And so concludes the first adventure of the bowl and spoon. Will there be more? Who’s to say. Mayhap we’ll see them again in the future? *chuckles in knowing writer*

A comfortable hour passed, during which the entire pot of stew was consumed, along with the loaf of bread and most of the jar of honey. 

“It’s just so good!” Felicity chirped, popping a spoon of plain honey into her mouth. 

“You think that’s good, you need to visit old Fournier,” Featherwright chuckled, endlessly amused by his two companions.

“Who?” Felicity asked.

“Wot?” Bernard asked, around yet another mouthful of bread. The bread knife, noticing the plate was empty, obligingly brought over another loaf and was doing its best to keep up with the boy’s voracious appetite. 

“Pol Fournier. Baker down in the village. Bakes the best pies I’ve had, and I’ve had a-many in my life.”

“Pie?” Felicity asked, a thoughtful scowl furrowing her forehead. “Oh you mean like the dishes with fruit and things that are put in the oven?”

“Precisely my dear, hit the nail right on the head.”

“If he doesn’t start telling us what any of these toasted phrases mean I’m going to bap him,” Bernard ‘whispered.’ Featherwright glowered imperiously, while Felicity giggled around her honey spoon. 

“All in good time, my lad, all in good time.” A clock chimed somewhere in the depths of the great house. “As it is, however…” With a grunt he stood, patting his stomach as he did. “A fine meal as always, my dear knives.” The biggest one bowed its point, and resumed to overseeing the cleaning up of the dishes. “Now… where was I…” Featherwright muttered. 

“You said however,” Bernard provided helpfully. 

“I… oh yes yes, of course of course. As I was saying, the hour draws towards five, and I have some things of wizardly nature to attend to.”

Felicity drooped slightly.

“But… what about us?”

“I was coming to that, my dear. I was going to suggest you go pester Fournier, perhaps sample some of his decadent pastries, and meet me at the tree at the top of the knoll for dinner around sundown.”

Bernard mouthed the suggestion, trying to commit to memory.

“Okay. What tree again?” He asked. 

Featherwright huffed a laugh. 

“You’ll know it when you see it, my lad. It’s on the far side of town. And now that you’re fed and… humaned, you can go have your first adventure! What say you?”

Felicity squeaked in excitement and Bernard bounced a foot in the air in excitement. Without another word they dashed for the front door. 

“WAIT!” Yelled Felicity over her shoulder. Bernard was already to the door and bouncing impatiently while he waited for her to catch up. “Where is the bakery?”

“Follow your nose, dearie! And remember! Tree at sunset!”

“Tree at sunset. Okay! BYE MR WIZARD FEATHERWRIGHT!”

With that Felicity dashed out the door, doing her best to keep pace with Bernard’s long, loping strides. 

Chuckling to himself, Featherwright made his way to his study. 

“Enchanted crockery. You’ve outdone yourself this time, old boy. Wait’ll that popinjay Corbin hears about this.” His chuckle morphed into a self-satisfied cackle, and he closed himself in his study, from whence arcane sounds and smells soon flowed. 

Meanwhile Felicity was doing her best to follow her nose. And was having a hard time of it. 

“I don’t get what he means though. Do you, Bernie?”

“Not really, but I don’t get what he means a lot of the time so it’s peachy.” He was staring around them in open mouthed wonder, taking in the carved eaves and prettily painted doors of the houses they passed as they ventured further into town.

“But what did he mean, ‘follow your nose?’ It’s not like it has legs.” She grabbed her nose to make sure it wasn’t growing said legs and making an attempt to leap off her face. 

“I don’t know! Isn’t it wonderful?” Inexplicably Bernard was walking on his hands, his hair dragging little furrows in the dust of the road. 

“You… how are you doing that?” Felicity asked. Even on his hands he was faster than she was.

“Eh, I did it as a spoon lots of times, and I thought why not try it now that I’m human? It makes things look funny though.” So saying he flipped back to his feet and slowed to walk with her. “But what do you think?”

“Think?”

“Of our adventure so far!”

“OH! Well…” Felicity smiled at a woman in her garden. She smiled and waved back before returning to weeding a patch of marigolds. “I think it’s the most delectable adventure I’ve had!”

Bernard beamed and stood taller, walking with a decided strut as the dusty road turned to well-worn cobbles. The stone was cool and gritty beneath their feet; it tickled a little bit. 

“I agreeeeeeeoooohhhh…” his eyes drifted closed and he inhaled deeply through his long nose. 

“What is it? I don-ooo…” Felicity had done the same, and the most decadent smell filled her nose and made her toes curl. “What is that toothsome smell?”

“Dunno…” Bernard murmured. His eyes were still half closed and he was wandering down a side street. 

“Oh I see now what Featherwright meant by following your nose,” Felicity commented. 

