Chapter 14
"Deep Trouble"
"THAT's Fiona?"
Cerul's lip spasmed into a snarl, revealing twin rows of uneven yellow teeth. Eyes that had flown open with surprise on first sight narrowed into a decidedly unfriendly glare as he squinted through the murky shadows of the dungeon's deepest, darkest cell at his new-found sister-in-law.
To say the least, she wasn't exactly what he'd expected.
First of all, the color was ALL wrong. She wasn't quite pink, wasn't quite brown -- and CERTAINLY wasn't green, or even BLUE. Worse yet, she was short, and SKINNY -- so skinny that her ragged burlap dress, by now stained with the souvenirs of captivity, combat and cross-country trek alike, sagged on her rail-thin frame. And even the mane of frazzled red (at least Cerul ASSUMED it was red, though in truth it looked closer to maroon in the gloom of the unilluminated cell) hair that framed her much too pretty face could do little to hide the pathetic flaps of flesh that passed for her ears.
No, she wasn't what he'd expected at all. She was too skinny, too pretty -- and ENTIRELY too h-
"Hey! You say somethin'?"
Cerul glanced down, still scowling, at the question -- and found himself face to long face with Donkey, eyebrow arched and head tilted in obvious anticipation of an answer.
"Huh? Oh, I…uh…it was nothin'," the wizard stammered. "Just askin' if that was Fiona, was all."
Donkey shook his head at what was obviously -- at least to him -- a silly question. "Naw, it's th' OTHER princess Shrek's always fussin' an' worryin' over an' makin' kissy faces at," he answered with a smirk and a chuckle. "Of COURSE it's Fiona! Just outta curiosity, though, why d'ya ask?"
"Oh…no reason, really," Cerul shrugged, peering past Donkey at the topic of their conversation. Fiona was sitting next to the kneeling Shrek, disheveled head to his chest, her much-reduced form all but disappearing beneath his massive arms. "She's jus' not what I was expectin'"
Donkey nodded. "Yeah, she gets that a lot."
"I bet," Cerul muttered. "Funny -- guess it slipped Shrek's mind t'tell me she was- "
"A princess?" Donkey offered.
"No -- THAT much I figured out."
"A redhead?"
"Well, that one's pretty obvious, isn't it?"
"A black belt in kung fu?"
Cerul paused a second at that one, mouth agape, but quickly recovered. "NO! That she was HU- "
"HEY!!!"
Ogre and donkey alike cringed as Shrek's bellowing baritone voice boomed, bouncing off the stone walls of the tunnel, multiplying as it rumbled through the dungeon's labyrinthine passageways. Inside the cell, Fiona's reaction was much the same, the princess throwing her hands over her no longer protruding ears as she winced at her husband's deafening rebuke.
"WHAT???" Cerul hissed, hat pulled tight over his still-ringing ears, Donkey cowering at his feet.
"You two mind keepin' down out there?" Shrek barked, gesturing to the obviously uncomfortable and somewhat embarrassed Fiona. "She's havin' a hard enough time without the two o' ye chatterin' away like a couple o'…o'…flyin' MONKEYS!!!"
"Flyin' monkeys? What in blue blazes are ye TALKIN' about?"
"Yukon -- flyin' monkeys!" Donkey chipped in before Shrek could sputter a response to Cerul's question. "Little hairy guys wit' wings? Back when all them fairytale-type people wuz stayin' in Shrek's swamp, there was this scary green-faced ol' lady who had a bunch of 'em -- kept callin' 'em 'my pretties.' But if ya ask ME, they're ugly li'l suckers, with them beady eyes and the vests with no shirt an' those li'l hats with the tas-no, wait -- those are DANCIN' monkeys! But they look jus' like the flyin' ones -- except for the wings, o' cou-"
"DONKEY!" Shrek yelled, not as deafening as his first outburst but still loud enough that Cerul couldn't help but half-expect a battalion of guards to come racing around the corner. "Would ye PLEASE-"
"Give ya a hand? All ya had t'do was ask, man!" Donkey chirped, overjoyed at the perceived chance to do something useful for a change. "T'be honest, I was gettin' a little bored out here with 'Magic Boy.' Never fear -- your faithful steed is on his w-OOF!!"
