Not A Bad Idea

"Guys, Christmas Eve is next week. We're lost lost," Felicia huffed.

"That would've been nice when we first split up," Farkle mumbled to himself.

"Now, not so much," Fergus concluded.

The siblings had conquered the once-insurmountable task of finding one another, against quite considerable odds. The next hurdle - finding their way home - still eluded them, the ever-shrinking amount of time that remained to do so chipping away at their confidence.

Late in the afternoon, the ogres trod along yet another less-traveled path through yet another unfamiliar stretch of fields crunchy with frost. As indistinguishable as it was from so many other paths they'd crossed, they knew they had not yet come across this specific area; whether that was encouraging or not remained to be seen.

As they crested a hill, Fergus spotted a small, neglected merchant cart parked on the side of the road, nearly consumed by the great trees it was parked under. It was in desperate need of a new coat of paint, and more than a couple spokes in its wheels were snapped. He may have assumed it was long since abandoned, given its sorry state, except for candlelight glowing from the open service window, which also leaked through the gaps in its wood siding.

"Hey," Fergus pointed to the ramshackle rattletrap, causing the other two to pause beside him at the hill's peak.

"What about it?" Farkle replied, taking a longer look.

"Maybe we should… ask them for directions," Fergus offered casually, anticipating the others' less-than-casual reactions.

"Come on," Felicia dismissed, "we said we weren't gonna–"

"That was before we only had a week to get home." Fergus countered.

"But we're supposed to rely on our instincts," Farkle stated, perhaps a bit more defensive than he intended. "You know… tracking and–"

"And we've exhausted all of those," Fergus parried. "Look. I'm not exactly thrilled to ask for help, either. But do we keep wandering aimlessly for the next week? Or swallow our pride for a minute?"

"You really think some random shopkeep on the side of the road, wherever it is that we are, would know how to get back home?" Felicia asked him incredulously.

"Duloc," Fergus corrected. "Dad keeps the swamp off of public record, anyway. All we need's how to get back to Duloc, and we can circle around it. A traveling merchant out of anyone would know."

"And if they don't?" Farkle jabbed.

"Then it'd be like we hadn't asked at all, wouldn't it?" Fergus raised his brow snippily at Farkle. As he turned to continue down the hill's gentle incline, Felicia and Farkle rolled their eyes - the know-it-all was back.

Sensing his siblings' failure to join him, Fergus turned back around to their unconvinced faces. "You two can't still be stuck on being real ogres, can you?" he asked with mock accusation.

The two's caught-out expressions revealed that, yes, they had in fact still been stuck on that.

"No," Felicia finally declared, her eyes narrowing. She looked aside at Farkle briefly, who gave her a withering stare. "Fine," she offered Fergus, "You can go ask for directions, while we get started on dinner."

"Fine." Fergus gave them both a pursed smile as the three began their descent. As the ground leveled out, Farkle and Felicia pulled over to set up camp under the first tree, leaving Fergus to continue the hundred yards or so toward the cart.

As Fergus closed in on the shabby carriage, he noticed the small feet of the presumed owner propped up on the service window sill. He was reclined back in a wooden chair, fingers laced across his chest and a modest pointed hat pulled low over his eyes. Fergus stopped a step away from the counter, seeing if the merchant would stir on his own, but he continued to doze. He took a half-step closer to the counter, and cleared his throat. The owner snorted himself into wakefulness, inevitably falling backwards from his precariously tilted chair, clattering down onto the floor beneath him.

"Sorry," Fergus offered sheepishly.

"Not a problem! Not a problem–" the shopkeep grunted as he hurriedly readjusted himself. "All good here!" He stood his chair back up, stepping up onto it to stand at the service counter. "Was just resting my eyes is all–" He replaced his hat atop his head, covering a briefly-revealed head of thinning ginger hair. A scraggly, patchy excuse for a beard featured more gray than red. "Now! What can I do ya for–" The owner's nasal rasp caught in his throat as his eyes finally focused on the young ogre before him. Nothing Fergus wasn't used to, of course, especially from individuals smaller than even the average human.

"Don't worry, I'm just–" Fergus held up his hands innocently, "I was just wondering, if you could offer some directions?"

After another moment, the cart's diminutive owner finally blinked out of his trance and averted his eyes, perhaps realizing he had been staring. "Directions? Of course! Directions are my specialty! Where're you heading, my boy?" He planted his hands wide on the countertop.

