Hey guys, Leilani96 here! So this story was originally going to be a one-shot, but then it got way too long. So, I decided to split it into separate chapters! I'm not sure how long it will end up being, but it shouldn't be longer than 5 chapters.
Enjoy!
"Eleka nahmen nahmen ah tum ah tum eleka nahmen. . ."
Fiyero groaned and twitched. His arms were raw from being hung on that post, that stupid post. The sun beat down on him mercilessly as he continued to receive a horrific flogging.
". . .eleka nahmen nahmen ah tum ah tum eleka nahmen. . ."
Fiyero screamed as something burning hot was pressed into his skin. Why was he being tortured like so? His mind had become fragmented in the series of tortures the likes of which he had never encountered before. And then that voice drifted in again, that glorious woman's voice. The sound of it filled Fiyero with a love unlike anything he had ever known. Then again, as he couldn't access his memories, it would seem obvious he couldn't remember another such experience.
". . . let his flesh not be torn, let his blood leave no stain, though they beat him, let him feel no pain. . ."
Suddenly, Fiyero felt numb; there was no pain. It was the woman, he soon realized. She was saving his life. She was his guardian angel, protecting him from the pain and from death. Over and over and over again Fiyero was whipped, and, just like the voice commanded, his flesh never tore, and he never felt pain. Suddenly, though, Fiyero saw one of his captors come towards him with something large — something meant to break his neck, probably. Fear flooded through his heart, but it was quenched as the woman's voice drifted back.
". . . let his bones never break, and however they try to destroy him, let him never die, let him never die! . . ."
The metallic instrument hit the back of Fiyero's neck hard, but nothing happened. There was no pain. There was no snapping of bone. The captors continued many other methods of torture, but none worked, nor could they kill him. The woman's chanting — a spell, Fiyero realized — had saved his life. At this thought, something within Fiyero realized that he was truly safe. He sank into unconsciousness, allowing his body to recover in its fatigued — but unharmed — state.
Numb. That was it. He was numb. There was no pain. Where was the pain? He had been tortured beyond belief — as well as he should have been. After all, he stood up for . . . for . . . well, for someone, at least. Someone bad. That was punishable by death. The only thing was, they felt the need to torture him before they killed him. But why wasn't he dead yet?
He was definitely moving somewhere, he could tell. He was probably in a wheelbarrow of some sort. There were gruff voices speaking. If only he could concentrate enough to tell what they were saying. . .
". . .well, what do we do with him?" one voice was asking.
"We tried everything we could, and look! Not even a scar!" the first voice's companion exclaimed.
"We'll just leave him here. He can at least serve Oz in some good way, by keeping those damned crows away."
Now there were strong hands lifting him up. Oh, why was he so weak? He felt as though he were made of . . . of . . . straw. Now the powerful hands were tying him to some sort of wood. Soon the job was done and the beings left, taking away the clattering wheelbarrow. He slowly dragged one eye open and looked around. The world looked pretty much the same, except . . . he was tied to a piece of wood and propped up over a field of corn. Why would they do that to a person?
He looked around the empty field for a moment, deciding he should at the very least try to find a way out of his current predicament. However, when he looked down, he nearly fainted. Those weren't his feet, they were . . . they belonged to a scarecrow! A scarecrow! How was that possible? He was human! He was . . . why, he was the Prince of Vinkus! Yes, a Prince! Not some moldy Scarecrow! He had a name, too. But that was where his brain refused to supply information. He couldn't remember anything other than he had been tortured, and that he was apparently a prince. But what was before that?
"I must not have a brain, if I can't remember my past," The scarecrow mused to himself, distraught. Struggling futilely against the post he was tied to, he slumped in defeat against the coarse wood.
The day came and went, and all the while the scarecrow memorized his surroundings. There was only corn for miles on end, except for two connecting roads. The roads confused the scarecrow, for he had never seen dirt so bright. It glittered magnificently in the sunlight and shimmered delicately in the moonlight.
