Chapter 7: The Trial

Westley pushed open the wide oak doors with a bang and stared around at the room before him.

Filling up most of the floor space were pews extending to the front where a small table doubled as a judge's bench and a pulpit. Lining the walls of the large room were tables stacked with surplus amounts of food, some of which Westley could honestly say he'd never seen before in his life. Adorning the ceiling and walls were pictures of both religion and celebration. Streamers fluttered from the rafters way up above his head as he became aware of the scent of meat cooking somewhere out back. He craned his neck and smelled loudly, his nostrils picking up the scent wafting in from an open window in the back. He was surprised to admit that it actually smelled quite good!

"Mmmm…" came a loud rumbling behind him. Westley jumped and pivoted around anxiously, grappling for his sword. What met his vision was something that made him scoff aloud.

Right next to the door, poor Fezzik was cram-packed into a jail cell two times too small for such bulk. His entire body was pressed against the steel bars, and his lips were arranged awkwardly as his face was jammed into one of the spaces.

"That smells good doesn't it, Westley?" boomed his deep voice. Westley grinned and shook his head, grimacing slightly as Fezzik attempted to shift his position.

"Are you alright?" he asked the giant. Fezzik tried to nod, but his head was stuck in place. His mouth parted in a smile.

"Oh, I'm fine. It's just the people who put me in this cell that are hurt," he replied.

Westley raised his eyebrows. "Did…you hurt them?" he wondered incredulously. The giant looked affronted and twitched his head vigorously.

"No, of course not! They just worked themselves up trying to get me in here. Two of them actually ran into each other in panic. I decided to save them the trouble and just went up and in here myself."

Westley chuckled humorlessly to himself. "Ah, my dear Fezzik, I hope we can find a way out of here!" he exclaimed as the door suddenly burst open and the crowd began to stream inside, nearly running over Westley in the process of witnessing the giant squished into the tiny prison. There were a number of 'oohs' and 'ahhs' as the crowd gathered around Fezzik while Westley slinked toward the back, his mind working frantically.

All of a sudden, a door boomed in the front and the crowd turned as one to see their Bishop/judge enter the room and ascend the one step leading up to the pulpit. Reluctantly, the townspeople went and settled into their respective pews, leaving Westley and Fezzik in the back.

At the pulpit, the droopy old judge cleared his throat.

"Wot bwings us togeder tooday is a nawty twial for a nawty man," he drawled in a squeaky, old voice that caused Westley to grimace. The audience responded with enthusiastic applause that made the judge swell with pride. "What awe the chawges against da giant?" he continued. One man shakily rose and pointed back to Fezzik with an accusing finger.

"I caught the giant trying to steal my ox, Emily, to take to sacrifice in his sky castle!" he exclaimed. Westley's eyebrows flew off his face as he sucked in a monstrous breath and began to choke quite audibly. The trial went on, undeterred and unaware of the interruption as Westley coughed and slowly got his wind back.

Meanwhile, the judge was nodding.

"I see," he murmured, stroking his wrinkled chin. "What must be done then?"

Another man stood quickly.

"We should sacrifice him like he would sacrifice dear Emily!" he declared loudly.

A woman then rose as others followed the first man's example.

"No, we should cook him and eat him!"

"We should force him to work for us!"

"Force him to eat things!"

"Throw him in the basement and see him rot!"

"See if he can float on the river!"

"Have him hop up and down for days!"

"Make him run around the town twenty times!"

"Tickle his stomach!" The clamor died as the crowd turned simultaneously to a wiry fellow whose eyes darted around frantically. He shrugged helplessly.

"What?" he asked nervously. "I heard that tickling a giant's stomach gives you good luck or something…" he trailed off. Some keys jingled momentarily before the roar of suggestions resumed an instant later.

Westley immediately perked up, his eyes flickering about all the moving bodies crammed into the room. Where was the one with the keys? And then he saw him, standing on the edge of the crowd like a normal person. Westley nearly jumped and clicked his heels together as he let out an ecstatic cry. Finally! He needed to get those keys, get him and Fezzik out of this kooky town and save Waverly! But his joy slid into the pit of his stomach as the lone man was consumed by the jostling crowd. Westley clapped his hands to the side of his head in horror.

"No!" he cursed to himself, squeezing his eyes shut to try and picture the fellow he was after. There, in his mind's eye, he could see the baggy overalls, soiled white shirt and oh! The badge of the sheriff was pinned to his shirt! Perfect!

Westley scanned the crowd and took a deep breath, deciding to literally take the plunge. With a running start, he leaped into the mass of people, dodging flying feet and flailing arms. The rambunctious townspeople were still debating over what to do with Fezzik. Westley caught snatches of details as he scrutinized the crowd for his man.

"Perhaps we should baste him. You know, put him on a spit or something."

"That's ridiculous! He's too big for any of our spit pits! We should tie him to a tree and let crows peck his eyes out."

"Aw, but where's the fun in that?"

"Well, we could always throw rocks at him like that."

"But we'll do that anyways!"

"Good point."

Westley paused to cock his head and frown. What kind of conversation had he just heard? Shaking his head to clear his mind, he darted through the masses and suddenly a sparkle shined in his eye. The badge! He lunged forward, aiming for the keys he saw dangling from what he thought was the man's pocket.

It turned out that it was the sheriff's hand.

Westley grabbed the man's hand roughly and the man jerked in surprise, crunching Westley's wrist in a tight grip.

