AN: I will begin by saying that I really,REALLY, adore SilveryBeing's "Heart of Oz", which is a fantastic fanfic here on that was published six whole years ago! It's not complete, and SilveryBeing updates sporadically, but I really suggest checking it out. It's one of the best 'return to Oz' fics I've read and believe me—I've read a bunch! Why do I mention this fic? Well, I particularly love her depiction of the Scarecrow who is transformed into a real king as well as realistic romantic interest for Dorothy's character who has struggled with post-depression hardships. Naturally, when I finally did reach this chapter—which features the scarecrow heavily—I found myself thinking about her characterization of the Scarecrow. I've tried my best—and will continue to do my best—at making my Scarecrow unique and interesting. I've also tried to create my own image of him, though with respect I will credit SilveryBeing's interpretation of the character as a source of inspiration of my own. Also, a note concerning Glinda. In Baum's books, Glinda is the Good Witch of the South, not the North. The Good Witch of the North is a different character, and it is she—not Glinda—who greets Dorothy in the Munchkin land. Keeping to the movie, I've kept Glinda's main role. The book Good Witch of the North will be appearing later, and she will be titled the Good Witch of the South.

Lastly, a very special thank you to Jenn, who provided this story with its first review! Finally, I no longer have a hypothetical audience!

~Chapter 9: Home Sweet Oz~

Dorothy Gale was in a poorly lit room. She did not recognize the room itself, but she knew that she felt a familiar presence. It was an odd sensation, that of knowing and not knowing simultaneously. Her mind focused on a conversation that was happening in the opposite corner of the room. A fireplace was burning brightly and in front of it were two human silhouettes. As they had their backs to her, Dorothy could not make out their faces, nor could she move from her present position. She was suspended in air, both apart of and separate from the scenario.

"She got away? Well, that is a first for you. You're usually so careful about keeping your subjects locked away."

"Do not act so smug about it ****" When the other silhouette—who Dorothy identified as a man—said the name of his companion, Dorothy heard nothing but buzzing. For some reason, she was not able to identify their names or titles—only their voices. One—the one who had just spoken—Dorothy was sure had to be . But who was the other? The conversation continued.

"I would except you to show your poor **** some sympathy!" That was , and he sounded angry.

"Yes, well, I did warn you. I told you that she was clever. I deduced as much when I first met her. And I seem to recall that I told you to be cautious." The other voice was male also, though Dorothy did not recognize it.

"A fat load of good caution did me. That little harpy had them all along! Frey happened in on her, just as she was whizzing away. I wonder if she was laughing at me all those years when I tried to pry the stories out of her. It makes me practically violent just thinking about it."

"Yes well, you never were good at tolerating jokes at your expense, no matter how deserved they were."

"Insolence! If your mother could—" spat. His rage spread through Dorothy like a virus. It made her head pound and her heart leap about like a blinded rabbit.

"Oh, spare me the reprimands ****, you know what I say to be true. You're just angry that someone else sees it. And what of the other girl?"

"What other girl?"

"The roommate—Pansy Varnes, or something like that?"

"Penelope Varnes, you mean? Gone without a trace. It's her own fault really. When I told her to look through the Gale girl's things I gave specific instructions that she was not tamper with any out of place items. She was supposed to bring them back to me."

"Yes well, that's what you get for trusting a sadistic bipolar teenager. One that you molded none the less. Besides, I'm rather glad it happened. I was hoping that I'd get a chance to see Miss Gale's pretty eyes again."

"Honestly ****, you only think of women and—" 's voice stopped abruptly.

"What's the matter ****?"

"Shh! Quiet foolish boy! Don't you feel it?"

"Feel what?"

"We're being watched." whispered. Turning, he looked directly in Dorothy's direction. Dorothy willed herself not to be seen. After a few moments, just when it seemed as though he would turn around, a loud crack from the fire caused Dorothy's concentration to fade. 's eyes widened in shock, and then narrowed in anger. Advancing upon her, he yelled,

"It's her! She's in the room! Quick, grab the spraknomitor! Hurry, she's fading away!"

