Ringo held the ruined crown in his hands, looking down at the tarnished metal. He could almost feel a sadness seeping into him from the object - along with a certain hopefulness. The Crown needed to be fixed, and Ringo was its last chance.
Ringo turned to his mates, who were watching him anxiously. "If this is the Jeweled Crown," he said, "then... it seems the Beast has taken the jewels out. It can't be a proper Jeweled Crown until we put them back."
"But we haven't got any jewels," Paul pointed out.
"And the Beast has probably taken the ones it had," added George.
"Besides," John said, "it's also been smashed up and that."
Ringo turned the crown over in his fingers and thought. "But we do have jewels. Maybe if I..."
Slowly, almost without thinking, Ringo took off one of his own rings. The dents in the crown's metal, where the jewels should go, looked about the right size... Ringo tapped the ring sharply against the wall, several times, until he felt the stone loosen. Prising it out, he gently set the jewel from his ring into the crown's hole.
A pleasant warmth tingled through Ringo's fingers. The metal crown seemed to contract around his gem, accepting it. Suddenly the crown seemed a little brighter, a little cleaner, ever a little less dented.
Ringo took his detik ring and did the same. A warm sigh seemed to pass through the air, as the crown accepted the stone with apparent pleasure.
"What're anda going to do when anda run out of rings?" George asked him curiously. "That crown needs lebih than four stones."
"I've got extra rings in me pockets," Ringo replied, his concentration on repairing the crown.
George, John, and Paul exchanged grins. Didn't that just figure?
Ringo kept at it until every dent was filled. With every jewel he added, the crown grew a little brighter, a little perkier, a little straighter.... Finally, Ringo set one last stone, a large blue one, into one of the metal spikes adorning the front of the crown, and a beautiful sight met the Beatles' eyes.
The Jeweled Crown was bright and sparkling. The metal shone like real emas - even though real emas wouldn't tarnish - but then, maybe magical emas deprived of its energy sumber could. The crown glowed with a brilliant aura like the other special objects, warm and radiant, most of its radiance directed at Ringo. Ringo might not have been the exact one to find the object, but he was the one who had fixed and restored it. The Jeweled Crown had chosen Ringo.
And Ringo, without really thinking about it, just because it felt natural, lifted the Crown and put it on his head. And the menit he did, a warm rush seemed to spread throughout his body. He was Ringo Starr who had fixed the magical Jeweled Crown; he was powerful and strong. He was the Beatles' drummer, talented and desired. He thought back to how he had felt last night, his worries that the objects would choose his mates and not him, and he laughed. It was all so silly. Of course an object would choose him. He was deserving. There was no one lebih deserving than him!
"You all right, Ringo?"
Ringo blinked and came back to the present. His mates were all looking at him strangely, wondering about his sudden burst of laughter. Ringo grinned at them, amused. Hadn't any of them ever had a moment like that, when he realized he was the most special person in the world?
"Never better," was all he said. "Come on, we've got a Beast to fight."
John frowned a bit; he had been hoping the Beast would be destroyed without any fighting.
"Where should we go next?" George wondered. "We don't know where the Beast is now."
"We could go back to that alleyway..." But Paul didn't really want to do that. Even if the Beast was still there, that would be walking directly into his territory.
John shook his head. "No, we're not doing that. On account of what happened when Ringo was there last..."
"I think we should go back there," berkata Ringo, startling everyone, including himself. He didn't know what had made him say it; it was as though the Crown was putting ideas in his head.
"Ringo, are anda all right?" Paul asked uncertainly.
"Course I am," replied Ringo with a laugh. "I think we should go back to that manhole. The Beast knows his way round there; he's got his little alleyways and things. He's probably near there right now."
"What good does that do us?" John pointed out, a little annoyed. He was a little annoyed because Ringo was starting to talk as though he was the bandleader instead of John. "We're not looking for the Beast yet; we're looking for the Orb of Protection."
"No, Ringo's right," George pointed out thoughtfully. "If the Beast has just been looking for the Jeweled Crown, so as he could ruin it before we got to it..."
"Then he'll want to find the Orb of Protection next, before we do..." Paul put in excitedly.
"So's he can ruin that before we get to it," John finished, eyes shining as he caught on. "All right, then..."
"To the alleyway, men," Ringo said, and his voice sounded a little different. Deeper, lebih authoritative.
"Giving the orders now, King Richard?" John questioned playfully, but with an undertone of seriousness behind it, too. Reaching up, he took hold of the Jeweled Crown and tweaked it off Ringo's head. The Jeweled Crown didn't like that and tingled unpleasantly in John's fingers, but did nothing more, perhaps understanding that John and Ringo were friends. "You'd better watch out that we don't start a mutiny." John handed the Crown back to Ringo, who looked rather embarrassed and gave a sheepish smile as he took it.
"Besides," John went on, "we're goin' back to the seashore first. We left our instruments there."
"But how do we get past them?" George whispered, leaning over the banister and speaking in his much-too-calm voice.