"There must be some strange Wizard's spell cast upon that dirt the causes it to glow so beautifully," the scarecrow said. He found himself periodically speaking to himself throughout the day and night. How could he help himself? He was just so lonely up there on that cruel wooden post. Scarecrow squinted as quite suddenly, the sun leapt up over the edge of the cornfield and shone in his eyes.
"Daytime so soon?" He yawned, stretching as best as he could against the post. "How odd, I didn't get any sleep over the night . . ." Drifting off, the scarecrow dozed in the early morning light.
The scarecrow was roused by a woman's voice humming an oddly merry tune. He soundlessly opened his eyes to see quite an odd sight; a fairly young girl, no older than 18, was skipping merrily down the bright dirt road, a tiny animal of some sort in her wake. He watched her approach where the two roads crossed, confused. Who was she? What was she doing . . . wherever it was they were?
The girl slowed down and eventually came to a halt in the center of the crossroads. Looking around with a rather distraught expression on her face, she spoke aloud.
"'Follow the Yellow Brick Road?'" she whispered. "But all of these are Yellow Brick Roads! Which way is the right way?" The miniature animal, a dog, sniffed the ground for a moment before peering up at the scarecrow and barking. The girl ignored her companion, furrowing her brow in further confusion. The scarecrow, who had been studying where the roads led to the previous day, felt the need to speak up.
"That way is a very nice way," he said, raising his right arm so it followed one of the forks in the road. Startled, the girl whirled around.
"W-who said that?" she asked, frightened. Her dog barked louder, staring right at the scarecrow. The girl looked up at the scarecrow and shrieked when she saw his raised arm. The scarecrow disregarded her fright and lowered his right, instead raising his left.
"It's pleasant that way, too," he remarked casually. Now he turned his head to directly face the girl, who was still staring at him, mouth agape. The scarecrow half-smiled, lowering his left arm.
"You know, it's not polite to stare," he told her. The girl closed her mouth hurriedly before gulping.
"You . . . you can talk?" she asked him incredulously. The scarecrow nodded in a friendly manner.
"Yes. I have a name too," he replied before freezing. He forgot he didn't remember his name. Boy, was that a conundrum! The girl was looking expectantly at him, so he shrugged in his mind and decided to just go by what he was. "You may call me Scarecrow."
"Pleasure to meet you, Scarecrow," the girl said after a slight pause. She held out her hand. "My name is Dorothy, Dorothy Gale. This here is Toto." She gestured to the dog with her last statement. Scarecrow smiled his stitched smile.
"Pleasure to meet you too, Dorothy and Toto," he stated. He made no move to shake her hand; after all, how could he? He was still tied to that wooden post, wasn't he? There was an awkward silence before the girl, Dorothy, lowered her arm and spoke again.
"You don't think you could help us, could you?" she questioned. "You see, we're off to see the Wizard—"
"The Wonderful Wizard of Oz?" Scarecrow interrupted before he could stop himself. He scrunched up his face in confusion. How had he known that? The Wizard of Oz . . . something about that was very ominous, very ominous indeed. However, Dorothy seemed not to notice the dark shadow clinging to the Wizard's title. On the contrary – her face brightened immediately.
"Yes, that's the very one!" she exclaimed happily whilst Toto barked. "Do you happen to know which road will take us to Emerald City?"
Scarecrow considered her question. The name 'Emerald City' rang within him, speaking out in tones so important he could hardly ignore them. He truly did not know which road was the correct route to the city, but he felt that Dorothy was his one-way ticket to finding out who he really was. There was something for him in Emerald City; he could sense it deep within him. However, when he thought of that something – or someone – in the City, he felt a timid trepidation sneak up on him. Despite that, he decided Emerald City was his best option. After all, it was either that or being stuck eternally in the cornfield.
Smiling broadly, Scarecrow gestured again to his right. "Certainly! It's over in that direction." Dorothy grinned.
"Thank you so very much!" she said regally, scooping up Toto. Turning, she made as if to start walking. Scarecrow suddenly grew concerned. Certainly she wasn't going to leave him trapped up there on that post!
"Wait!" he cried out, stopping Dorothy in her tracks. She turned around and looked at him questioningly. "Will you be so kind as to help me down from this pole?"