The breath left her lungs. She felt as though two hands had jerked her back suddenly, out of the room and into oblivion. 's raging eyes were the last things she saw before…

Dorothy woke up in a start. Her eyes were blurry from sleep, and her mind was still trapped in that state in between dreaming and waking. Where was she? Groping about her, Dorothy felt the softness of fine cloth and the plush form of numerous pillows. Something wet her face and, for a moment, Dorothy thought that she was in the open somewhere in the midst of a rain. Arms flailing, she caught onto something soft and warm. Her vision adjusted to the dim of her surroundings, and her eyes registered the object in her grasp. It was…it couldn't be. The emphatic thumping of his tail and the distinctly doggy odor on his breath confirmed it. It was Toto!

"Oh Toto! Toto, is it really you! I've missed you so much!" Dorothy exclaimed, her voice scratchy from sleep. Holding Toto in front of her, she wagged her finger sternly.

"That was a terrible thing you did Toto, leaving me like that! Don't you know how lost I was without you? Oh Toto, do I have a story to tell you! And perhaps…well, perhaps you have something to tell me too. Where are we? How did you get here? Oh, I'm so glad that you're all right!"

"Where you are is very simple," a voice said. Someone had opened the room's curtains, and Dorothy realized that she was in a very large canopy bed, whose curtains were still down. She blinked her eyes against the light and noticed a figure behind her curtains. It must have belonged to the voice that had just spoken. Unsure of what to do, Dorothy waited for the voice to continue.

"You are in the Emerald City—in the ninth wing, to be exact, and in the ninth floor's royal suite. It is half past the noon sun, and you've been sleeping for almost a full day. How you got here—well, I'm sure that you know the particulars better than I. As to how you came to be placed in this room, it was at the king's insistence. To quote him, 'old friends deserve the best—and wonderful old friends deserve the very best'"

Dorothy sat up in bed—a very difficult task due to the plush mattress and sea of pillows—and slowly pulled back the canopy. Momentarily blinded as her eyes struggled to adjust to the light, Dorothy shielded her vision with her hands. The figure started to shift into focus as her vision settled. It was none other than Glinda, the good witch of the North. As always, she radiated splendor(which was only further enhanced by the silver light that streamed into the room). Her red locks contrasted sharply with the green décor of the room and her blue eyes were—as always—sparkling with intelligence. Unlike her prior appearance, Glinda now donned a beautiful white dress, diaphanous in its movement and radiant in the light. She was even more beautiful than Dorothy had remembered. Glinda met Dorothy's stares with a whimsical smile. When she was younger, she had felt as though that very smile implied an inside joke that Glinda was always party to. Now that she was older, Dorothy felt as though the smile implied the vast amount of knowledge that Glinda was always privy to. Toto barked the silence away and demanded more attention from his absentee owner. Dorothy complied, and as she scratched the sensitive areas behind his ears she decided to ask Glinda the many question that were stewing in her head.

"How did I come to be here Glinda?"

"With the Ruby Slippers naturally."

Dorothy gulped, remembering the images of a flame consumed Penelope. The picture would be forever scorched in her mind.

"Yes, but…"

"How did the slippers come to you?" Glinda asked, coming to sit next to Dorothy. Dorothy nodded.

"Well my dear, that is a vested story with two explanations—the long one, or the longer one. Which would you prefer?"

Before Dorothy could answer, the growl of her stomach spoke for her. Glinda smiled and made a motion with her hand. A small, claw-footed serving tray appeared in front of Dorothy and settled on her lap. It was filled with a variety of colorful foods that Dorothy did not recognize, though her sense of smell recognized that they were bound to taste delicious.

"The long version it is then" Glinda said. As Dorothy began to eat, Glinda launched into her explanation, all the while carrying an aloof expression.

"You see, when you first came to Oz and destroyed the Wicked Witch of the East, you fulfilled an age-long magical agreement—one that was issued long ago when the war betwixt the witches began. Longer than most memory can recall. The agreement stipulated that the victor of a battle may take with them their opponents chief possession. In her lifetime, the Wicked Witch of the East created many evils—"

"Like the Rubby Slippers" Dorothy interrupted. Glinda smiled sweetly at her outburst, and Dorothy took her smile to mean that she'd prefer it if she could finish her story. Dorothy dared not interrupt afterwards.

"Not exactly my dear. The slippers themselves are not an evil. Magic is a neutral force, and it's application—whether it is used for good and evil—depends solely on its handler. For all of her wickedness, the Wicked Witch of the East was a brilliant craftswoman and was in many ways her sister's (The Wicked Witch of the West) superior in magical authority. The ruby that she used to craft the slippers was no ordinary ruby. It was taken from a lost city, made of gems such as this one. She stripped the ruins of what remained and crafted the slippers with a potent magic. They were by far her most power possession, and because you were the one that defeated her, the slippers came to you and you alone. In order to have obtained them from you, the Wicked Witch of the West would have needed to defeat you, but I ensured that she could not with the kiss I laid upon your brow."

