Chapter 18

"This Old House"

SLAM!

CLICK!

SNAP!

The ogress' gnarled hands were a blur as she slammed the door shut behind them, dropping her paper and setting to work securing a dizzying series of locks and deadbolts, making certain nobody else would be coming through the front door unless SHE wanted them to. When every lock was locked and every latch latched, she spun to face a terrified-looking Shrek and Cerul.

"So," she growled, hazel eyes flashing behind the half-moon lenses of her almost comically tiny reading glasses, "what did you boys do NOW?"

Shrek gulped nervously and looked at Cerul, who shrugged helplessly, too scared to take his eyes off their interrogator. "Well…" the older ogre stammered, "Y'see, we--"

The ogress threw up her hands in surrender, waving off Shrek's explanation. "Never mind," she muttered as as she shuffled toward the nearest window. "I'm probably better off not knowing…"

She stuck her head between the leathery drapes, taking another look around the seemingly abandoned neighborhood. Satisfied they weren't being watched, she pulled the curtains back together so tight that not even so much as a single drop of sunshine managed to find its way through.

With Shrek and Cerul's help, the ogress continued to seal off the house from the outside world, giving the as yet unnoticed Fiona a chance to better study the humble hovel and its oddly intimidating inhabitant.
Much like its exterior, the home's interior was tidy enough, at least by ogre standards. They were standing in what Fiona assumed was a sort of sitting room, complete with ratty leather-clad couch, overstuffed recliner and a low wooden coffee table covered in old magazines like those in Odius' waiting room. One wall was draped with a tapestry of dubious quality showing a group of crocodiles engaged in some sort of ogre card game; another wall was dominated by a huge fireplace, a procession of framed snapshots and dusty knickknacks lining the mantle.

The home's owner, likewise, looked unremarkable, but Fiona couldn't help but be a little unnerved by the power she seemed to have over her husband and his otherwise obstinate brother. The ogress looked old enough to be their mother, though Shrek certainly would have mentioned a little detail like that -- wouldn't he have? She wasn't particularly tall -- in fact, Fiona guessed she had the older woman beat by a couple inches at least -- or powerful-looking. In a badly worn housecoat and faded slippers, her bottle-bronzed hair a tangle of knots and split ends held together by curlers the same gaudy pink as the house next door, she wasn't another ogre royal, either, Fiona decided. So why were Shrek and Cerul so quick to obey?

Fiona was still pondering that question a moment later when the ogres finished their work, every last window shut tight, every curtain drawn, plunging the room into near-darkness.

But not near-silence.

"Man, you ogres an' your PRIVACY!" Donkey whistled. "It's not like people are exactly linin' up at your door or anything -- well, except for that one time at Shrek's place …"

For the first time since their arrival, the group's mysterious rescuer (if that was, in fact, what she was) seemed to notice her non-ogre guests. Her jaw dropped, eyes wide as she adjusted her spectacles for a better look at her visitors.

"What" the ogress finally managed to spit out, "is that?"

Shrek smiled. "Don't mind him," the ogre reassured her. "That's just Donkey. He's harmless -- ANNOYIN' as all get-out, but harmless."

The ogress snorted. "Don't you think I know what a donkey is?" she scolded. "But…" the confused Shrek protested, "ye just ASKED what--"

"Not HIM," she cut Shrek off with a nod to Donkey. "THAT thing!"

She thrust a single accusatory finger in Fiona's direction. The princess just stared back at the ogress in stunned silence for a second, taking in the whole surreal scene, then …

"THING?" she gasped indignantly, returning her accuser's disgusted glare. "I am NOT a 'thing,' you … you …"

Sensing a bad situation about to get much worse, Shrek chose to throw himself into the line of fire. "Fiona, dear, this is Miasma -- she used t'rent us the place next door."

Fiona forced herself to smile and extended a hand. "Pleased to meet you, Miasma," she managed through gritted teeth. Miasma took the hand and gave it a limp shake. "Call me Mimi," she responded pleasantly enough, though her expression betrayed her TRUE feelings.

"An' THIS," Shrek announced grandly to Miasma, throwing an arm around the still fuming Fiona and pulling her close to his side, "is my WIFE, Fiona."

Miasma shook her head, appalled. "Wife? Oh, Shrek…" she clucked disapprovingly. "I knew you weren't much in the romance department--"

Shrek cringed. "Why does everybody keep SAYIN' that?" he lamented.