Together they wandered down the street, following the sweet scent of baking pastry and bubbling berry compote. 

A few minutes later they rounded a corner and there, with eaves that looked like dripping icing, stood The Bakery.

Eyes wide with wonder, the two of them pushed the door open and were met with a a most delectable sight indeed.

The place was spacious, but cozy, with pastries, cakes, loaves of bread, rolls, cookies, biscuits, and myriad other baked goodies filling the shelves and counters. A display filled with chocolate truffles, each lovingly shaped like a flower and dusted with colored glitter that made them gleam like gems, stood on a small counter. A door stood propped open behind the bar, and it was from here the heavenly smell wafted. 

Content to wander, they split apart, each staring longingly at various baked treats before meeting again at another counter, to the left of the front door, where stood a number of still-warm pies. They were both eyeing one particularly crusty pie with puddles of red juice on the top when a voice sounded from behind the counter. 

“Can I help you, mes amours?”

Felicity looked up into the kind green eyes of who she assumed was Pol Fournier. He was a portly man with a shiny head that reminded her of an egg. 

“I don’t know.” Bernard said, still eyeing the red berry pie. “We’ve never been in one of these before.”

The baker looked befuddled, but shrugged, smiling vastly and opening his arms in a gesture of welcome. 

“Well then! Have a look see! If there is anything you find you can’t do without, just let me know and I’ll make sure your tums are satisfied beyond belief.”

Felicity nodded, eying the pie as well.

“What,” Bernard asked, practically drooling, “is this droolsome confection?”

The baker followed his gaze. When he saw the pie, his eyes lit up in delight. “AH! That. That, mes amours, is one of my newer recipes. Cheri Beri, I call it. Made from a mixture of blackberries, cherries, and blueberries.”

He waddled around to where the pie sat and lovingly cut a slice, setting it on a thick, hand-thrown ceramic plate. 

“Come come, amours. Try a slice.” When they both hesitated, he waved away their concern. “No, I insist. Tell me how it is?”

Looking at each other with varying degrees of anticipation, Bernard and Felicity approached. They took up the forks the baker had procured form under the counter, and dug in. 

Bernards eyes widened in awed shock.

“That… that is…”

“Oui?”

“Is…” Bernard took another bite. 

The baker waited with bated breath. 

“It’s scrumptious!” Felicity cried, taking a second bite that was bigger than Bernard’s. Within seconds the slice was devoured, nothing but a few buttery crumbs and an absolutely radiant baker remaining. 

“Can we have more?” Bernard asked hopefully.”

“Oui! But for sure you can. For a few pennies, you can have the rest of the pie if you so choose.”

Bernards face fell slightly in confusion. Felicity had to stifle a giggle when it looked like his hair started to droop as well. 

“We don’t have any pennies,” He said sadly. 

“But Wizard Featherwright said we should see you first of all in town!” Felicity supplied. She didn’t like the way Bernard looked. He looked wrong, like a lid put on crooked.

“AHA!” Pol let out a booming laugh, followed by a smaller chuckle that dwindled to a few residual giggles. The two stared at him in awe. They’d never heard a laugh so loud before. “That old goose. Well if it’s he you’re staying with, you can take the rest of the pie.” He leaned over to Felicity, a hand over one side of his mouth. “But make sure that coot Allen gets his own slice. Lest he cast a hex on my flour pots again., no?’ 

Felicity and Bernard looked at each other, wondering he could mean. Figuring it was one of the many things Featherwright would explain, they ignored it, and each took a second slice of pie, leaving a little more than half left in the pan. 

“Anything else, amours, I can get for you? Milk, perhaps?” He said, noticing the way Bernard was smacking this mouth. 

“Yes please,” Felicity answered. 

“Oh, mon cheri, such manners! Un moment.” Pol disappeared, returning a moment later with two glasses of creamy milk. “Got it this morning from Noni.”

“Who’s Noni?” Felicity asked, taking a sniff of the glass. Shrugging, she pressed the glass to his lips and took a sip, remembering how Featherwright had used his pipe. Bernard followed suit, and when they both lowered their glasses milk mustaches covered their upper lips. 

Grinning at their enthusiasm, Pol answered:

“Noni, the old dear, is the grocer’s wife. She has a cow that provides the best milk in the village, ai, the entire country side.”

The two youths believed him as they finished their glasses. They both remembered the Lady bringing in fresh milk some mornings, and Felicity even recalled a few times she’d been used a cereal bowl, but hadn’t known how delicious milk actually was. Or how well it went with pie.

“Now, mes amis, what else can old Pol do for you?”

“We need to meet Wizard Featherwright at the tree at sunset,” Felicity said. Bernard looked half asleep on his feet. 

