Layer 11: Interludes

Some time later the sun had set, to be replaced with a big, bright
full moon that cast an eerie luminosity over the scene that was
taking place in a clearing a short distance from the former valley.
The sheriff was just finishing binding the hands of the last of the
villagers to the rope. The rope now connected all of the culprits
arrested that day together. The Piper, trying to maintain an air of
dignity, was the first in the rope gang line, followed by Fledgud
and then the rest of the villagers. Bo stood nearby, beside the
sheriff's stallion, and across from them stood the ogres and their
friends.

Fiona, a thoughtful expression on her face, cradled Puppy in her
arms, petting the dog's head gently as she watched the sheriff doing
his job. Shrek, his own face set in a scowl as he surveyed the line
of villains, stood right beside her, a large arm firmly and
protectively draped over her shoulders. Next to them stood Groyl
and Moyre, whose expressions mirrored their son's. Each of the
older ogres had an arm around the others' waist or as far around
their waist was possible. Moyre's left arm, the one that was not
clinging to her husband, now hung in a makeshift sling. Next to
them sat Donkey and Dragon, with their offspring sitting or pacing
in various spots around them. Donkey looked up to offer Dragon a
grin, but noticed her staring across at the sheriff's stallion, an
odd smile on her face. Donkey glanced over to see the stallion gulp
nervously and smile awkwardly back at her. Donkey then looked back
up at Dragon, one eyebrow cocked, his expression one of uneasy
suspicion. Dragon then noticed her mate looking at her, blushed in
embarrassment, then offered him a shy smile and abashed shrug.

All this was interrupted when the sheriff announced, "There! That
should do you all until we get you back to Typical. Sorry we don't
have a paddy carriage to provide more amenable transport, but you'll
just have to tough it." The tone of his voice did not sound like he
truly regretted their inconvenience.

The sheriff then trudged back up the line, giving each of the
villagers a surly stare, each of whom in turn turned their heads
away and down ashamedly, until he at last reached the front of the
line and stared into the face of the Piper. The Piper a large
knot on his forehead stared defiantly back at the lawman.

"Thomas T. Piper," the sheriff said. "In trouble with the law ever
since that stint you served in juvy for stealing that pig. A pity
really, since your father was such a respected member of the
community at the time "

"My father? Peter?" the Piper said derisively. "Ha! The man spent
his entire life working day and night picking pecks of pickled
peppers for that Vlasic plant. And what did it get him? A pension
that would barely pay for his bread and butter, and notoriety as the
butt of some insipid kids' tongue-twister. No! I wanted MORE out
of life than that!"

"Well, you got it," the sheriff said. "Right now you have multiple
charges of attempted murder facing you. Congratulations!"

"Murder?" the Piper said, then sneered over towards Shrek and his
family. "I hardly think that murder laws apply to such creatures as
OGRES. Besides, even if they did, all I did was lead one ogre into
the valley. I never tried to make her go into the pit."

"Oh? Aren't you forgetting the little incident with the dragon?"

The Piper shrugged. "All I was doing at the time was trying out a
new pipe," he explained. "Am -I- to be held liable if some
unpredictable, homicidal monster just happens to take that same
moment to go berserk? Really! Fairytale beings really DO need to
start taking more responsibility for their own actions and stop
blaming sorcery."

Dragon's eyes narrowed. She emitted a deep growl from her throat,
and blew puffs of smoke from her nostrils.

"Uh, at any rate," the Piper continued uncomfortably, "I'm sure my
lawyer will clear all this up."

"Lawyers," the sheriff said with distain, then spat disgustedly on
the ground. "You always were in tune with rats, weren't you, Piper?
Well, even if you find some wiggle room out of THIS, there's several
OTHER cases waiting for you from around the kingdom, starting with
multiple counts of kidnapping from that town of Hamlin. Plus,
you'll be interested in knowing that we've finally indicted your
contact to the Fairytale Underworld and I'm NOT talking about the
seven dwarves' mine! I'm sure you'll recognize his moniker; he was
known as 'The Pie Man'. He sliced a deal with us, though, and has
opened up and is singing like a blackbird. No doubt it's just a
matter of time now and you'll be going down like a giant on a
toppled beanstalk!"

"Impossible!" the Piper objected. "How "

"We planted an agent inside the Pie Man's business, somebody who he
never suspected," the sheriff said. "You might even have crossed
our man's path. He went by the name of 'Simon'."

"SIMON!" the Piper exclaimed, stunned. "That simpleton? He " The
Piper suddenly seemed to realize he was saying too much, and shut
his mouth.

"Yes, he was a pretty good actor. Eh, Piper?" the sheriff goaded
him.

