Layer 9: Down the Drainpipe
Had Fiona taken any time to think about what she was about to do,
she would never have attempted it, for she would have realized it
was impossible.
Fortunately for Moyre, the princess did not take time to think.
Fiona saw the root ripping from the ground, and how dangerously thin
it was where Moyre's hand had hooked it. But the princess also saw
that the part that was pulling out of the dirt was getting
progressively thicker. So Fiona reacted.
She launched herself into the pit, aiming toward the far edge just
above Moyre.
With her right hand Fiona reached for and grasped the thicker part
of the root. With her left hand she reached for Moyre's right
wrist, clasping it just as the thinner part of the root that Moyre
had caught broke and the elder ogress found herself in freefall.
Fiona gritted her teeth and held on tight with both hands as the
link she had formed between the root and Moyre grew suddenly taught
across her arms and, with two ogresses now weighing upon it, the
root continued to pull out of the ground. Two feet. Three feet.
Both ogresses screamed as they dropped further toward the darkness.
Then the root held. A few seconds later the ogresses stopped
screaming and found themselves gently swaying just below the opening
of the pit, with a great, dark nothingness all about them and below
them.
Fiona looked up. She held onto the root, which had come some four
feet out of the ground and left her a total of some five feet up to
the edge of the Drainpipe. She then looked down. She could just
barely make out Moyre's form in the gloom, even this close to the
opening.
"Are you all right?" Fiona asked between gasps as she tried to will
her heart to stop beating quite so fast.
"A-aye," Moyre replied, slightly turning the wrist that Fiona held
and clasping her daughter-in-law's wrist with her own hand,
strengthening their bond. "Again, thanks to YOU. Great Heavens,
child, that was AMAZING!"
"Thanks," Fiona said, blushing. A moment later she was back to
practicality, asking, "Now, can you reach up and grab my arm with
your other hand?"
Moyre began to raise her left arm, then screamed again, this time in
pain.
"What's wrong?!" Fiona asked with concern.
"My arm! Where I fell on it ..." Moyre gasped. "I ... I think it's
broken. I'm sorry, Fiona, it's not going t'be of any use."
"Well ... just hang tight," Fiona said. "Shrek and Groyl were
watching and should be here any second to pull us out." Fiona then
heaved a heavy sigh.
"What is it, Fiona?" Moyre asked.
"Actually, I was rather hoping that -I- wasn't going to need rescued
for a change," the princess replied as she watched the opening,
expecting her husband's large face to appear there at any time.
Unknown to Fiona, however, Shrek was having his own problems at that
moment.
---------------------------------------------------
It had been a less than patient wait for Shrek as he had lain beside
his father, anxiously waiting for Fiona to appear while staring over
the edge of the rise with Groyl and Donkey at the scene transpiring
at the pit around his entranced mother.
"What's keeping her?" Groyl asked, his own anxiety starting to get
the better of him.
"Aye," Shrek agreed. "It's been some time. Maybe we should --"
"Hey! Guys! She just left! Give her a chance!" Donkey said.
Shrek sighed. If it were up to him, he would have given his wife
all day. But this was a life-and-death situation, one which was
edging closer to death at every passing second. Then he saw that
villager place a pitchfork at his mother's back, and all thoughts of
patience leapt from his mind as he quickly rose, ready to make that
dash across the road he had begun earlier. But by the time he had
reached his feet Fiona had appeared, dispatched the villager, and
knocked Moyre back away from the pit. Shrek saw the crimson
musician begin to raise that pipe to his lips and was about to call
a warning to his wife, but Fiona was already on it, leaping at the
man, kicking his instrument into the pit and then knocking him back
with a blow so hard that Shrek could almost feel it in his own
stomach.
"Oh m'God!" gasped Groyl, who had risen along with Shrek and, also
like him, was now simply standing on the road just beyond the rise
and staring at the action around the Drainpipe. "She IS good!"
"Aye," Shrek said with more than a hint of pride as a relieved smile
spread across his face. "That she is."
Then Shrek's smile began to fade with new anxiety as he saw
Fiona boldly striding towards the rest of the villagers. The
ogress didn't command the overwhelming physical presence of a
male like Shrek, but she WAS as tall as the tallest of the
villagers, considerably larger than any of them, and far
stronger than their strongest. Still, if they launched some
sort of coordinated attack, there were enough of them that they
COULD overpower her. Shrek recalled how only a handful of
Farquaad's men were able to keep her restrained at the church
while it had taken considerably more of them to restrain him.
But Fiona had still been somewhat weak from her transformation.
('Darling', she had once told him, 'when you have every molecule
in your body taken apart, rearranged, and shoved back together,
it takes a little while to recover your full strength.') Plus,
those had been Farquaad's best trained and disciplined soldiers,
whereas these were just peasants, and as he had once told Fiona,
if you kept peasants on the psychological defensive then you
were already well over half-way to winning the battle. But even
then there was the danger of a stray, panicked pitchfork thrust.
Now that Moyre was out of danger, Shrek decided that he would
give Fiona a hand with the rest. He began moving forward when
he felt Groyl lay a restraining hand on his arm.
"It's all right, Son," the elder ogre said, his voice sounding
relieved now that Moyre was out of danger. "Let her be. She's
doing fine!"
Shrek, not feeling as secure with his OWN wife only a few steps away
from the ignoble gaggle, was about to voice his dissent when he saw
Fiona stop and strike a cross-armed pose. That was different -- he
knew she always preferred the direct approach before. Was she
trying to reason with them? Shrek knew from experience that trying
to talk reason into a peasant was about as much use as trying to
talk a hunk of lead into spontaneously turning into gold. But then
one of the villagers started waving a torch at her and she casually
blew it out. Shrek actually chuckled. He noticed about this time
the musician finally staggered to his feet, but as the villain then
started stumbling quickly toward the south away from his wife and
mother, Shrek didn't give him much more thought for now. There
would be time to hunt him down as soon as they were done with the
villagers.
Then Fiona opened her mouth and roared. Shrek's own mouth dropped
open -- in an amazed gape. Groyl laughed heartily as Fiona finished
and wiped her lips while the villagers continued screaming in
fright.
"Woooow!" Donkey exclaimed. "Looks like there's some SERIOUS green
goin' down over there!"
"Did ye teach her that, Son?" Groyl asked as the villagers all
started running away.