"--but, honey…" Mimi continued without bothering to answer, "well, LOOK at her! All skin and bones! And these -- you call these ears? And don't even get me STARTED on the color! As if your brother wasn't bad enough…"

"Now wait just one minute!" Cerul yelped at the affront, jumping up from his seat on the couch, but Miasma didn't seem to notice his protest anymore than she'd noticed Shrek's a moment earlier. "Still," she continued, "I guess you boys are old enough to make your own mistakes. So … married, hmmmm? Is THAT where you ran off to?"

All faces turned to Shrek. "Um…not exactly," the ogre stammered, wilting under the weight of the four pairs of eyes staring at him. "Actually, it's kind of a long story--"

Mimi snorted. "I've got time, hon," she chuckled. "After all, I've been waiting for your last rent check for how many years now? And it's not like anybody ELSE is gonna move into that monstrosity next door. Nobody wants to so much as step foot in the place -- to be honest, I probably haven't been in there a half-dozen times myself since you two up and vanished on me."

Cerul had been silently pouting since the landlady's earlier insult, but his ears perked up at this latest bit of information. "So nobody's been in there?" the wizard asked excitedly, suddenly interested in the conversation. "All our stuff's still inside?"

"I guess," Miasma shrugged. "That horrible excuse for a police force -- nothing but a bunch of thugs, if you ask ME -- took a look around after you were--" she looked at Cerul sorrowfully and shook her head -- "after you left. But no, nobody's been inside since besides me, and I sure wasn't about to go poking around in there without a good reason. I mean, who KNOWS what kind of crazy mumbo-jumbo you left laying around?"

Cerul grinned. "Mimi," he laughed, planting a big, wet kiss on the shocked ogress' wrinkled forehead, "ye're BEAUTIFUL!"

With that, the sorcerer was on his way, wrestling with the labyrinth of locks before throwing the front door wide open and disappearing around the corner. As Shrek and Donkey took off in pursuit, Mimi turned to the stunned Fiona, lifted a finger to tap the spot where Cerul had kissed her and grinned conspiratorially, a twinkle in her eye.

"It's the EARS…"

---------------

"What do you see?"

Cerul frowned at Shrek's question. "Not much," he barked back as he squinted into the dark interior of their former home. A thick layer of grime and mildew cloaked the windows as effectively as any blind or curtain, and as for the magic wand that had saved them in the tunnels…

"Stupid thing's gone belly-up again," the magician grumbled to himself, beating the carved stick against his palm but succeeding in producing nothing more than a sore hand.

Behind him, Shrek rolled his eyes. "Well, then…" the older ogre grunted as he forced his way past Cerul and into the house. From inside, Cerul could hear the thumps and crashes of a very big ogre making an even bigger mess, then--

"--let me introduce to a little bit o' magic I like t'call--"

The groan on wood under considerable stress caught Cerul's attention. A few feet away, one of the house's windows creaked open, and Shrek's grinning face popped through the opening.

"--THE SUN!" Shrek finished. "Maybe ye've heard of it?"

Cerul didn't respond to Shrek's teasing, but he joined his brother inside while Donkey waited on the front steps, both waiting for Fiona and serving as an enthusiastic if likely ineffective lookout. As Cerul set to work looking for … well, whatever it was he was looking for, Shrek took a moment to give the old place a quick once-over. It certainly LOOKED as if no one had been inside in some time. Everything was coated in dust and cobwebs, painting the room a pale, ghostly gray. The table -- like the one in Shrek and Fiona's house, pieced together from old logs and worn, uneven boards -- and matching chairs had been overturned, and most of what had once sat in cabinets and bookcases was now scattered across the floor. A stack of dirty dishes sat in the washbasin, years overdue a good scrubbing. Still…

"Could be worse -- eh, Cerul?" Shrek called out. But Cerul wasn't listening. He was frantically scanning a shelf on the far wall, mumbling to himself as he pulled volume after dusty volume from its resting place, glanced at its title, cursed to himself and tossed it away until a small library of literature lay at his feet.

"C'mon, c'mon…" the wizard muttered anxiously as he discarded another worn tome, "somethin' has got t'still be here. They couldn't o' taken EVERYTHING!"

But apparently, "they" had. With a roar of frustration, Cerul slammed his fist against the shelf -- and immediately disappeared within a rolling cloudbank of thick, choking dust.

"Smooth move, Hex-Lax!" Shrek laughed as the sputtering Cerul struggled to clear the air. "Ye mind tellin' me what--"

"Hey! I distinctly asked for the No Smokin' section!" Donkey joked as he and Fiona finally strolled in. As Shrek turned to face them, Cerul managed to escape the dust cloud -- only to scamper up a ladder in one corner, push open a trapdoor above and vanish from sight again.