"Now, whatcha doin' thar fellow? Tryin' to steal me keys?" he bellowed, spewing spittle from his mouth. Westley cringed as the man's breath, laden with alcohol, washed over his face in noxious currents. As Westley took in a breath to reply, he suddenly had the violent urge to cough. He resisted it for a moment, hoping to not draw anymore attention to himself, when finally, he could hold it in no longer.

Choking on his breath, he hacked up like an old hag who had smoked one too many cigars. Westley was aware of the crowd hushing and backing off to leave him and the sheriff in the center of a crude circle. As he continued to hack up a lung, his hand slipped from the sweaty grip of the grisly man across from him. He stumbled backward as a townsperson approached him and clapped him hard on the back.

"Don't worry. He has that effect on people," the newcomer comforted Westley, who nodded grimly. Then a second later, Westley felt the results of the slap on his back.

"Ow!"

A scowl contorted Westley's face as he forced himself to straighten and stare back at the sheriff who was visibly swaying on his feet in a drunken stupor. Westley grimaced in disgust.

"Make way! Wot sheems to be da pwoblem heyah?" suddenly came the squeaky voice of the judge. The crowd parted to let him through and he frowned at the sheriff and then at Westley. "Well?" he asked with a raised eyebrow. The sheriff caught himself as he almost fell over. He raised an arm and gestured dramatically.

"He was…tryin' to take me keys without permission!" he drawled menacingly. The judge's white eyebrows jumped as he eyed Westley shrewdly.

"Wot have you to say for yowself?" he demanded, poking Westley threateningly. Westley retreated from his reach and cleared his throat nervously. He smiled weakly as his mind frantically tried to sort out a lie that would cover up his underlying mission. Unfortunately, the smell of the building and the people inside mixed with the actual good-smelling food wafting in from the open window, making a horrible scent stun Westley's senses. He came up with nothing, and his shoulders slumped as he realized he had to tell the truth. He could only pray they wouldn't jail him for too long.

"I was trying to save my friend, the giant there. His name's Fezzik, and I wanted to get him out so that we could go try to save my daughter, who was kidnapped. We just want to skip on out here and…yeah," he finished lamely in one breath, surprised at the feeling of relief coursing through him. The judge nodded thoughtfully, licking his lips.

"Oh owkay then, awight. Go thwen. Give him the keysh," he commanded simply, waving his hands dismissively. Westley gawked at him as the sheriff nodded and dropped the metallic keys into Westley's open palm. Westley stared at them in amazement, completely taken aback by how simple things had turned out.

"Thanks," he muttered to no one in particular as he quickly made work of the situation.

Finding out which key opened the lock to the single jail cell turned out to be more complicated a matter than extracting Fezzik from within the cage itself. The giant finally came out and stood at his full height, stretching and cracking his aching muscles. The people 'oohed' and 'ahhed' in wonder. As Fezzik finished exercising, he gave them all a wide grin and they began clapping.

Westley smiled, not bothering to ponder the strangeness of the people of Place. All of a sudden, a gnarly old woman approached him, grinning wickedly. In her claw-like fingers was clutched a necklace seemingly made entirely of white teeth of all shapes. Westley's eyes widened, but he kept the false smile on his face as she came before him and draped the necklace over his head. He shuddered as it settled about his neck and bowed his head to the woman, smiling all the more. The woman's eyes lit up as she beamed back at him, exposing a row of gums. Westley's eyes widened as he glanced down at the teeth on his necklace and then back to the woman who winked mischievously.

Westley gagged to himself and waved as she disappeared amongst the throng of folks eagerly discussing what to do with themselves. From tidbits of conversation he was able to decipher, it seemed that they would have a food fight and then roast something on a spit, throw it in the river and celebrate by running around the town like lunatics.

Westley couldn't help but grin as Lech, Ilse, Bo and Nana stepped forward from the crowd. Lech put a hand on Westley's shoulder.

"It'll be sad to see ya go, but I imagine your daughter's going ta be needin' ya soon," he said quietly.

"How can I ever repay you for your kindness?" Westley found himself asking.

Lech shrugged it off. "You already repaid us by getting rid of our furry little problem there, or at least a small bit of it. That's enough for me!"

Ilse smiled at Westley as he bent down to see Bo and Nana, who were trying hard not to cry. Westley reached out and gripped their shoulders.

"I promise I'll come back, and with enough bananas for you all!" he pledged, making them laugh. He stood and gladly accepted the family hug as his breath was squeezed out of his lungs. Fezzik joined in and hoisted all of them high, and they were all grinning ear-to-ear as he set them back on the floor.

"Well now, Westley—"

"Bran!" the twins interrupted their father indignantly. He acknowledged the information with a curt nod. "Or Bran as they would say, I guess it's time for ya to be headin' out. I sent a few of the neighbors to get ya some animals to borrow for the time being."

"Thank you so much," Westley thanked him sincerely, his heart filling with gratitude for these quirky but loving people. Lech nodded and pointed to the door.

"And there's a draft horse big enough for you, giant," Lech added.

"Thanks," Fezzik replied, dipping his head. Lech smiled and nodded as Westley and Fezzik slipped out of the door and into the main street. Just before the door closed behind him, Westley swore he heard Ilse comment to her husband: "Too bad. It would've been interesting to see him hop up and down for days on end."

Westley shook his head, but was smiling all the way.

A/N: Weren't expecting the Impressive Clergyman were you? Lol! Hope I got his lisp right! Thanks for reading, and review s'il vous plait! Por favor?