"Aye," Shrek said, still somewhat shocked at what he had just
witnessed. "I suppose in a way I did."
"Man, Shrek!" Donkey said. "I think you created a MONSTER!"
"No, Donkey, I didn't 'create' anything," Shrek replied as he
watched Fiona's eyes seeking him out from the far side of the pit
and then a smile crease her sweet lips when she found him. "I've
just tried t'encourage her to open herself up to what's already
inside." Layers indeed, he thought, and allowed himself another
relieved smile.
Shrek then watched in horror as his mother suddenly dropped from
view into the Drainpipe, followed a moment later by his wife driving
in after her. And then he heard them both scream.
"NOOOO!!!" Shrek cried, and bounded forward toward the pit.
The bounding was a mistake. Shrek came down with all his
considerable weight on his left foot. The ground beneath the foot
immediately began to cave in. His right foot landed beside it, but
the traction there was fleeting as well. Suddenly Shrek found
himself hip-deep in the middle of a new, quickly collapsing
sinkhole, with his feet flailing in empty air underneath. He may
well have fallen all the way through, but suddenly he felt something
grab the top back part of his vest, arresting his fall.
"GOTCHA!" Donkey said through teeth clenched on the back of Shrek's
vest. The equine braced his legs against the substantial weight
pulling him downward and threatening to detach his oversized teeth
from his gums. But somehow he managed to hold on, his own front
hooves anchored just inches from the edge of the new sinkhole, all
four legs locked and trembling with the effort of keeping Shrek from
falling completely through.
Groyl, who had also begun dashing forward in panic at the sight of
the two ogresses disappearing into the pit, turned around at the
sound of Shrek's travails. The elder ogre's eyes, already wide with
fright for the females, now nearly popped from their sockets.
"SHREK!" he cried, and began to turn around.
"NO!" Shrek yelled. "GO ON, DAD! HELP MOM AND FIONA! I'LL BE
FINE!"
Desperate confusion took hold on Groyl's face. "But --"
"GO! GO!" Shrek insisted. "OUR FEMALES NEED YOU! GO!"
Groyl hesitated a moment longer, then turned and continued running
toward the Devil's Drainpipe. Once he was on his way, Shrek, who
was now submerged down to the bottom of his chest in the new hole,
began clawing with his hands at the dry, pebbly soil around him,
trying to get a hand-hold. But it was no use, and the movement only
caused him to slip a little further into the new hole.
"Will you hold still?!" Donkey mumbled through his clenched teeth as
Shrek's movements caused Donkey's hooves to slip a couple of more
inches toward the hole.
Shrek grumbled something unintelligible, but realized this friend
was right. He stopped struggling -- for now -- and tried to simply
support as much of his own weight on his arms as he could as he
watched his father. Groyl had reached the Drainpipe and was
kneeling and looking down into it. Nearby, Puppy -- without a means
to help anyone for now -- whined powerlessly. Shrek knew how she
felt. He said a silent prayer that by some miracle both ogresses
were alive and safe as his eyes stayed glued to the Drainpipe.
---------------------------------------------------
Groyl felt relief flood through his veins when he squinted down into
the abyss and was able to make out both ogress's forms in the gloom.
"Moyre! Fiona!" he cried. "You're both alive!"
"For now!" Fiona replied, smiling. Then after a moment her smile
faded and she asked, "But where's Shrek?"
Groyl's expression also grew more serious. "Just a moment," he
said, then sat up and looked back at his son, still stuck in the new
sinkhole, the anxiety in his face easy to read even over a hundred
yards away. "THEY'RE BOTH FINE!" Groyl called to him, perhaps
exaggerating the security of their predicament a bit.
"Thank Heaven," Groyl could more see than hear Shrek say, then his
son closed his eyes and heaved a great sigh of relief -- or was that
a true prayer of thanks?
"Dad!" Groyl heard Fiona say from beneath him, her own voice seeming
to inherit the anxiety that had just escaped her husband. "Why
isn't Shrek with you? Where is he?"
Groyl reluctantly leaned back over the edge of the Drainpipe and
looked down into his daughter-in-law's worried face. "He's ...
hanging around back there with Donkey," he replied evasively.
"WHAT?!" Fiona blurted.
"Groyl, what's happened to our son?" Moyre asked from beneath the
princess.
Suddenly there was a small cracking sound. The ogresses gasped as a
split could be seen starting across the root just a few inches above
where Fiona grasped it.
"First things first," Groyl said. "We need t'get ye outta this
hole!"
With that he sat up again and quickly looked about the relatively
barren ground immediately around him for something that would give
him leverage. Then he noticed the unconscious villager's pitchfork
lying nearby. Groyl grabbed the pitchfork and drove it hard into
the ground near the pit's edge, the prongs sinking in almost to
their tops.
Groyl then laid himself flat on the ground so just the upper part of
his body from the middle of his chest onward were over the
Drainpipe's edge. He then reached down with both hands and took
hold of the root that Fiona was hanging onto. With a great grunt he
carefully pulled upward, trying not to exacerbate the split that was
gradually spreading on its own. The root and the attached ogresses
started slowly rising ... one foot ... two feet ... until finally
Fiona was close enough that Groyl was able to let go of the root
with his right hand and promptly seize her wrist. Once he had a
secure hold on her wrist with his right hand, he let go of the root
with his left hand and quickly grabbed hold of the pitchfork to
anchor himself. Just as he had done so, the split in the root
became complete and Fiona gave a short little shriek as she suddenly
found herself holding onto a useless piece of wood. The rest of the
root sprang away, out of reach of any of them. Fiona dropped the
worthless fragment that was left in her hand and grabbed hold of
Groyl's wrist, mirroring the bond that she maintained with Moyre.
"Okay. That's good," Groyl grunted, his aged sinews straining as he
was now supporting the full weight of two ogresses. "Now, Moyre,
can ye climb over --"
"No, she can't," Fiona said.
"I think I broke me left arm," Moyre explained. "Anyway, I can't
raise it."
"Oh, great," Groyl sighed. "Well, just hold on. I'll try to --"
Suddenly the ground shifted below Groyl, collapsing a few inches
where he lay. Both ogresses shrieked this time as the sudden
shudder traveled down Groyl's arm and started them swaying again in
the blackness. Except for the involuntary swaying, all three ogres
froze in fright, their grips on each other growing tighter.