"Oh!" Dorothy blushed, ashamed she had almost left Scarecrow to his demise. "Oh, but of course!" After some rather embarrassing attempts, Scarecrow was finally sitting on the dirt – no, not dirt, on the Yellow Brick Road.
"Thank you," he sincerely told her. "You have no idea how uncomfortable it was up there. And those crows! So vicious, so volatile . . ." Dorothy smiled at him.
"It was the least I could do. You helped point Toto and me in the right direction! Now, off to Emerald City!" Dorothy turned to Toto. "Come on, Toto. Let's go home." Scarecrow looked up at her as she turned to leave, confused.
"'Home?'" he repeated. "You live in Emerald City?"
"Heavens, no," Dorothy exclaimed, a tear coming to her eye. Scarecrow was surprised at how sudden (and thus vaguely disturbing) her sadness was. "We were blown into this world by a twister. Glinda the Good told us if we went to the Wizard, he could help us with the thing we want most in the world."
Glinda. For the third time that day, Scarecrow stopped moving. That name brought forward a whole slew of memories.
A beautiful blonde woman laughing merrily, her rosy red lips calling to the man he used to be.
A passionate first kiss between him and the yellow-haired goddess.
An engagement party, full of others' laughter and chatter. An announcement, after which he fled.
Dorothy noticed Scarecrow's lack of movement. "Scarecrow?" she asked. "Are you all right? Is there something you want from the Wizard?"
Scarecrow blinked rapidly, pushing the sudden onslaught of memories aside. Licking his lips – or whatever they were – nervously, he nodded. He didn't trust his voice.
". . . well, what is it?"
Scarecrow looked into Dorothy's deep brown eyes and realized how odd the truth would sound. "Well, you see, I think I was tortured before I came to be in this field. I have only a vague recollection of the man I used to be, but I do know I wasn't always the scarecrow you see before you. In fact, I think I was in love with Glinda the Good, and I think she loved me. Yes, she was definitely in love with me. I would like to accompany you to Emerald City in hopes the Wizard can turn me back into a man so that I may end our engagement with a glorious marriage." He himself barely believed the words, true as they may have been. Scrambling for an idea, Scarecrow began stuttering.
"I—I—I—"
Dorothy stared at him, her confusion deepening. After a few awkward moments, a spark lit behind her eyes. Her mouth rounded into an "O" of understanding.
"Oh, I see," she delicately said, looking at Scarecrow. He stopped stammering, curious as to what her epiphany was. "You . . . you don't have a brain, do you?"
The question was not meant to be insulting, but Scarecrow still felt a sting of bitterness towards Dorothy's innocent inquiry. He opened his mouth, meaning to berate her, before he realized the girl had given him the perfect alibi. Here was an excuse as good as any that would explain why he was so desperate to see the Wizard. He wanted the Wizard of Oz to give him a brain! Scarecrow quickly immersed himself in a shameful façade and peered woefully down at Dorothy.
"Yes, though I must admit, I'm rather ashamed to admit it," he lied. "Is it okay if I join you on your journey to Emerald City? I was thinking that perhaps . . . perhaps the Wizard may be able to provide me with a brain." Dorothy nodded vigorously, compassion filling her face.
"Of course he can!" she exclaimed with a shocking amount of confidence. "Come on, let's go!" With that, she grabbed his straw-filled arm and gently dragged him along the golden pathway.
"'Follow the Yellow Brick Road,'" she sung quietly to herself. Scarecrow smiled at his good fortune and hummed that odd tune along with her. Behind them, Toto twirled around in the sunlight before darting ahead, daring them to chase him along the road.
"So." It was not really a good conversation starter, but it would have to do. Scarecrow sat on a log, still a bit dazed at what had occurred. Just in one day they had gained two new travel companions: Tin Man and Lion. Tin Man was a bitter old fool, intent on getting to Emerald City to obtain a heart. Lion was a coward, hiding even then at the flames that sat tamely in front of the three. Off to the side, Dorothy and Toto slept beneath the canopy of a gentle tree.
Tin Man repeated himself. "So."