The Piper stared distastefully at the sheriff, but didn't reply.
The sheriff cast a last dismissive glance at the Piper then moved
down to the next perpetrator on the rope. "Speaking of rats," the
sheriff said, "here's a prime specimen!" He looked the bound
villager up and down, then said, "I believe I warned you to stay
away from the ogres, Feldgud."

Feldgud, red-faced, glowered back at the sheriff. "Well, SOMEBODY
had to take responsibility for protecting our village from these
green beasts. And it obviously wasn't going to be YOU."

"How can you SAY that!" Fiona said, half in anger and half in true
dismay. "We've done nothing to YOU! Plus, I saved your useless
LIFE, you murderous, ungrateful son of a ... son of a ..."

The little female dog in Fiona's arms barked.

"Yeah, what she said!" Donkey chimed in.

"HA!" Feldgud guffawed. "Better THAT than the daughter of an
amphibian!"

"UGH! You CUR!" Fiona spat. "Have you, in the end, no sense of
decency whatsoever!"

"Of COURSE I do! It's for the decent, the moral, and the
traditional human way of life that I fight! Have YOU no sense of
HUMANITY? Casting your lot with these monstrous brutes? Set to
become breeding stock for more of these ... THINGS!"

Fiona was finding it harder to keep herself from physically lashing
out at Feldgud. She bore her teeth and began trembling in fury.
Puppy whined, both sensing her distress and feeling the princess
unconsciously squeezing her tighter.

Shrek laid a hand gently on Fiona's shoulder. "Take it easy, Fi,"
he said, his face also twisted in disgust as he beheld Feldgud. "Ye
can't talk sense into 'em. Ye should'a just let him drop into the
pit of darkness. That's where his mentality's trapped anyway."

"Ah-ha!" Feldgud blurted. "You see? Murderous brutes all! You've
just proven my point!"

"The only point YOU have is the one that sits atop your imbecilic
head!" Fiona spat back. "But that's only appropriate, considering
how narrow a mind it houses! And just what business is it of yours
WHAT we do in our swamp, anyway?"

"Are you kidding? You're OGRES. We're HUMANS. We know it's just a
matter of time before you and your hatchlings come down and steal
away our precious young to satiate your fiendish palates! We have
no intention of sacrificing our children to your monstrous
appetites!"

"AHHHH!" Fiona screamed skyward in frustration, then to Feldgud,
demanded, "If I'm a member of such a horrible species as you
describe, then why would I endanger myself to save your miserable
life?"

"That? I'd say that was due to the lingering dregs of what's left
of your humanity, somehow peeking out through that thick, green,
smelly hide!"

Fiona turned to Shrek. "I think I'm either going to kill him or I'm
going to be sick. Or both," she said, trying desperately now to
keep her temper from boiling over completely.

"Join the club," Shrek agreed, looking passed her to the villager,
the ogre's scowl deepening.

The sheriff, who had been observing the altercation with quiet
amusement, his arms casually crossed, now chuckled. "You know,
Feldgud," he said, "that mouth of your is really going to land you
in some hot water one of these days. And since these are ogres that
you insist on baiting, that might turn out to be literal. But as
far as her humanity saving your worthless behind, you might have
noticed that no HUMAN risked their lives for yours. I certainly
know that I wasn't going to risk MINE under those circumstances."

"And that goes double here!" Bo said.

"Oh, shut up!" Feldgud scolded Bo. "I don't want to hear another
peep out of you! You're the biggest traitor here! You were
supposed to keep the sheriff preoccupied. We had a deal!"

"You never said anything about trying to kill any ogres!" Bo shot
back.

"Oh, good grief, Bo! What did you THINK I wanted you to keep him
away from the Drainpipe for?"

"Well, I confess, I didn't really care much at the time, as long as
you gave me a chance to leave," Bo admitted sheepishly. "But then,
riding with the sheriff, he told me about how badly you had it in
for the ogre newlyweds and, well, my conscious got the better of me.
Then, after spending a little more time with the sheriff " here
she looked up at the lawman, smiled and batted her eyes "I was a
changed woman!" Then she laid a hand on the rock-hard bicep of his
arm, leaned against him, and sighed. The sheriff grinned down at
her.

"Oh, brother!" Feldgud moaned. "Now I think that I'M gonna be
sick!"

"Fine," the sheriff said. "But make it a walking sickness. It's
time for us to head back to Typical. C'mon, all you vermin, follow
the Piper." He began leading the long roped-together gang of men
away, the Piper in front.

"Wait, Sheriff!" Fiona called.

The sheriff stopped and looked back at the ogress, restrained
annoyance on his face. "Yes, Princess?" he asked.