"DAD, ARE YE ALL OKAY?!" Groyl heard Shrek's agitated voice call
from across the valley.
"WE'RE FINE, SON! EVERYTHING'S STABLE NOW!" Groyl called back, not
sure if he was right or not. Then he looked down at the females and
said, "Maybe we should just stay still for a wee bit."
"Agreed," Fiona said, trying to regain control of her breath.
"Fiona," Moyre said softly, "let me go."
---------------------------------------------------
Fiona blinked, not sure she's heard correctly. She looked down at
Moyre, trying to make her face out in the darkness. "What did you
say?" the princess asked.
"Ye heard me right," Moyre said. "You two try 'n heave me outta
here and we'll all likely get killed. I'm old. I've lived my life.
You and my son have just started yours. So please, don't throw that
away trying t'save an old windbag like me. Just let me go."
"What're ye SAYING, woman?!" Groyl asked, alarmed.
"I don't think I can make it any PLAINER, ye'old beast!" Moyre
replied, her soft tone now tinged with irritation. "You know I'm
right. So tell your daughter-in-law t'let me go!"
"I ... I can't do that!" Groyl said, his voice choking a bit.
Moyre sighed. "Ye always were a softie, Groyl, no matter how hard
ye tried to hide it" she said with surprising tenderness. "I'll see
ye later." She then let go of Fiona's wrist.
"NO!" Fiona cried, tightening her own grip on Moyre's wrist. The
princess tried to summon her most authoritative command voice.
"Stop this! Moyre, you grab back hold of my arm NOW!"
Moyre shook her head, unimpressed. "Ye can't hold onto me forever,
Fiona," she said glumly.
"Oh, can't I?" Fiona asked, her thoughts drifting back to an
unexpected adventure on the trip to her and Shrek's honeymoon
destination, when a post-corporeal Farquaad had attempted to
assassinate her and her companions by plunging them over a
waterfall. She had found herself in a similar situation, clinging
on for dear life in the middle of a living chain, but back then she
had had to uphold the weight of both Shrek and Donkey. She had done
it, too, finding the strength from somewhere, holding on until a
support above them gave way and broke the chain, but long enough for
Dragon to get into position to save their lives. If she had to find
the strength to sustain Moyre's relatively lighter load, then she'd
do that that, too, for as long as it took. "You're be surprised at
what I can do, Moyre," Fiona said.
"After what I've seen today, I doubt that," Moyre chuckled wryly.
"And dear, I'd be honored if ye'd call me 'Mom'."
"Why ... thank you," Fiona said softly, genuinely moved. She then
reluctantly ushered more steel into her voice as she added, "And ...
Mom ... I'd be honored if you'd GRAB HOLD OF MY BLASTED WRIST!"
"Fiona, I'm the past," Moyre said forlornly. "You're the future.
Ye owe it to Shreklecheh t'save yourself. You've got a pack of my
grandkids to give 'em. They need an example like you t'show 'em
what being an ogress is all about."
Fiona tried desperately to think of something else to break Moyre's
despondency. Then an idea occurred to her. She winced inwardly.
This was going to be painful, but it was the only thing she could
think of at the moment. "Well," Fiona said, "better me than you, I
suppose."
Moyre blinked, confused. "I BEG your pardon?" she asked.
"As an example of an ogress," Fiona continued, injecting a tone of
rebuke into her voice. "I mean, I wouldn't want them to just GIVE
UP when the going gets tough, like YOU'RE doing now."
Moyre's eyes narrowed. "Fiona --" she began through clenched teeth.
"But then, what DO I know about being a REAL ogress?" Fiona
interrupted her. "You were right earlier. I certainly didn't have
any training in it growing up. YOU'RE the only example I've ever
had. And look at you, ready to just take the easy way out and give
up, not even CARING about the grief you'll cause your husband and
son. Not to mention the schism you'll cause between Shrek and me,
him knowing that I let you drop into the abyss. But as long as you
get to play the martyr, oh, that's just fine with you!"
Moyre's upper lip started curling back from her teeth and one eye
started twitching as she began to grumble, "That's enou--"
"I don't know," Fiona again cut her mother-in-law off. "Maybe ogres
like Shrek and Groyl are exceptions. Perhaps most ogres are more
like you, or at least the females are, and whatever stronger
personality traits I have really ARE from my human side. Hey, I
know what! Once Groyl and I get out of here I'm going to see what I
can do about finding someway, somehow to restore my humanity. Purge
this slimy green ogre stain once and for all! After all, I AM a
princess, I've GOT connections. I'm sure I can find SOMEBODY to
help. Maybe I'll even find another batch of that 'Happily Ever
After' potion somewhere and bring Shrek over with me! After all,
I've got him wrapped around my little finger, he'll do ANYTHING I
ask. Then we can both move in with my royal family and live happily
ever after as humans! That would certainly take care of having to
worry about your moronic ogre marriage rules, and any children that
we have will be humans themselves, not swamp-dwelling aberrations.
Heck, we won't even tell them of our past -- why burden them with
the dishonor of knowing their parents were once despicable beasts?
At any rate, I'll at least know my daughters won't grow up to be
big, ugly, scraggly-haired monsters who'd just give up when faced
with the least peril, like YOU!"
"Why you pernicious, over-inflated tadpole!" Moyre growled, her eyes
flaring. Her right hand -- more like a claw now -- again clenched
Fiona's wrist in a grip so tight that, had Fiona been human, it
would have crushed it. "We'll settle this LATER!" Moyre added
ominously through grinding teeth.
"Looking forward to it, lady. Bring it on!" Fiona retorted, trying
to feign defiance while masking her relief.
---------------------------------------------------
Dragon landed with a thump in the clearing in front of Shrek and
Fiona's home. A moment later six dragon/donkey hybrids all pattered
to landings around her. They measured some six feet long now from
the tips of their equine snouts to the ends of their reptilian
tails, and all began making excited noises, anticipating seeing
their father emerge from his friends' home to greet them. Some of
the offspring were so energized they accidentally released little
spurts of flame from their mouths.
But Donkey didn't appear. And neither did any ogres.
Dragon's yellow eyes narrowed in concern. She made a curt little
roar, signaling her children to be still. They did so, or as best
as they could given their youth and the genes they inherited from
their father.
