They're On Their Way
Three weeks could either drag on endlessly, or pass in the blink of an eye, depending on the circumstances surrounding it. Rarely did both sensations occur simultaneously; and yet, the evening the triplets had informed their parents of their intent felt like just yesterday, as well as too long ago to even pinpoint. Minutes felt like hours in and of themselves, and yet when the family sat down to dinner each night, each ogre wondered to themselves how they'd gotten there so quickly. The time had been filled with laughter, stories, and advice - solicited or otherwise - and very much felt normal, despite the upcoming date present in each of their minds.
The family had had a later night than usual, having had their closest friends and family over for a small going-away dinner for the kids - Donkey, Dragon, Puss, and Lillian; the dronkies had long since outgrown being able to go inside the house, and celebrated outside with their mother. The days of nightly dinners with the usual crowd had slowly lessened as the years had passed, as each of their proclivity toward adventure waned and their lives pulled them down different paths.
The triplets had spent the day of the celebration saying goodbye to their friends - and Farkle, his girlfriend - so that they could be fully present for one last hurrah with everyone.
Fiona and Shrek had debated whether to use the occasion to make their announcement, the pregnancy itself having been pretty solidly confirmed in those three weeks; three months along seemed a fair time to let others know. Fiona was primarily concerned not to pull focus from what was supposed to be the triplets' celebration. But the three had assured her it was fine - if anything, they'd prefer to not be the sole focus of the evening. And despite Shrek's general avoidance of attention, he concluded it'd be easier to tell them all then and there - less hassle than writing them all letters after the fact. So they waited until the night was dying down and everyone was making their prolonged goodbyes to quietly share the news. It was met with… positivity, albeit a completely shocked and nearly disbelieving positivity. The couple themselves still very much of the same opinion.
"Mmph- Grimm-" Farkle muttered as he shoved the too-big wad of clothes into his knapsack, his other hand firmly gripping the bag's brim. He then used both hands to hold the bag, and used his bare foot to compress the contents down.
"You uh… need help, dude?" Fergus sat on his bed across from his brother's, having finished packing a good while earlier. His bag - not even close to the same fullness, sat by the closed door to their room. Light shuffling could be heard from their sister's room on the other side of the wall, signaling that she wasn't done either.
Of course they had put off packing until the last minute - specifically, the morning of their departure. The kids had tried to sleep late, in a casual attempt to delay the inevitable, but they were woken by the sound of their father starting breakfast, followed by their mother being sick out by the outhouse, to which their father stopped cooking to go and help her. The eventual breakfast was unlike any meal they'd ever had; Shrek had made a giant spread of each of their favorite foods, without even asking them, and Fiona made them leftover packs from it. But even after breakfast as the morning crept by, the incurable nerves in each of their stomachs didn't translate to a sense of urgency.
Farkle gave him a look, having detected the sarcasm in Fergus's voice from the first syllable. "I'm good, actually. But thanks." He shoved his arm under his bed, haphazardly sweeping out things that had presumably gone missing in the extended months between room cleanings. Two socks that weren't even a pair - don't need. A… rag? Napkin? Either way - don't need. As he reached the very back corner, his hand fell on something that made him pause. His eyes widened as his fingers wrapped around the familiar form, and he pulled it out to examine: the stuffed dragon he'd had since… well, since the day he was born. Button eyes that had been replaced countless times, the last remaining wing that hung on by a few threads, and a red body with embroidered scales. It was definitely worse for wear, the red dye worn down to a pale pink around its neck, though not nearly as much as Felicia's Sir Squeakles. He'd nearly forgotten all about it, as it had been relegated to that far-off corner below his bed for over a decade, at least.
He glanced at his knapsack - it was already bulging, but there was still a smidge more space at the very top near the drawstring. He considered the toy again, and then the bag, before his eyes darted up to his brother, who was observing him. Farkle flushed slightly, before chuckling to break the awkward moment.
"Are you… uh-" Farkle asked as he turned the old toy over in his hand.
Fergus wordlessly opened his own bag, and pulled out a stuffed bunny, similarly well-loved. One ear was hanging on by a few strands, a button eye was missing, and its "fur" was now closer to gray than its original purple.
"You know it." Fergus smirked at his brother, which soon fell into a genuine grin. Farkle reciprocated both expressions before as he put the dragon in his bag - markedly less rough than he'd been with his other belongings - and cinched the rope. He shrugged, just to emphasize how casual he was about it.
