Disclaimer: I do not own the Smurfs. I'm just here to play. Please don't sue me or steal my story! Thanks!

NOTE: I wrote this story as a present to cheer up my sister while she was in the hospital. We were pretty worried about her with the hurricane and everything - we lost power and telephone service for a while - but the storm passed without causing much damage and my sister's doing just fine, and she told me this story really did help her feel better, so YAY! I hope you'll like it too! :)

Smurfette's Cure

by

Rowena Zahnrei

"Nurse Smurfette! Nurse Smurfette!"

Smurfette took a moment to wipe a hand across her brow, and dashed to Greedy Smurf's bedside. For the past two weeks, the entire Smurf Village had been down with Blue Flu. When the outbreak first began, the healthy Smurfs had quickly removed the long tables from the eating house adjoining Greedy's kitchen and replaced them with rows and rows and rows of beds. Under the supervision of Papa Smurf and Dabbler – who served as a doctor in times of crisis – the Smurfs had worked tirelessly to tend their ailing friends until, one by one, they too had to be tucked into bed with high temperatures and sore throats.

Now, Smurfette and Dabbler were the only Smurfs still standing. And, while Dabbler spent most of his time digging through medical books in search of a cure, Smurfette was left alone to tend to the needs of over one hundred coughing, sneezing, queasy, moaning Smurfs and their endless calls for:

"Nurse Smurfette!"

"What is it, Greedy?" Smurfette asked.

"I'm hungry, Smurfette," Greedy said. "I'm sick of plain mush and hot lemon. I want smurfberry pie!"

Smurfette rolled her eyes. "Well, I'm sorry, Greedy, but you can't smurf sweet things until your tummy's better."

"But—"

"Nurse Smurfette!" Brainy croaked from across the room. "Nurse Smurfette, I need a new book! Can you smurf me another Pirate Imp adventure?"

"Nurse Smurfette!" Jokey coughed. "While you're out smurfing Brainy his book, can you smurf me my Big Book of Jokes?"

"Nurse Smurfette! Nurse Smurfette!"

"Oh dear!" Smurfette said, clutching her head in her hands. "All right, all right, I'll smurf you your books right away!"

"And a new puzzle?"

"I need a clean cloth to polish my mirror!"

"If you could manage to smurf me a glass of cold water?" Papa Smurf sneezed. "Oh...and a tissue..."

"Yes, Papa Smurf. All right, Vanity. OK, Snappy! Fine, yes, ONE AT A TIME!" Smurfette cried. "Oh," she moaned, "I can't wait until this unsmurfy flu is over!"

For the next week, while the Smurfs recovered, Smurfette cooked, cleaned, fetched, carried, took temperatures, and fluffed pillows. She worked nonstop, grabbing a bite here and there and barely sleeping more than three hours at a stretch. Gradually, ever so gradually, the fevers went down, the stuffy noses cleared up, and the queasy tummies settled.

Greedy returned to work the moment he could stand without swaying. After weeks of flavorless mush, the enthusiastic chef cooked up a storm. An exhausted Smurfette helped out whenever she had a break in her nursing duties by topping Greedy's pies with berry after berry.

"Berry after berry," she droned as she worked. "Berry after berry. Berry...berry...berry...berry..."

"Smurfette, I need you to—" Greedy looked over his shoulder, only to drop his mixing bowl in alarm. "Oh no—Smurfette! Papa Smurf, Papa Smurf!"

The chef dashed into the adjoining room, which was finally starting to look less like a hospital and more like an eating house again.

"Greedy, whatever is the matter?" the bearded Smurf said, stepping away from Lazy's bedside, where he'd been checking the snoring Smurf's temperature.

"It's Smurfette, Papa Smurf," Greedy panted. "I think she's sick! But it's not the Blue Flu, Papa Smurf."

"What do you mean?"

"Well, she's covered in red spots! And her face is flushed bright pink!"

"Oh no!" Papa Smurf exclaimed, and ran into Greedy's kitchen. Smurfette stood there, stiff as a board, her eyes wide and staring straight ahead.

"Berry…berry…berry…berry…"

"Oh, my dear Smurfette! Greedy, you must help me get her to bed at once!"

"What's she got, Papa Smurf?" Greedy asked, lifting Smurfette by the shoulders while Papa Smurf lifted her feet.

"I'm not entirely sure," Papa Smurf said. "But it looks like the dreaded Berry-Berry!"

"Berry-Berry? Sounds tasty," Greedy said. "But, what can we do for her?"

"For now, all we can do is make her as comfortable as possible," Papa Smurf told him. "Let's smurf her to her house. Then, I'll get smurfing on a cure right away!"