"Sorry about the mess," Shrek apologized, more to Fiona than to the oblivious Donkey. The princess laughed. "I live in a SWAMP, Shrek," she reminded the ogre with a giggle. "I think I'll survive a little dust." She glanced around. "Where'd your brother go?"

Shrek looked back at the ladder and the trapdoor above it. "I'm not sure," he growled. "But I'm about t'find out…"

Slowly, unsure the rickety ladder would hold together despite Cerul's ascension a moment earlier, Shrek climbed toward the trapdoor and pushed his way through the opening. It was a lot narrower than he remembered -- or more likely, he was a lot WIDER.

The second floor had been the brothers' bedroom. Bunk beds, draped in dust-thick blankets, leaned against one wall. A desk, dresser and more bookshelves filled the rest of the cramped room. Cerul was once again hard at work pillaging the shelves, leaving Shrek to dodge a barrage of hardbacks.

"They're not here, either!" Cerul whined. "I can't believe those … those TROGLODYTES … took ALL of them!"

Shrek ducked as another book whizzed past his bald head. "Took all o' WHAT?" he asked annoyed.

"My BOOKS!" Cerul bellowed, face red from anger and exertion.

"Books?"

Both ogres turned at the question. Donkey was laboring to push open the trap door while keeping his balance on the ladder -- no easy task with hooves. Finally, he lurched over the edge of the portal and into the room, coming to rest on threadbare rug that covered much of the wooded floor. "Shrek's got a whole HOUSE full of books!" he continued as if his awkward entrance and resulting spill had never happened. "Storybooks, cookbooks…"

Cerul shook his head. "Not THOSE kind o' books, Donkey," he sighed. "I need SPELL books -- ye know, MAGIC stuff?" He stomped past Shrek to the dresser and threw open the top drawer. "There's got t'be SOMETHIN' around here," the wizard grumbled as he dug through the drawer's long-forgotten contents. A couple pairs of old boxer shorts landed in Shrek's arms…

…then a stained undershirt…

…some mismatched socks…

…more underwear…

…and so on, until the pile of clothes towered over Shrek's head, the pair of green ears poking out from behind the mountain of laundry the only evidence an ogre lurked below.

"Look, Cer…" Shrek's muffled voice came through the clothes. "If it's magic yer wantin', let's just go home. Duloc's CRAWLIN' with magic! Maybe ye can bum a book offa--"

"NO!" Cerul yelled, slamming the drawer in anger, the force of his tantrum toppling Shrek's armload of laundry. "It doesn't quite work like that, OK? I can't just stroll inta the nearest Wandenbooks an' say, 'Excuse me, I'd like t'reserve the a copy o' Merlin's E-Z Guide to Do-It-Yourself Wizardry and Other Spellcraft, Vol. 6,' now can I?"

Donkey gawked at the wizard. "That a real book?" he asked, impressed Cerul could even remember the name.

Cerul paused and scratched his chin thoughtfully. "Actually," he said at last, "by now they're probably up to Volume 12 or--"

SNAP!

Cerul and Donkey flinched as Shrek snapped his fingers noisily in the space between sorcerer and steed. "Hello!" he chided his companions. "You two! Focus!"

The easily distracted duo turned to Shrek, pinning the ogre beneath twin glares. "There -- we're FOCUSED," Cerul growled. "Yeah! Happy now?" Donkey echoed the sentiment.

"Ecstatic," Shrek sighed. "Now … let's think, shall we? Are ye SURE ye checked everywhere, Cerul?"

"Yes."

"Ye checked ALL the bookshelves?"

"Yes."

"An' the desk? An' the dresser?"

"Yes!"

"How 'bout the--"

"YES!!!" Cerul roared. "I checked every last inch o' this place!"

Shrek shrugged helplessly. "Then I guess yer out o' luck, Cer."

Cerul started to respond, but a thought popped into his cap-covered head before he could form the words. "Out…" he mouthed to himself. "Out…that's IT!"

Without warning or explanation, Cerul leapt toward the trapdoor. "Look out below -- wizard coming through!" he bellowed as he plunged through the open trapdoor, not bothering with the ladder. Shrek cringed as a piercing and definitely feminine scream echoed through the house, followed by a hurried "Sorry, princess!" A second later, a shaken Fiona poked her head up through the opening. "So THIS is the second floor," she remarked as she took a seat on the edge of the opening, "You know, I've been looking around downstairs, and this place isn't so bad -- well, except for the roof." She gestured overhead to another trapdoor, this one nailed firmly shut. Its edges were ringed by more of the burn marks she'd seen from the outside, and sunlight filtered down from between the ominously warped planks that formed the ceiling around it. "What's up there, anyway?"

