and they tried to clink their glasses, but Clumsy's glass somehow ended up in Greedy's hands.

— Cheers. — Greedy said in the same cheerful voice and took a sip from Clumsy's glass, causing Clumsy and Handy to look at him in confusion.

— Not you again. — said Clumsy, then grabbed Greedy by the shoulders and tossed him away from the table. In the next moment, he and Handy found themselves at Clumsy's house, unable to contain their laughter as they rolled on the ground, getting up and falling down, sometimes losing their balance. Joyful shouts and jokes echoed around them, blending with the sounds of the celebration. And when the world around them began to spin, they finally froze, exchanged glances, and with hoarse laughter, as if they understood all the meanings of life, simultaneously said:

— Abu-ypilysh-adydbi. — And at last, this whole revelry came to an end, and they headed off to sleep in Clumsy's house.

OoO

«The autumn rain will mix me with the mud…
…At night, in the cold darkness, it will say:
— Everything that remains, give to the wind!
And it will remind of me.
Let my petals be carried around the world,
Let their sprouts see the light tomorrow,
And let fire not turn their feelings
Into a silly Dried Flower.»

— Those plans make any sense? — Handy asked somewhat distrustfully, stepping closer to the table covered in a whole mountain of various tools

— Oh sure… — Gutsy replied confidently, holding a sheet of blueprints for Clumsy's future house. — Seems easy enough, I think. I mean how hard can it be?

— Give it here, simpleton. — Handy said a bit sarcastically, taking the blueprints from Gutsy

— But I'll tell you what I think, just to be safe. I'll do the reading and planning and… — Gutsy suggested, picking up a toolbox and taking the blueprints from Handy. — you do the building.

— How did I know you'd try to weasel out of doing any work? — Handy shot back, taking the toolbox from Gutsy

— Oh now, that is plain unfair. — Gutsy said loudly, trying to look offended, but it didn't bother him at all. — It, it's inaccurate and not what's gonna' happen. I'm simply going to use what I've got… which is a brain. While you use what you've got… which is less of brain. — Gutsy encouraged Handy and shook him by the shoulders

— Let's get started. — Handy sighed, realizing that Gutsy was right about something. He picked up a hammer and started walking towards the spot chosen by Clumsy

— Well… — Gutsy began, following Handy. — first thing it says is the foundation.

— Yes, I know that. Don't teach me. — Handy turned sharply and poked Gutsy with his finger. — And for the foundation… which involves moving those heavy wooden joists. — Handy pointed to a whole mountain of wooden, neatly cut beams

— Yeah, that's definitely work for me. — Gutsy nodded, looking sternly at the pile of beams. — Unless you want to kick me out and then take all the credit for the work… at the end of the day.

— Don't tempt me. — Handy noted and stepped closer to Gutsy disapprovingly, but just then Clumsy appeared on the horizon, the one they were waiting for to start the construction. — Oh, well here comes Clumsy. Hi!

— «Well, maybe he'll cheer us up» — Gutsy thought and followed Handy towards Clumsy

— How'd you get on? — Handy asked, putting the hammer back on the tool table

— Not bad, how about you? — Clumsy replied, stepping closer to the table and leaning on it with his hands

— Gutsy is trying to prove that he's a construction professional here, while I'm just an assistant

— Don't lie, that never happened.

— Well, yeah, you see that?

— Clumsy, my dear smurf… Handy needs help moving those joists, now come on. — Gutsy suggested, sitting on a small stool by the tool table

— Are you slacking off again? — Handy remarked sternly when he realized that Gutsy wasn't going to work or help

— Get a move on! — Gutsy ordered sternly. — We gotta' get started before the rains come.

— You're very annoying. — Handy said, picking up the hammer again in his right hand and pointing his left index finger at Gutsy, who had already comfortably settled on the stool

— He's right. — Clumsy said, gently patting Handy on the shoulder. — We should get on with this.

Clumsy, Handy, and Gutsy eagerly began to work.
Gutsy took the first batch of bricks, and together with Handy, they started laying the foundation for Clumsy's new house. Brick by brick, they carefully adjusted each element, aligning the rows in straight lines. Gradually, the foundation took shape, outlining the size of the future house, with each corner securely fixed and checked. Once the foundation was formed, Handy and Clumsy set to work on the next part. Together, they picked up the first wooden beam — Clumsy held it somewhat unsteadily with one hand but made an effort, while Handy supported it from the other side, helping to move it smoothly so Clumsy wouldn't accidentally bump into tools or bricks. They carefully carried it to the house frame, slowing their pace to ensure everything went smoothly, and gently placed the beam in its spot. Handy picked up a hammer and began driving in nails — each hit resonated with strength and precision, and with each nail, the beam became more firmly part of the structure. The strikes followed one after another, each nail sinking into the wood until Handy was satisfied that everything was secure. Then he and Clumsy went back for the next beam.