A crowd of Smurfs gathered in the clearing outside Papa Smurf's lab, talking anxiously among themselves while they waited for Papa Smurf to give them the latest news on Smurfette's mysterious illness. After a moment, the wooden door opened and Papa Smurf came out. Brainy trailed close behind, carrying a heavy book with an air of great importance—until Clumsy bumped into him and the pair of them fell flat on the ground.

"Ouch!" Brainy exclaimed. "Clumsy!"

"Uh, oops! I'm sorry, Brainy," Clumsy said, brushing himself off. "Here, let me help you—"

"No thank you, Clumsy," Brainy said, dusting off the book and straightening his glasses. "I can manage quite well without your help, if you don't mind."

"Gosh, Brainy, I don't mind," the guileless Smurf said, and smiled. Brainy sighed.

Papa Smurf raised his hands for silence. "My little Smurfs," he said, "I know how worried you all are about our dear Smurfette. Her illness is indeed terrible, but there is a cure!"

The Smurfs cheered.

"Berry-Berry strikes when a Smurf is confronted with too much work, too much worry, and far too little sleep," Papa Smurf told them.

"I hate far too little sleep!" Grouchy announced.

"Oui, oui! And me!" Painter cried.

"Yes, indeed," Tailor said. "Nurse Smurfette worked so hard taking care of us when we were sick that she must have forgotten to take care of herself! As a Smurf who knows how demanding a village of Smurfs can be, I understand how she must have felt."

"Oh, woe!" Poet said. "Our poor, poor Smurfette!"

Hefty stepped forward. "You said there's a cure, Papa Smurf?"

"There certainly is, Hefty," Brainy said, lifting his chin until his glasses gleamed in the sunlight. "It's all right here in this book. Papa Smurf and I spent all morning smurfing through his entire library, but finally, I was the one who—"

"Oh, smurf a sock in it, Brainy," Greedy said. "What's the cure, Papa Smurf?"

Brainy glared at Greedy, and turned away with a huff. Papa Smurf seemed to sigh.

"The formula for the cure is quite complicated," he said. "I have most of what I need in my lab, except for two very important ingredients: Worrywort and Tension Tubers. Unfortunately, these plants are very rare, and quite difficult to find."

Hefty punched the air. "Just tell us where to look, Papa Smurf! We'll smurf those ingredients for you!"

"The journey will be dangerous," Papa Smurf warned. "Worrywort is a very small, white flower that can only be found at the very top of Thunder Mountain. And, Tension Tubers can only be harvested when the light of the midday sun strikes the underground lake in which they grow."

"I'll climb Thunder Mountain, Papa Smurf," Hefty volunteered. "Who's Smurf enough to smurf with me?"

"Hefty, Hefty, Hefty," Brainy said, "a journey to scale Thunder Mountain is a very serious prospect. The decision to smurf a dangerous trip like this certainly should not come down to the childishly competitive question of whether or not a Smurf is Smurf enough to risk—"

"Sounds to me like we just smurfed a volunteer!" Hefty shot the spectactled Smurf a pointed grin.

Brainy snapped his mouth shut. The gathered Smurfs cheered.

"Oh, uh, yes… Of course, I always meant to volunteer," he said.

"Uh, I'll go with you, Hefty," Clumsy said. "I smurf to Thunder Mountain all the time to gather rocks for my collection! I never made it all the way to the top, though."

"Good for you, Clumsy!" Hefty clapped the awkward Smurf on the shoulder. "That's three, Papa Smurf."

"Smurf and Begorrah!" Miner Smurf exclaimed. "Sure as I know every tunnel 'n cave from here to the Smurf-blue sea, I'll smurf those Tension Tubers for ye, Papa Smurf."

"I hate caves!" Grouchy proclaimed, and stomped forward to stand next to Miner. "But I love Smurfette."

"Ha ha!" Jokey laughed. "If Grouchy's going, then I've got to come along! I can't let that sour-Smurf smurf all the credit!"

"I commend you all on your bravery, my little Smurfs," Papa Smurf said. "You'll need to prepare to head off straight away. Those of us who are staying behind must all smurf together to make sure Smurfette stays in bed and doesn't make herself any sicker by trying to smurf more work."

"I can make her a smurfy new bed, Papa Smurf!" Handy said. "One that's adjustable, so she won't have to smurf out of bed to see her pretty flowers!"

"That sounds like a smurfy idea, Handy," Papa Smurf said, and turned to the two groups of volunteers. "Good luck on your journeys, my little Smurfs. We're all depending on you!"