Seeing that Glinda had paused for her questions, Dorothy jumped on the opportunity.

"But Glinda, how could I have defeated the Wicked Witch of the West? I was not in conflict with her!"

"Perhaps not my dear, but the rules were never so specific. All they implied was that a witch had to be defeated."

"But then—if I really did inherit them, why did they not come back earlier? As a matter of fact, why is it that they fell off my feet at all?"

"That will take another long explanation I'm afraid, so try to be patient. You won the slippers, but because you were not a witch, you had little idea of how to command them. I had to tell you how to pilot them home, for you would not have known how to otherwise. You trusted in my advice, and in the power of the slippers to take you home. As to why they fell off—there are a few possibilities. As to how they found you in Topeka, they responded to your great desire to go home. As the master of them, your will beckons where they go. However, as they were so very far away, you needed to be in a position where you were desperate enough to command the strength needed to bring them back. When you asked to slippers to guide you home, you came here. Clearly, Oz was the home that your heart had in mind."

Oz was the home her heart had in mind? Thinking back on that night—that terrible night—Dorothy could not remember what home she was thinking of when she clapped her heels together. She had pined for Oz for so very long, it only made sense that it would be there where her heart would take her. Distantly, she wondered if had informed her Aunt and Uncle that she had disappeared. Probably not, Dorothy thought. He didn't seem to fond of telling the truth. Remembering the dream that she had prior to waking in Oz, Dorothy shuddered.

"You look troubled" Glinda cooed, brushing a stray strand of hair from Dorothy's forehead. This must be what it's like to have a mother

"I was recalling a dream I had last night. It was a little…disturbing. And confusing."

"Would you like to talk about it?" Glinda offered

"No thank you. Not right now anyway. I did want to ask you something else though, if that's all right."

"Of course. You may ask me anything and I will answer it to the best of my abilities."

"It's just…why did…WHY did Penelope—" Dorothy cleared her throat, finding it hard to continue. Glinda continued for her.

"Why did Penelope perish when she stepped into the slippers? That is difficult to say definitively." The way in which Glinda replied made Dorothy feel as though she was holding something back—perhaps something unpleasant.

"But you have a guess?" Dorothy prompted.

"I have many, some more likely than others. However, since you've asked and I have promised to answer you to the best of my abilities, I will give you my best estimation of why the event that happened did. Pay heed—these are unsubstantiated facts as of the moment. My best working hypothesis, is that something compelled the shoes to burn Penelope."

"Was it—was it me? Did I compel them to do such a horrible thing?" asked a mortified Dorothy. Glinda was quick to offer a reassuring smile.

"No, my dear. You do not hold wicked intentions, so you could not command such sinister magic. It had to have been something else—or some distant force."

"But how could that be? I thought I won the right to complete ownership of the slippers? Who else but me could have—"

"As of yet, I do not hold an answer to this question. Nor do I have a guess that I would be willing to offer presently. I will tell you a fact however, and it is that the people or things who could have masterminded such a feat are either dead or should be dead."

"Should be dead?"

"Yes dear. That, however, is the longer version of the story—a version that I promise that we shall get to in due time, when you have settled and allowed your mind to breathe and when I have conducted more research into the subject. Now, you are finished eating?"

Looking down, Dorothy realized that both she and Toto had cleaned the tray. Waving her hand in the opposite direction, Glinda spirited the tray away—presumably to the kitchen. She stood up and walked away from the bed and Dorothy followed. Glinda's long silver wand appeared in her right hand and she motioned the star counter-clockwise. A gentle breeze surrounded Dorothy, and afterwards she found herself feeling refreshed. Her clothing had been magically changed, and she now wore a deep-blue satin dress with elbow length sleeves and white lace leggings. Looking down at her feet, Dorothy gasped when she noticed that the Ruby Slippers were still firmly attached.

"In light of what happened to poor Penelope Varnes, and because the slippers have done you no harm, I felt it best not to tamper with the slippers. You may feel safe in them Dorothy, for no evil can be done with them so long as they are under the command of your gentle heart."