Fiona turned and handed Puppy to a surprised Shrek, then turned back
and advanced to the prisoners and looked over all the villagers in
line after Feldgud. "Do you agree with your leader?" she asked.
"Is that how you see the relationship between your village and our
family? An endless cycle of fear and enmity and confrontation? Is
there no way that we can convince you we mean you no harm? That we
simply wish to live beside you in peace, if not friendship?"

The villagers cast their eyes awkwardly down, most looking ashamed.
Fiona thought she was making progress, but suddenly felt a tug on
her arm. "Fiona!" she heard Moyre hiss in her ear as the elder
ogress took a firmer grip on her arm and led her several yards away
from the villagers.

"What!" Fiona asked her mother-in-law in a somewhat irritated voice
as Shrek, Groyl and Donkey wandered in to hear the conversation.

"You're showing weakness!" Moyre whispered. "You should NEVER show
weakness around humans! It only emboldens them to cause more
trouble!"

"I'm not showing 'weakness'," Fiona argued. "I'm simply trying to
establish a dialog here, to come to some meeting of the minds."

"With HUMANS? PEASANTS, nonetheless? HA!" Moyre rasped. "You're
wasting your time, Fiona, in trying to befriend them. You're only
giving them less reason to fear you. FEAR is what keeps them in
line, Fiona! That's the way it's always been. It's tradition!"

"She's right, Fi," Shrek said. "It's in their nature. That's just
the way it has to be."

Fiona's jaw went slack as she set her hands on her hips and stared
at her husband. "I can hardly believe I'm hearing that from YOU,
considering all we've been through!" she said.

Shrek blushed, but then said defensively, "But these are just common
villagers! There are some things ye just can't change, Fiona.
You're asking the impossible."

"Well, I'm sorry," Fiona said, "but ever since you came crashing
through the roof of my room in the tower, I guess I've just gotten
used to experiencing the impossible!"

Shrek smiled shyly, acknowledging the hit.

"I don't know about the rest of you," Fiona said, now addressing all
three ogres, "but I think it'd be nice if we could look forward to a
future where we don't need to worry about dodging bricks and
pitchforks when we go out for a walk. And I certainly would like
for our KIDS not to have to worry about it. Isn't that worth taking
a chance?"

But Moyre sadly shook her head and said, "Fiona, dear, it's a
wonderful thought, but this is the real world. Ye had the right
idea earlier, the way ye scared 'em off with your roar. Don't
suddenly turn into a Pollyanna "

"Moyre," Groyl interrupted her, "maybe we should let Fiona try it
her way."

"WHAT!" Moyre gasped, surprised at her husband. "But these humans
are all the same! These people just ain't no good!"

"Darling," Groyl said calmly, "need I remind ye that we wouldn't be
alive right now but for the intervention of two of those humans?
Besides, I think Fiona might have a certain insight on human nature
that we lack."

Moyre sighed. "Very well," she said reluctantly and without
enthusiasm. "I've said my piece. Fiona, it's your swamp, and your
kids. Do as ye think fit."

Groyl turned to Shrek. "Son?" the older ogre prompted.

Shrek looked his wife in the eyes. "I say we trust Fiona," he said
resolutely, then offered her a confident smile. She smiled
appreciatively back.

"All right!" Donkey said. "You go, girlfriend!"

"Princess?" the sheriff called back impatiently from where he stood
beside the Piper. "If there isn't anything else "

"Oh, but there is!" Fiona said, approaching the group. "Sheriff,
except for the two men in front, I want you to let all the other
prisoners go."

All of the humans stared at her, shocked.

"Did ... did I hear you right?" the sheriff asked, aghast. "You
want me to let these would-be murderers GO?"

"All except for those two," Fiona said, pointing at the Piper and
Feldgud. "The rest ... well, they didn't really participate."

"But they were here with their torches and their pitchforks," the
sheriff said, still incredulous and now perturbed. "And they very
well may be here again before too long. Leave it to me, and I'll
see to it they won't be ABLE to be back for a very, very long time "

"But they WOULD be back," Fiona said. "Them or others like them.
No. I want this cycle to end." She then addressed the villagers,
who were still staring at her, speechless. "Please!" she said.
"Maybe we can't be friends, at least not right away. But believe
me, we just want to live here in peace. We mean you no harm. We
just want what any decent young couple wants; to be able to live
together and raise our young in love and happiness and security.
Those are values we all share, are they not?"

The villagers glanced around at each other and started mumbling.