"It USED t'be Cerul's study," Shrek answered. "Ye know, where he'd whip up all his magical potions an' what have ye?"

"And now?"

"Now?" he chuckled. "NOW, it's the skylight."

The color drained from Fiona's face. "Oh," she managed in response, then quickly changed the subject. "Where was Cerul headed in such a hurry?"

Shrek took a seat on the lower bunk, kicking up another cloud of dust. "Ye got me, Fi," he sighed. "But I know where we're goin' -- HOME. So let's just head downstairs an' see if we can get out o' here before anything ELSE happens!"

Motioning for Fiona to lead the way, Shrek followed the princess down the ladder to the ground floor, Donkey not far behind. The pint-sized steed's back hooves had no sooner touched the floor then Cerul came barreling through the front door, grinning from ear to trumpet ear.

"GOT IT!" he crowed, waving a small black and yellow book. "Or t'be more precise, Grunder's goons DIDN'T get it!"

"Great…" Shrek grunted, looking anything but enthused. Fiona was at least curious. "Didn't get what?" she asked.

Cerul held up the book for inspection. On the cover, a stereotypical wizard, complete with long, flowing beard and peaked cap, pointed with glowing wand to the tome's title.

"Magic for Dummies?"

"Well, THAT's appropriate!" Shrek guffawed, but Cerul was too thrilled with his discovery to even acknowledge the insult. "It was sittin' out there in the outhouse the whole time," the wizard explained.

Donkey shuddered. "I believe it -- I know I wouldn't wanna look in there!"

"Oh, they looked in the outhouse -- USED it, too, by the looks o' this book," Cerul laughed, holding up the book to show the ragged edges where pages had been torn out for other, less … literary … purposes. "Lucky for us, Grunder's bunch aren't exactly the brightest torches in the swamp."

Shrek started toward the door and put a hand on Cerul's shoulder. "Great, ye got yer book," he said tiredly. "Can we PLEASE go now?"

Cerul shook his head. "Not without a plan."

"A PLAN?!"

Cerul looked offended. "An' why not?" he asked. "Ye think ye're the only one who can come up with a plan around here? Listen, I've been doin' some thinking…"

"Oh, wonderful…"

"Those caves are the quickest way back t'Duloc, right?" Cerul continued. "I know it, so ye can bet Odius knows it, too -- an' I'm not in a real big hurry to go back t'Wizards' Row."

"Get to the point, Cer…" Shrek growled.

"The point IS," the wizard explained, "if we want inta those caves, we're gonn have t'be SUBTLE."

Shrek frowned, taking it all in. "I don't know…" he hesitated. "Fiona?"

The ex-ogress shrugged her shoulders. "He has a point, honey."

Shrek's frown deepened. "OK. Fine. So, Mister Wizard, do you HAVE a plan?"

"As a matter o' fact," Cerul replied proudly, "I DO. I just need t'borrow a couple things from next door."

Shrek eyed his sorcerous sibling suspiciously. "Borrow a few things?" he asked, already sure he wouldn't like the answer. "Like what?"

---------------

"A DRESS!?!"

Cerul nodded as Miasma gawked at him horror. "An' maybe a shawl, an old housecoat," he continued nonchalantly. "Whatever ye got layin' around…"

The ogress landlady shook her head ruefully. "I always heard you magic types were a little different, but…" She shrugged and started toward the closet. "Oh, well -- who am I to judge?"

Reaching the closet, Miasma threw open the door and, after a few seconds' inspection, began rummaging through the closet's cluttered contents. She plucked a few articles of clothing from their hangers and tossed them to Cerul. "Anything else, hon?" she asked as she closed the door.'

"Actually," Cerul answered as he examined Miasma's donations to the cause, "I kinda need a few things from yer kitchen, too -- if ye don't mind, that is."

"Help yourself," the ogress responded. Cerul excused himself, slipping through one of the doors leading off from the living room. "Me," she confided to the rest of her guests, "I'll be eating OUT tonight. If that lazy, no-good 'worse half' of mine thinks I'm going to feed another perfectly good home-cooked meal to the croc--"

"Worse half?" Donkey asked, a little confused as usual. "Doncha mean your BETTER half?"