"But, I don't want to stay in bed, Papa Smurf," Smurfette said. The pink flush had spread all the way up to her hairline, and her red spots seemed redder than ever. "I have far too much to do! Smurfs are depending on me to—"

"We're all depending on you to relax and smurf good care of yourself," Papa Smurf told her. "Don't smurf your head about us. All we want is for you to get better."

"But, I should have gone with Hefty or Miner and the others. They're risking so much for me, and I feel so useless just lying here like a, like a—"

"Like the good little patient that you are?"

Smurfette grunted, but she wasn't about to give up. "Well, if I can't help out around here, what about the Pussywillow Playoffs? I promised the Pixies I'd watch them play, and I promised Dreamy, Vanity, and the Smurflings that they could watch the game with me! Isn't it wrong to break a promise, Papa Smurf? And what about our trip to the beach at the end of the week?"

"Trust me, Smurfette, your health is far more important to the Pixies than your attendance at their ball game," Papa Smurf said firmly. "As for the beach, it can wait until you're well. You'll never get over this terrible bout of Berry-Berry if you don't lie back and smurf some real rest! Now, what do you think of this new, adjustable bed Handy smurfed for you? He worked on it all morning, and he's very eager to smurf your opinion of it."

Smurfette sighed. "It's very smurfy, Papa Smurf," she said listlessly, using the crank by her bedside to adjust the bed until she was in a sitting position. "But what's the good of being able to see my flowers from my bed if I can't smurf to them?"

"Farmer will tend to your flowers until you're better," Papa Smurf assured her. "Now, close your eyes, my dear, and try to sleep. Sleep is just the thing to put the blue back in your cheeks."

"Oh," Smurfette sobbed. "Oh, boo hoo! I hate being sick, Papa Smurf! I hate it, hate it, hate it!"

"We all do, Smurfette," Papa Smurf said. "But, just think: the smurf-parties are out smurfing for your cure right now. And the sooner you fall asleep, the sooner they'll be back with the ingredients to make you well again."

"Oh, all right, Papa Smurf. I'll try to sleep," Smurfette said, and yawned.

"That's a good girl," Papa Smurf said, and backed slowly to the door. "If you wake up and you need anything, just smurf a call. Smurfy dreams, Smurfette."

"According to Papa Smurf's map, the path to the top of the mountain is this way!" Brainy pointed to a particularly rocky-looking ledge.

"I don't know about this, Brainy," Hefty said. "That way looks pretty treacherous."

Brainy peered over the edge of the map, then frowned and looked again. "Hm," he said. "The map is very clear on the proper direction to take..."

"Let me see that, Brainy."

Hefty reached for the map, but Brainy pulled it away. "Oh no you don't! Papa Smurf gave me the map, and that means I, not you, Hefty, get to—"

"Guys! Uh, hey, guys!" Clumsy said. "Stop smurfin' around for a minute and smurf over here!"

Brainy rolled the map into a tight cylinder and shot Hefty a superior glare before heading over to the large rock where Clumsy stood.

"What is it, Clumsy?" he asked. "Did you find any Worrywort?"

"Uh, yeah—I did!" Clumsy said. "But, it looks like Gargamel got to it first!"

"What!" Brainy and Hefty chorused.

Scrambling up onto the rock next to Clumsy, the Smurfs stared in dismay at their old enemy, Gargamel. The balding wizard grumbled and muttered to himself while stuffing whole handfuls of Worrywort into a patched burlap sack. Gargamel's hungry cat, Azrael, crouched on a nearby boulder, batting at a tiny lizard with his claws extended.

"At the rate he's going, there'll be no Worrywort left for us to smurf!" Brainy exclaimed. "How can we stop him?"

"Shh, Brainy," Hefty said. "Let's smurf closer so we can smurf what he's saying. That might give us an idea what he's up to."

Without waiting for an argument, Hefty started climbing up the rocky path. Brainy and Clumsy shared a nervous look, but quickly followed after him.

"Be as careful as you can, Clumsy," Brainy whispered. "The rocks here are so loose, that if you trip and fall you might start a rockslide that could potentially—"

"Smurf-up, Brainy!" Hefty hissed from above. "Do you want them to hear us?"

Brainy scowled, but kept climbing until only a small chip of boulder stood between the Smurfs and Gargamel.

"It just isn't fair, Azrael," Gargamel complained. "Every time Mummy comes to visit, I end up stuck doing her dirty work. What does she need with a sack of Worrywort, anyway?"

Azrael seemed to shrug. "Mry mro mrow."

"I shouldn't even be up on this mountain," the failed wizard griped. "I should be down there, catching Smurfs for my stewpot!"

"Mreah!" the cat said, perking his ears. "Mrum, mrum!"