Even with Glinda's reassurance, Dorothy was not sure that she would ever be comfortable with the slippers again. They had been her salvation and her doom on the same night and, as the doom they caused was still fresh in her mind, Dorothy currently felt as though the negatives associated with the slippers outweighed the positive.

"Come now Dorothy. I shall take you to see a friend, who has been waiting for you for five years."


Being king was not an easy task. Five years ago, when he was sequestered to a pole, Scarecrow would never thought that he—a man with straw for brains—would ever be afforded such a lavish position. It was also a very stressful position, and it demanded a significant amount of his time and attention. Scarecrow had a motto however: "I am never too busy for friends". If his friends needed anything, no matter what it was or how busy Scarecrow was, he would always do his best to deliver. This made the people view him as a generous and attentive king, which helped his position considerably. When the Wizard of Oz had first landed from the sky in his mystical balloon, the people of the Emerald City—long without a proper ruler—were amazed. Proclaiming him to be a wizard—despite the reality that he was a simple man from Omaha—the poor man had been shepherd into a leading position in a land that was alien to him. He had done his best, but ultimately left the city economically fragile and without proper structure. Had it not been for the protection of Glinda—who searched fervently for the lost heir—the city would have surely fallen to certain scheming members of the aristocracy. When Scarecrow unwittingly inherited the role of king, he had inherited both the title and the burdens of rebuilding a once grand city. If you asked his people if he succeeded in this task most would sincerely agree.

There were few beings in Oz who held both the knowledge and wisdom of Scarecrow(for knowledge and wisdom are two different things entirely) as well as humility. He was not modest in regards to his intelligence, but he was never egotistical. During his journey down the yellow-brick years ago, he had learned that people had the potential to be anything they wanted to be—and that oftentimes, you'll find parts of yourself that you never knew you had when given the chance to grow and evolve. Scarecrow understood that dangling his considerable brain conceitedly for all to see did not support growth—it only bred contempt. And besides, Scarecrow also knew that intelligence was not fuel for vanity. It was something to be shared and taught, and you did not teach people through vanity.

Today was an especially exciting day for Scarecrow. He had summoned his friends Nick Chopper(formerly referred to as the Tin Woodsman) and Leonas(formerly referred to as the Cowardly Lion) to come to the Emerald City at once. Both were rulers like him. Nick ruled over the Winkie Kingdom that was formerly under the Wicked Witch of the West's spell and Leonas ruled over the Forest of Wild Beasts. They had been summoned to the Emerald City for a very special occasion. Dorothy Gale, the brave little girl from Kansas who had earned a special place in all of their hearts, had finally returned to Oz. It had been five years, which in Scarecrow's mind was five years too long. Friends should not be separated for such a grueling amount of time, with no means to contact each other. Friends were infinite. Since becoming king, Scarecrow had made many friends, though few occupied his thoughts more than the three that he journeyed with all those years ago. Jack Pumpkinhead interrupted his thoughts, depositing a pile of paperwork onto Scarecrow's desk. They were currently in the King's study, which was where Scarecrow spent most of his time. Jack and Scarecrow were similar in many ways. Both were made of unusual materials, and both struggled with chronic balance issues(though since his tenure as King, Scarecrow had been much more properly stuffed and did not trip quite as much as he used to). Both were loyal to a fault, and both had gently dispositions. Jack was not what someone might consider very intelligent, though he did possess a simple, homey wisdom that Scarecrow appreciated. Jack also had the disposition of a child, though in the best way possible. It was hard not to find him endearing. Another hidden talent of Jack's was his architectural genius, which Scarecrow had exploited to help expand certain areas of the city.

"Are those all patrol reports?" Scarecrow asked, making his way over to his desk. Jack, who was over seven-feet tall, loomed over him.

"Mostly—though there may be some requests for building permits in there as well."

"The aristocrats I suppose—yearning to add more fancy garnishes to their already fancy houses." Scarecrow replied in good humor. He had struggled with the Emerald City's aristocracy every years since coming to power—though less now than he did in his first year. While the Wizard had presided over the city, he had let many formerly established regulations slide. The class system in the city, which had formerly been fairly inconsequential, had polarized greatly during his reign. If certain aristocrats had their way, Scarecrow was certain that they would create a caste system—making it impossible for any "lower classes" to move up the ranks, thus securing their titles and power.

"Did we get any agriculture reports this morning?" Scarecrow asked, rifling through the papers. He was a quick reader and did not need to spend more than a few seconds on any given page.