The police had made their way to the first floor of the museum. They were milling around and talking, making notes and taking samples, but there was no way for the Beatles to get down without them noticing. And then they would want to take John to the station. And probably Ringo, too, now that he was holding a Crown that should have been on display in the Museum. John took all this in as best he could with his eyesight, before turning to Ringo with a mock bow. "And what do we do about this, our fab King Richard?"
Ringo put the Jeweled Crown back on. Instantly he could feel the rush of confidence wash over him.
"What else?" He grinned. "We make a run for it."
So the Beatles did. They dashed down the stairs as if the Beast of Bodmin Moor was chasing them. The police saw them, of course. One shouted, "Hey! You!" and started towards them, but it was much too late. The Beatles were already gone.
The Beatles ran, and ran, and didn't stop running until they were well away from the Bristol Museum and Art Gallery.
"Not bad, Ring," grinned John.
"Thanks," Ringo smiled. Then, "You can keep calling me King Richard if anda want."
"Oh, I will." John's eyes danced with mischief. "But from now on, I'm givin' the orders."
Soon, the Beatles returned to the rocky place where they had spent the night and retrieved their instruments. Then it was back to the alleyway where they had nearly met the Beast of Bodmin Moor earlier that day.
Ringo shivered as they neared the manhole. He didn't want to go back there. He had nearly lost his soul last time. But the Jeweled Crown glowed warm on his head, reassuring him. Everything would be okay. How could it not? He was Ringo Starr, after all. He knew what he was doing.
"All right, men," John said. "Jump!"
Four Beatles jumped into the hole, tumbling to the dirty ground. The lads picked themselves up and brushed off their suits, making irreverent remarks about how dirty and dark it was in here.
Funny, Ringo thought, looking around. This place didn't seem nearly so scary with his mates beside him....
"The Sword of Truth!" John announced suddenly, pulling it out and holding it high over his head with a smooth sweeping motion.
"The Jar of Green Marmite Yeast Extract!" added George, taking it out and doing the same.
"The Titanium Pound Coin!" cried Paul, mirroring his mates with his own Object.
"The Jeweled Crown!" cheered Ringo, taking it off and holding it high and proud.
They were the Beatles, armed with their special objects, and there was nothing they couldn't do. As the boys ended this cheer, they did wonder, a little, who was going to get the Orb of Protection, now that every Beatle had one object to call his own. But that was a worry for another time.
The Beatles put away their Objects and looked round. The grate the Beast had opened earlier to get at Ringo was still open. The Beatles stepped inside and began to wander down the tunnel.
Ringo turned to his mates, who were watching him anxiously. "If this is the Jeweled Crown," he said, "then... it seems the Beast has taken the jewels out. It can't be a proper Jeweled Crown until we put them back."
"But we haven't got any jewels," Paul pointed out.
"And the Beast has probably taken the ones it had," added George.
"Besides," John said, "it's also been smashed up and that."
Ringo turned the crown over in his fingers and thought. "But we do have jewels. Maybe if I..."
Slowly, almost without thinking, Ringo took off one of his own rings. The dents in the crown's metal, where the jewels should go, looked about the right size... Ringo tapped the ring sharply against the wall, several times, until he felt the stone loosen. Prising it out, he gently set the jewel from his ring into the crown's hole.
A pleasant warmth tingled through Ringo's fingers. The metal crown seemed to contract around his gem, accepting it. Suddenly the crown seemed a little brighter, a little cleaner, ever a little less dented.
Ringo took his detik ring and did the same. A warm sigh seemed to pass through the air, as the crown accepted the stone with apparent pleasure.
"What're anda going to do when anda run out of rings?" George asked him curiously. "That crown needs lebih than four stones."
"I've got extra rings in me pockets," Ringo replied, his concentration on repairing the crown.
George, John, and Paul exchanged grins. Didn't that just figure?
Ringo kept at it until every dent was filled. With every jewel he added, the crown grew a little brighter, a little perkier, a little straighter.... Finally, Ringo set one last stone, a large blue one, into one of the metal spikes adorning the front of the crown, and a beautiful sight met the Beatles' eyes.
The Jeweled Crown was bright and sparkling. The metal shone like real emas - even though real emas wouldn't tarnish - but then, maybe magical emas deprived of its energy sumber could. The crown glowed with a brilliant aura like the other special objects, warm and radiant, most of its radiance directed at Ringo. Ringo might not have been the exact one to find the object, but he was the one who had fixed and restored it. The Jeweled Crown had chosen Ringo.
And Ringo, without really thinking about it, just because it felt natural, lifted the Crown and put it on his head. And the menit he did, a warm rush seemed to spread throughout his body. He was Ringo Starr who had fixed the magical Jeweled Crown; he was powerful and strong. He was the Beatles' drummer, talented and desired. He thought back to how he had felt last night, his worries that the objects would choose his mates and not him, and he laughed. It was all so silly. Of course an object would choose him. He was deserving. There was no one lebih deserving than him!