The swamp was quiet.
Too quiet.
Dragon tapped on the door with one claw. After a few seconds with
no answer, she pushed it open, leaned down and held an eye to the
doorway. She could see no one inside. But then she detected the
smell.
It was an ogre. A new one. A stranger. No, not one. TWO. Two
strange ogres had been here recently. Their smells were
particularly similar to Shrek -- they were perhaps even related --
but they were strangers nonetheless. They had arrived, and now
Shrek, Fiona, and Donkey had vanished.
Dragon sat up. Her eyes glowed slightly and her bright red lips
curled back a bit. A little smoke escaped from her nostrils. She
made a short, louder roar to see if she would get any response from
anywhere else in the swamp, in case the occupants had simply gone
for a walk or some similarly innocuous activity. But she received
no reply. She then began sniffing around the ground. After a
minute or so she was able to determine a particularly recent trail
of scents -- encompassing Shrek, Fiona, Donkey, as well as the new
ogres -- oddly, one of the new ogre's smells was slightly more fresh
than the other's -- heading off across the clearing in a relatively
straight path. Dragon lifted her head and looked past the clearing,
extrapolating where that path would lead. She then spread her great
wings, growled for her children to follow her, and took off in the
direction that the scents seemed to be heading.
---------------------------------------------------
As the pack of panicked peasants plunged down the path through the
rocky, hilly terrain back toward their village, they had to pass
through a particularly narrow -- some ten yards wide -- gorge
between a couple of steep hills. As they approached it, a tall,
burly, bearded figure wearing a brown Stetson cowboy hat and sitting
atop a cream-colored stallion rode out into the middle of the
passage.
"Greetings, gentlemen," the stranger said jovially, a wickedly
playful gleam in his eyes. "In a hurry?"
"SHERIFF!" several of the villagers at the front of the group
gasped, stopping in their tracks. This caused some of the villagers
following them to run into the ones that had stopped, resulting in
about half of the villagers ending up on the ground.
As they scrambled to their feet, the sheriff nodded toward one of
the villagers who was still carrying his pitchfork. "I'd say that
this is a rather odd and out-of-the-way place to be working with
haystacks," he observed dryly. "You all wouldn't by chance be going
against my orders and harassing a certain neighboring contingent of
the green persuasion, would you?"
The peasants looked at each other guiltily.
"I thought you might," the sheriff said. "And I assume you failed
again?"
The peasants now looked embarrassed as well as guilty.
"I thought you might have done that as well," the sheriff chuckled
mirthlessly. "You know, some lawmen might consider the shame and
disgrace that comes from such incompetent ineptitude punishment
enough."
The villagers looked at him hopefully.
"However, I'M not such a lawman," the sheriff said with a sneer.
"You're all under arrest!"
The villagers now panicked again. "RUN AWAY!" one of them cried,
and they began to scatter in two groups, one trying to make it
through one side of the gorge around the sheriff and another group
through the other. The sheriff quickly took his rope, swung it in a
circle through the air a few times to loosen its lasso end, and then
threw the lasso at a group of the fleeing villagers. The noose fell
across the midsection of three of them; the sheriff yanked on the
rope and the noose tightened across the group, binding their arms to
their sides and causing them to fall to the ground with muffled
grunts.
As another group of villagers tried to run through the gorge to the
sheriff's rear, the crook end of a shepherd's staff suddenly
appeared from an outcropping, hooking the neck of the lead fleeing
villager, causing his feet to fly forward while his body fell
backwards. He landed in a heap on the hard ground, hitting his head
and knocking himself out cold. The villager just behind him came to
a sudden halt, mouth agape, as he looked down on his companion. He
then looked back up as Bo Peep stepped away from the outcropping,
her staff held at the ready, a self-satisfied little smirk on her
lips. "Why you little --" the villager began, but didn't get any
further as Bo whipped the bottom end of her staff upward, striking
the villager between his legs. The man gasped and fell to his
knees. Bo then quickly brought the crook end of her staff down on
his head. The man collapsed by his companion, as unconscious as he.
Two more villagers were behind these. They stared wide-eyed at Bo.
Bo twirled her staff over her head like a baton for a couple of
seconds, the rod making a swishing sound, and then she struck a
crouching pose while holding the staff horizontally above her head
with one hand like a samurai warrior holding his sword, the crook
end of the staff pointing at the awe-struck villagers.
"Any other customers?" she challenged.
The men blushed and meekly held up their hands in surrender.
"Good work, Bo!" the sheriff said admiringly, still atop his horse.
"Thanks," she said, smiling up at him.
The sheriff's features then hardened as his eyes shifted to the last
group of four fleeing peasants. "You keep these covered," he said,
nodding toward the men holding up their hands. "I'll go round up
the rest."
"What about the ogres?" Bo asked.
The sheriff shrugged. "Apparently these yokels fouled up again.
I'm sure the ogres are just fine."
---------------------------------------------------
The Piper could feel the hate building within him. Normally he did
not allow emotions to get in the way of his business -- that was
usually a reckless, foolhardy thing to do. But this ogress had not
only bettered him, but embarrassed him. Embarrassment was not
something he took well. So he had slunk off up the southern hill
overlooking the Drainpipe, but instead of fleeing, he had sought out
a small cave where he could observe the valley below him while
remaining hidden himself, and perhaps find some way to cause
mischief to the ogress or her party. He was glad he had decided to
do so, as he now gazed down with glee upon the two helpless groups;
the older ogre trying to support the two ogresses trapped in the
Drainpipe while the other ogre was on the verge of being sucked down
into the new sinkhole as the donkey held onto him for dear life.
The Piper's glee quickly faded, however, when he heard the roar from
overhead and looked up to see the large red dragon. He had heard
tales about the great beast and its unlikely relationship with the
donkey. And he had to shake his head in bewilderment when he saw
the hybrid offspring trailing their mother as she had seen the
quandary of her companions and was heading in for a landing.
Then a smile returned to the Piper's face as he realized that this
was something he could use to his advantage. He quickly detached
the case from his belt, laid it out in front of him, and opened it.
He scanned through the remaining mouthpieces until he found the one
with the label he sought: 'DragonMaster 1000'. He then reached down
inside a special crevice in his right boot and withdrew his smaller,
spare chalumeau.