"Oh, would you listen to THIS!" Feldgud said derisively. "The ogre
princess is trying to negotiate a truce with her adversaries!" His
tone then turned even more hostile. "But only to buy time to raise
her gang of little creatures until they're old enough to raid our
village! Men, BE men and don't listen to her deceitful lies "

"FELDGUD, SHUT UP!" the sheriff roared. The villager did, looking
back at the sheriff. Feldgud's face still reflected some anger but
it was now mixed with considerable fear. The sheriff jerked his red
bandana from his neck, held it by opposing corners and twirled it
until it was completely furled, then approached Feldgud and roughly
tied it around the villager's head and across his open mouth,
gagging him. "There!" the sheriff said as Feldgud made indistinct
objections behind the gag. The sheriff then turned back to Fiona,
fought to regain some composure, and said, "You were saying,
Princess?"

Fiona smiled. "Thank you, sheriff," she said, then turned to the
other villagers again. "Gentlemen, you have your freedom," she
said. "Please use it to better yourselves and serve your community
and family in more constructive ways than trying to harm those who
have not and would not harm you." She sighed. "I know you were
brought up to hate and fear ogres, taught that they were just big,
stupid, ugly beasts. Believe it or not, so was I perhaps even
more so because of my situation. More than you want to purge us
from the outskirts of your village, I sought to purge the hideous
thing I saw staring back at me from the mirror at night those
rare times when I could stand to LOOK into a mirror at night. Like
Feldgud here, I thought that whatever benign, positive traits I had
were from my human side. But then I met ... my prince," here she
gestured over to Shrek, who looked back bashfully. "The love of my
life, who showed me that he that WE are capable of as much
love and compassion and bravery as the noblest human. Sure, we look
a little different, have different tastes, and enjoy different
pastimes. But trust me, I've lived both lives, been close to loved
ones on either side, and I know that your dreams and aspirations and
ours are quite compatible. In those important areas that really
matter, like love and concern for family and friends and the desire
for a stable, happy home, we share far more than you might think
now. So I DO challenge you TO think, and consider possibilities
beyond the narrow confines of those stereotypes and fairytales
you've been brought up with. So relish your freedom! Go home, kiss
your wives, hug your children, live in peace, and know that where we
live, we only wish the opportunity to do the same. Thank you."

The villagers stared at Fiona, wide-eyed and speechless. Feldgud
made excited, incomprehensive noises behind his gag that nobody was
paying attention to. The Piper just smiled sardonically and shook
his head.

Fiona nodded to the sheriff. The lawman sighed, then reluctantly
began releasing the villagers until only Feldgud and the Piper were
left bound. As Fiona watched, cross-armed, most of the villagers
rubbed their newly freed wrists, cast their eyes away, and began
wandering awkwardly toward the their village.

All but one. A teenager about five feet tall with blond hair
tentatively approached her. The ogress watched, cocking an
inquisitive eyebrow as he came within four feet, took his hat off,
held it awkwardly in his hands, and looked up at her.

"M-Ma'am," he said timidly. "May I ask you a question?"

Fiona looked him over. He seemed meek enough, and had certainly not
been near the front of the pack when they were wielding their
weapons. She smiled down at him. "Certainly," she said, trying to
sound friendly. "What is your name, son?"

"Francis, ma'am," he replied.

"And you may call me Fiona. Go ahead and ask your question,
Francis."

"Ma'am," Francis began, too nervous to drop the formality, "is it
really true, then? You really were a beautiful royal princess that
was rescued from a tower by an ogre and chose to be one yourself?"

"Well, that's a pretty condensed version of it," Fiona said,
chuckling, "but you've got the gist right." Her smile turned wry as
she considered the way she must currently look to him; an ugly
ogress with soiled rough homemade woodland clothes, disheveled and
tiara-less hair, and dirty face. "Although I imagine that I don't
look very 'beautiful' or 'royal' to your eyes just now," she added.

The teenager's expression turned to one of surprise. "Oh, but I
disagree!" he said. "It's plain to anyone WITH eyes! And I I
thank you for my freedom. I am truly sorry for my part in all this.
I beg your forgiveness ..." He then sank to one knee, then bowed
his head so low that Fiona found herself looking down on the back of
his neck as he concluded, "... Your Highness."

Fiona stared down at him, speechless. The other freed villagers had
quietly taken note of the scene, including those who had started
drifting away toward their village. Now they all slowly and timidly
meandered toward the two, and one by one they all took off their
hats, sank to one knee, bowed to Fiona, and said, "Your Highness."
The ogress suddenly found herself looking down upon the bowed heads
of nearly a dozen human villagers, all paying her tribute. She
again felt tears begin to well in her eyes. She looked over at the
sheriff. He looked back at her with a wry smile of his own and
shook his head in bemusement. Then he also sank to one knee and
bent forward in a bow. Bo, standing beside him, then followed his
lead and did the same.