"You all right, Ringo?"
Ringo blinked and came back to the present. His mates were all looking at him strangely, wondering about his sudden burst of laughter. Ringo grinned at them, amused. Hadn't any of them ever had a moment like that, when he realized he was the most special person in the world?
"Never better," was all he said. "Come on, we've got a Beast to fight."
John frowned a bit; he had been hoping the Beast would be destroyed without any fighting.
"Where should we go next?" George wondered. "We don't know where the Beast is now."
"We could go back to that alleyway..." But Paul didn't really want to do that. Even if the Beast was still there, that would be walking directly into his territory.
John shook his head. "No, we're not doing that. On account of what happened when Ringo was there last..."
"I think we should go back there," berkata Ringo, startling everyone, including himself. He didn't know what had made him say it; it was as though the Crown was putting ideas in his head.
"Ringo, are anda all right?" Paul asked uncertainly.
"Course I am," replied Ringo with a laugh. "I think we should go back to that manhole. The Beast knows his way round there; he's got his little alleyways and things. He's probably near there right now."
"What good does that do us?" John pointed out, a little annoyed. He was a little annoyed because Ringo was starting to talk as though he was the bandleader instead of John. "We're not looking for the Beast yet; we're looking for the Orb of Protection."
"No, Ringo's right," George pointed out thoughtfully. "If the Beast has just been looking for the Jeweled Crown, so as he could ruin it before we got to it..."
"Then he'll want to find the Orb of Protection next, before we do..." Paul put in excitedly.
"So's he can ruin that before we get to it," John finished, eyes shining as he caught on. "All right, then..."
"To the alleyway, men," Ringo said, and his voice sounded a little different. Deeper, lebih authoritative.
"Giving the orders now, King Richard?" John questioned playfully, but with an undertone of seriousness behind it, too. Reaching up, he took hold of the Jeweled Crown and tweaked it off Ringo's head. The Jeweled Crown didn't like that and tingled unpleasantly in John's fingers, but did nothing more, perhaps understanding that John and Ringo were friends. "You'd better watch out that we don't start a mutiny." John handed the Crown back to Ringo, who looked rather embarrassed and gave a sheepish smile as he took it.
"Besides," John went on, "we're goin' back to the seashore first. We left our instruments there."
"But how do we get past them?" George whispered, leaning over the banister and speaking in his much-too-calm voice.
The police had made their way to the first floor of the museum. They were milling around and talking, making notes and taking samples, but there was no way for the Beatles to get down without them noticing. And then they would want to take John to the station. And probably Ringo, too, now that he was holding a Crown that should have been on display in the Museum. John took all this in as best he could with his eyesight, before turning to Ringo with a mock bow. "And what do we do about this, our fab King Richard?"
Ringo put the Jeweled Crown back on. Instantly he could feel the rush of confidence wash over him.
"What else?" He grinned. "We make a run for it."
So the Beatles did. They dashed down the stairs as if the Beast of Bodmin Moor was chasing them. The police saw them, of course. One shouted, "Hey! You!" and started towards them, but it was much too late. The Beatles were already gone.
The Beatles ran, and ran, and didn't stop running until they were well away from the Bristol Museum and Art Gallery.
"Not bad, Ring," grinned John.
"Thanks," Ringo smiled. Then, "You can keep calling me King Richard if anda want."
"Oh, I will." John's eyes danced with mischief. "But from now on, I'm givin' the orders."
Soon, the Beatles returned to the rocky place where they had spent the night and retrieved their instruments. Then it was back to the alleyway where they had nearly met the Beast of Bodmin Moor earlier that day.
Ringo shivered as they neared the manhole. He didn't want to go back there. He had nearly lost his soul last time. But the Jeweled Crown glowed warm on his head, reassuring him. Everything would be okay. How could it not? He was Ringo Starr, after all. He knew what he was doing.
"All right, men," John said. "Jump!"
Four Beatles jumped into the hole, tumbling to the dirty ground. The lads picked themselves up and brushed off their suits, making irreverent remarks about how dirty and dark it was in here.
Funny, Ringo thought, looking around. This place didn't seem nearly so scary with his mates beside him....
"The Sword of Truth!" John announced suddenly, pulling it out and holding it high over his head with a smooth sweeping motion.
"The Jar of Green Marmite Yeast Extract!" added George, taking it out and doing the same.
"The Titanium Pound Coin!" cried Paul, mirroring his mates with his own Object.
"The Jeweled Crown!" cheered Ringo, taking it off and holding it high and proud.
They were the Beatles, armed with their special objects, and there was nothing they couldn't do. As the boys ended this cheer, they did wonder, a little, who was going to get the Orb of Protection, now that every Beatle had one object to call his own. But that was a worry for another time.
The Beatles put away their Objects and looked round. The grate the Beast had opened earlier to get at Ringo was still open. The Beatles stepped inside and began to wander down the tunnel.