Miasma smirked. "Obviously, you've never met my husband…"

"HUSBAND!?!"

Cerul, elbowing open the door as he returned from the kitchen, nearly dropped the groceries he'd just finished liberating from the landlady's larder. He set the overflowing armful of bags and bottles down on the coffee table. "Did EVERYBODY go an' get hitched while I was on the row?" he asked, shocked.

"Honey," Miasma purred as best her gravelly voice would allow, "I was 'hitched' LONG before you boys came along!"

But Cerul wasn't the only one caught off-guard by the revelation. "Really?" Shrek asked. "Ye never mentioned a husband…"

"Yeah," Cerul added, "an' it was always just you 'round here. I just assumed--"

"That'll teach you not to assume," Miasma corrected Cerul. "It makes an -- well, just take a look at your long-eared friend there."

Cerul glanced down at the equally perplexed Donkey, who just shrugged. He looked back at his ex-landlady. "I don't get it…"

Miasma just chuckled. "Never mind, kid," she laughed as she reached for one of the frames on the mantle. "But, yeah -- hate to break it to you, but I'm a married ogress. He was in … well, I guess you'd call it the army," she explained. "Nowadays, though, he's in the security business -- pulling guard duty up at that crooked king's castle."

She handed the photo to Shrek. Leering back at him in sepia tones was an ogre in bow tie and tails -- a wedding picture, no doubt. The picture was an old one, and its subject had aged quite a bit since it had been taken, but the face was unmistakable. Shrek felt a twinge of guilt as he passed the snapshot on to Cerul. Like Shrek, he recognized the ogre groom -- and, like Shrek, he felt his stomach sink at the realization. "THIS is yer husband, Mimi?" he croaked.

Miasma took the picture from Cerul and placed it back on the mantle. "That's my Brutus," she confirmed. "To be honest, I thought he'd be home by now -- guess he got tied up at work…"

Shrek and Cerul cringed at Miasma's unfortunate (though not inaccurate) choice of words, but the ogress didn't seem to notice. "But you boys don't want to hear about that," she continued. "Got everything you need, Cerul?"

Cerul tried to smile. "Think so, thanks," he answered weakly, looking at the smorgasbord sprawled across the table. "Lessee -- I've got eye of newt, toad's toes, a couple o' weed rats for that gamey flavor … Oh! An' the most ingredient of all! One big bag o'--"

---------------

"Onions?"

The two sentries looked at each other, then back at the unexpected late-night visitor cowering just within the glow of their torches. The old woman -- her quaking frame draped in layer after layer of clothes despite the warm, muggy evening -- was indeed holding out a huge onion in one trembling hand.

The lead sentry -- the younger of the two, judging by his relatively unlined face and almost respectable armor -- frowned. "Look … uh … ma'am," he said hesitantly, "you really shouldn't be up here. There's been a dungeon break -- a couple of out-of-town rabble-rousers and a wizard."

The old woman gasped. "A WIZARD?" she asked, lifting a hand to her shawl-draped face in horror. "How perfectly DREADFUL!"

The other sentry nodded. "You better be moving along, lady," he grunted. "It ain't safe out. Or didn't you see the roadblocks?"

"I saw them," the crone confessed, "but I didn't think anyone would worry about one lonely old woman."

"Can't be too careful, ma'am."

The woman nodded. "Well, you boys keep up the good work," she said. "And please, do have some onions." She drew another bulb from the bag slung over her stooped shoulder and forcing the two onions into the soldiers' hands. "In fact," she continued, "unexpectedly snatching the onions away and stuffing them back into the sack, "why don't you just take the whole bag?"

"I don't know…" the younger guard argued weakly.

"Oh, nonsense!" the ogress scolded. "We can't have you fine young ogres keeping the kingdom safe on an empty stomach, now can we?"

The first sentry grinned. "No, ma'am," he conceded, accepting the bag. "We sure can't."

He took an onion and tossed the rest to his older colleague. The second sentry dug into the sack, pulling out the biggest, plumpest bulb he could find. Both ogres devoured the tangy treats in a couple bites, reached for a second helping, then a third as the old woman looked on with a sly smile.

"These BURP! are pretty good, lady," the second guard piped up after his fourth onion in no more than a minute or two. "They pickled?"

The crone's smile grew wider beneath the shawl. "Something like that…" she answered cryptically.

"Well," the first sentry added, "they're pretty tasty, whatev … wha … whOOOF!"

