A/N: 3 things...

1. Thanks again for all your nice reviews! They really are part of the reason that I continue to write this story.

2. Generally, I don't completely write out lyrics to the songs, but I love Flynn's so much that it's pretty much word for word here.

3. Yesterday I went to see Tangled again in the theaters. Wow. It was even better the second time around. Even my dad liked it. If you're thinking of going to see it again, do it. It was so worth it.

Disclaimer: I do not own Tangled.

Chapter 7-The Not-So-Snuggly Duckling

"People are more than just the way they look."
— Madeleine L'Engle, A Wrinkle in Time

"Toto, I've a feeling we're not in Kansas anymore."
- Dorothy in The Wizard of Oz

Like I said previously, I dubiously followed Flynn Rider as he set off, musing all the while. I couldn't get his final words out of my head- I would know it when I smelled it. There were two possibilities to that, I minded. One, it could smell delicious. And two, it could smell like something I didn't want to think about.

So I decided I wouldn't. Why bother trouble? I couldn't very well ask him about where we were going, because for somebody who seemed to be able to talk himself out any situation, he sure did not seem very interested in chatting with me. I had already tried to get him to talk to me, and this is pretty much how it went:

Me: So, Flynn (for some strange reason, he was now Flynn in my mind, and not the annoying captive in my tower named Flynn Rider), lovely weather we're having.

Flynn: Oh, yeah. Right.

Long pause.

Me again: So, Flynn, what kind of food does this place have?

Flynn: The kind that…you eat.

(Hmm. Was he maybe hiding something from me?)

Another long pause. I couldn't help my next question.

Me: So, Flynn, what was that head thing called?

Flynn: That head thing? (chuckle) You don't get out much, do you, Blondie?

Me: What gives you that impression?

Flynn: I have no idea. Anyway, it's called a tiara, or a crown. But don't mention it again.

Me: And why not?

Flynn (giving me a stern look): Just don't, okay? And no more questions.

After that, I decided that conversation wasn't worth it anymore. Instead, I daydreamed about the floating lights as I trudged along behind him. I thought about him too. I couldn't figure him out. One moment he was completely nice and civil to me and I would think maybe we could actually be friends. The next, he was utterly sarcastic and closed off and I would wonder why I kept following him. He was totally erratic! However, as infuriating as he could be, I kind of liked his unpredictability (hypocritical of me, I know). He was such a nice change from the tower where nothing ever changed. I liked his ability to notice pretty much everything, too. It was a very admirable trait, and one that I wished that I had. I also decided that there was more to him that I had first believed. In fact, I was increasingly beginning to think that he was hiding something big from me. Like, why he was being chased, and had to hide in my tower in the first place. And, furthermore, why he was so hesitant to answer any questions about the tiara. Granted, I was a little naive when it came to people (that's what can happen when you live alone in a tower for eighteen years), but wouldn't somebody open answer my questions?

Suddenly, he turned around and shot me a look. "Almost there, Blondie."

Would he ever remember that my name was Rapunzel? "Rapunzel," I corrected automatically.

"Right."

There was total silence between us. I was starting to find it stifling, and reconsidered my decision to stop trying to get him to talk to me.

Fortunately (or unfortunately, whichever way you choose to see it), we finally reached a cross-roads. For the first time in many minutes, he seemed to perk up a little. In fact, he almost seemed giddy. Was the food really that good? "I know it's around here somewhere", he said as he glanced around, searching for something. His face brightened as he found wherever he was seeking. I liked it when he looked like that and I wondered what he would look like when he actually smiled (if he ever did!), and not smirked. He would likely have a very pleasant one, considering how nice and white his teeth were. I decided that, before our trip was over, I was going to try to get a real smile out of him.

His voice interrupted my thoughts. "Ah, there it is, The Snuggly Duckling."