Fergus's eyes snapped back up to the shopkeep, having drifted around the merchandise displayed in the cart's front glass display - nothing of interest, mostly broken junk. "Uh, Duloc?" Fergus asked.

"Hmm, Duloc… Du-loc…hmm…" the merchant scratched his beard, seeming to search his mind for Fergus's request. He drummed his other fingers on the countertop as he thought. Fergus felt his stomach sink an inch, readying himself to turn back empty-handed.

"Oh! Duloc? Duloc!" the vendor smacked his forehead with a smile, causing his hat to scoot back on his head slightly. "I know Duloc! Like a second home to me! That's the place run by that little dictator, right?"

"Oh– uh," Fergus stammered, not expecting to engage in small talk, "I think he hasn't been in charge of Duloc for like, years, cuz–"

"You're right, you're right! Where is my mind today!" The merchant pulled the brim of his hat down over his ears. "That's the guy who tried to marry that princess from that big ol' fancy kingdom! Emphasis on TRIED. That didn't work out too well for him, I remember now!" He shook his head absentmindedly.

Fergus's ears pricked at the indirect mention of his mother. "Yeah, that guy, heh…" He wasn't particularly interested in dragging out this transaction by engaging in this tangent. Hopefully the shopkeep would take the hint and get on with his request, which he at least seemed to be capable of satisfying.

"Yeah, so, to get to Duloc, you–" the merchant began, but his eyes again fell onto Fergus, causing him to pause. Fergus internally withered. He couldn't exactly object to this shopkeep's tangents, as he was offering aid out of his own goodwill. Goodwill he was extending toward an ogre, no less, so who was Fergus to get impatient? So he bit his tongue; the presence of an ogre was probably already quite unsettling for this pint-sized proprietor, so giving him grace was the best decision.

"Ya know - I'm sorry, it's just–" the merchant began, again looking away bashfully before returning to Fergus. "You just remind me so much of someone I used to know, I've been trying to put my finger on it this whole time!" He leant on his forearms on the counter. "If you weren't so young, I might've said you were him! Though you do perhaps have a bit more hair than I remember on him… then again, we both know my memory's not the most reliable thing, huh! Hah!"

Fergus's eyebrow raised slightly, unconsciously. He began to respond, when–

"Gus!" Farkle's voice called out, closer than their campsite would have suggested, accompanied by two sets of footsteps clomping through the grass. "Made a new friend there?" He chuckled obnoxiously at his joke. He and Felicia came to a stop several yards behind Fergus, waiting for him.

Fergus closed his eyes in mild irritation - the last thing he needed was the two of them further distracting this guy… or worse, put him off of offering his help.

"Would you chill," Fergus hissed over his shoulder at them.

"Did you get the directions yet?" Farkle asked him loudly.

"Yeah, actually, this shopkeeper actually does know Duloc," Fergus replied irritatedly. He turned back to the merchant with a polite, if not mildly apologetic look.

The merchant was, again, frozen as he stared over Fergus's shoulder at the two new parties. Three ogres together was a bit unusual, after all, and he had no guarantee these new arrivals were as mild-mannered as the first one… typically, they weren't, relatively speaking.

"OH yeah! I know ALL about Duloc!" the merchant announced, once again returning his chatty self. "I even know about the princess who did that dictator dirty!" He winked at Fergus. "Friends of yours?" he chirped invitingly.

"Uh, siblings, actually," Felicia amended affably. She and Farkle came closer, intrigued by the passing reference to their mother.

"Siblings!" the shopkeep repeated, flabbergasted. "Now that's not something you see everyday!"

"Ha, yeah, we get that a lot–" Farkle began, before the merchant again spoke.

"Ya know, that guy I knew way back when, he had three kids too!" He met Fergus's eye again. "This is just such a big ol' crazy coincidence! Who'da thought!" The shopkeep shook his head with a marveling smile as he looked between the three teenagers, his eyes lingering on each of them. "Anywho! My apologies," he clapped, and waved his hands as if shooing away the distraction like a pesky mosquito. "You wanted to get to Duloc, yeah?" He looked at Fergus pleasantly.

"What guy?" Farkle asked, before Fergus could respond. Fergus's lips pursed firmly, quietly seething at yet another distraction.

"Huh? Ohhh, that guy! Just an ogre I knew way back when," the shopkeep mused, "I was just telling your brother here how much he reminded me of him." He looked back at Fergus, a friendly glint in his eye.