"Hmm…I don't know. I didn't check." Jack replied. 'I don't know' was a fairly typical Pumpkinhead response. Scarecrow did not view this as a fault. He respected people who could admit what they did not know, and who were willing to learn.

"Ah—here it is. It looks as though there are still some thefts along the shipping route. It hasn't affected our number of wares too terribly as of yet, but I'll need to have some guards investigate. Could you see if Omby Amby is free? If not him, than Jinjur."

Jinjur had been an especially boisterous aristocrat who had tried to lead an all-women revolt against Scarecrow during his second year as king. She was courageous and hot-heated, though misguided. Her father, who was an aristocrat who had been exiled during King Pastoria's reign, had masterminded a marriage between her mother and a most unscrupulous gentleman, who had attempted to marry her off to a terrible man. He also tried to restrict her education and her independence. This was not an uncommon thing amongst some of the more dastardly aristocrats, who held strange views about gender-roles that the rest of the Emerald City(and most of Oz) did not share. Upset, Jinjur wrote a letter to the king. When she received no reply, she decided to revolt against him in order to maintain her threatened freedom and to command her own destiny. Unbeknownst to her however, her letter had been intercepted and destroyed and the Scarecrow never received her request for aid. Jinjur was a talented leader and warrior, whose weapons of choice were knitting needles(which she handled with an incredible amount of deftness and accuracy). She did, however, have one weakness. Jinjur was terrified of mice. When the elite force of Ozite mice had intercepted her coup, Jinjur quickly fell apart. Instead of having her punished, Scarecrow heard her story. Admiring her courage and feeling for her situation, Scarecrow decreed the marriages could not be arranged without the consent of the people who were to be married and that no one—not father or mother—could thwart their child's divine right to persue and education or seek the field which satisfied them best. As a result, Jinjur went into the king's service and helped to keep the borders safe with her gifted strategic mind as well as act as a deputy-ambassador the program called the Brain Initiative. The program sought to offer education to those in need as well as to collect important pieces of family, trade, and cultural wisdom from anyone who had anything to offer. And the program operated under the assumption that everyone had at least something to offer.

"I could go" Jack offered

"You're just too frightened of Jinjur to ask her," Scarecrow said humorously. Jack's personality, despite appealing to him, did not seem to mesh well with Jinjur. As a result, she rather frightened him. From an outside party view, an observant person would note that these interactions were not mean but rather, that of an older sister looking out for a younger brother. Like most younger brothers, Jack thought that his "older sister" nagged too much.

"Well, I don't know if it is fear. But it is something" Jack replied, thoughtfully tapping his pumpkin head with his wooden fingers.

"She just likes having someone to mother hen. Besides, I need you here to help with my very special guest"

"Special guest?" Jack asked, and his pumpkin head creaked as it tried to cock to the side. Magic helped keep Jack's head on(most of the time) and helped to slow the rotting process, but the range of a pumpkin on a wooden neck could be very limited. "Ah! Miss Dorothy!" Jack exclaimed after a moment. Seconds after Jack Pumpkinhead had connected the pumpkinseeds in his head, which lead to the revelation, the doors to the study magically opened. Glinda's statuesque form floated into the room. Behind her followed a young lady who was accompanied by an enthusiastic black dog. On her feet, red shoes glittered wildly in the natural light. Upon seeing eachother for the first time in many years, Scarecrow and Dorothy merely stared. When Toto saw fit to remind them that they were supposed to hug, Dorothy smiled wildly and ran over to Scarecrow with arms wide open. Scarecrow received her with a smile just as wide. She was running with so much force that upon hugging him, the two toppled to the ground. Scarecrow's straw body may have been reinforced, but it was still made of straw after all. Laughing, Dorothy returned to her feet and helped the Scarecrow up.

"Oh Scarecrow! I've missed you so very much! I was so lost without your wisdom and humor! I don't know how I ever managed! And you—you look so different!"

Dorothy stood at arm length in order to size Scarecrow up. Only, it wasn't exactly the Scarecrow of her memories. He was no longer quite as tall, though Dorothy supposed that had more to do with the fact that she was no longer quite as short. His eyes, much to her surprise, were no longer made of paint. They shined with the light, and Dorothy could tell that they were made of glass. The color of his eyes, once bright blue, now held a more mystical quality. They managed to be varying shades of blue at once, like a kaleidoscope. His straw hair was longer, about shoulder length, and was tied off at the back. His nose was still painted brown, and he still wore a pointed hat—though this hat was far more grandiose than his previous one. It was a very deep green—almost black, in fact—with gems sewn onto it. In the right light, Dorothy imagined that it probably looked like a crown. His outfit was also no longer the shabby rags that he had once worn. Instead, he was clad in a green, silver, and white uniform—very militaristic in style, but not without an Ozite flare. His smile however was exactly as Dorothy had remembered it.