Without warning, the soldier fainted away, eyes rolling back in his head, legs buckling uselessly beneath him. The other ogre stared at his partner in horror, then struggled to stand. "Y-you there!" he slurred. "Hal … ha … hoooooo, boy…" He, too, collapsed, joining his fellow sentry in a heap at the cave's mouth.

"Boys?" the old woman asked. "Boys? Are you all right?"

The older guard snored loudly, dead to the world.

The crone grinned. "That's what I like t'hear!" 'she' laughed, voice dropping into a deep brogue. "OK, coast is clear!"

On cue, Shrek poked up his head from behind one of the rocks dislodged by the landslide he'd caused upon arrival in Slobberknob, Fiona and Donkey quickly following suit. The husband and wife looked more relieved than anything, but their four-legged friend was furious -- in no small part because of the rope knotted tightly around his otherwise unstoppable mouth.

"Well, it's about time!" Shrek huffed as she set to work untying Donkey. "What took so long?"

Donkey gasped for air as the ropes fell loose. "Yeah, what took so long?" he wheezed, stretching his jaws as if making sure everything was still in working order. "An' you, green boy!" he barked at Shrek, "you gonna PAY for that one! Ya can't go around tyin' people up like that! That's…that's animal cruelty, is what THAT is! I oughtta turn you in to the--"

Shrek scowled at his talkative companion. "An' ye wonder why I gagged you?" he hissed, shaking the rope threateningly.

"An' I'm still wonderin'," Cerul griped as he sloughed the disguise and fussily balanced his wizard's hat back atop his shaggy head, "why I had t'wear the dress?"

It was the easiest set-up Shrek had been given all day -- maybe since this little quest had begun. "Hey, it WAS your plan. Besides," he snickered, "ye've got PRACTICE!"

While Shrek enjoyed a good belly-laugh at his brother's expense, Fiona stepped out from behind the rubble and tiptoed her way past the slumbering sentries. "Well, Cerul," she said as she made her way to the cave, "I have to admit -- that sleeping potion of yours really worked! You don't a know a girl by the name of Snow White by any chance, do you?"

Cerul was absolutely lost. "Snow WHO?"

Fiona sighed. "She's another princess," she explained. "She used to be under a sleeping spell, too, because this wicked witch gave her a poison apple--"

Cerul turned up his nose. "Apple?" he asked, disgust thick in his voice. "Humans actually EAT those horrible things? One more reason t'be glad I'm an ogre…"

Fiona started to argue, but decided against it. "We can compare menus later," she answered simply as she braced herself against the huge boulder between her and home. "Right now, we've got other worries -- like moving this big OOF! heavy GRUNT! rock!"

The rock didn't move an inch, but Fiona couldn't help BUT be moved as Shrek wrapped a thick arm around her waist and pulled her aside. "Best stand back, Fi," he grunted as he took her place in front of the boulder, "an' leave the heavy liftin' to the--"

"The WHAT?" Fiona huffed, glowering up at her flabbergasted husband. "The MEN? I've got news for you, pal. I've already got a donkey" -- she gestured to their furry friend -- "I don't need a PIG, too!"

Shrek gazed down at his clearly incensed wife, confused and a little irritated himself by the accusation. "Actually, dear," he said quietly, crouching down to look Fiona in the eye, "I was goin' to say OGRES."

Fiona and Shrek glared at each other for a second, neither willing to back down. For once, it was Fiona who looked away first.

"Sorry," she apologized with a guilty grin. Shrek smiled tiredly. "S'okay -- we're all a little antsy t'get home," he reassured her. "So … ready, Cer?"

Cerul took his spot next to Shrek. "Ready," he grunted. Together, the brothers put all their ogre might into budging the boulder from its resting place. At first, nothing happened, and Shrek feared that they had come this far only to be thwarted by his own earlier carelessness. But little by little, the massive stone was forced aside until a sliver of darkness was visible between it and the cave wall.

Shrek stepped back to better gauge whether the tiny opening would be enough to let them through.

"It'll be a tight squeeze," he announced at last, "but I think we'll make it."

Cerul removed his hat and stuck his head through the gap, but there wasn't much to see but black. "Ye sure about this?" he asked as he pulled his head out again. "Do ye know how t'get back? Do ye even know where ye're goin'?"

Shrek grabbed the torches still burning from the sentries' ill-fated stakeout, handing one to Cerul and another to Fiona, keeping a third for himself. "T'be honest, Cer?" he asked as he prepared to plunge once again into the darkness. "At this point, ANYWHERE is better than here…"

---------------