Fiona started to weep.

A few hours later Fiona was dressed in her blue one-piece bathing
suit and making her way across the swamp. In her hands she carried
a tray upon which sat four mugs with bent straws and little paper
umbrellas sticking out of them. Soon she came to her destination:
Her and Shrek's favorite mudhole. Two torches set to either side of
the miniature bog aided the illumination provided by the full moon
that now set high in the sky. Various night creatures chirped and
croaked and whistled around them, but none of the fairy folk that
sometimes could be seen flitting about the swamp visited this
particular spot; they had learned to avoid it lest they be
involuntarily conscripted to provide additional, more colorful
illumination.

Shrek and his parents were already in the hole, the mud coming mid-
way up the male ogres' bare, hairy chests, and up to a few inches
below the collarbone on Moyre. All three had their eyes closed and
their faces bore little smiles of relaxed contentment. Fiona hated
to disturb them, but these particular drinks would not keep.

"Hello everybody!" she said cheerfully. "I brought us a little
something."

The other three ogres all opened their eyes, smiled and greeted her
warmly.

"I was wondering what was keeping ye, Sweetheart," Shrek said,
glancing at the tray. "I thought ye said you'd be right behind us."

"Well, since this is such a special day, I thought I'd make a
special drink," she said. "It's one of MY favorites, anyway," she
added shyly.

Fiona then began handing out the mugs, first to Moyre, then Groyl,
then Shrek. She then took the last for herself, sat the tray aside
and being careful not to spill her drink cautiously slid into
the mudhole beside Shrek. She sighed in contentment as she felt the
cool, brown, oozy, semi-liquid substance enveloping her. Groping
about in the muck with her free hand she found the shelf where Shrek
was sitting and sat beside him, the mud now lapping near the top of
her chest.

"THAT feels great!" she said, then leaned against Shrek's arm,
relaxed, and sighed. A moment later several bubbles erupted in the
mud around her. "THAT feels even BETTER!" she commented, and smiled
slyly up at Shrek. He laughed and then draped a mud-covered arm
around his wife and pulled her closer to him.

Moyre smiled at the happy couple, then looked at the contents of her
mug. Her expression twisted into one of perplexity. "Fiona," she
said, "is this ... crushed white ice?"

"Yes, partially," Fiona replied. "Dragon was good enough to
retrieve some from a mountaintop for me before she and Donkey had to
take off with their kids. It's mixed with a few other ingredients
for flavor. It's called a 'Pina Colada'. It usually has a shot of
rum in it for kick, but considering the occasion I substituted
Ograrian Ale. I hope you like it."

"It looks ... different," Moyre observed, sniffing it. Then she
looked at Fiona, grinned, and said, "But sometimes, things that are
different can prove t'be of surprisingly high quality." Fiona
grinned back.

Moyre lifted her mug in a gesture that took in the other three
ogres. "A toast!" she proclaimed. "To today's heroes!" The other
three ogres tipped their mugs to her and they all took long sips
through their straws.

"Mmmm," Groyl said, smacking his lips. "Not bad, Fiona."

"No, not bad at all," Moyre agreed. But then she carefully took out
the miniature paper umbrella, examined it for a moment, then looked
over at Fiona and asked teasingly, "Were ye expecting rain tonight,
dear? For if so, I fear these things won't quite cut it."

Fiona giggled. "No," she said, "they're just something that gets
served with drinks like this. They're not of any practical use."

"Ah!" Moyre said. "So they're like so many other types of ...
tradition."

"You mean like the one that says ogres take care of their own
injuries?" Fiona asked half-teasingly, and gestured toward Moyre's
left arm, most of it submerged in the mud now, but the top of the
wrappings still visible. "I still say you should have let us have
Dragon fly you to Far Far Away and had my father's doctors have a
look at that "

"Oh, Fiona, please!" Moyre said dismissively. "How knowledgeable
could your father's doctors be about ogres, anyway? I doubt they
even know we have fifteen more bones than humans!"

"I'm sure they do!" Fiona disagreed. "They keep up on all the
latest publications of 'Grimm's Anatomy'. Besides, they had to be
prepared in case anything ever happened to me at night "

"It's all right, Fiona!" Groyl interrupted. "I understand your
concern, but I examined Moyre and it really wasn't broken, just a
bad sprain."

"Besides," Moyre said, "that wasn't the ... impractical tradition I
was alluding to. I was talking more along the lines of the ogre
marriage rules."

"Oh. THAT," Fiona said, her demeanor sagging. "Oh, well. If
Shrek can handle my ... nonconformities as his wife, and you can
tolerate me as a daughter-in-law, then we'll see if we can't raise
our children in proper ogre manner even without our union having an
authentic ogre blessing."