«Well, let me have a rule and a saw and a board and I'll cut it»

With the same focus and coordination, they carefully carried the second beam, placing it next to the first. Handy grabbed the hammer and, with the same rhythmic methodicalness, began driving in nails. Step by step, nail by nail, the second beam was firmly and securely installed in its place. As they carried the third beam, Gutsy, sitting on a stool, watched their efforts with a sly grin, evaluating their actions. Handy, ignoring his looks, kept repeating the same actions with the hammer until the last beam was firmly secured. When they finished, Handy and Clumsy stepped back to assess their work, and both felt satisfaction at how securely and evenly the new foundation of Clumsy's future house stood.

«I'll climb up a ladder with a hammer and a nail, I'll nail it»

After they secured the first few beams, Handy and Clumsy seemed to be engrossed in their work. Beam by beam became part of a strong and level floor. Each was installed with such care that the surface turned out flat and smooth, and the sounds of the hammer strikes became increasingly rhythmic and confident. Each hit brought them closer to completing this stage, and with each new beam, the structure became more reliable. A sturdy facade of the future house began to take shape along the floor. While the work was buzzing, a bright little titmouse appeared nearby. Its plumage shimmered in the sunlight, and it seemed to watch the proceedings enchantingly, occasionally perching on a nearby branch or moving closer, curiously peering into the details. It carefully observed as Handy and Clumsy tirelessly continued their work, securing heavy beams one after another.

«Well, we worked so hard to build a little house together»

When the floor was fully laid and each beam firmly secured, Gutsy finally got up from the stool and brought his friends a cup of water. Handy and Clumsy, slightly out of breath, gratefully accepted the refreshment, taking sips of the cool water. After resting, they began installing the prepared wall structures, which already had windows cut out. Gutsy took on the role of coordinator, gesturing to Handy and Clumsy when to lift the structures, when to stop, and how to align them. Under his instructions, they slowly and carefully raised the first wall, gently pressing it to the floor and beginning to align it at the corners. Handy took the hammer and drove in several sturdy nails to ensure that the future wall would hold securely. Then they repeated the process with the other wall. Gutsy carefully monitored each step, gesturing to show how to act, while Handy and Clumsy worked in unison, installing the next structure and securing it with nails. Wall by wall, they gradually erected the frame of the house, and each new element became part of the confidently standing structure. Handy, paying attention to every detail, ensured that all the nails were driven in straight, while Clumsy helped by holding the wooden elements in place.

«No matter»

When all the walls were finally raised and secured, the facade of the house took on a completed appearance. In the evening light, it looked sturdy and cozy, with straight lines of window openings framed by fresh boards. Tired but satisfied, Gutsy, Handy, and Clumsy stepped back a few paces to admire their hard work. The future house stood before them, reflecting all the efforts and hard work put in that day. The next day, they gathered again. Handy began reinforcing the walls, adding new wooden beams that secured the structure tighter. He drove in nails again and again, precisely fitting each beam to leave no gaps. Gradually, filling all the holes and reinforcing the walls' foundations, they achieved a perfect fit of the beams to the wall structures. When the walls were completely enclosed and the house had a finished facade, the evening sun softly illuminated its new contours. In a spirit of fun, Gutsy decided to entertain his friends a bit and, trying to mimic dance moves, suggested to Handy that they waltz. However, Handy refused, simply shaking his head, but watching Gutsy's funny attempts couldn't help but smile lightly. Clumsy, with excitement and slight amazement, watched their teamwork and admired the new house, which now stood before him, strong and beautiful.

«Any weather»

The next day, as the sun's rays began to illuminate their unfinished house, Handy, with a hammer and nails in hand, climbed onto the roof. On the ground lay prepared beams, ready to become the foundation for a reliable roof. Below, Clumsy and Gutsy passed him beams, trying to act in unison and without fuss. They handed each beam carefully so Handy could secure it reliably. Sitting on the edge of the roof, Handy started with the first beam: he positioned it against the base, aimed, and then struck with precision, driving the nails in straight and secure. Then he was handed the next beam, and the whole process repeated. One after another, the beams lay in a neat row, forming the roof's base. Gradually, the roof surface filled up, and each new beam strengthened the structure, making it stable and reliable. When the last beam took its place, Handy wiped the sweat from his brow, looked at the result with satisfaction, and descended to the campfire, where hot tea and some delicious muffins awaited them, proudly brought by Greedy.

Clumsy and Gutsy had already started a fire and prepared a simple meal to replenish their energy before the next stage. After resting, Handy climbed back onto the roof, now with a box filled with small tiles. Clumsy and Gutsy helped him by passing tiles and nails, which Handy meticulously placed on the roof. Each tile required a separate nail, and while securing them one by one, Handy carefully watched for any gaps. Every little detail was important, as even the tiniest gap could let in drops of water during the rain. The sounds of the hammer echoed throughout the village as the roof was covered layer by layer with reliable tiles.