"Oh?" Felicia responded casually. Fergus nudged her foot with his own. She mouthed What? at him, which he ignored.

"Eh, forget it, not a very interesting story, really," He flicked his hand dismissively as he turned around, fingering through the shelves to find something. "He just signed a contract to rid himself of his wife and kids. And it was so long ago - what, like sixteen years? Seventeen, almost, now that I think of it. Ancient history!" The merchant pulled a large envelope from a large stack in the shelving. He carefully removed a sheet from it, and turned to face the trio again. "Lemme draw you that map to Duloc!"

"A contract?" Felicia's attention was snagged, her eyes more sharply focused than they'd been before.

Fergus's brow tensed slightly, growing less impatient as he considered everything the merchant had said so far; the only ogre he could possibly remind anyone of was, of course, their father. A lot of people knew their parents, of course, so the shopkeep's claim wasn't exactly unique. Knew of, at least; perhaps that's what this guy actually meant, and he was even more scatterbrained than his behavior already suggested.

"Oh gosh," the imp sighed as he laid the parchment down on the counter, smoothing it flat. He brought out a white pot of ink from an unseen lower shelf, uncorking it and picking up a dirty, white quill. "My old mind isn't what it used to be, lemme think…" He tickled his bearded chin with the frayed feather.

"I think - now don't quote me on this," he began, staring off into the distance thoughtfully, "it went that this guy was looking for a way out of his whole life - his nag of a wife, his little demon children, his obnoxious friends, all the fame andnotoriety he'd gained. No more! So he found a magic man to whip up a lil' contract to take care of all that. And it worked, too!" He glanced back at the ogres' faces, a sea of confusion across them. "Now!" he chirped. "Where was I?" He dipped his quill into the pot and considered his canvas, a drop of gold ink dripping onto the parchment. "So from here, ya go about–"

"So what happened?" Farkle asked.

The shopkeep looked back up at the siblings. "Ya see now, that's the part that gets reeeal fuzzy for me," he shook his head as he dropped the quill back into the ink pot. "Couldn't tell you what ever became of that guy - probably nothing good, if I had to guess. Or his family. Hm." He rested his cheek on his hand on the countertop a moment. "You three might be around the same age as his kids were, actually. You might even know 'em."

The merchant's eyes drifted back down to the still-blank parchment under his elbow, and quickly straightened up. "Goodness gracious! Look at me, just prattling on and on! Lemme finish up this map before the sun sets–" He retrieved his quill, and began sketching.

The siblings' glances shifted between one another, unseen by the preoccupied purveyor.

"Eh, you probably wouldn't know 'em, actually," the merchant added after a moment, his attention still down on his countertop. "That all happened in some big fancy kingdom, far, FARaway from here. I used to live there myself, once upon a time." He re-dipped his quill quickly. "Who knows if those kids even speak to their dad anymore, seeing as he took the first chance he got to wish 'em out of his life." He lifted his eyes from the parchment to the ogres, a wry smile on his face. "But who could blame him? Three kids, am I right! I'm sure your parents would know all about that!"

The shopkeep laughed heartily, perhaps a moment longer than appropriate, sighing out of his laughter with satisfaction. The siblings' ears collectively receded, the space behind their eyes beginning to tingle. They tried to muster a similar reaction, but it didn't make it much past nervous smiles and hesitant exhales.

"Hey, um–" Felicia blurted. Her brothers' heads snapped to her, unsure of how much she was potentially about to disclose to this crackpot. "This might be a longshot, but… would you happen to know how to get to the Dragon's Keep? Since you said you knew the princess who 'did Duloc dirty' and all."

The imp's eyebrow raised at her request. "Hmm…" He looked off, racking his brain for the information she sought. "PerhapsI could get ya to the general area, maybe…" His blue-green eyes fell back onto Felicia, considering her, the corner of his mouth ever so slightly twitching. "Now what would good kids such as yourselves want to do with an old place like that?"

"I don't know…" Felicia replied, willing her eyes to maintain contact with his, "maybe there'd be something worth seeing there."

The shopkeep continued to look at her, and then her brothers. "Good an answer as any!" he squawked suddenly, shattering the tension abruptly. He dipped his quill again, and continued his map to include the second destination, the various landmarks soon materializing. The teens watched as he effortlessly produced as complete a map as they'd ever need - their current location, Duloc, and the Dragon's Keep - the rich gold ink dazzling in the cart's candlelight.