Had Fiona taken any time to think about what she was about to do,
she would never have attempted it, for she would have realized it
was impossible.
Fortunately for Moyre, the princess did not take time to think.
Fiona saw the root ripping from the ground, and how dangerously thin
it was where Moyre's hand had hooked it. But the princess also saw
that the part that was pulling out of the dirt was getting
progressively thicker. So Fiona reacted.
She launched herself into the pit, aiming toward the far edge just
above Moyre.
With her right hand Fiona reached for and grasped the thicker part
of the root. With her left hand she reached for Moyre's right
wrist, clasping it just as the thinner part of the root that Moyre
had caught broke and the elder ogress found herself in freefall.
Fiona gritted her teeth and held on tight with both hands as the
link she had formed between the root and Moyre grew suddenly taught
across her arms and, with two ogresses now weighing upon it, the
root continued to pull out of the ground. Two feet. Three feet.
Both ogresses screamed as they dropped further toward the darkness.
Then the root held. A few seconds later the ogresses stopped
screaming and found themselves gently swaying just below the opening
of the pit, with a great, dark nothingness all about them and below
them.
Fiona looked up. She held onto the root, which had come some four
feet out of the ground and left her a total of some five feet up to
the edge of the Drainpipe. She then looked down. She could just
barely make out Moyre's form in the gloom, even this close to the
opening.
"Are you all right?" Fiona asked between gasps as she tried to will
her heart to stop beating quite so fast.
"A-aye," Moyre replied, slightly turning the wrist that Fiona held
and clasping her daughter-in-law's wrist with her own hand,
strengthening their bond. "Again, thanks to YOU. Great Heavens,
child, that was AMAZING!"
"Thanks," Fiona said, blushing. A moment later she was back to
practicality, asking, "Now, can you reach up and grab my arm with
your other hand?"
Moyre began to raise her left arm, then screamed again, this time in
pain.
"What's wrong?!" Fiona asked with concern.
"My arm! Where I fell on it ..." Moyre gasped. "I ... I think it's
broken. I'm sorry, Fiona, it's not going t'be of any use."
"Well ... just hang tight," Fiona said. "Shrek and Groyl were
watching and should be here any second to pull us out." Fiona then
heaved a heavy sigh.
"What is it, Fiona?" Moyre asked.
"Actually, I was rather hoping that -I- wasn't going to need rescued
for a change," the princess replied as she watched the opening,
expecting her husband's large face to appear there at any time.
Unknown to Fiona, however, Shrek was having his own problems at that
moment.
---------------------------------------------------
It had been a less than patient wait for Shrek as he had lain beside
his father, anxiously waiting for Fiona to appear while staring over
the edge of the rise with Groyl and Donkey at the scene transpiring
at the pit around his entranced mother.
"What's keeping her?" Groyl asked, his own anxiety starting to get
the better of him.
"Aye," Shrek agreed. "It's been some time. Maybe we should --"
"Hey! Guys! She just left! Give her a chance!" Donkey said.
Shrek sighed. If it were up to him, he would have given his wife
all day. But this was a life-and-death situation, one which was
edging closer to death at every passing second. Then he saw that
villager place a pitchfork at his mother's back, and all thoughts of
patience leapt from his mind as he quickly rose, ready to make that
dash across the road he had begun earlier. But by the time he had
reached his feet Fiona had appeared, dispatched the villager, and
knocked Moyre back away from the pit. Shrek saw the crimson
musician begin to raise that pipe to his lips and was about to call
a warning to his wife, but Fiona was already on it, leaping at the
man, kicking his instrument into the pit and then knocking him back
with a blow so hard that Shrek could almost feel it in his own
stomach.
"Oh m'God!" gasped Groyl, who had risen along with Shrek and, also
like him, was now simply standing on the road just beyond the rise
and staring at the action around the Drainpipe. "She IS good!"
"Aye," Shrek said with more than a hint of pride as a relieved smile
spread across his face. "That she is."
Then Shrek's smile began to fade with new anxiety as he saw
Fiona boldly striding towards the rest of the villagers. The
ogress didn't command the overwhelming physical presence of a
male like Shrek, but she WAS as tall as the tallest of the
villagers, considerably larger than any of them, and far
stronger than their strongest. Still, if they launched some
sort of coordinated attack, there were enough of them that they
COULD overpower her. Shrek recalled how only a handful of
Farquaad's men were able to keep her restrained at the church
while it had taken considerably more of them to restrain him.
But Fiona had still been somewhat weak from her transformation.
('Darling', she had once told him, 'when you have every molecule
in your body taken apart, rearranged, and shoved back together,
it takes a little while to recover your full strength.') Plus,
those had been Farquaad's best trained and disciplined soldiers,
whereas these were just peasants, and as he had once told Fiona,
if you kept peasants on the psychological defensive then you
were already well over half-way to winning the battle. But even
then there was the danger of a stray, panicked pitchfork thrust.
Now that Moyre was out of danger, Shrek decided that he would
give Fiona a hand with the rest. He began moving forward when
he felt Groyl lay a restraining hand on his arm.
"It's all right, Son," the elder ogre said, his voice sounding
relieved now that Moyre was out of danger. "Let her be. She's
doing fine!"
Shrek, not feeling as secure with his OWN wife only a few steps away
from the ignoble gaggle, was about to voice his dissent when he saw
Fiona stop and strike a cross-armed pose. That was different -- he
knew she always preferred the direct approach before. Was she
trying to reason with them? Shrek knew from experience that trying
to talk reason into a peasant was about as much use as trying to
talk a hunk of lead into spontaneously turning into gold. But then
one of the villagers started waving a torch at her and she casually
blew it out. Shrek actually chuckled. He noticed about this time
the musician finally staggered to his feet, but as the villain then
started stumbling quickly toward the south away from his wife and
mother, Shrek didn't give him much more thought for now. There
would be time to hunt him down as soon as they were done with the
villagers.
Then Fiona opened her mouth and roared. Shrek's own mouth dropped
open -- in an amazed gape. Groyl laughed heartily as Fiona finished
and wiped her lips while the villagers continued screaming in
fright.
"Woooow!" Donkey exclaimed. "Looks like there's some SERIOUS green
goin' down over there!"
"Did ye teach her that, Son?" Groyl asked as the villagers all
started running away.
