A RESTLESS SEA can never be quelled by attempting to flatten the waves. Pouring oil on troubled waters merely resulted in pollution. It was perhaps more wise to ride out a choppy sea in the hope that all would be well, but some people needed calm waters to see their way safely to port.
The recognising of a problem can become difficult when the problem itself muddied those same soothing waters.
'Enough with the ocean theme,' one problem-solving Tinker said sternly. 'We talk of matters pertaining to the lands around us.'
'Notably a land called Greenvale no less with its rather nice ale,' was said pleasantly by another, at which the first speaker shook his head despairingly.
'And an even nicer volcano,' chuckled a third.
There was a huff and a glare and the first speaker banged his fist down unwisely, for it hurt when it bounced off solid rock.
'How did we allow this to happen?' Tinker Jinket said with a sniff of disdain, as if the inclusion of himself in the difficulty was a mere polite form, that the two others to whom he addressed the words were totally to blame for the disaster.
'Somebody dropped the ball?' Tinker Bobbin said hopefully.
'Or relied too much on the vanity enshrined in human nature?' Tinker Dozen chuckled half to himself. His bright eyes twinkled beneath bushy brows as he toyed with a spiced liquor that soothed his spirits somewhat.
The three costumed figures were hunched round a polished block of granite in the corner of a curious cave carved with luminous script in a language best described as symbolic rather than phonetic.
These three Tinkers were often together, having a sort of affinity for each other. It was the nature of Tinkers to be drawn to certain qualities in others that reinforced their own views.
Tinker Bobbin was a creature of a sensuous nature. The pleasure of feeling was his source of delight as the rotund figure he pressed against the rocky table well proved. Sat upon his left the tall ascetic figure of Tinker Jinket seemed a challenge to such indulgences. With his height accentuated even more by the most pointy of hats among the three, Jinket looked down upon others from a position of self-appointed superiority. He liked high places, high thoughts and a certain abstemiousness that showcased a high order of discipline. Oddly, he also had a passion for tractor racing.
Tinker Dozen on Bobbin's right was more a thoughtful calculating character. A strategist with a healthy dose of good humour, he often chuckled to himself as he pondered problems and their solutions. The more outrageous a solution the better, that was his way of thinking. It added fun to the most dire of situations, lightening the mood and carrying success with it. At least, in theory.
Plans a hundred years in the making, he mused at this time in the strangely illuminated cave, and now all was threatening to blow sky high in one mighty explosion. Tinker Dozen always liked volcanoes as a rule. They rumbled splendidly, shook the ground in an exciting way and fired off salvos of boulders that might land just about anywhere. And what was more beautiful than a glowing river of lava winding its way down a hillside, cutting through empty holiday homes of the rich and idle, filling swimming pools that would take some effort to clean up and generally remaking the landscape just like in times of old? Volcanoes were world builders and deserved admiration.
Unless they threatened a peaceful and beautiful land like Greenvale which had done no one any harm that he could remember.
It was not only Greenvale that seemed on the brink of disaster this summer time. Other lands had undercurrents of foreboding too, even if at times they more resembled mere rumours. Such tales of woe had a way of solidifying into something with genuine menace attached to it.
Thus a Tinker Conclave had been called later that day in the mysterious land of Affinity, the location of which might be hard to plot upon the Face of the World. It was somewhere between lands perhaps, taking up space, yet somehow not appearing to deprive anywhere else of a single square inch of territory. Matters of high moment were discussed in this strange meeting, all running upon familiar themes. How to solve a problem and who to blame if it all went horribly wrong.
This latter aspect resolved itself comfortably into targeted assignments so that names could be named and tasks given out to each and every shaper of future events. Foreboding was donned like a mournful cloak and proceedings more resembled an inevitable march over a cliff for those chosen prize winners willing to sacrifice all in the name of some indefinable outcome. Just so long as that outcome was a good one.
Thus amid a buzz of energy and muttered words of anticipation along with a few chants of derision aimed at the unlucky chosen ones, curious figures lined up, received their instructions and then disappeared in a flash of light and crack of thunder. It was like a soup kitchen with oblivion as part of the seating arrangements.