Chapter 2

"Help Wanted"

Dinnertime at the Shrek household was, to say the least, an adventure. The ogre had never intended the mud hut to house anything more than himself and his meager belongings, and nowhere was that reflected more than the dining room.

Actually, the name "dining room" was somewhat misleading - it was more of a combination dining room/kitchen/den. The table, pounded together by hand from old boards and fallen logs, sat in the center of the room on a ragged alligator-skin rug. Behind it, a roaring fire crackled in the fireplace, a cauldron full of Shrek's latest concoction bubbling merrily below a fishing line sagging under the weight of salted swamp toads, smoked weedrats and the occasional dead fish - "leftovers," the ogre like to joke.

The room had been plenty big when it was just Shrek in the hut, the various bowls, platters and mugs that held his dinner sprawling across the table's rough surface, an ear-wax candle burning at his elbow. But with a hyperactive donkey ever underfoot and a doting wife at his side, things were a little more - hectic. Add an amorous dragon easily as large as the house itself - as would be the case this night - and things could get downright chaotic.

At the moment, Shrek was doing his best to make his way to the table with an armful of dishes, a huge bowl of slug stew, a mug of swamp brew (for him) and another of water (for Fiona), as Donkey darted back and forth just below eye level, doing his best to be helpful.

"Hey, you, uh, you need some help with somethin'?" Donkey asked hopefully, backpedaling to stay in front of Shrek as the ogre tried desperately to keep his balance. "'Cause I could get somethin' if ya need me to. I'm not useless, y'know. Just 'cause I ain't got hands don't mean I'm useless - that's why I've got teeth, right?"

Donkey flashed Shrek his best smile, showing off his pearly whites, but that only drew a grimace and a groan of disgust from his green friend.

"Yeah, THAT's what I need - donkey slobber in my soup!" Shrek huffed as he tried unsuccessfully to sidestep his overeager companion. "Now, why don't you…could y'just…no, not that way…I'm gonna- LOOK OUT!"

It was too much, even for someone as sure-footed as Shrek. Two huge feet and four clumsy hooves tangled, and suddenly ogre, donkey and dinner found themselves sprawled across the dirt floor. Donkey lay flat on his back under the table in a sea of broken dishes. Shrek's predicament was, if possible, even more humiliating. He sat on the floor in a puddle of swamp brew and water, the now-empty bowl that had been full a moment earlier now resting, upside-down, on his bald head, tiny rivulets of slug stew running down his face and across the front of his already stained shirt and vest.

He reached up to remove the offending tableware, but someone beat him to it, lifting the bowl from his head. He wiped his face, doing his best to get the stew out of his eyes, and found himself looking into the shining, pale blue eyes of Fiona.

"Need some help, honey?" she asked with a wry smile, trying her best not to laugh at her husband's undignified situation.

She helped Shrek to his feet, both trying not to slip in what was left of dinner.

"Thanks," he mumbled as he regained his footing. He glowered at the cowering Donkey, trying his best to look intimidating.

It might have worked, too, if not for the drops of stew still dripping from his now red-green face. Donkey couldn't take it any more. He began to laugh hysterically, falling to the floor again. That ended any hope Fiona had of keeping a straight face. She, too, started to giggle, bracing herself against the table, the empty bowl still in her hand.

Shrek glared at the both of them, trying to hold on to what was left of his dignity. It was no use. With a snort, he wiped his face on one grimy sleeve and went to work cleaning up as Fiona and Donkey struggled to catch their breath.

So much for dinner he thought gloomily to himself as he picked through the mess. And then, despite himself, he smiled.

Oh, well - at least I've got good company…

¾ ¾ ¾ v ¾ ¾ ¾

Across the countryside, the other households of Duloc settled into similar domestic routines. The tiny kingdom was by nature a quiet, uneventful one, even more so since its tiny dictator, the late, unlamented Lord Farquaad, had been dethroned (and digested).

To be honest, the citizens of Duloc had never cared much for Farquaad or his neurotic need to control single every facet of his life, and theirs. After his death, they had quickly abandoned many of his countless, pointless rules for a more…common-sense approach. Nevertheless, things had remained largely unchanged since Farquaad's demise. After all, why mess with what works, right?