As Farkle pulled his boots on and laced them up, the boys noted the sudden lack of activity coming from Felicia's room, and her mattress creaked as she presumably sat down on it. Fergus nudged his head toward the wall that Farkle and Felicia's beds shared. Farkle scooted back toward the wall, and lightly knocked twice. There was a pause, longer than there really should have been. Farkle glanced back at Fergus questioningly, while the latter only looked at the wall. Suddenly, another mattress creak came from the other side, followed by two identical knocks. The boys glanced at each other again, and stood up from their beds, slinging their bags over their shoulders as Farkle headed toward their door.
The two bedroom doors creaked open simultaneously, and Felicia looked up at her brothers as she closed her door behind her. She put her other arm through her other knapsack strap, and fiddled with the ends of the straps.
Fiona whipped her head back at the sound of the doors, from where she stood washing the mountain of dishes from breakfast at the sink. She had claimed that task to keep herself busy, leaving Shrek to keep himself busy sorting firewood outside. The sound of wood clattering to the ground in the front yard soon followed, and Shrek poked his head inside the front door. He shuffled inside as Fiona dried her hands with a towel, and the two parties - parents and children - looked at each other across the main room of the small home.
"Wow… ye all look, ah… well- ready to go!" Shrek stated the obvious, his voice more enthusiastic than his body language suggested. He glanced over at Fiona, who he could already tell was beginning to well up tears. He moved to meet her, as the triplets slowly made their way across the room toward them.
"Mom, stop it, you know I'll-" Felicia started, sniffing in an attempt to hinder her own reaction.
"I know, I know, sorry," Fiona exhaled through a smile, which she was able to maintain for a solid few seconds before her face began to waver again. Shrek put his arm around her waist, and Fiona reached across herself to grab his hand.
"Ye've got everything ye need?" Shrek asked them, for perhaps the fourth time that morning. The kids nodded. "Well… ye should start out, get as much distance as ye can before dark." The kids nodded again, though they didn't make any move toward the door, and neither did the couple.
Ten years, no contact; that's how the tradition went.
But then, they'd never been particularly concerned with adhering to traditions, whether ogre or human or any other origin.
"Six months. Yeah?" Fiona asked, as more of a confirmation of what they'd already agreed upon. Again, the triplets nodded. "If you'd like to stop by in between, that'd be-" she attempted a casual shrug, as to not press the suggestion, "You don't have to, but if you find yourselves- well, we'll be here." She gave a single chuckle and squeezed Shrek's hand.
"But- six months," she continued, "that's when- when we would like you to be back. Maybe even a week or so sooner, if you can. So that- so you're the first to meet them."
The air seemed to suck out of the room; leaving in and of itself would have been hard enough; now, with all that was happening… but they had to keep going. If their parents had taught them anything, it was that things happen when they're supposed to happen, how they're supposed to happen.
"...Well!" Shrek interjected again, the silent sentimentality getting to be too much for him. "If we all keep standin' here all day, I'll hafta start dinner, heh." Both the kids and Fiona seemed to collectively exhale at his remark, for once grateful for his little quips.
The five ogres slowly headed toward the front door, each step feeling like a mile. Shrek pulled the front door open, and the midday sunlight streamed into the dimly lit home.
Fiona stepped into Farkle, wrapping her arms around his neck as he returned her embrace. He leaned down to rest his chin on her shoulder, nearly a whole head taller than her, as she stroked his hair and felt the light scratch of his stubble. She then smiled at him, tears having flown down her face, and held his cheeks as she kissed his forehead. He moved onto his father, who grinned warmly at him and brought him into a tight embrace.
"C'mere, booger." Shrek felt a short exhale of air against his cheek as his son stifled a laugh, and hugged him tighter in response, which was reciprocated. Shrek gave him a firm pat on the back, and Farkle shifted closer to the door.
Fergus buried his face in his mother's shoulder, despite how awkward it was from his height. He felt her shaky breaths in his embrace, and could only take a deep inhale to ensure he didn't do the same; not that he was opposed, necessarily, but it would have taken that much longer. The two parted and looked at each other, and she smoothed back his wavy brown hair as she kissed his cheek. He then turned to Shrek, meeting him at near-eye level, and the two clasped each other tightly. "Not exactly a 'little man' anymore, aye?" He felt Fergus's cheekbones raise as he smiled, and gave him the same firm pat on the back.
Felicia and Fiona looked at each for a moment, each ogress similarly overtaken with emotion. Fiona held her arms open for a fraction of a second before her daughter fit herself into them. Fiona stroked her hair and shushed her through her own semi-controlled sobs. The two parted, Fiona wiping away her daughter's tears with her thumbs before kissing her forehead and offering a shaky smile, which Felicia mirrored.
Felicia then looked up at her father, and any composure she'd gained evaporated as she buried her face in his chest. Shrek held her and rested his chin on her head, and slowly exhaled the breath he only just realized he'd been holding. He rubbed her back and kissed the top of her head, as the two stood there for a prolonged moment.