Donkey had managed no more than a step or two in his gallop to the couple's side before he found himself brought to a quick -- and painful -- stop. Unable to get a decent grip on the wet stone floor, his hooves skidded out from under him, sending the animal crashing to the floor with a thud. Blinking to chase away the stars circling his head, Donkey turned to find Cerul staring down at him, tail still in hand.
"What's the big idea, huh?" Donkey huffed as he pulled himself free of the ogre's grip, slipping and stumbling to his feet. "Didn't ya hear the man? They need help in there -- an' I'm just the donkey t'give it!"
Donkey spun on his heels (or the four-legged equivalent, in any case) and turned back toward the cell -- only to find an equally perturbed-looking Shrek frowning at him from Fiona's side.
"What?" Donkey asked, thoroughly confused. "Y'said t-"
"Take a look around, Donkey," Shrek sighed, swinging one arm wide in the direction of the cell's far wall. "See anythin' familiar?"
"Well," Donkey pondered the scene before him. "There's YOU, an'…an' the princess, o' course…"
Shrek groaned, burying his head in his hand in exasperation.
"In the cell!" the ogre growled, eyeing his infuriating friend through splayed fingers. "The CELL!"
"Ooooohhh -- the CELL! Why didn't ya say so?"
Donkey gave the room a thorough once-over, pacing back and forth in front of the open cell door, occasionally pausing to cock his head to this side or that for a better view. "Lessee…" he mumbled to himself as he paced, "kinda dark…kinda dirty…sorta slimy-lookin'…HEY! Kinda like YOUR place!"
"WOULD YE JUST LOOK AT THE WALLS, YE JACKA-"
"Sheesh! Somebody woke up on the wrong side o' the…well, WHATEVER it was we wuz sleepin' on!" Donkey snapped. "OK, the walls…walls…hey! They're all sparkly! Kinda like-"
"MY cell?" Cerul offered, foot tapping impatiently as he waited for Donkey to make the connection.
"Yeah! Like YOUR cell!"
"An' remember what happened in THERE?" Shrek asked, trying his best to hurry their little guessing game along. "Ye come prancin' in here, an' the next thing ye know I won't be able t'get a word out o-'-- on second thought, come on in! 'The more the merrier,' I always sa-OOF!"
Shrek's comment was cut short as Fiona landed a quick -- and surprisingly solid, considering her condition -- elbow in the ogre's ribs.
"Stay right there, Donkey," she called out, using Shrek's broad shoulder as leverage to pull herself to her feet. "We're coming out."
"We are?"
"Yes, dear," Fiona answered her husband's question with a tone of voice that said the point was NOT open to debate, "we are."
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"So…do I LOOK as bad as I FEEL?"
Fiona managed a weak smile at her own query as she slumped against the cold rock wall of the passageway and began the task of getting her tangled tresses back in some semblance of order. She half-suspected the answer -- especially now that she was out in the relatively well-lighted hallway beyond her cell. Shrek and his new blue friend -- at least she assumed he was a friend, though Shrek didn't look very happy with him -- were a few yards away, engaged in a whispered dispute that was growing louder by the second. Donkey, meanwhile, had taken it upon himself to stick by the royal's side, an eager if unimposing sentry.
"Aw, ya look FINE, Princess," he answered her question with a toothy grin. "Just like always."
She chuckled at the well-meaning if not entirely sincere compliment. "Thanks, Donkey…"
"Hey, not a problem!" he replied, happy to see a smile finally cross Fiona's tired face. "Seriously, ya look good. Ya look…um…uh…THIN…?"
Fiona's smile widened.
"Well, I DID drop about 150 pounds," she laughed, dropping the makeshift braid she had begun to hold up the voluminous folds of her now comically oversized dress. "I can see it now -- The Slobberknob Diet: 'Nothing for breakfast, nothing for lunch and an overnight stay in a dark, drafty, magic-draining dungeon cell for dinner.' Think it'll catch on?"