"And I know just which of those wretched blue Smurfs I'll eat first," Gargamel said. "That annoying little twit with the glasses!"

The Smurfs looked at Brainy. Brainy gulped, and crouched low behind the rock.

"Oh, this isn't good," he whispered to his friends. "The Worrywort's almost gone! We need a plan. Does anyone have one?"

Hefty put his hands on his hips and glared at the patched wizard. "We need to smurf his sack," he said.

"Smurf his sack! Are you out of your Smurf!"

"Why? There's three of us, and only two of them!"

Brainy's eyes widened behind his glasses. "Need I remind you, Hefty Smurf, that Gargamel is at least ten times our size? And as for Azrael, if he starts chasing us up here, with all these loose rocks, he could…"

Brainy trailed off in mid-lecture, his wide eyes taking on a sudden gleam. "That's it!"

"Smurf down, Brainy!" Hefty hushed him. "If you have an idea, smurf it fast."

"The rocks—oh, why didn't I think of it before! It's so simple really, even a Smurfling could—"

"Brainy! Your idea? Hopefully before they leave and take all the Worrywort with them!"

"The rocks here are loose!" Brainy insisted. "If Gargamel chases us, the rocks will shift and roll, and maybe even smurf a rockslide!"

"Right," Hefty said. "I see where you're going, Brainy. Then, when Gargamel trips and falls, we can smurf the Worrywort we need from his sack!"

Clumsy furrowed his brow. "But…uh, gosh. Who's gonna get Gargamel to chase us?"

Both Hefty and Clumsy looked at Brainy. Brainy swallowed hard, but he squared his shoulders.

"Hefty, Clumsy," he said, "you smurf the Worrywort. I'll show that Gargamel who's a twit!"

"Atta Smurf, Brainy," Hefty said, and thumped him on the back. "Be careful."

"You too. All right, everysmurf. On the count of Smurf. One…Two…Smurf!"

The three Smurfs jumped to the top of the boulder chip and started waving their arms.

"Hey, Gargamel! Hey Azrael!" they taunted. "Bet you can't catch me!"

"What—I can't believe it Azrael! Smurfs! Up here! And look, Azrael, it's that myopic loudmouth!"

"Mrah, mrah!" Azrael cried, leaping from his rock to his wizard's side.

"Smurf for it, Brainy!" Hefty said, and gave him a slight push. Brainy hopped from boulder to boulder, taunting and teasing Gargamel with every move.

"Nah, nah, Gargamel!" he called. "You can't catch me!"

"You want to bet, you delectable blue morsel! Azrael! Get that Smurf!"

"Nah, nah! Nah, nah!" Brainy shouted, and hopped to an even larger boulder. Azrael scrabbled on the rocks, too desperate to catch Brainy in his claws to pay attention to his footing. The rocks began to shift and tumble beneath the cat and his fuming wizard, loosening still more rocks, which loosened still more. All too soon, the incompetent pair realized they were running forwards, but moving backwards. Crying out in alarm, they struggled to stop their fall, but ended up colliding first with each other, then with a boulder.

The moment they were down, Hefty and Clumsy leapt into action. Hefty held the heavy burlap sack wide open while Clumsy grabbed as much Worrywort as he could carry. Brainy joined them a moment later, jumping from the boulder to Gargamel's head, then to the ground. As the three Smurfs ran for safety, Brainy called over his shoulder, "I told you that you couldn't catch me, Gargamel!"

"Ooooooooh!" Gargamel groaned, and tried to get to his feet. The rocks were too unstable, though, and he fell back down, hard. His furious shouts followed the giggling Smurfs back down the mountain, echoing through the clear air.

"Oh, I hate Smurfs, Azrael! I hate them, hate them, hate them!"

"Smurf and Begorrah, I think we've smurfed the very place," Miner announced.

"I hate the very place!" Grouchy informed him.

"You would," Jokey said with a laugh.

Miner grinned. "It seems the luck of the Irish is with us this day. The lake is positively shimmerin' with the light of the midday sun!"

"Great!" Jokey said. "Let's smurf those tubers and smurf out of here. I've got a lot of surprises waiting for me back at the Village!" He held out a large yellow box tied up with red ribbon.

"Jokey Smurf! An' what were you bringin' that for? I hardly think an underground cave is the place for jokes!"

Jokey chuckled. "Anyplace is the place for jokes, if you ask me," he said. "You need to lighten up, Miner. Too much time in the dark can't be good for any Smurf!"

"I hate the dark!" Grouchy announced.

"Oh, come on, the pair of ye," Miner said. "Grouchy, you smurf the sack. Jokey and I will smurf the tubers."