Nowhere in the land was this attitude more obvious than within the confines of Duloc proper, the color-coordinated, climate-controlled capital of the kingdom. Behind its high stone walls and turnstiled gates, row after row of identical houses and shops stretched as far as the eye could see, connected by a dizzying but painstakingly planned system of perfectly aligned streets. Aside from a few stubborn weeds poking up from between the cobblestones and the occasional repainted house (Farquaad had made sure every building in Duloc was painted in blue and white - HIS favorite colors), everything was just as it had been during the diminutive despot's ill-fated reign.

Just a few hundred yards away, just beyond the vegetable patches and fields of sunflowers that surrounded the city of Duloc, stood a long-abandoned mill, the tattered framework of a windmill fluttering weakly in the night breeze. It was here that the first sparks of romance between Shrek and Fiona had been ignited, and it was here, that same evening, that Donkey had first discovered Fiona's secret - her curse.

But tonight, a very different pair was camped on the lonely hillside. Two hulking figures huddled in the shadow of the crumbling tower, their sputtering campfire too weak even to illuminate their faces.

The two mysterious travelers eyed the sleepy town intently, the pale, milky light of a full moon spilling over the peaked roofs of its houses and the forbidding stone heights of the towering castle that jutted up from the town square. Farquaad may have been small, but his ego was anything but.

"Are you absolutely sure about this, sire?" the larger of the two figures whispered, his voice a low rumble. "It has potential, I'll give you that, but doesn't it seem a little…clean…to you?"

"Of course it's clean," the other hissed, his annoyance at the question obvious is his voice. "It's clean and neat and orderly - just the way it's supposed to be."

"But still, sire, surely there must be other kingdoms to conquer. Especially with HIM so close…"

"Look at them," the second voice whispered, cutting his companion's comment short and gesturing at the few Dulocians still bustling about within the city walls. "That fool Farquaad has been dead for what, almost a year now? And still they follow the inane routine he set down! They don't know any better. And do you know why? Because they're followers! What they need now is a leader…and we can provide one…"

¾ ¾ ¾ v ¾ ¾ ¾

A couple hours and another batch of slug stew later, Shrek and Fiona finally sat down for dinner, Donkey propped up beside them so that he was roughly on eye level with his friends.

More importantly, he was on eye level with Dragon. Far too big to fit within Shrek's humble home, she managed to slip her massive head through the recently expanded front window (the first of several 'home improvement projects' Shrek had planned for the house) installed for just such occasions.

Donkey was explaining he and Dragon's plans for the weekend to Shrek and Fiona, the ogre couple sneaking a bemused glance at one another as their friend rambled on.

'So, anyway, Dragon here thinks maybe we should go back t'her place for a while - spend a little 'quality time' together, if y'know what I mean." He grinned up at Dragon. "Ain't that right, babe?"

Dragon cooed and batted her foot-long eyelashes in response, puffing a tiny (by her standards, anyway) heart-shaped smoke ring that hung above the heads of her friends until it disintegrated into a cloud of haze as it collided with the hut's low ceiling.

"That, uh, that sounds great, Donkey," Fiona managed with a weak smile. Dragon's "place," as Donkey put it, was a long-deserted stone castle at the edge of Duloc. Floating in a lake of molten lava and surrounded on all sides by miles of barren wasteland, the castle wasn't exactly the most inviting vacation spot in the world. Throw in the fact that a cursed Fiona had spent almost her entire life shut up in the highest room of the tallest tower of that castle, locked away from the rest of the world to await her true love, and it was no surprise that she could think of few places LESS conducive to romance.

Then again… she corrected herself if not for that castle, we wouldn't all be here like this...

That was true. For all his babbling, Donkey COULD be charming, and his self-saving flattery had won Dragon's heart even as Shrek had dragged Fiona from that lonely tower. And despite the trio's hasty departure from the castle, a departure that left Fiona's fire-breathing "guardian" chained to the front stoop, Dragon and Donkey had managed to find each other again. To be honest, Fiona wasn't sure WHAT was said between the two unlikely lovebirds that day in the forest after they had all gone their separate ways, but Donkey had returned with a smitten Dragon in tow. Together, they had helped Shrek to rescue Fiona again, this time from a marriage of convenience to Farquaad, and since then the two were inseparable. So maybe the castle, gloomy as it might be, WAS romantic. Two couples - ogre and princess, donkey and dragon - couldn't be wrong, right?

Fiona's daydreaming was brought to a sudden conclusion by an elbow in her ribs.