Loyal listener, I can tell you that whatever I was expecting, The Snuggly Duckling was not it. I was expecting, I don't know, a nice country inn or something quaint like that. I had seen pictures of them in my books, and I always dreamed about eating at one of them. The Snuggly Ducking was nothing like anything I had ever seen in any of my books. For one, it looked awful. The building itself was almost squashed beneath a large tree, and the place looked totally run down. For another, I didn't see any normal looking people anywhere near us (not that I knew exactly what a normal person would look like, but I'm sure you get the idea). I felt nervous butterflies flutter in my stomach. Just what kind of place was this Snuggly Duckling? I stopped walking.

Naturally, he noticed my apprehension. "Oh, don't worry," he assured me. "It's a very quaint place, perfect for you. Don't want you getting scared and giving up on this whole endeavor, now do we?"

His reassurance actually made me feel slightly better. Maybe it wouldn't be so bad, and after all… "Well, I do like duckling," I said thoughtfully.

"Yay!" he said with mock excitement. I followed him as we walked the last few feet to The Snuggly Duckling.

XXXXXXXXXXX

Dear listener, do you remember that Flynn said I would know it when I smelled it? He was right. As we drew closer to The Snuggly Duckling, my nose wrinkled. What was that horrid stench? I was about to tell him that I wasn't sure I really wanted to eat somewhere that smelled so awful, but he opened the door before I could say anything.

"Garcon!" he called. "Your finest table, please!"

As I looked into the Snuggly Duckling, I sharply inhaled. This was completely and totally NOT what I was expecting (or maybe it was). For one thing, was there any such thing as a finest table in this pit? Every single one looked like it was about to fall apart. In addition to that (and something that was even worse), was the fact that at every single worn-down table were big, huge, burly, hulking, mean, nasty, scary, intimidating, threatening, weapon-bearing…(okay, okay, I understand, you get the idea. Sorry) men who stank. In short, the kind of men that I thought Flynn originally was and the kind that Mother had always warned me about. Automatically, I thrust Hesty in front of me, hoping that she would protect me. I sort of doubted it though. I mean, Flynn was one thing. Fifty men who looked like Vikings was another. My feet twitched, and I knew I was about to run. In the complete opposite direction. Forget the floating lights, survival was more important right now!

However, before I could turn and run, Flynn put his hands on my shoulders and pushed me further and further into the restaurant, cracking witticisms the entire way. "You smell that? Take a deep breath through the nose. " Yes, I smell it, and no thank you. "Really let that seep in. What are you getting? Because to me, that's part man-smell, and the other part is really bad man-smell. I don't know why, but overall it just smells like the color brown. Your thoughts? " You don't want to know-I think I'm going to be sick!

Suddenly, I felt something pull on my hair. I quickly turned, ready to swing at whomever it was. I saw that one Viking had some of my hair in his hands. "That's a lot of hair," he muttered. Flynn, of course, had a quip for that too. "She's growing it out", he told the man, wryly. Quickly, I ran over to the Viking and gathered up all 70 feet of hair in my hands (and yes, it was heavy and yes, it was hard to hold Pascal and Hesty at the same time). I kept Hesty out in front of me, desperately hoping that I would be able to fend off any attacks. In a complete stupor, I stumbled along, bumping into random Vikings, wishing that I could just get out of there.

Flynn, naturally, had no such urges. He was happily examining each man, and bellowed out descriptions to me. "Is that blood in your mustache?" he said to one. "Goldie, look at all the blood in his mustache! Good sir, that's a lot of blood!" Oh, wonderful, now I'm not Blondie anymore but Goldie! Is that any better or worse? The color completely drained out of my face, and I was so overcome with terror that I felt that I was about to faint.

Flynn noticed. "Hey, you don't look so good, Blondie." He strolled over to me, and started to walk me over to the door. "Maybe we should get you home, call it a day. You'd probably be better off after all. This is a five start joint, and if you can't handle this, well, maybe you'd be better off in your tower." I didn't necessarily agree with that, (part of me-that wasn't totally terrified- wondered if he brought me there on purpose, just to scare me), but before I could say anything, and before we could leave, another Viking slammed the door closed with a piece of paper under his fist. "Is this you?" he said to Flynn. I attempted to read the piece of paper around his very large fingers: Wanted, Dead or Alive, Flynn Rider, thief. There was also a picture of Flynn on it, but as far as I could tell, the nose was drawn completely wrong. Hey, I'm a painter! I notice that kind of thing. And Flynn did too (Like I said, he notices everything). "Oh, now they're just being mean", he muttered under his breath.