Scarecrow took the opportunity to examine his friend as well. She was no longer quite as short as she had been—though that was to be expected. He hair was darker and he felt as though it complemented her sun-kissed complexion. Her eyes were the same delicate blue, and a hint of jovial wit still danced inside of her eyes. Overall, there was a sense of great change about her, though somehow Scarecrow was confidant that she had not changed in the places that mattered.

He was so happy to see his friend in good health—having heard from Glinda that she had experienced some trying trials as of late—that he neglected to pay attention to the other inhabitants of the room. Jack cleared his pumpkin throat, and Scarecrow remembered his manners.

"I'm very glad to see you too Dorothy. And I know everyone else will be when they arrive in the city."

"Are they really all coming!" Dorothy asked, positively exuberant.

"Oh yes—no distance is great enough for friends. Speaking of friends, this is my good friend and assistant Jack Pumpkinhead" Scarecrow beckoned to Jack, who clumsily made his way over to Dorothy. She was in awe of his tremendous height, a smiled fixed on her face as he approached. This is why I love Oz, she thought, you are always making such interesting friends.

"How do you do Dorothy. My name is Jack Pumpkinhead—but you can just call me Jack. It's easier to say" Jack did his best to bow, but the weight of his head caused his body to lean out of his control. Dorothy and Scarecrow simultaneously scrambled to catch him, and Toto ran out of the way as if to avoid a possible crash. When Dorothy and Scarecrow got Jack righted, his head leaned too far back and he almost fell completely backwards. Dorothy and Scarecrow ran to catch him, and the two exchanged knowing glances. They had undergone a similar routine when they had first met the Tin Woodsman. After all of these years, they still worked in perfect unison. Jack flailed his arms, unable to properly right himself. Glinda, who had been watching in bemusement, decided to lend a magical hand. She gently tapped the top of Jack's head with her silver wand. Instantaneously, Jack found his footing.

"Oh, thank you Glinda. New pumpkins are especially hard to break-in. Jinjur was right, I should have taken more of the flesh out" Jack seemed very depressed at his admission, as he did not like to acknowledge when "naggy Jinjur" was right. Dorothy let out a breath of relief. Turning to Jack she said,

"Pleased to meet you Jack. I think your head is wonderful. One of the most impressive heads I have ever seen, and that is the truth" Jack's carved mouth formed a smile. If Jinjir was his nagging big sister, then he had just found his new "nice" big sister.

"Now then Jack," Glinda started, beckoning towards the door with her wand, "why don't we leave these two to catch-up, and I'll see what can be about alleviating your head problems."

"Oh, thank you Glinda. I do so very much appreciate it. Only, could you not mention this to Jinjir? She gets awfully cheeky when she wants to tell me that, 'she told me so'."

The comical pair made their way out of the study, and Glinda magically closed the doors behind them. Toto, tired out from the excitement, trotted over to one of the study's seating areas and quickly fell into a nap.


Scarecrow spent the rest of the day showing Dorothy around the ninth floor of the palace. They walked through many corridors of dizzying proportions. Dorothy had forgotten just how large the city was! Mind you, she had only ever seen a small section of it. The ceilings must have been fifty—no, a hundred feet high! And how everything sparkled! As if by magic, the same green never seemed to repeat itself to the point of monotony. It reminded Dorothy of the Scarecrow's brilliant kaleidoscope eyes. The Scarecrow led the way with expert precision, stopping every now and then to explain certain paintings or pieces of artwork to Dorothy. Unlike 's similar tour in Topeka, Dorothy found the Emerald Palace tour to be abundantly interesting. It helped that she also rather liked the company.

"That mural over there was commissioned by King Pastoria, the last true King of Oz"

"I never knew that there were other kings in Oz. I suppose that a monarchal history makes sense, it just never interested me when I was younger. Was the Wizard not a real king then?"

"Oh no, the Wizard just came down from the sky—like you did, though not with a house and he didn't kill any witches."

"I suppose I have at least that to my name" Dorothy smiled.