"Hey, why does Grouchy get to smurf the sack?" Jokey complained.

"I hate smurfing the sack!"

"See!" Jokey said.

Miner shook his head. "I truly don't care which of ye holds the sack. But I do need one of ye rock-heads to get down here to help me pull up these tubers!"

Jokey looked at the murky water with distaste, but he sighed and lowered his gift box to the ground. "Well," he said, "it's for Smurfette…"

Working together, Miner and Jokey pulled up reed after muddy reed, which Grouchy grimly stuffed into his sack. They were just getting ready to leave when—

"Raaaahhhhrrrrr!"

"Smurf and Begorrah, what's that?"

"I don't know," Jokey said, "but it didn't sound very funny."

"Raaaahhhhrrrrr! Raaaahhhhrrrrr!"

"Run for it, Smurfs!" Miner cried, and raced toward the mouth of the cave. Before they could reach it, a massive figure stepped into their path. Its legs were as thick and rough as tree trunks, and its toes were blunt and sharply clawed.

"A cave troll!" Miner exclaimed, and quickly led the others behind a thick stalagmite.

"I hate cave trolls!" Grouchy panted, his back pressed to the stone.

"This isn't funny!" Jokey cried. "Not funny at all! How do we get out of here?"

Miner looked around frantically for an alternate route, but there was none. Then, his eyes fell on Jokey's joke box.

"Jokey, the box!" he said. "Can ye open the thing without it goin' off?"

"Well, sure, but—"

"Here, add some of this powder," Miner said, pulling a stick of dynamite from beneath his hat and cutting it open with his trusty knife. "We're going to give this troll a surprise he'll never forget!"

Jokey laughed in delight as he poured the TNT powder into the box and re-set the little mechanism that set off the spark when the box was opened. "Oh boy, oh Smurf! This is gonna be a blast!"

"All right, here we go. Jokey, you throw the box and smurf straight between the monster's legs. Grouchy, you run to the right. I'll smurf to the left. Ready?"

"Ready!" the Smurfs chorused, and ran from their hiding place.

"Raaaahhhhrrrrr!" the troll roared, his cruel eyes glinting as he reached for them. "Raaaahhhhrrrrr!"

"Jokey! Now!"

"Hey, troll!" Jokey shouted. "Here's a surprise for ya!"

He lobbed the box as hard as he could and dashed through the troll's legs. The troll caught the little box and brought it up close to his face. He sniffed it, then licked it, then, finally, lifted the lid…

BAAABAAABOOOOOOMMMMMM!

"Raaaahhhhrrrrr!"

Safely out in the sunlight, Jokey and Miner fell over themselves laughing. Grouchy crossed his arms over his chest, but even he almost cracked a smile at the way the troll ran screaming from the cave, his scaly green face all blackened with soot.

"Oh, wow!" Jokey cried. "What a surprise! What a surprise!"

"I must admit, Jokey Smurf," Miner said, "this is the first time I ever truly got that joke of yours. Come on, you Smurfs. Papa Smurf needs these tubers, and we need to get smurfing before that troll comes back with his friends!"

Papa Smurf worked for an entire day, grinding, pounding, and mixing ingredients together in his lab while Brainy dutifully read out each step of the complicated spell. Finally, the cure was ready.

The Smurfs gathered outside Smurfette's house, anxiously wringing their hands as they waited for the results. They heard Smurfette drink the potion, then cough. Then, they heard Papa Smurf cheer.

"Does that mean it worked?"

"Is Smurfette cured?"

"What's going on?"

The wooden door opened, and Papa Smurf stepped out.

"My little Smurfs," he announced, "I am pleased to present, Smurfette!"

Smurfette ran out into the crowded garden, beaming from ear to blue ear.

"Hi boys," she said with a giggle. "Did you miss me?"

"Smurfette!" the Smurfs cheered.

"Smurfette, I must say how smurfy it is to see you blue and well again," Brainy said.

"Yeah, Smurfette!" Clumsy said. "We were so worried about you!"

"I'm just glad to have you back," Hefty said. "You're very important to us, Smurfette. We…we love you."

"Oh, I love you too!" Smurfette said.

"Hey, Smurfette, now that you're better, you wanna smurf to the beach with us?" Jokey asked.

"Oh, can I, Papa Smurf?" Smurfette asked.

"I don't see why not," Papa Smurf said with a smile. "Just take it easy."

"I will, Papa Smurf. I'm not going to ever let myself get that overworked again. Even a Nurse Smurf has to take a rest sometimes. Come on, everysmurf! Last one to the river is a rotten smurfberry!"

The End

:)