"You all right?" Shrek whispered, a look of vague concern on his face as Fiona shook her head to clear the cobwebs. He didn't claim to understand his wife, just love her, and it always made him a little uneasy when she turned quiet like that. A little overprotective, maybe, but he wasn't taking any chances.

"I'm fine - just thinking is all," Fiona answered, patting his cheek reassuringly. She quickly changed the subject. "So, how was your trip?"

"Oh, you know, the usual. Saw the sights, caught up on some sleep, did a little fishing - with a pole," he added quickly at Fiona's sudden scowl. His usual method, though effective, left a little to be desired in the manners department, and he knew Fiona wasn't exactly appreciative of his…unique…approach to the sport. "Then I went an' got some paint for the new signs, took care o' a couple other things, and then me an' Donkey went an' picked up dinner - "

Donkey's ears perked up at the mention of his name.

"Yeah, me an' Shrek hunted all afternoon! Man, we musta turned over every rock in this swamp lookin' for those slugs. Ugly little suckers, too - they got those big googly eyes an' they're all slimy an' everything. And then those fairy guys showed up, an'- "

Shrek shot Donkey a dirty look across the table, and the startled animal stopped mid-sentence in rare silence. But it was too late. The cat (or fairy) was out of the bag.

"Fairies?" Fiona asked, looking quizzically at her husband. "Shrek, what's he talking about?"

"Oh…uhm…uh…nothing," Shrek stammered unconvincingly. "Y'know how Donkey is - he's just babbling…"

This time, it was Donkey's turn to give the dirty look. "Babblin'? What's THAT supposed t'mean!?!," he huffed, clearly hurt.

"Nothin', Donkey," Shrek mumbled in response, his head buried in his huge hands.

"Go on, Donkey," Fiona urged the indignant animal, stealing a quick, perplexed look at her husband.

"Well…OK," Donkey hesitantly agreed, still looking at Shrek. "Like I was sayin', Shrek an' me were down close to that big puddle of quicksand by those bushes with the berries on 'em - y'know, the little red ones? Man, I bet they'd be good in , like, a pie or a cobbler or somethin'. I don't bake m'self, but I thought maybe you- "

"Donkey," Fiona groaned, trying to keep her friend on track. "The fairies?"

"Huh? Oh yeah, the fairies!" Donkey started up again, remembering where he was going with the story. "Anyway, me an' Shrek was lookin' for slugs, an' these little fairy guys show up, and they're all talkin' about how these hunter guys are tryin' to catch all the fairies or whatever and sell 'em, on account of they're magic or somethin'. And they thought maybe Shrek could help, 'cause he saved everybody before when Farquaad dumped 'em all - well, y'know, here!"

"And did you?" Fiona asked, turning to Shrek, her eyes narrowing in suspicion.

"Well, no…"

"Why not!?!"

"I…it's…it's…" the ogre stuttered, his eyes planted firmly on the tabletop in front of him. Finally, he looked up, his face a mixture of indignation and desperation. "Look. First of all, they weren't fairies - they were little…little…I don't know what, but they weren't fairies!"

"And that makes it OK?" Fiona asked again, obviously unconvinced by Shrek's excuses.

"It's none of my business, all right!?!" Shrek spit out, growing angry. "I'm sorry that they're in trouble an' all, but it's not my problem! Why does everyone think I'm some big hero all of a sudden?"

"'Cause you are!" Donkey offered helpfully. "I mean, y'helped all them fairy-tale folks last time…"

"That wasn't bein' heroic - I just wanted my swamp back!" Shrek argued, wondering how he had so quickly become the bad guy in all of this. "If all those…freaks…got to go home because of it, great, but that doesn't mean I've gotta go chargin' off every time one of 'em has a problem, now does it?"

"No, but- "

"But nothing! I'm not a hero - end of story!"

¾ ¾ ¾ v ¾ ¾ ¾

On the edge of Shrek's swamp, just where the clover and flowers and majestic pines of Duloc's forests began to fade to toadstools and cattails and moss-heavy cypress stands, a tiny figure crept through the shadowy underbrush, jumping at every frog's croak, every alligator's grunt, every flitter of bats' wings.

He had no business being here, he told himself as he made his through the unfamiliar wilderness. The kinds of things that lived in HERE at things like HIM for lunch - or a late dinner.

Then again, he thought to himself , it would take a hero to live in a place like this - and a hero was what he intended to find.

If he lived that long…