"'S-so' what?" Lion questioned, shivering lightly in the warm night air.
"Sew buttons," Scarecrow replied almost automatically, no emotion in his voice or face. Tin Man scowled, not appreciating the pun.
"So," he repeated for the third time. "Why are you guys really here?"
The silence stretched out over the softly cackling logs. Finally, Scarecrow spoke.
"What do you mean?"
"I mean you can't honestly be going to the Wizard just for a brain. You clearly have one, how else would you be able to function? And you!" Tin Man turned to Lion, who shrank back from the sudden turn the conversation had taken. "You cannot gain courage from any magic spell, Good or Wicked. Why is it the two of you are going to Emerald City?"
Another silence arose, this one lasting even longer than the last. It felt like hours before Lion, that cowardly little beast, opened his mouth.
"Revenge."
Both Tin Man and Scarecrow stared at the Animal, shocked. All day long, he had practically hid behind their strides, even cowering at the sight of a butterfly. While they looked at him, Lion underwent a transformation. His amber eyes, so often full of fear, were suddenly full of self-loathing and disgust. The corners of his mouth twisted as though he had tasted something truly vile, and his nose crinkled menacingly.
"All of my life . . . all of my life I have been a coward, too afraid to stand up for myself," he spat out. His amber eyes reflected the firelight, making it appear as though his insides were what was burning, not just logs. His mouth opened again as he continued to spew the words that clearly tasted so noxious to him. "It all started when I was but a cub. I never knew my mother, nor have I ever met my father. I was stolen away from them at a very young age. I spent the next few months of my life trapped in a cage, so small I could barely move. It was . . . terrible. The worst was when a History professor purchased me so that I may be showcased in his classroom. You see –" Lion gulped nervously, "— if an Animal is put in a cage, and kept there for an extended period of time, he will lose his capability to speak. He will cease to be an Animal, and will become a simple animal. That was my fate, until . . . until the professor showed me to the class."
Tin Man was watching Lion in rapt attention, with almost a hungry look on his face. Scarecrow noted that he had gained the hunger in his eyes from the moment Lion had told them what his motive was. Apparently not noticing, Lion continued his morose story.
"She was in that class, you know. Her. The Wicked Witch of the West. Of course, she wasn't known by that back then. She was just a freak, a green nuisance scaring all the other students at Shiz University."
Scarecrow blinked. This story was familiar, but where had he heard it before?
"She took me from that classroom and released me into some nearby woods. Her seemingly kind gesture made my life a living hell. She cursed me, she must have. She made me think that I could win no battle on my own, and that I needed assistance for anything – everything!"
Lion's voice escalated to a roar by the end of his sentence. Nearby, Dorothy frowned and rolled over in her sleep, turning her face away from the racket. Lion did not appear to notice this either, for he continued his rant.
"Every single day, every single goddamn day of my life, I was a coward. And why? Because that – that – WITCH cursed me! She cast a spell on me, I just know it! I've heard about her, I'm no fool. I know she's not above cursing an Animal just for the fun of it. I wouldn't be surprised if for the first half of my life, she followed me with her Wicked magic, just cracking up in her evil tower at my misfortunes!" Lion broke off, panting heavily in his rage. Slowly, the manic fire left his heart, and his eyes cleared. He looked down timidly at his paws, once clenched in anger, and nervously stroked his arm. Tin Man moved to sit next to him, and began whispering what Scarecrow was sure were evil words into his ears. Scarecrow gazed into the fire, closing his eyes as new memories eased their way into his mind.
"That's not what happened," he thought firmly to himself. "I . . . I was there."
A hand, as green as any leaf, grasped his very human hand. He looked up into the bright eyes of the young woman as they laughed and ran away from the chaotic classroom.
That same green hand, gently opening the cage to release the then lion cub. "Go on, now," she had whispered. "You're free."
A fire unlike anything he had ever felt in his entire life, engulfing his heart and mind as he looked at her. They waited on baited breath for something magical to happen, hyperaware of their mutual attraction driving them closer to each other. Just as it appeared that magical spark was going to lead to something, he realized where he was and what he was about to do. Leaping up, he stammered an excuse and fled. Behind him, he heard her sigh. "I'm not that girl," he thought she had whispered, but that must have been his mind.