"Hey, people'll do all SORTS o'crazy things t'lose weight!" Donkey answered enthusiastically. "Like, I remember this one time, the lady I used t'live with got the hots for ol' man MacDonald next farm over -- man, was THAT place loud! Somebody always moo-mooin' or cluck-cluckin' or quack-quackin.' Enough t'drive a guy crazy! But anyway, so the ol' lady got this idea in her head that maybe if she dropped a coupla pounds, maybe Mac Daddy next door would…"
As Donkey rambled on, Fiona's attention drifted to her husband and their new companion across the hall. The two ogres were in the middle of what appeared to be a heated exchange, both gesturing wildly and fighting a losing battle to keep their voices lowered.
Well, SOMEBODY's not happy! she thought to herself with a frown as the ogres griped and growled and glared at one another in obvious enmity. I wonder what's got THEM so fired up?
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"…lessee…no point in goin' UP -- nothin' up THERE but a bunch o' guards and one power-mad sham of a king! 'Course, we're 'bout as much DOWN as it gets. Maybe if we-"
"Why didn't ye tell me 'bout Fiona?"
Shrek groaned, more than a little peeved at his line of thought being so rudely interrupted. He turned -- and found an even angrier-looking Cerul standing next to him, arms crossed in obvious irritation.
"What?" Shrek asked, confused by the sudden and unexpected interrogation.
"Fiona -- why didn't ye tell me 'bout her?"
"I DID!" Shrek hissed, doing his best to keep his voice down and avoid upsetting his wife any further than her ordeal already had. "Well, maybe I didn't spell it out for ye -- but ye overheard me an' Donkey talkin' 'bout her, an' I KNOW I mentioned m'wife, so I know YE knew I was marri-"
"That's NOT what I meant!"
"Then what WERE ye meanin'?"
"I was meanin'," Cerul huffed, face reddening (or more correctly, considering its bluish tone, purpling) with rage, "why didn't ye tell me she was HUMAN?"
"Well, she WASN'T when we came in here!" Shrek argued. "B'sides, what's it matter?"
"What's it MATTER?!!" Cerul bellowed, any attempt to keep the argument quiet now beyond salvage. "Shrek, ye KNOW what humans are like! They're…they're greedy, an' bloodthirsty, an' small-minded, an' they're…they're-"
"Standin' right behind ye listening t'every word ye're sayin.'"
Cerul spun around -- and found himself face-to-face with a livid Princess Fiona. She had overheard her name and decided to see for herself just what was going on between the ogres.
Obviousy -- hands on her hips, blue eyes flashing beneath scarlet bangs -- she wasn't happy with what she'd seen, or HEARD.
"Sorry," Cerul gulped, instinctively taking a step back from the fuming royal. "I…I thought ye were-"
"Thought I was WHAT, exactly?" Fiona snarled. "Besides greedy, and bloodthirsty, and SMALL-MINDED, of course."
"I…I didn't know ye were-" Cerul tried to apologize, but he'd already dug himself far too deep a hole to get out of it THAT easily.
"Listening?" Fiona spit out the word. "I'm not deaf, pal -- just HUMAN. So before you go around talking behind people's back, Mister-"
She paused, taking a second to give the newcomer a quick sizing-up.
"Who ARE you, anyway?"
"Oh! Whoops -- guess I should be makin' introductions here!" Shrek interjected, stepping between the two in an attempt to defuse the increasingly ugly situation. "Fiona, dear, this is-"
"Ye can call me Cer."
"'SIR?" Fiona laughed, more flabbergasted than amused by the ogre's presumptuousness. "SOMEBODY thinks an awful lot of himself -- especially for a guy in a DUNCE cap!"
"It's a WIZARD'S hat! WIZARD!" Cerul shrieked, his patience with the world's disheartening lack of magical knowledge worn nearly as thin as Fiona's lack of patience with him. "Haven't any of ye seen a wizard bef-"
"Wizard?" Fiona sputtered, expression betraying her disbelief. "If you're a wizard -- and don't think for one INSTANT that I believe you are -- then why don't you just…just…magically WHISK us away from all of this, hmm?"