"Aye," Shrek said, still somewhat shocked at what he had just
witnessed. "I suppose in a way I did."
"Man, Shrek!" Donkey said. "I think you created a MONSTER!"
"No, Donkey, I didn't 'create' anything," Shrek replied as he
watched Fiona's eyes seeking him out from the far side of the pit
and then a smile crease her sweet lips when she found him. "I've
just tried t'encourage her to open herself up to what's already
inside." Layers indeed, he thought, and allowed himself another
relieved smile.
Shrek then watched in horror as his mother suddenly dropped from
view into the Drainpipe, followed a moment later by his wife driving
in after her. And then he heard them both scream.
"NOOOO!!!" Shrek cried, and bounded forward toward the pit.
The bounding was a mistake. Shrek came down with all his
considerable weight on his left foot. The ground beneath the foot
immediately began to cave in. His right foot landed beside it, but
the traction there was fleeting as well. Suddenly Shrek found
himself hip-deep in the middle of a new, quickly collapsing
sinkhole, with his feet flailing in empty air underneath. He may
well have fallen all the way through, but suddenly he felt something
grab the top back part of his vest, arresting his fall.
"GOTCHA!" Donkey said through teeth clenched on the back of Shrek's
vest. The equine braced his legs against the substantial weight
pulling him downward and threatening to detach his oversized teeth
from his gums. But somehow he managed to hold on, his own front
hooves anchored just inches from the edge of the new sinkhole, all
four legs locked and trembling with the effort of keeping Shrek from
falling completely through.
Groyl, who had also begun dashing forward in panic at the sight of
the two ogresses disappearing into the pit, turned around at the
sound of Shrek's travails. The elder ogre's eyes, already wide with
fright for the females, now nearly popped from their sockets.
"SHREK!" he cried, and began to turn around.
"NO!" Shrek yelled. "GO ON, DAD! HELP MOM AND FIONA! I'LL BE
FINE!"
Desperate confusion took hold on Groyl's face. "But --"
"GO! GO!" Shrek insisted. "OUR FEMALES NEED YOU! GO!"
Groyl hesitated a moment longer, then turned and continued running
toward the Devil's Drainpipe. Once he was on his way, Shrek, who
was now submerged down to the bottom of his chest in the new hole,
began clawing with his hands at the dry, pebbly soil around him,
trying to get a hand-hold. But it was no use, and the movement only
caused him to slip a little further into the new hole.
"Will you hold still?!" Donkey mumbled through his clenched teeth as
Shrek's movements caused Donkey's hooves to slip a couple of more
inches toward the hole.
Shrek grumbled something unintelligible, but realized this friend
was right. He stopped struggling -- for now -- and tried to simply
support as much of his own weight on his arms as he could as he
watched his father. Groyl had reached the Drainpipe and was
kneeling and looking down into it. Nearby, Puppy -- without a means
to help anyone for now -- whined powerlessly. Shrek knew how she
felt. He said a silent prayer that by some miracle both ogresses
were alive and safe as his eyes stayed glued to the Drainpipe.
---------------------------------------------------
Groyl felt relief flood through his veins when he squinted down into
the abyss and was able to make out both ogress's forms in the gloom.
"Moyre! Fiona!" he cried. "You're both alive!"
"For now!" Fiona replied, smiling. Then after a moment her smile
faded and she asked, "But where's Shrek?"
Groyl's expression also grew more serious. "Just a moment," he
said, then sat up and looked back at his son, still stuck in the new
sinkhole, the anxiety in his face easy to read even over a hundred
yards away. "THEY'RE BOTH FINE!" Groyl called to him, perhaps
exaggerating the security of their predicament a bit.
"Thank Heaven," Groyl could more see than hear Shrek say, then his
son closed his eyes and heaved a great sigh of relief -- or was that
a true prayer of thanks?
"Dad!" Groyl heard Fiona say from beneath him, her own voice seeming
to inherit the anxiety that had just escaped her husband. "Why
isn't Shrek with you? Where is he?"
Groyl reluctantly leaned back over the edge of the Drainpipe and
looked down into his daughter-in-law's worried face. "He's ...
hanging around back there with Donkey," he replied evasively.
"WHAT?!" Fiona blurted.
"Groyl, what's happened to our son?" Moyre asked from beneath the
princess.
Suddenly there was a small cracking sound. The ogresses gasped as a
split could be seen starting across the root just a few inches above
where Fiona grasped it.
"First things first," Groyl said. "We need t'get ye outta this
hole!"
With that he sat up again and quickly looked about the relatively
barren ground immediately around him for something that would give
him leverage. Then he noticed the unconscious villager's pitchfork
lying nearby. Groyl grabbed the pitchfork and drove it hard into
the ground near the pit's edge, the prongs sinking in almost to
their tops.
Groyl then laid himself flat on the ground so just the upper part of
his body from the middle of his chest onward were over the
Drainpipe's edge. He then reached down with both hands and took
hold of the root that Fiona was hanging onto. With a great grunt he
carefully pulled upward, trying not to exacerbate the split that was
gradually spreading on its own. The root and the attached ogresses
started slowly rising ... one foot ... two feet ... until finally
Fiona was close enough that Groyl was able to let go of the root
with his right hand and promptly seize her wrist. Once he had a
secure hold on her wrist with his right hand, he let go of the root
with his left hand and quickly grabbed hold of the pitchfork to
anchor himself. Just as he had done so, the split in the root
became complete and Fiona gave a short little shriek as she suddenly
found herself holding onto a useless piece of wood. The rest of the
root sprang away, out of reach of any of them. Fiona dropped the
worthless fragment that was left in her hand and grabbed hold of
Groyl's wrist, mirroring the bond that she maintained with Moyre.
"Okay. That's good," Groyl grunted, his aged sinews straining as he
was now supporting the full weight of two ogresses. "Now, Moyre,
can ye climb over --"
"No, she can't," Fiona said.
"I think I broke me left arm," Moyre explained. "Anyway, I can't
raise it."
"Oh, great," Groyl sighed. "Well, just hold on. I'll try to --"
Suddenly the ground shifted below Groyl, collapsing a few inches
where he lay. Both ogresses shrieked this time as the sudden
shudder traveled down Groyl's arm and started them swaying again in
the blackness. Except for the involuntary swaying, all three ogres
froze in fright, their grips on each other growing tighter.