"We have to kill her."
Scarecrow emerged from his reverie just in time to hear Tin Man's terrifying words to Lion. The Animal looked at Tin Man, not entirely convinced.
". . . kill?" he repeated, fear begrudgingly entering his eyes once more. Tin Man nodded, his crazed eyes never leaving Lion's.
"Yes," he whispered, his "s" sounding far too snake-like for Scarecrow's liking.
"Don't you think that's rather extreme?" Scarecrow questioned, jerking Lion's eyes away from the manic eyes of Tin Man. After a beat, Tin Man turned his eyes to Scarecrow.
"Extreme? Don't you think she deserves it?" he asked. "Think back to how you became a cursed Scarecrow. Do you think that it's normal for Scarecrows to be able to walk and talk freely? No. Your affliction was clearly brought upon you by the Witch. Do you not remember?"
Scarecrow thought of the torture he had endured, and of the siren's voice ending the pain. His two companions may have believed that the Witch was truly Wicked, but something told him otherwise.
"No," he finally said after a pregnant pause. "I don't remember anything of my past. One day I woke up and I was a scarecrow. Now I'm Scarecrow." Tin Man's eyes darkened.
"I wish I did not recall my past," he stated. "If I did not, then maybe I would be a happier man. But alas, here I am. A bitter old can intent on killing the woman who ruined his life."
"How did she ruin your life?" Lion asked, dark curiosity alight in his eyes. Tin Man slowly turned to look at him, pain etched on his reflective face.
"She is the one who turned me into tin," he said, turning away from Lion and staring into the fire. All of his bitterness seemed to leak out of his body, and Scarecrow saw him as a young, frail man hiding from the world behind a mask. "Her spell made this occur, you know. I was once a trusted part of the Wicked Witch of the East's advisory. However, I spurned that Witch's advances, so her sister took my heart away. Clearly, she thought it would be an amusing sight, especially now that I cannot be with my true love."
"Your love?" Scarecrow asked. He felt a connection to Tin Man then, for both were previously men in love. Now, neither could be with their hearts' desires.
"Yes." Tin Man's eyes grew dreamy as he gazed off into the distance. "She was like a white light of happiness in my life. She didn't just walk; she only ever seemed to float. She was the most beautiful woman I had ever seen."
Both Lion and Scarecrow couldn't help but smile when Tin Man began describing the woman he loved. He underwent a complete transformation, just as Lion had, but his was much less frightening. His every feature began softening and becoming friendlier, happier. His tin core even seemed to glow with the love he held for the woman.
"But she was engaged to another." Now Tin Man grew somber. "She only had eyes for him . . . but I do not think this was her fault! For she was friends with E — with the Wicked Witch of the West! That Witch must have known that I loved her friend, for she cursed her friend so she would fall in love with another man! Then I would be single and available, and then the Wicked Witch of the West encouraged her sister to go after me! It was all a huge plot, just one spell after another after another!" Tin Man stood up and began pacing, ranting and raving like a mad man.
"So you see, Glinda must still love me, she must! She has always loved me, for all this time, only the Wicked Witch cast a spell on her so she wouldn't love me! It all makes sense, it all fits perfectly! Glinda loves me, not that damned perfect Prince! She loves me!"
Tin Man stood next to the log, panting heavily and clenching his fists maniacally. Finally, he calmed down enough to sit down. Scarecrow was in shock; Glinda, love another? Wasn't that him? Hadn't that surge of memories the other day proved that? But she was under no spell, she was truly in love – right?
"Glinda?" he dared to ask. "Glinda the Good? The Witch?" Tin Man nodded, seemingly exhausted from his rant. Lion put a furry arm around his shoulders. "Who . . . To whom was she engaged?" In his desperation to sound normal, Scarecrow ended up sounding oddly formal. Tin Man paid no mind, sighing even deeper and drifting lower into his thoughts. It was Lion who answered Scarecrow's question.
"His name was Fiyero."