Wanted…Flynn Rider…Thief. Those three words tumbled along in my brain. I had been traveling along with a wanted…thief?! Suddenly, his hesitation about answering my questions made sense, and so did his ability to pick up on every single small detail. Of course, I realized, he must have to notice details or he would be caught. Also, he must have stolen that tiara, and he was being chased because of it. But why steal a tiara? I mean, what use would a man have with a tiara….

In my sudden revelations, I failed to notice that the Vikings were fighting over Flynn for some reason that I had totally missed. They also looked like they were on the verge of punching his face in. How could I tell? Well, the very large fists aimed at his face gave me a good indication. So did his repeated plea, "Not the nose! Not the nose!" I suddenly realized that if he went down, I would go down with him. After all, I had no idea where I was or how to get back home. Plus, he was my only hope of ever seeing those lanterns…

With that thought in mind, I began to hit the men with Hesty, yelling all the while. "Hey! Leave him alone! Give me back my guide! Rufians!" I love Hesty dearly, but she was not helpful at all in my fight against the Vikings. I mean, they were as hard as rocks! She didn't even make a dent. I quickly decided on another course of action: I threw some of my hair on the chandelier and pulled with all my might, hoping it would do what I wanted it to do.

It did. It immediately hit the Vikings' heads, and they immediately looked at me, stunned. Flynn looked pretty stunned as well, but maybe he was just resorting to his two favorite expressions (in case you forgot-annoyance and surprise). Or maybe he was astonished that a "little" girl like me was so strong. Or maybe he was surprised that his nose was still on his face. In any case, I finally had their attention. "Put him down!" I ordered, very loudly. One of the Vikings, who had a hook instead of a hand, started to walk over to me with a very large axe. Pascal, who was on my shoulder like always, gave me a look. Better think of something fast, Rapunzel! Maybe the truth will work, I told him with my eyes. You better hope it does!

"Okay," I began, nervously. "I don't know where I am, and I need him (I pointed at Flynn) to take me to see the lanterns because I've been dreaming about them my entire life. Find your humanity! Haven't any of you ever had a dream?" The Hook Viking suddenly stopped, and then began to walk toward me again. Oh, you've done it now, said Pascal, who realized that I was almost cornered. I winced, and braced myself for the hit. Well, this wasn't how I thought I would go…

"I had a dream once." Wait, what? Did Hook Viking really say what I thought he did? "Um, what?" I asked him, hoping that I had heard him right.

"I had a dream once about being a concert pianist," he told me. Suddenly, as if, encouraged by Hook Viking, all of the other Vikings started to tell their dreams to me as well:

Tor wanted to be a florist. Gruther did interior design. Ulf liked mime. Attila made cupcakes. Bruiser knit. Killer sewed. Fang did puppet shows. Vladimir collected ceramic unicorns.

Stunned by this sudden turn of events (who would have guessed that such scary men would have such…nice dreams?), I tried to politely encourage them in their endeavors. They seemed content by my enthusiasm, until they remembered Flynn (whom they had placed on a hook). "Hey, what's your dream?" they asked. I was quite curious as well. What did a thief dream about? Unsurprisingly, he didn't want to tell them. Until fifty swords were shoved in his face.

"I've got dreams like all of you, no really!" he said. "Just much less…you know, touchy feely! Most of my dreams happen somewhere warm and sunny, on an island that I own. There I would be tanned, and rested, and utterly alone…and… (he paused)..surrounded by enormous piles of money!" He beamed at us once he finished.

My jaw dropped. That was a perfectly awful dream! Not to mention completely shallow and stupid. I was about to tell him so, and I could tell that the Vikings were as well. However, none of were able to act on it because suddenly the door swung open by a thug. And the news he brought with him was not something to dream about.