"Well, I…that is…I…" Cerul tried to explain, stumbling over the words under Fiona's withering glare.
"You what?" Fiona demanded.
"Y'know what? Maybe I will!"
"Maybe you SHOULD!"
"Oh, yeah!"
"YEAH!"
"OK, lady -- ye asked for it!"
Cerul angrily shoved his hat into place and reached for his wand. Lifting the makeshift baton over his head, he began to mutter a few sufficiently mystical-sounding words-
"Oh no, ye don't!"
Without warning, Cerul found himself suddenly enveloped in Shrek's thick arms, one hand clamped over his mouth while the other wrenched the wand from his hand. Satisifed the job was done, Shrek released the would-be sorcerer -- and found himself being stared down by both Cerul and an equally angry-looking Fiona.
"Why not?" Cerul sputtered, indignantly snatching the wand back from Shrek.
"Yeah, why not?" Fiona echoed the question. "If this Merlin wannabe thinks he can get us out of h-"
"FERGET IT!" Shrek roared at neither in particular. "Like I've said, oh, 'bout a MILLION times already, YOU" -- he poked Cerul in the chest with a single accusatory finger -- "an' yer little 'magic tricks' are NOT goin' t'help! I'll find us a way out o' here -- MY way!"
With that, Shrek stormed off toward the other end of Wizards' Row and the passageways beyond, leaving sibling and spouse alike in his wake. Cerul was content to sit and sulk, but Fiona, not about to let Shrek out of her sights, sprinted after the ogre.
"Not without ME, you won't!"
"But, honey-" Shrek started to argue, without bothering to turn around or even slow his gait.
"Don't 'but honey' me, Shrek -- this is NOT negotiable!" Fiona cut him off mid-protest. "I'm coming with youEEEIIII!!!!!"
Shrek froze at the sound of Fiona's scream. He whirled to find his wife ankle-deep in one of the puddles that pitted the uneven stone floor of the hallway, outsized dress trailing through the water.
"ARRRGGGH!!!" Fiona screamed, the stress of the past nights finally getting to her.
"Stupid puddle! Stupid dress!"
In a fit of anger, she seized the hem of the offending garment-
*RIIIIIIIIIP!*
-and tore off a strip of material, leaving the dress a fraction of an inch shorter.
*RIIIIIIIIIP!*
She tore off another strip-
*RIIIIIIIIIP!*
-and another-
*RIIIIIIIIIP!*
-and another-
*RIIIIIIIIIP!*
-and yet another, until the princess all but disappeared within a flurry of flying fabric. Eventually, the ripping came to a stop, revealing an exhausted but much more comfortable-looking Fiona, both the sleeves and the skirt of her ensemble reduced considerably by her unorthodox alterations.
"Give me your belt," she gasped, still struggling to compose herself following her little temper tantrum, with a nod toward Shrek.
"What?" the ogre asked, thoroughly confused.
"Your belt!"
"But…" he protested, "but what about m'PANTS?"
"Shrek…dear," Fiona reasoned with her flustered husband in the most patient-sounding tone of voice possible under the circumstances, "you wear the belt OVER your SHIRT. How much good is it REALLY doing your pants?"
Shrek had to admit -- she had him there!
"Huh…now that ye mention it, I guess it IS a little silly," he conceded. "Y'know, I never really thought about it like that…"
"You can think about it like that later. Right now, I need the belt."
"Uh…OK," Shrek shrugged as he unfastened the leather strap. "But what're ye-"
Before he could finish his sentence, Fiona had swiped the belt from his hand. She wrapped it around her narrow waist -- then did it again, and again, until the belt's considerable length was wound tight. Satisfied that it wouldn't make it around again, she cinched it, pulling tight belt and dress alike.