"Oh yes—the second time in history that a Witch has been killed by a house" the Scarecrow smiled.

"Second?"

"Yes, but the first time wasn't nearly as fantastic and the house was not inhabited by anyone so wonderful as you."

Dorothy blushed slightly, unaccustomed to such compliments. "Oh you—why, being around all of this emerald and silver has turned you into a regular silver tongue! I never thought I'd see the day!" she exclaimed, giggling during the process. Scarecrow smirked and tipped his hat in jest.

"And did the first house fall out of the sky too?"

"No. To my best recollection, a witch enchanted it during one of her spells. The fireplace gobbled her up."

"That's just terrible!" Dorothy exclaimed, though she couldn't keep the smile from her face.

"According to the fireplace, she was delicious," Scarecrow added, and Dorothy swatted playfully at her friend's straw stuffed arm. It was good to be around people who could make her laugh again. Their tour took up quite a bit of time and soon it was evening. To Dorothy's increasing delight, when the day grew dark the halls lit up magically with an ethereal light. The emeralds in the walls managed to grow green without casting off a green light. It was marvelous to watch. Scarecrow led Dorothy back to the study, which was also subject to the same fantastic light show. Dinner for three(Toto included) had been laid out for them. Once again, it was filled with foods that Dorothy did not recognize but was sure were delicious. She looked at Scarecrow's food questionably. Sensing her question, Scarecrow said,

"I do not require nourishment or sleep, but I can partake in both if I so choose. The magical property of my straw body dissolves the food so that it doesn't sit in my stomach waiting for a digestion that will never happen. And I like to keep my straw slightly misted, to make it less flammable. The royal…well, fashion care-takers have been trying to convince me to switch to silk for the longest time, as it does not burn."

"That sounds reasonable. Why don't you?" Dorothy asked as she took a seat adjacent to Scarecrow. Toto, who had woken up from the smell of food, was busily cleaning his dish.

"Well, I can see the wisdom in it. However, I suppose I'm just sentimental. I like straw—it's always been apart of me. Parting with would make me feel very naked. My clothing is all silk though," Scarecrow added, wiggling his silk glove covered hands.

"Can't they just enchant your straw to keep it from burning?"

"Well, they've tried. Unfortunately, most of the enchantments seem to mess with the magic that gives me life. I've been working on a solution in my spare time. Though I seldom get spare time anymore."

Dorothy pursed her lips in thought. "Is being king as demanding as you thought it would be?"

"I'm note sure what I thought it would be like, as I had very little chance to think about before the title was thrust upon me. It certainly is demanding however."

"But do you enjoy it?"

Scarecrow leaned back from his tray in thought. With his new glass eyes, Dorothy could see the evidence of the advanced mechanics of his brain working hard at an answer. He spun his spork between his fingers for a while, which gave Dorothy enough time to finish her dinner. After she was done, a lush looking dessert appeared in its place. Dorothy could never say no to desserts.

"Well—" Scarecrow finally said, clearly taking time to carefully plot his answer. "It's a difficult question to answer. I enjoy certain aspects of the title, and I really don't care for others. For example, I really enjoy the people I meet as king. I enjoy the vast amount of books that this city holds, and I enjoy helping to spread and gather knowledge from as many diverse places as possible. I enjoy some of the challenges that come with being King, like learning to negotiate with difficult people and learning how to manage numbers. However, the social aspect of being king can be very uncomfortable."

"How so?" Dorothy asked

"Well, as I said, I don't get as much time to spend pursuing hobbies as I would like. There is also the need to attend and throw large parties, which don't really interest me. I like meeting new people, but as King, I don't always get to be myself at these events—or even converse with my friends. Usually people ask me for favors, or try to influence an upcoming decision—it's mostly a way to bypass the regular court meetings that are supposed to be used to solve such issues. There are always people who want to debate with me too."

"Well, that shouldn't be a problem for sure. I'm sure you excel at debates."

"When I must I do, though I do not like debates. They are seldom ever held without the intention of arguing, and nothing is solved through arguing. I like discussions, but most people don't want to discuss things with me. Only to try and convince me that I am wrong just to say that they out smarted the smart king. Can I tell you a secret, Dorothy?"

"Of course Scarecrow. You may trust me to keep your secrets just as surely as I can trust you to keep mine."

"Well, sometimes I really don't like the responsibility of being a king. When you are a king, you don't belong to yourself. You belong to the people, and you live to serve the people. It is a privilege and an honor, but it is also a source of great worry and despair. There are times when I miss those days when I was traveling with you and Nick and Leonas so very badly."