"DAD, ARE YE ALL OKAY?!" Groyl heard Shrek's agitated voice call
from across the valley.
"WE'RE FINE, SON! EVERYTHING'S STABLE NOW!" Groyl called back, not
sure if he was right or not. Then he looked down at the females and
said, "Maybe we should just stay still for a wee bit."
"Agreed," Fiona said, trying to regain control of her breath.
"Fiona," Moyre said softly, "let me go."
---------------------------------------------------
Fiona blinked, not sure she's heard correctly. She looked down at
Moyre, trying to make her face out in the darkness. "What did you
say?" the princess asked.
"Ye heard me right," Moyre said. "You two try 'n heave me outta
here and we'll all likely get killed. I'm old. I've lived my life.
You and my son have just started yours. So please, don't throw that
away trying t'save an old windbag like me. Just let me go."
"What're ye SAYING, woman?!" Groyl asked, alarmed.
"I don't think I can make it any PLAINER, ye'old beast!" Moyre
replied, her soft tone now tinged with irritation. "You know I'm
right. So tell your daughter-in-law t'let me go!"
"I ... I can't do that!" Groyl said, his voice choking a bit.
Moyre sighed. "Ye always were a softie, Groyl, no matter how hard
ye tried to hide it" she said with surprising tenderness. "I'll see
ye later." She then let go of Fiona's wrist.
"NO!" Fiona cried, tightening her own grip on Moyre's wrist. The
princess tried to summon her most authoritative command voice.
"Stop this! Moyre, you grab back hold of my arm NOW!"
Moyre shook her head, unimpressed. "Ye can't hold onto me forever,
Fiona," she said glumly.
"Oh, can't I?" Fiona asked, her thoughts drifting back to an
unexpected adventure on the trip to her and Shrek's honeymoon
destination, when a post-corporeal Farquaad had attempted to
assassinate her and her companions by plunging them over a
waterfall. She had found herself in a similar situation, clinging
on for dear life in the middle of a living chain, but back then she
had had to uphold the weight of both Shrek and Donkey. She had done
it, too, finding the strength from somewhere, holding on until a
support above them gave way and broke the chain, but long enough for
Dragon to get into position to save their lives. If she had to find
the strength to sustain Moyre's relatively lighter load, then she'd
do that that, too, for as long as it took. "You're be surprised at
what I can do, Moyre," Fiona said.
"After what I've seen today, I doubt that," Moyre chuckled wryly.
"And dear, I'd be honored if ye'd call me 'Mom'."
"Why ... thank you," Fiona said softly, genuinely moved. She then
reluctantly ushered more steel into her voice as she added, "And ...
Mom ... I'd be honored if you'd GRAB HOLD OF MY BLASTED WRIST!"
"Fiona, I'm the past," Moyre said forlornly. "You're the future.
Ye owe it to Shreklecheh t'save yourself. You've got a pack of my
grandkids to give 'em. They need an example like you t'show 'em
what being an ogress is all about."
Fiona tried desperately to think of something else to break Moyre's
despondency. Then an idea occurred to her. She winced inwardly.
This was going to be painful, but it was the only thing she could
think of at the moment. "Well," Fiona said, "better me than you, I
suppose."
Moyre blinked, confused. "I BEG your pardon?" she asked.
"As an example of an ogress," Fiona continued, injecting a tone of
rebuke into her voice. "I mean, I wouldn't want them to just GIVE
UP when the going gets tough, like YOU'RE doing now."
Moyre's eyes narrowed. "Fiona --" she began through clenched teeth.
"But then, what DO I know about being a REAL ogress?" Fiona
interrupted her. "You were right earlier. I certainly didn't have
any training in it growing up. YOU'RE the only example I've ever
had. And look at you, ready to just take the easy way out and give
up, not even CARING about the grief you'll cause your husband and
son. Not to mention the schism you'll cause between Shrek and me,
him knowing that I let you drop into the abyss. But as long as you
get to play the martyr, oh, that's just fine with you!"
Moyre's upper lip started curling back from her teeth and one eye
started twitching as she began to grumble, "That's enou--"
"I don't know," Fiona again cut her mother-in-law off. "Maybe ogres
like Shrek and Groyl are exceptions. Perhaps most ogres are more
like you, or at least the females are, and whatever stronger
personality traits I have really ARE from my human side. Hey, I
know what! Once Groyl and I get out of here I'm going to see what I
can do about finding someway, somehow to restore my humanity. Purge
this slimy green ogre stain once and for all! After all, I AM a
princess, I've GOT connections. I'm sure I can find SOMEBODY to
help. Maybe I'll even find another batch of that 'Happily Ever
After' potion somewhere and bring Shrek over with me! After all,
I've got him wrapped around my little finger, he'll do ANYTHING I
ask. Then we can both move in with my royal family and live happily
ever after as humans! That would certainly take care of having to
worry about your moronic ogre marriage rules, and any children that
we have will be humans themselves, not swamp-dwelling aberrations.
Heck, we won't even tell them of our past -- why burden them with
the dishonor of knowing their parents were once despicable beasts?
At any rate, I'll at least know my daughters won't grow up to be
big, ugly, scraggly-haired monsters who'd just give up when faced
with the least peril, like YOU!"
"Why you pernicious, over-inflated tadpole!" Moyre growled, her eyes
flaring. Her right hand -- more like a claw now -- again clenched
Fiona's wrist in a grip so tight that, had Fiona been human, it
would have crushed it. "We'll settle this LATER!" Moyre added
ominously through grinding teeth.
"Looking forward to it, lady. Bring it on!" Fiona retorted, trying
to feign defiance while masking her relief.
---------------------------------------------------
Dragon landed with a thump in the clearing in front of Shrek and
Fiona's home. A moment later six dragon/donkey hybrids all pattered
to landings around her. They measured some six feet long now from
the tips of their equine snouts to the ends of their reptilian
tails, and all began making excited noises, anticipating seeing
their father emerge from his friends' home to greet them. Some of
the offspring were so energized they accidentally released little
spurts of flame from their mouths.
But Donkey didn't appear. And neither did any ogres.
Dragon's yellow eyes narrowed in concern. She made a curt little
roar, signaling her children to be still. They did so, or as best
as they could given their youth and the genes they inherited from
their father.