«We're together.»

Handy paid special attention to the upper seam of the roof, where he carefully installed rounded tiles. These tiles had the perfect shape for water to run down them without pooling. The work was meticulous, but each seam of the roof took on a completed and neat appearance. The chimney was already visible on the roof, installed in its place and ready to emit a gentle wisp of smoke from the home hearth in the future. By the end of the day, as the sun was setting, casting golden rays on the finished roof, Handy took the last tile, carefully placed it in position, and struck the nail one last time with his hammer. The sound was clear and confident, placing the final touch on this significant task.

— And I think that's everything.. — he said, out of breath.

— Heh-heh-heh. — Gutsy laughed, helping Handy down the ladder. — Clumsy, you have a home.

— Thank you! I couldn't have dreamed of such a smurfy house! — Clumsy joyfully jumped up.

— Yes, I know. — Handy laughed as well and patted Clumsy on the shoulder. — And you… — he turned to Gutsy. — you did well too. Even if it wasn't much, you helped us. I'm proud!

— Yeah, I actually wanted to leave, but then I thought: «Why not, I'll help them.»

They headed towards the table, where a few materials and tools, as well as the house blueprints, remained. Approaching it, they simultaneously turned around and looked at the results of their three-day labor.

— Gentlemen… — Gutsy began, raising a bottle of smurfberry juice, which Greedy had also brought along with the muffins, and then took a swig from the bottle. — to this happy home.

Gutsy passed the bottle to Handy, who also took a swig.

— At least till this fool learns to plan construction properly… — he whispered to Clumsy while Handy drank from the bottle. At these words, Handy nearly choked. Clumsy took a deep breath of the night air. For the first time, he felt happy, surrounded by friends who supported him through everything, be it tough times or simple joys. Amid friendly jokes and laughter, they reached for the campfire to warm up and enjoy the evening, which gradually flowed into a quiet and deep night. There were many tasks and new discoveries ahead, but right now, under the starry sky, Clumsy knew that perhaps a new page in his life had begun.

Author's Notes:

Who are the Peacemakers?
The Peacemakers are a race of peacemakers forces that exist to maintain Utopia in their world. They were once humans, but upon discovering signs of Crystal Energy within themselves, they were elevated to the status of peacemaker by divine design. Anyone who recognizes this energy can choose to relocate to the homeland of the Peacekeepers and become an official representative of this race. The Peacemakers also have an official name, which you will learn as you continue reading.

Why did Ice end up in Clumsy's mind?
In the human world, exactly six years ago, a catastrophic event occurred, leading to extremely harsh consequences. When this happened, Gargamel, under the orders of Akulenko — the leader of the Leviathans — captured one of the Peacemakers that he managed to catch. Surprisingly, the Peacemakers are very agile and brave, so Gargamel likely surpassed himself. And although six years have passed in the human world since then, time flows differently in the world of Smurfs. Only six months have passed since Ice was captured and entered the Smurfs' universe. The ritual conducted by Gargamel under Akulenko's instruction connected Ice with Clumsy. But why Clumsy? At that moment, he was in a very vulnerable state, physically and emotionally weakened after the attack by Hefty, the betrayal of Painter, and two weeks of isolation.

What is the Dried Flower, and why is it mentioned in the chapters?
The Dried Flower is a plant that, having endured the trials of time and harsh conditions, retains its form and beauty in a dried state. Symbolically, the dried flower embodies a person who has experienced emotional burnout or difficult life challenges. Like the dried flower, such a person may seem outwardly fragile and lost, but within their inner world lies resilience and unique beauty, a testament to their lived experiences. The dried flower serves as a reminder that even after hardships and losses, one can find strength and inspiration for a new beginning, as well as the importance of support and friendship in the process of healing. In the unfolding plot, this plant will play a significant role.

And let fire not turn their feelings…

Into a silly Dried Flower.

In the distance, hidden in the shadows of the trees, stood two observers. They had been closely watching the construction for several days. One of them concentratedly sketched in a small notebook, making neat outlines and writing something in his cryptic notes. His gaze revealed cold calculation, as if every pencil stroke was part of a carefully devised plan.

— Everything is sticks to the plan, Hefty — he said, barely audibly but confidently, turning the page of his notebook. — When do we start?

Hefty stood nearby, arms crossed, intently gazing at Clumsy's new house. His look was stern, as if weighing the strength and vulnerability of the building, mentally assessing everything they had seen. The pause lingered before he quietly replied, not taking his eyes off the house, almost mockingly:

— Soon, Painter… Let him enjoy it for now… just a little longer, and he'll realize it was nothing but a beautiful… glamorous… miserable illusion.