"There! The latest in peasant fashion!" she boasted, obviously proud of her handiwork. "Perfect for trudging through puddles" -- to prove her point, she pounded the offending pool of water with a couple of lead-footed stomps, burning off the last of her anger and sending her companions diving for cover -- "OR just hanging around the castle. What do you think?"
"I think I'm glad I'm not a dress…" Shrek chuckled.
"Or a puddle!" Donkey added. Everyone laughed -- everyone but Cerul, whose eyes widened as the wheels in his red-tressed head began to turn.
"Wait a sec…" he mumbled to himself, hands fidgeting with the wand in nervous energy. "A puddle…puddle…That's IT!"
"Yes, we GET it -- Donkey's glad he's not a puddle," Shrek grunted. "Now can we please move o-"
"NO, ye DON'T get it! I've got an idea!" Cerul crowed. "See, runnin' around the outside o' the castle, there's this moat-"
"With a rickety wooden bridge an' a couple o' lazy rent-a-sentries an' all sorts o' creepy-crawlies swimmin' in it," Shrek interrupted irritably. "Been there, done that. So?"
"Soooo…," Cerul continued excitedly, his enthusiasm over what was obviously (at least to him) a brilliant plan easily overpowering any annoyance at Shrek's skepticism, "the MOAT leaks through the ceiling. The LEAKS drip into PUDDLES. And the PUDDLES go down THESE GRATES" ¾ he gestured triumphantly to one of the rusty metal storm drains set into the stone floor ¾ "into-"
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"The SEWER?"
King Odius looked up from his vantage point at the edge of a gaping hole in the floor of Wizards' Row where a drainage grate had been just hours earlier. Judging by the twisted and badly bent remains of the metal bars and the jagged edges of the hole, the grate had been ripped away by hand, the hand of someone with considerable strength -- and the monarch had a pretty good idea just WHO that someone had been.
"It would appear that way, milord," Grunder grunted in affirmation, standing at attention a few feet away from the king. The soldier -- eyes narrowed to little more than yellow slits, teeth grinding beneath his unshaven jaw line -- looked none too happy to be at that particular spot at that particular moment, especially under those particular circumstances -- and the aged jailkeep Brutus cowering behind him, a few stubborn splinters of straw clinging to his thinning grey hair, looked positively miserable as he eyed the king in trepidation. "But we WILL find them. All right, men -- what I want out of each and everyone of you is a hard target search of every sewer, gutter, culvert, cesspool, manhole, swimmin' hole and-"
"I blame myself, you know," Odius sighed, cutting Grunder off in mid-order, as he stepped away from the void. "I underestimated him -- ALL of them, really -- and their ingenuity. An unfortunate side effect, I'm afraid, of surrounding myself with ogres who can't think for themselves."
"Maybe unfortunate, milord, but unavoidable in a dictatorship," Grunder pointed out, already well aware of the reaction questioning the legitimacy of Odius reign would draw from the aging monarch.
Odius smiled, but his eyes held no humor. "I'm no dictator, my dear general," he corrected Grunder in carefully measured tones. "My fellow ogres fairly and willingly elected me to my current position -- and anything I've been forced to do in order to hold on to that position was merely good politics."
"I suppose," Grunder shrugged, quickly growing bored of the debate -- especially when action was so close at hand. "Getting back to the matter of the prisoners, your highness," he steered the conversation back to the disappearance of Shrek and friends, "should I send my men down after them?"
Odius shook his head.
"No."
"But, milord-" Odius started to protest, but Odius raised a ringed hand to silence the soldier.
"They've a considerable head start under less than favorable conditions, and I doubt very much that a battalion of your warriors could, in full armor and weighed down by their myriad swords and spears and what have you, make up much time against four unburdened fugitives with every reason to hurry."
"Then…" Odius growled, "then you intend to just…LET THEM GO?"
Odius grinned wickedly. "Not at all, Grunder. We can't outrun them -- but we may yet be able to outSMART them…"
"Sir?"
"We've spent too long standing where they've BEEN," the king explained, the grin widening as his plan began to unfold. "If we've any hope of catching them, we need to get to where they're GOING to be, and quickly…"
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