“Ah, well then…” Pol pulled out a shiny watch from an apron pocket. “Seems you have a fair hour left before then. You should be able to make it with time to spare.”

“Oh, how poached!”

“Come again?”

“Poa… never mind. Where is the tree, exactly?” She poked Bernard in the ribs, and he straightened with a sleepy snort. 

Blinking away his question, Pol placed a hand on Felicity’s shoulder and guided her to the door, pointing down the street. “See there, the end of the street?”

“Yes.” 

Bernard nodded and stretched. 

“Turn right, and you’ll see the Tree Hill at the end of the row.”

“Right, end of row.” Felicity scowled as she tried to figure out which side was right. 

“You had a crack on your left side, remember?” Bernard yawned. 

“Ah. Yes, you’re right. Thank you, Bernie.”

Growing more confused by the second, the baker decided it was simpler to not ask and wrapped the pie with a thin, waxed cloth. 

“Bien, here is your pie. Just bring me back the tin, and we will be square, no?”

No? Yes? These humans had an odd way of talking, and Felicity was realizing how much simpler it was to be a soup bowl. 

But she wouldn’t go back for anything in the world, even more of Pol’s pie. 

“I… we will bring the tin back,” she agreed, taking the slightly warm container gingerly in her hands. 

“In that case, my mes amis, I hope you have a bonne nuit! I will see you more, I hope!”

“Of course! Bood-Gye, Mister Pol!” Bernard crowed. Suddenly awake, he was already striding down the street, Felicity trotting along behind him.

Staring after the two in wonder, Pol returned to his kitchen, where he retrieved another new confection from the oven. 

They took their time reaching Tree Hill. There were many shops to stop in at, many things to see. The cover of a cookbook caught Felicity’s eye as they passed a bookstore, and they peered through the window for a solid 20 minutes before realizing the place was closed. With only slight disappointment did they leave, Felicity promising the book she would come back for it when she could. 

The people they passed smiled and were friendly for the most part. Some called greetings and salutations, and Felicity and Bernard did their best to reply. Once they saw two boys, a little younger than Bernard appeared to be, playing with a ball. They threw it back and forth, over and over again in an endless loop. Once one of them missed the catch, and both boys took off after the ball, racing each other. The smaller of the two reached it first, and held it up with a triumphant grin. The bigger one smiled, and held up a hand, which the smaller one slapped with one of his. 

Felicity and Bernard watched in wonder, and as the boys ran off chasing the ball again, they tried it. Felicity almost dropped the pie a few times, but after figuring out how to balance it in one hand, she held her left hand up, and Bernard hit it was his palm. It made a satisfying smack, and both of them staggered with laughter as they continued their way to Tree Hill. 

They only received a few strange looks as they went – Felicity did have leaves in her hair and blue and green freckles, and Bernard looked like a well-used paintbrush – but the people were kind and bemused. By the time the sun was sinking into the arms of the west the two of them were feeling more settled in their bones, a deep contentment filling their chests. 

Rounding the corner as the sky turned orange and peach, they saw Tree Hill. An ancient oak of immeasurable size stood atop a knoll, its limbs and leaves gleaming in the golden hour light. They stopped, each gazing in wonder at the magnificence of the sight before them. 

“It’s so lovely, Bernie.” Felicity murmured. Tears welled in her eyes, falling slowly down her round cheeks. 

“Fel! What… you’re leaking!” Bernard looked worried, and wiped one of the tears from her face. 

“I am, aren’t I? I just.. I can’t help it. I don’t know what’s wrong or where it’s coming from. Silly me.”

Something in Bernards newly human chest ached at the sight of his friend’s tears. 

“You’re not silly, Felicity.”

She sniffled, using the hem of her dress to dry her eyes. 

“Thank you, Bernard.”

Nodding, he absently took her hand that wasn’t holding the pie, and began towing her forward.

“Of course. I think I see Featherwright!”

So he did: there, beneath the tree loomed an ominous, sweeping figure, its shadow stretching down the hill towards them like a soaring eagle. 

They continued slowly, Bernard all but buzzing out of his skin with energy as he kept pace with Felicity. 

“You can go, I’m okay. We’re almost there.” She said, feeling him tugging on her hand. 

“NO! I’m not going to leave you Fel. This is our adventure.”

The warm feeling from that afternoon returned; she squeezed Bernard’s hand in gratitude. 

Another few minutes, and they crested the hill. Featherwright sat facing the sun.

“I see you made it to Fournier’s!” He crowed, eying the pie pan in Felicity’s hand. 

“We did,” Bernard said proudly. Felicity held out the pan, which Featherwright swooped up with glee. 

“What did he call this confection, mm?” The wizard asked, digging into the pie with a fork pulled from a small basked by his side. Felicity and Bernard stood, peering about, until Featherwright patted the blanket upon which he sat, and they joined him. “Cheri Beri, I think,” Felicity said. 