The proprietor fanned the ink with his small hands, blowing on it for good measure, as well. He lifted the parchment from the countertop, satisfied with his work, revealing a second sheet below it, a faded copy of everything he'd just drawn on it. He followed the ogres' confused gazes to the copy. "Caught an extra sheet, whoopsie! This ink, I tell ya - amazing aesthetic, but the transfer? Ugh!" He chuckled as he rolled up the map with care, quickly sweeping the accidental carbon copy off the counter and onto the floor behind him.

"Here you go." He held the rolled up map out to the trio. Farkle took it from his tiny fingers. "Anything else I can do for you kids? Can I interest you in any of my fine wares?" He opened his arms presentationally at the glass display case below the countertop.

"Uh, we're good," Fergus said to the seller quickly. His face suddenly shifted. "Oh– um, can we buy some parchment, actually?"

The small man's huge eyes lit up. "Of course - paper goods are also my specialty! How many you need?"

"Just one," Fergus replied. "Writing a letter home, heh."

"Aww! So sweet!" the shopkeep gushed as he again turned his back to them, toward the shelves.

"Why?" Farkle questioned Fergus, turning away from the counter and lowering his voice. "Dontcha think it would be a great Christmas surprise for them?" He smirked, his idea sincere.

"If we don't give them a heads up, they won't have prepared enough food for all of us," Fergus replied simply.

"...Ah." Farkle uttered flatly.

"Good call, actually," Felicia conceded, "I guess they wouldn't have much reason to think we would even becoming back, if we didn't. And we said we would write."

"Right," Fergus agreed.

"Fine!" Farkle replied in faux defensiveness.

"Here we go!" The proprietor announced as he turned around with another sheet of parchment, drawing the trio's attention back. "Just one this time, I double checked!" He began rolling it up as well, when an idea flashed across his eyes. "Now that I think of it- how about some gold ink to write that letter home?" The proprietor wiggled his eyebrows enticingly as he held up the white ink pot, its rim stained with its brilliant contents. "Would certainly make for a special, holiday-ey letter to the folks!"

"Ooh, that would be kinda cool…" Felicia mused, as she pulled Sternbluff's covertly gifted quill from her hair.

"I don't know," Fergus offered, "if it snows again in transit, we don't want it to run and smear." He quickly glanced in the direction the discarded carbon copy had presumably fallen at the merchant's feet. He then procured a pencil from his bag's front pocket. "We can just use this."

"Ugh, you're such a killjoy," Felicia muttered, eyeing the illustrious ink again. "But… you're not wrong. Fine." She fit the quill back in between her hair tie.

"Of course," the shopkeep nodded. "Good thinkin', chief. Very astute observation."

"Will this cover it?" Fergus produced a large gold coin from his pouch.

"AHbupbupbup - this one's on the house!" the merchant declared, holding up a hand.

"Oh, come on," Felicia courteously challenged, "We can't let you go empty-handed, especially after–"

"I insist!" he emphasized. "I mean it! Really I do. Knowing that I helped you three on your little journey is payment plenty. I know that parchment will be put to good use. And that map." His eyes relaxed as a smile spread on his face, but it didn't put the ogres any more at ease.

Farkle took the coin out of Fergus's fingers, and pushed it forward on the counter. "We insist. Really. Here."

The salesman eyed the gold piece foisted upon him. "All right, fine. I won't deny such generosity." He picked it up from the counter, and put it in his trouser pocket. "Not every day I come across ogres with money, either! HA!"

Fergus likewise took the purchased parchment from him, neither he nor his siblings partaking in the joke.

The three took a collective step away from the cart, signaling their departure. "Well, thank you for all your help, Mister… uh…?" Felicia offered, trailing off as she realized the information they lacked.

"Aht - not important!" the shopkeep offered with a gracious hand gesture. "Just a little roadside merchant trying to make his way in the world! I am just happy to have been of service." He bowed from where he stood on his chair, and flashed them a toothy grin.

The siblings again glanced between one another. They lifted awkward hands to wave as they turned to leave.

"Have a nice day, kids! Well, evening!" the merchant called to the trio, waving his spindly hand farewell. The three did not look back at him, their full attentions focused on getting as far away from the cart and its owner as quickly as possible.

As they came back upon Farkle and Felicia's beginnings of a campfire, they collectively exhaled.