"But what if it could?" Moyre asked.

The other three ogres all jerked their heads toward the older
ogress, confused looks on their faces. "What do you mean?" Fiona
asked anxiously.

"What if ye could have a proper ogre marriage ceremony and have your
union recognized by the ogre community? Would ye be interested?"

"Of COURSE!" Fiona said, suddenly so attentive that even her ears
stood at unusually high angles. "But I thought you said "

"That both principals plus both their parents had to be ogres,"
Groyl finished for her, looking at his wife in confusion. "Aye,
that's correct. What's going through your mind, Moyre?"

"Well, I've been thinking," Moyre began, then chuckled. "Yes, I
know that's hard to believe from me. But I wanted to think of some
way I could pay Fiona back a little for what I put her through today
at the swamp, and for saving my life at that pit. And I've come up
with an idea. But a great deal of it depends on her parents."

"What about my parents?" Fiona asked, her brow knotting in
confusion.

"You're still on good terms with then, I take it?"

"Of course! Better than ever, actually. In fact, they feel rather
guilty over the way they treated me as I was growing up "

"Good!"

"Excuse me?" Fiona asked, somewhat perturbed at Moyre's reaction.

"So that means ... like me ... they probably feel they owe ye ... a
favor," Moyre said. Her voice then took on a mysteriously
conspiratorial tone as she added, "Perhaps even a particularly BIG
favor. Right?"

Fiona felt curiosity and an odd exhilaration begin rising in her.
She leaned as far toward her mother-in-law as the ledge she sat on
would allow. "What do you have in mind?" the princess asked.

It was sometime in the afternoon the next day. A witch, dressed in
the dark robe and pointed hat that her customers expected her to
wear, stood by a cauldron which sat on a fire. She held a long
stick in her hands with which she stirred her brew, every so often
having to pause so as to push the little wire-rimmed glasses she
wore back into place, as they continually wished to slip down her
long nose.

Near where the witch stirred her concoction sat a wooden stand with
several shelves, upon which sat a variety of potions and spells, all
bottled or packaged very neatly and labeled with its name and a
price tag. Next to this stand sat several wooden baskets with a
variety of fruits and vegetables, all the baskets also bearing
labels telling what was in each and the price per dozen. Above all
this was a larger sign, set across two poles, which read, 'Hazel's
Potion and Fruit Stand'. This all sat just off the side of a dirt
road that ran through the forest. A couple of dwarves were
currently looking over the various vegetables while their companion,
a young raven-haired woman, seemed to be considering which variety
of apples to buy.

Overall, however, it had been a slow day. And so the witch looked
up in anticipation when she heard carriage wheels approaching from
somewhere down the road. Her anticipation turned into surprised
curiosity when the vehicle appeared. The carriage seemed to be made
of a giant hollow onion, and driving the two white horses that
pulled it was a large male ogre who bore a resemblance to someone
she had seen before. The carriage pulled off the side of the road
and stopped by her stand. Then a door opened and three other ogres
stepped out, one female about the same age as the driver and two
older ogres, one male and one female. The witch recognized the
older couple, and in fact it was the male who the driver reminded
her of. The witch stopped stirring and leaned on her stick. She
pushed her glasses into place again as the four ogres approached
her. When she did so, she was quite happy to see the older ogress
carrying a small jar.

"Hazel!" the older ogres said, smiling as she and her mate pulled
ahead of the younger two as they approached her. "I was hoping
you'd still be here!"

"Moyre!" Hazel responded in kind. "It's been quite some time!"
Then, indicating Moyre's bandaged left arm that rested in a sling
around her neck, "What happened to YOU?"

"Oh, it's a long story," Moyre said as she and her companion came to
a halt a couple of feet before the cauldron. "You remember my
husband, Groyl?"

"Certainly," Hazel said, and nodded to the older ogre. "Good
afternoon, Groyl."

"Madam Hazel," he responded, nodding back.

Moyre looked into and sniffed at the cauldron. "Ah, I see you're
cooking bats again," she observed.

"Since early this morning!" Hazel said. "They're just about done if
you'd care to purchase some."

Moyre squinted as she sniffed some more. "But the broth's
different," she noted. "Don't you normally use a combination of
turpentine and turtle juice?"

"Usually," Hazel agreed. "But I'm trying something new. This is an
herbal mixture I invented well, herbs and fourteen percent
alcohol. The bats come out almost as tasty, but they're much lower
in fat and even have fewer carbohydrates! I've even found the broth
itself is an astringent, with medicinal uses for treating skin
irritations, itching, minor cuts, and hemorrhoids! I'll probably
end up marketing it myself, I just haven't thought of a name for it
yet. But enough about me!" Here Hazel gestured toward the jar in
Moyre's hand. "Is that what I THINK it is?" she asked.