The swamp was quiet.
Too quiet.
Dragon tapped on the door with one claw. After a few seconds with
no answer, she pushed it open, leaned down and held an eye to the
doorway. She could see no one inside. But then she detected the
smell.
It was an ogre. A new one. A stranger. No, not one. TWO. Two
strange ogres had been here recently. Their smells were
particularly similar to Shrek -- they were perhaps even related --
but they were strangers nonetheless. They had arrived, and now
Shrek, Fiona, and Donkey had vanished.
Dragon sat up. Her eyes glowed slightly and her bright red lips
curled back a bit. A little smoke escaped from her nostrils. She
made a short, louder roar to see if she would get any response from
anywhere else in the swamp, in case the occupants had simply gone
for a walk or some similarly innocuous activity. But she received
no reply. She then began sniffing around the ground. After a
minute or so she was able to determine a particularly recent trail
of scents -- encompassing Shrek, Fiona, Donkey, as well as the new
ogres -- oddly, one of the new ogre's smells was slightly more fresh
than the other's -- heading off across the clearing in a relatively
straight path. Dragon lifted her head and looked past the clearing,
extrapolating where that path would lead. She then spread her great
wings, growled for her children to follow her, and took off in the
direction that the scents seemed to be heading.
---------------------------------------------------
As the pack of panicked peasants plunged down the path through the
rocky, hilly terrain back toward their village, they had to pass
through a particularly narrow -- some ten yards wide -- gorge
between a couple of steep hills. As they approached it, a tall,
burly, bearded figure wearing a brown Stetson cowboy hat and sitting
atop a cream-colored stallion rode out into the middle of the
passage.
"Greetings, gentlemen," the stranger said jovially, a wickedly
playful gleam in his eyes. "In a hurry?"
"SHERIFF!" several of the villagers at the front of the group
gasped, stopping in their tracks. This caused some of the villagers
following them to run into the ones that had stopped, resulting in
about half of the villagers ending up on the ground.
As they scrambled to their feet, the sheriff nodded toward one of
the villagers who was still carrying his pitchfork. "I'd say that
this is a rather odd and out-of-the-way place to be working with
haystacks," he observed dryly. "You all wouldn't by chance be going
against my orders and harassing a certain neighboring contingent of
the green persuasion, would you?"
The peasants looked at each other guiltily.
"I thought you might," the sheriff said. "And I assume you failed
again?"
The peasants now looked embarrassed as well as guilty.
"I thought you might have done that as well," the sheriff chuckled
mirthlessly. "You know, some lawmen might consider the shame and
disgrace that comes from such incompetent ineptitude punishment
enough."
The villagers looked at him hopefully.
"However, I'M not such a lawman," the sheriff said with a sneer.
"You're all under arrest!"
The villagers now panicked again. "RUN AWAY!" one of them cried,
and they began to scatter in two groups, one trying to make it
through one side of the gorge around the sheriff and another group
through the other. The sheriff quickly took his rope, swung it in a
circle through the air a few times to loosen its lasso end, and then
threw the lasso at a group of the fleeing villagers. The noose fell
across the midsection of three of them; the sheriff yanked on the
rope and the noose tightened across the group, binding their arms to
their sides and causing them to fall to the ground with muffled
grunts.
As another group of villagers tried to run through the gorge to the
sheriff's rear, the crook end of a shepherd's staff suddenly
appeared from an outcropping, hooking the neck of the lead fleeing
villager, causing his feet to fly forward while his body fell
backwards. He landed in a heap on the hard ground, hitting his head
and knocking himself out cold. The villager just behind him came to
a sudden halt, mouth agape, as he looked down on his companion. He
then looked back up as Bo Peep stepped away from the outcropping,
her staff held at the ready, a self-satisfied little smirk on her
lips. "Why you little --" the villager began, but didn't get any
further as Bo whipped the bottom end of her staff upward, striking
the villager between his legs. The man gasped and fell to his
knees. Bo then quickly brought the crook end of her staff down on
his head. The man collapsed by his companion, as unconscious as he.
Two more villagers were behind these. They stared wide-eyed at Bo.
Bo twirled her staff over her head like a baton for a couple of
seconds, the rod making a swishing sound, and then she struck a
crouching pose while holding the staff horizontally above her head
with one hand like a samurai warrior holding his sword, the crook
end of the staff pointing at the awe-struck villagers.
"Any other customers?" she challenged.
The men blushed and meekly held up their hands in surrender.
"Good work, Bo!" the sheriff said admiringly, still atop his horse.
"Thanks," she said, smiling up at him.
The sheriff's features then hardened as his eyes shifted to the last
group of four fleeing peasants. "You keep these covered," he said,
nodding toward the men holding up their hands. "I'll go round up
the rest."
"What about the ogres?" Bo asked.
The sheriff shrugged. "Apparently these yokels fouled up again.
I'm sure the ogres are just fine."
---------------------------------------------------
The Piper could feel the hate building within him. Normally he did
not allow emotions to get in the way of his business -- that was
usually a reckless, foolhardy thing to do. But this ogress had not
only bettered him, but embarrassed him. Embarrassment was not
something he took well. So he had slunk off up the southern hill
overlooking the Drainpipe, but instead of fleeing, he had sought out
a small cave where he could observe the valley below him while
remaining hidden himself, and perhaps find some way to cause
mischief to the ogress or her party. He was glad he had decided to
do so, as he now gazed down with glee upon the two helpless groups;
the older ogre trying to support the two ogresses trapped in the
Drainpipe while the other ogre was on the verge of being sucked down
into the new sinkhole as the donkey held onto him for dear life.
The Piper's glee quickly faded, however, when he heard the roar from
overhead and looked up to see the large red dragon. He had heard
tales about the great beast and its unlikely relationship with the
donkey. And he had to shake his head in bewilderment when he saw
the hybrid offspring trailing their mother as she had seen the
quandary of her companions and was heading in for a landing.
Then a smile returned to the Piper's face as he realized that this
was something he could use to his advantage. He quickly detached
the case from his belt, laid it out in front of him, and opened it.
He scanned through the remaining mouthpieces until he found the one
with the label he sought: 'DragonMaster 1000'. He then reached down
inside a special crevice in his right boot and withdrew his smaller,
spare chalumeau.