"...That guy was weird," Farkle muttered. Fergus and Felicia grunted in agreement.

"Seriously. But… did we just get a map home, and to the tower?" Felicia asked, the disbelief palpable in her voice as she plucked the scroll from Farkle's grasp, to his chagrin.

"I think we did," Fergus replied flatly. "But… what was all that about? A contract? And how–"

"That guy was not playing with a full deck," Farkle interjected with a forced scoff. "He probably hasn't talked to another living creature in weeks before we–"

"Yeah, he's just some crazy old hermit," Felicia concurred. "I don't think his word is all that–"

"Then is this map useless?" Fergus interrupted, whisking it from her. His siblings' eyes fell onto the scroll now in his hand.

"Uh… maybe it is," Farkle offered hesitantly. He nudged his head at Fergus, his eyes still on the map. Fergus unfurled it, and the other two closed in to look at it with him. It looked legit - all of the landmarks they'd asked for were there, drawn to what appeared to be a realistic scale. However, seeing as they had no idea where they were currently, nor where they'd specifically ended up when they'd split outside of Duloc, they really couldn't say for sure.

"Well…" Fergus began, his eyes scanning the map, "I guess we'll just have to see?"

"What choice do we have," Farkle muttered under his breath.

"Pretty much," Felicia added, emitting a sardonic exhale.

Fergus rolled the map back up and slid it into his sack, which he dropped on the ground next to his siblings'.

After a moment, the three resumed building a fire for the night.

Fergus set the remaining stones in a circle around the growing pile of kindling the other two were gathering. "We'll just ask Mom and Dad about it when we see them," he offered, breaking their silence.

"Yeah," Felicia agreed, dropping her handful of tinder onto the pile. "Cuz like… surely none of that is true. Right?"

The siblings again glanced between each other, Felicia's question hanging over them.

"Yeah!" Farkle declared, perhaps a bit too enthusiastically. "C'mon - would Dad do that? No. Us even thinking any of that's true is insane."

Fergus and Felicia nodded, their brother's confident assertion quelling the uncertainty they both felt, at least for the present time.

"And hey," Felicia added to his sentiment, "As long as the map home works out, we'll see about his directions to the tower in the new year." Her brothers chuckled in agreement, the group's mood finally lifting.

"Anyways," Farkle quickly stood up as the tinder pile caught fire thanks to his flints, "let's write that letter."

Fergus held his pencil out toward Felicia. "You have the best handwriting."

"I know." Felicia plucked it from Fergus, and picked up the blank parchment where it lay by his bag. She turned to Farkle expectantly. When he only blankly looked back at her, she jerked her head down, her eyes slightly less patient.

"What?"

"I need a surface to write on," she stated plainly, her eyebrows raising quickly.

Farkle looked to Fergus. Fergus shrugged, being of no help. Farkle sighed curtly, and leaned forward at the hips.

Felicia smoothed the parchment down on Farkle's back. She spoke aloud the words she wrote.

Dear Mom & Dad,

Hi from us three! We finally got a chance to write. Can't believe it's been nearly three months!

Leaving has been fun, to say the least.

Both brothers offered a hearty exhale through the nose as that specific sentence was written.

Good news: we'll be home for Christmas! You can count on us.

(That was lame, sorry.)

Not too sure WHERE we're writing from at the moment, but we'll make it.

"Are you done yet?" Farkle grumbled, still facing his boots.

Felicia brought the pencil back down onto the parchment with particular force in response.

We can't wait to see you.

Love,

Felicia

As she lifted the letter off of her living, breathing desk, Farkle immediately uprighted himself, snatching the pencil and letter from her. He placed the parchment on the ground and signed it.

Farkle

"See, you can write just fine without my spine," Farkle snipped.

"I wrote the whole letter. You just signed your name. A challenge for you, I know," Felicia mimicked his tone.

He pursed his lips at her, and passed the materials to their brother.

Fergus

Felicia tugged off a loose thread inside of her coat, and put it between her teeth as Fergus passed her the signed letter. She rolled it up, and tied it with the thread.

"All right, let's find us a pigeon to strap to this."

"Ooh, that's not a bad idea for dinner, too," Farkle mused.

LET'S GOOOOOOOOO

Alexa, play "Mother" by Danzig

Thank you for reading! Big thanks as always to hanny spoon, fauxgre, Alethyia, TP_HOND_S124, and all of my anonymous readers. Reviews are always much appreciated! :)