"Indeed!" Moyre said. "Rare ogre lice, freshly captured during our
last delousing before we went to visit our son and his new bride."

"Splendid!" crowed the witch, then began to reach for the jar. "I
take it you'll be expecting the regular price "

"Not quite," Moyre said, pulling the jar away. "This will be part
of a ... very special transaction."

Hazel's smile faded and her brow knit in sudden suspicion. "What do
you mean?"

Moyre sighed. "First," she said, "let me introduce you to my son
and his new bride." She gestured behind her to where the younger
ogres stood patiently, arm-in-arm. "Madam Hazel," Moyre said, "I'd
like to introduce you to our son, ShreklechI mean, SHREK, and his
wife, Fiona."

The two younger ogres bowed slightly, uncomfortable smiles on their
faces, the female's expression also containing a hint of hopeful
anticipation. "Madam Hazel," they both said politely.

Hazel was nodding back when a memory rose in her mind. "Hey, wait a
minute!" she said. "Shrek ... Fiona ... didn't I read something
about you two ..." She snapped her fingers. "Of COURSE! That ball
at Far Far Away! You're that princess!"

"Oh," Fiona said meekly, blushing. "You heard about that."

"Darling, when something major happens at Far Far Away, the whole
flat WORLD hears about it!" Hazel said. "You couldn't get a lot
more major than THAT! It was in all the papers, scrolls, magic
mirrors, crystal balls, you name it! And the troubadours had a
field day!" Shrek and Fiona looked at each other awkwardly and
sighed.

"In that case," Moyre said to Hazel, "you're aware of Fiona's
parental background, and the ogre marriage problem."

"Ogre marriage problem?" Hazel repeated, confused for a moment.
Then realization dawned on her face. "Oh!" she said. And then, a
moment later when she fully realized all the implications, "Ooooh."

"Exactly," Moyre agreed.

Fiona looked down, embarrassed. Shrek put a comforting arm around
her and said, "As ye can see, it's really, REALLY bothering Fiona.
My mom thought maybe ye could help us find a way around this stupid
ogre marriage ... tradition." He infused the word 'tradition' with
more than mild distaste.

"Now, dear," Hazel said, "there's a basis behind ALL traditions.
Old fogies don't just sit around making them up for no reason at
all! In the case of the restrictions on ogre marriages having to be
between ogres with ogre parents ... well, that's a good deal the
fault of magic users such as myself, I'm afraid. You see, whenever
some particularly heinous lout of a human being deserved to be
punished, some magic user would usually turn him or her into a
different species. It's kind of a knee-jerk reaction. And I'm
sorry to say that often the species of choice would turn out to be
an ogre, as humans considered them such vile creatures that to
actually be turned into one would be one of the worst things
imaginable. So you ended up with a lot of vile and heinous ogres
running around who weren't really ogres and, frankly, started giving
the species an even worse name. Plus such miscreants never cared
for proper ogre traditions anyway, and well you might say things
got ugly, so to speak. So eventually the restriction got put in
place that, in defense of the species, they only wished to propagate
unions between 'real' ogres."

Fiona sniffled, and Shrek pulled her closer.

"But Fiona's different!" Moyre said. "She wasn't turned into an
ogre for some indiscretion! She's been at least part ogress since
she can remember! It's not HER fault her parents aren't ogres. And
she's shown all the proper behavior and attributes and respect for
things ograrian that ANY ogress could. Now she simply wants to be
allowed to go through a proper ogre marriage ceremony "

"WHOA!" Hazel interrupted. "Moyre, I'm not disagreeing with you.
I'm simply filling you in on the history of why things are they way
they are. Your argument's not with me, it's with the officials that
approve or disapprove of any particular wedding. It's not like
there's anything I can do to help you here."

"Oh, but there is!" Moyre said. Then she took a deep breath and
continued, "I has to do with a certain potion ..."

"Well," Hazel said, gesturing to the wooden stands, "I don't know
what potion might help your daughter-in-law's situation, but feel
free to look over my stock "

"No," Moyre said, "this would be a ... special order."

Hazel frowned, suspicious. "I don't know ..." she said.

Moyre then held out the jar. "What would you say if we paid with
not just this jar, but, say, jars from the next five delousings?"

Hazel licked her lips. Ogre lice was a potent ingredient in many of
her spells and recipes. "What do you have in mind?" the witch
asked.

