"Wonderful, how'd this happen?"
A door slammed tight behind them and seemed to be alchemy proof as it was Al couldn't get it open using alchemy.
"Hello there." Came a voice.
"Who's there!" Chanticleer demanded.
"Technically I'm not really there so there's no point in answering your question."
"Then where are you?" Al asked.
"Look on the back wall. There's a metal pipe that I'm speaking into from another room so all you hear is my voice."
"Any chance you can open the door?" Ed asked.
"The door you came through? No. But if you can correctly answer a riddle you can pass through the next door and get one step closer to your destination."
"How do you know where we're going?" Chanticleer asked with a tone of suspicion.
"You're not the only ones who've come through here before. Every one of them wanted to get to the boss thinking this is the quickest way. And true, it is. But only if you can answer the riddle correctly, otherwise the room will be flooded with a poisonous gas and getting you all fit for a pair of angel wings."
"How do we know you'll kill us even if we sort out the riddle?" Ed asked with a raised eyebrow.
"I'm an honest man just doing my job."
"Ok then what's the riddle?" Alphonse asked.
"Look on the desk."
On the left side of the room was a work desk and opposite it was a new door. On the desk were a typewriter, pen, pencil and a bottle of ink. A stack of papers was placed neatly next to one with the riddle typed on it.
"So what do we have to do?"
"When you think you have the riddle figured out write on one of the papers in what utensil you think the riddle is referring to. After that put it in the tube next to the metal pipe and it will be brought up to me. If it's correct I'll open the door if it's not I release the gas."
Ed thought for a second thinking the last part of that sentence could have been in reference to something else. Either way it probably would've been poisonous.
"Sound simple enough, d'ya think we can do it?" Chanticleer said.
"Lets take a look at that riddle." Al motioned.
When I was taken from the fair body,
They cut off my head,
And thus my shape was altered.
It's I that makes peace between king and king,
And many a true lover glad;
All this I do, and ten times more.
And more I could do still;
But nothing can I do
Without my guider's will.
"And it's referring to one of these." Ed said softly, looking at the four items in front of him. "Well, I think we can rule out a typewriter because what can you 'cut off the head to' and alter the shape?"
After much thought and several minutes later the group ruled out the typewriter and the pen. Chanticleer and Al were convinced it had to be the pencil. The 'fair body' could be the tree it came from and by making it a cylinder and putting lead in it 'alters' its shape.
But Edward still had doubts. What they reasoned made sense but he couldn't help but find himself looking at the inkbottle. After muttering the riddle to himself a few more times something made him look at Chanticleer…more like the back of him. Then it clicked.
"Chanty I'm sorry."
"Sorry for wha-GAH!"
Ed pulled out one of Chanticleer's feathers.
"YOU'RE NOT SUPPOSE TO PULL OUT THINGS THAT ARE MEANT TO BE ATTACHED TO PEOPLE! And you came THIS close to touching something else!"
Edward ignored him.
"I was taken from my fair body." He recited while looking at the pulled out feather. "They cut off my head." He transmuted his arm and sharpened the tip of the feather with it. "And my shape was altered. The answer is a quill pen. It writes truces between wars, love letters whatever else but is useless if someone isn't guiding it."
"Yeah that's wonderful now just write the note so we can carry on." The Dawn mumbled, still not happy about what happened. But what really bugged him was that had never happened before.
Al put their message in the tube and a minute after it went up the door opened.
"Well now I think I deserve a 'thank you for saving my butt, Ed' or 'I would have never thought of that Ed' I'd even settle for…"
"Yeah, yeah, yeah. Don't get too big headed about it." Chanticleer muttered.
"I think it's a little late." Al said.
Heeheeheehee! I've always wanted to do that!
Chanticleer- I'm not a Thanksgiving Day turkey so there is no need to 'pluck' me.
Me – (giggle) Believe it or not I got that riddle from an old book of mother goose rhymes.
Chibi me – when she says old she means it. The edges of the pages are turning brown.
Chanticleer – You do know that I'm likely to never forgive you for that.
Me – will you get over it? Here I'll make it better. (Scribbles in notebook about how fast the feather grew back so it happens in the blink of an eye) There, since whatever I write becomes real for you guys the problem's solved and I'll avoid doing the feather-pull thing again. Now ya happy? (Sniff) What's that smell?
Chibi me – SUPPER! (Takes off)