"I have experienced similar times" Dorothy smiled. Realizing that he had been controlling most of the conversation, Scarecrow decided to ask Dorothy about her life.

"And you Dorothy, are you happy? Have you been happy?"

Like Scarecrow, Dorothy found this question to hard to answer. She told him of her wonderful set of uncles who looked out for her, how Miss Gulch had transformed from a villain to a friend, and how she had excelled at school even after being held back. She also told him of the on-going financial hardships of the farm, how she had been forbidden to talk about Oz, how Hunk had moved to the city, and how had attempted to cajole her into telling Oz related stories, even after she had sworn not to. When Dorothy recounted her dance disaster, Scarecrow's face deepened into a frown.

"A Winkie, you say?"

"Yes. Only, it looked and felt…off"

"How so?"

"Well it—it reeked of death. One of our chickens died underneath the house one time, and Zeke had to retrieve it. It smelt very much like that chicken had—of decay and earth. And its eyes! They were completely red, and it looked as though blood had congealed in its tear ducts. Later on, in a dream, I remembered that its arm had been nothing but bone and maggots! If it had not attacked Roman and me and had not stolen Toto, I would have thought it dead for sure! And I still have no earthly idea how it came to be there. I will have to remember to ask Glinda later."

"As will I. I'm sorry for interrupting, please continue."

And continue she did, though the rest of the story went quickly downhill. She detailed 's scheme to get her into his "crazy hospital", her sorrowful goodbyes with her family, the way that Ruth had turned on her, and the way that Miss Gulch had thankfully rode with her and to the station. She spoke about her first week at the school, and how her counselors kept trying to coax stories out of her. She spoke about the truth of her mother's death as revealed by , though she now did not entirely believe his story. She spoke of how had asked her for the Ruby Slippers, and how they had magically appeared in her trunk. Lastly, when Dorothy got to the tragic death of Penelope, her eyes watered and her voice became scratchy.

"Oh Scarecrow!" she coughed, "It was terrible! I've never seen something so awful in all of my life! I don't think that I'll ever forgot her face or her screams."

Scarecrow's heart ached with sympathy. In comparison to what Dorothy had gone through, dealing with temperamental nobles seemed like nothing. He hated that his dear friend had been made to suffer so much and to witness something so terrible. He hated the man she described as , and was sure that if he ever met him he would give him the nastiest put-down his enormous brain could conjure. He reached into his jacket pocket and withdrew a silk handkerchief. Handing it to Dorothy—who immediately began to dab her wet eyes—Scarecrow tried his best to comfort his friend.

"Well, you're safe now Dorothy. No one will harm you here—your friends won't let them. And Toto is all right now. He was worried sick without you. When he arrived before you, I didn't know what to think. He was a little worse for wear, but otherwise in good health. I worried about you. I thought that you might be in Oz somewhere—in trouble. When Glinda told be that you were indeed in trouble, only in your world, I grew even more worried. I can protect you in Oz, but even the king's magic does not reach across worlds. But you're here now Dorothy, and Nick and Leonas will be here by tomorrow. It's a much needed reunion, for all of us."

Dorothy smiled weakly and sniffled. Toto had padded over when he heard her crying and curled up at her feet. My friends and I will all be together tomorrow. Soon, my pain will be small fleck in comparison to my joy. There's no place like Oz. Dorothy went to sleep that night in anticipation of the reunion. Meanwhile, a storm was brewing in Kansas.

A/N: Jinjir is a character from the Oz books who does indeed lead a coup against the Scarecrow with an army of women, and she does use knitting needles. However, I made up a background for this story that would fit well into my story. Jack Pumpkinhead is also a character from the Oz books, and was featured in the 1985 film "Return to Oz". I'm going to try to use as many of the numerous colorful characters that inhabit Baum's world as possible, and limit OCs, as they can be messy. Thank you to everyone who has given this little project a chance. I hope to get the next chapter out tomorrow, and if not then, it probably will not get out until next week, as I have a large amount of homework and studying to do this weekend. I can most definitely promise that this story will be finished—and not in a few years time either. I've taken this on as my NNWM project(though this is naturally not a novel, it is still going to reach at least novella length). The next chapter will feature more Oz and some long awaited reunions, as well as more clues as to what the hell is going on behind the scenes. Until then, TTFN.