A couple of days later day King Harold was sitting on his throne in
the royal palace at Far Far Away. Suddenly the captain of the
guards came rushing into the room, his polished armor clattering.
The man brought himself to an abrupt halt in front of Harold's
throne and snapped to attention.

"Sire!" the man reported, his voice anxious but in control. "We are
under attack!"

"WHAT!" Harold said, lifting himself erect by all four webbed feet,
his mottled green skin flushing. "From where?"

"From the air, Sire. We're being circled by a large red dragon!"

"Red dragon!" Harold repeated, and something within him leapt.
True, such a beast could be attacking, but it could also mean
"Captain!" Harold said. "Quick! Take me up to the battlements!"

"Yes, Sire!" the captain said, then knelt and held out his two
hands, pressed side-by-side, palms upward. Harold leaped from his
throne onto the captain's hands. The captain then quickly got to
his feet and began hurrying back to the stairwell that would take
them up to the battlements on the roof.

The captain went as fast as he could while making sure he protected
his amphibian monarch, but Harold still found the trip
excruciatingly slow. "Hurry, man, hurry!" he goaded. "Hop to it!"

The two finally exited onto the castle roof, and Harold saw several
of his soldiers loading a new type of catapult that had recently
been added to the castle's defenses. The weapons aimed upwards at
an angle, and were loaded with multiple flaming projectiles that
spread across the sky when fired. Harold knew the captain liked to
be prepared for anything, hence the large barrels of milk and
accompanying boilers which had proved so useful when the castle had
suffered that extremely unlikely attack by a giant gingerbread man.
Tragically, it had turned out that the great pastry 'Mongo', as
he had been named was on the right side in the conflict that
night. But it was another oversized visitor who arrived hours later
a large red dragon that had taken the defenders by surprise.
It had easily made its way to the courtyard itself, and it had
embarrassed the captain that they had no defense ready to stop it.
Fortunately, that dragon had also been on the right side, so there
was no harm done, and another tragic misunderstanding avoided.
However, the captain had since devised the anti-air weapons in the
event of any visits by other such beasts that were not so amicably
inclined.

"Captain," Harold said sternly, "you KNOW this may be OUR dragon,
don't you?"

"Indeed Sire," he confirmed as they came to the edge of a rampart.
"But it hasn't given us the agreed-upon signal!" The captain turned
toward one of the men readying one of the weapons. "Lieutenant,
where is it now?" he demanded.

"It disappeared behind a cloud, sir," the soldier said. "We fired
at it twice while it was circling, but it avoided both look, sir,
there it is!"

The captain and king followed the man's gaze and saw a red dragon
exiting a cloudbank. It was several hundred yards away, but Harold
could swear he saw someone riding on its back toward the base of its
neck. Suddenly the dragon started releasing a trail of smoke
through its nostrils as it flew a deliberate pattern. A moment
later everyone could make out a large 'S' that the smoke trail had
left in the sky.

"Unload your weapons!" the king shouted. "That's OUR dragon!"

The soldiers unloaded and uncocked their weapons as the dragon flew
lazily toward the castle. As it came closer, Harold could see he
was correct and it DID have a rider. In fact, it would have been
hard to miss the rider, since it was an ogre. The king beamed when
he was able to make out exactly who that ogre was.

The dragon landed on the castle roof and Harold's daughter smiled
down at her father from her perch atop the beast's neck. She was
wearing the same dark green dress she had been wearing that night at
the ball well, that she had been wearing after she had reassumed
ogress form. "Hi, Dad!" she called.

"Fiona! Sweetheart!" Harold smiled back. But then his expression
turned stern. "Why the devil didn't you signal earlier? You might
have been killed!"

"I wanted to," Fiona said, then cast a stern glare of her own at the
dragon, who was looking back at her. "But Dragon wanted to play."

The dragon grinned naughtily and shrugged. Fiona and her father
both shook their heads, then Fiona slid off the dragon's back and
landed adroitly a few feet in front of the captain and her father.
She held her own hands out, pressed together with open palms upward.
Harold leapt from his perch on the captain's hands onto Fiona's
broader hand span. She lifted him up and they shared a brief kiss,
then she held him out at eye level to her so they could converse on
an equal plane.

"Fiona, dear, what brings you to Far Far Away?" Harold asked. "And
where is Shrek? Is ... everything all right between you? You two
didn't have another spat?"

"Oh, no, everything's going great!" she said, smiling. Then her
smile faded and she continued. "Well, except for one thing. In
fact, it's what I'm here for. There's something I need to talk with
you and mom about. And then I'm afraid I need to ask you two for a
favor. A BIG favor."

Harold tilted his head inquiringly. "What is it, dear? What do you
have in mind?" the king asked.