More Meetings

Dorothy's enthusiasm was infectious and soon the Scarecrow was skipping along beside her. But eventually he grew tired.

"Sorry, I'm going to have to rest a while," he said and he paused.

Dorothy's green face was full of concern. "Will you be alright dear?"

A jumble of images were flooding back to the scarecrow. "I have lost many parts of myself," he said suddenly, "I am not a proper person anymore."

"No! You are," said Dorothy, putting her arms round him and hugging him to her.

"There is something I want to talk about, but can't," croaked the Scarecrow.

"Whatever you want to tell me, I will listen," said Dorothy, "and I hope – I hope I can help."

"I have lost my man part," said the Scarecrow in a rush.

Dorothy blinked, and gazed up at him, sunlight shining off her green nose and cheeks.

"I have lost the part of me that makes a man a man. I am just a straw thing." He added and then suddenly wished he had not been so blunt. She was a mere girl, however strange she might look. How could she understand stuff like this? "I don't think any female person can grasp this, but it really hurts a man's psyche if he is not a proper man."

"Oh my dear, you are a proper man," said Dorothy, her eyes bright with tears, "don't ever tell yourself that you aren't. And I am a girl so I suppose I can't quite understand about man parts, but the wizard will and he will put you right. Just you wait and see."

At that moment Toto barked and ran off the yellow brick road and into a field.

"Toto, what is it? Oh!" Dorothy put her hands to her mouth as she saw what Toto was excited about. A man made of shining silver metal stood in the field. He was standing stiff and unmoving. He was holding a wickedly sharp axe. Dorothy took the Scarecrow's crude straw hand in her slender pink one. "Stick by me, dear. We must be careful."

Close to, the metal man did appear to be made of metal, but his face was surprisingly detailed. The Scarecrow wondered – could he be in the same predicament as himself?

Dorothy turned to the Scarecrow. "Wait there, dear Scarecrow, I must see if he is alive."

She approached cautiously and laid her delicate fingers on the chest of the metal man. At once, the metal man's eyes flicked open and he moved with a terrible screeching, creaking sound.

Dorothy put her green face close to the metal man's. The Scarecrow marvelled at her courage.

"Hello, can you hear me? I'm Dorothy and my friend over there is the Scarecrow. And here is Toto, my little dog."

"Good afternoon there," rasped the metal man, "I was wondering if I could have some of that oil." There was a container of oil nearby.

"Of course," said Dorothy, picking up the oil and applying it carefully to the metal man's joints.

"You will be wondering who I am and what I'm doing," rasped the metal man. His voice had a grinding, metallic quality. "I am now the Tin Man. But I did not always deserve that disgraceful title. The Wicked Witch of the West did this to me. In her dastardly spitefulness, she took away my heart and turned me into this abomination. She is far worse than her sister, the Wicked Witch of the East."

"You're not an abomination," said Dorothy, looking upset. "The Wizard of Oz can cure you. We're both going to see him. You should come."

"An excellent notion," said the Tin Man, "I get my heart back and then revenge on the witches."

"The Wicked Witch of the East is dead," said Dorothy in a small voice, "my house fell on her."

"Excellent," said the Tin Man, beaming, "you have done well. I wish Glinda the Good had had your courage. I see you have a green face… you are as magically powerful as the Wicked Witch of the West? You can kill her too?"

The Scarecrow wished the Tin Man would not keep talking about death so much. He would have protected poor Dorothy's ears from such things if he could. The anguish in her green face was obvious as she shook her head. "No, I didn't mean for my face to go green. We must go to the Wizard and he can cure us all."

The Tin man turned to the Scarecrow with an ominous creaking sound. "Oho! A literal straw man! Well this looks like more dastardly witchcraft. You believe the Wizard can cure a heartless metal man and the straw man of metaphor."

"Metaphor? I don't understand?" said Dorothy shaking her head so that her long red hair rippled and bounced.

The Scarecrow did not want her to be confused. "When people talk of a "straw man" argument, they mean that someone has created a simplified argument that they can refute easily."

"Oh…" Dorothy wrinkled her shiny green nose and then folded her arms. "Well then Tin Man, please don't call dear Scarecrow a straw man. I don't think it sounds nice."

"I absolutely won't if you don't want me to," said the Tin Man. "Now tell me, how exactly did the vile witch die."

"It was my house landing on her," murmured Dorothy very softly.

"Well you rid us all of a terrible tyrant, one who took away the munchkins' rights and treated me as her personal slave for years. You have released the munchkins and I owe you my allegiance. On my axe I swear fealty to you. What are your commands, Mistress?"

Dorothy blinked. "Well first, I'm not your Mistress, just your friend. Second, we're all going to see the Wizard. He'll make everything right."

"Right you are, dear Dorothy," grated the Tin Man.

And so the three of them marched along singing: "We're off to see the wizard…"

The Tin Man's grinding metallic voice was an interesting accompaniment. The Scarecrow supposed that they must make an intriguing site. A girl with a shiny green face, holding the hand of a living scarecrow as they both skipped along while the Tin Man marched with long strides, effortlessly keeping pace. Toto scampered along behind them.