“Has all sorts of red and blue fruits, too,” Bernard added.

The wizard held a bite in his mouth and sighed.

“Bliss. Pure, blissful decadence.” Opening his eyes he found the two youths staring at him. He felt his crusty old wizard heart soften at the trusting wonder in their eyes. “Mm. Well, I suppose now is as good a time as any.” 

Setting the pie pan aside he pulled a bottle out of his basket, followed by three glasses and a small parcel wrapped in waxed linen. 

“Some seed cake,” he said in answer to Felicity’s inquiring expression. “For later.”

Bernard peered at the basket, perplexed that all the things had fit in it. It was an awfully small basket, after all. 

“Let me guess,” he said, pointing at the basket. 

“Eh? Yes, lad?”

“Magic?”

The wizard’s eyes sparkled with mischief. 

“Aye, that’s the run of it.”

Nodding, Bernard sat back and stared out at the setting sun and Felicity’s profile in equal measure. 

Filled with affection, the wizard popped the bottle open with a tok and poured slightly fizzy, golden liquid into the three glasses. 

“What’s this?” Felicity asked, enraptured by the little bubbles. 

“Honey wine, my dear.”

“HONEY WINE!?” She squeaked, eyes lighting up.

“Aye! I figured it was fitting, seeing as you love honey.”

“Oh I do!” She was about to take a sip when Featherwright placed a gentle hand on her arm. She looked askance at him, and he handed a glass to Bernard. 

“We humans have a tradition, called a toast, when we celebrate things.”

“What sort of things?” Felicity asked.

“I like toast,” Bernard said, sticking his nose in the glass.

Featherwright snorted in laughter, and continued. “All sorts of things. New things, old things, good things, sad things. And tonight is as good a night as any for a toast. So, now you do this…” he held his glass out. Felicity and Bernard followed suit. “And then someone, sometimes multiple someones, say something like this: to magic gone right, and new friends found.” He clinked his cup against their’s, the glasses ringing with a crystalline chime. “And now we drink.”

So saying the wizard took a hearty quaff of honey wine. Bernard and Felicity were slower, but as soon as they tried it, both nearly downed their fist glass in a single go. 

“It’s… warm?” Felicity commented, feeling the mead swirl pleasantly in her stomach, warming her. It was a different warmth than when Bernard held her hand or looked at her the way he did, but it was pleasant. 

Bernard answered with a hiccup, and the wizard laughed merrily.

“Aye, as it should be. Mead – and wine and other drinks – has alcohol in it, and it would do you well to go slow your first few times drinking. Elsewise, who knows what might happen?”

Bernard hiccuped again, and Felicity giggled into her glass as she took another, smaller sip. 

“I – hic – have a – hic – toast!” Bernard managed.

“Do you now? Well let’s have it, lad.”

“To – hic – adventures. And – hic – being a human!”

“An excellent toast, my lad, an excellent toast!” Featherwright clinked his glass against Bernards then Felicity’s, and they all drank. 

“My dear, do you have a toast?”

“I… I suppose I do.” Schooling her expression into a semblance of seriousness (hard to do, with her smily eyes and dimples), she held her mostly empty glass up. 

“To sunsets. And pie. And nice wizards and trees and mead. And… well and I guess to the little things.” She thought of the flowers and bees and smiles she’d seen that day, knowing deep down that she would never forget the feelings they inspired within her. 

She couldn’t be sure, but she thought she saw a glimmer of tears in the old man’s eyes as he drank. Bernard just leaned over and rested his head on her shoulder.

“That… that my dear, is a perfect toast. Your’s too, Bernard,” he added hastily as Bernard tried to sit up and protest. “Some of the best toasts I’ve heard in a long while.”

“So what do you think,” The wizard continued, some minutes later. The sun was little more than a slice of summer peach on the blueberry horizon, it’s last rays a crescent roll of gold. “You’re welcome to come back with me. I’ll look after you, teach you-”

“Everything?” Bernard asked sleepily, his head in Felicity’s lap.

“Aye, lad. Everything I’m able.”

Felicity hummed contentedly. She idly ran her fingers through Bernard’s hair: it was softer than she expected it to be.

“I’d like that.” Bernard took Felicity’s hand, giving it a gentle squeeze. “What do you say, Fel? A new adventure? A new one every day?”

Felicity’s face broke into a smile radiant as the last glimmers of sunlight. 

“I’d like that too.”

“It’s settled then,” Featherwright said. He glanced at the girl and the boy who were once a bowl and a spoon with a fondness he didn’t expect to feel. As the sun set on their first adventure – but certainly not their last – casting the land of Neap into shades of blue, the old wizard’s words were a spell unto themselves: “Tomorrow the real adventure begins.”

The End