"Always have to outdo us, don't you Fel?" Farkle's heartfelt snark was, for once, well-timed and much-needed.
Felicia immediately lifted her head and shot him a glare, which dissolved into a self-aware snort as she wiped her face. She looked at both of her parents again, smiling as solidly as she could manage, before joining her brothers in the open doorway.
"It's what I do best, can't help it." She pushed him with her shoulder as she wiped her nose, as the three stepped out the door.
"And write- don't forget to write," Fiona chirped, as she and Shrek stood in the threshold.
"You guys'll be great out there. Better come back with stories! Ye owe me quite a few."
The kids smiled, then glanced aside at each other, tentatively.
"Just keep walkin," their father added. "Ye'll find… somewhere to go. Don't look back… or else I might just go runnin' after ye, heh." Their mother nodded insistently, her lips tightly held together in a smile to prevent another bout of sobs.
The siblings then turned, and headed down the courtyard, across the fallen log that bridged the swamp water, and into the tall trees of the forest. The couple stood there, until the last faint sound of their footsteps faded away.
Fiona turned into her husband's shoulder, and let herself crumble into sobs. He held her gently, letting her cry into him as long as she needed. His eyes lifted from her head to back down the path, and for a split second he betrayed himself by hoping he'd see them running back down it toward the house. That's not very ogre of ye, he thought to himself. They'll be fine.
He let his chin settle atop his wife's head as her sobs subsided and her breathing regulated. She moved her arms from around his neck to his middle, hugging him tighter, and he felt his throat constrict as her middle pressed into him. Ah. Right. That.
Fiona lifted her head to look at her husband, her eyes red and heavy, before planting her forehead back into his chest.
"They'll be fine," he said, out loud this time. "It's like they're… going on a camping trip. They've done loads'a those before."
Fiona inhaled deeply, wiping her eyes into his tunic. "I know," she said. "Just a… really, really long… camping trip." She offered a weak smile up at him, and he moved a stray lock of hair from her eyes.
"Hey, I'll ah, finish those dishes. And then I'll finish with the firewood out front."
"Are you sure? I can-"
"Aye. Go rest." He smiled down at her, and gave her a light peck on the lips.
She looked at him a minute, before succumbing to the yawn she'd been suppressing, to which she smiled in spite of herself. "Okay." She placed a hand on his chest, to direct him inside, before taking one last look down the swamp's courtyard toward the forest. She took a deep, deliberate breath, before turning inside. Shrek took her hand and led her to their bed chamber, and Fiona indulged him in escorting her.
Shrek closed the curtain, and headed to the sink to finish washing the dishes, but found his attention fizzling out after only a few minutes. Out of the corner of his eye, he couldn't help but notice the boys' bedroom door was open a crack. He tried to go back to the dishes, but after a moment of staring blankly into the sink, he let the dish in his hands drop back into the water. He craned his head to see into the curtain gap if Fiona was still asleep - she was still and peaceful, which was good enough for him.
He quickly dried his hands, and slipped into their shared room, opening the door just enough to get in, but not enough to make it squeak.
It was strange - it was as if nothing had changed. The only indicator to the contrary was that Farkle had actually made his bed. Each of their shelves were still filled with various books, photos, old toys; upon closer inspection, Shrek noticed a conspicuously empty space on the top shelf of Fergus's, and the telltale round spot where dust had failed to settle over the years.
He had taken his bunny. The bunny Fiona had made for him before he was born.
He would check if Farkle had taken his dragon, but he had no idea where he'd even begin to look for where it'd been kept, as it wasn't the shelf. He wagered he took it, as well. He didn't need to wonder if Felicia took Sir Squeakles.
Shrek looked out the small window between the beds onto the swamp's vast lake behind the house. Not sure what else to do with himself, he sat down on Farkle's bed, and stared blankly across at Fergus's. He took a deep breath in, letting himself have a moment to himself. Suddenly, he felt his eyes sting with wetness, and his throat constricted. Without another option, he exhaled, and gave into the sob he was, at the very least, glad had waited to surface until now. He held a closed fist in front of his mouth, and glanced toward the open door as a single tear managed to escape his eye. He wiped it roughly away and resumed his glassy stare at the wall.
Fiona wanted to sleep, she really did, but her mind couldn't be quieted regardless of how exhausted she was. She hadn't slept much the previous night - if she was aware of every passing minute, her children's departure wouldn't come as fast. But now that the inevitable had occurred, to have a small reprieve was all she wanted. To not be awake and actively thinking about it all would be heaven, but it eluded her. She had listened to Shrek's dishwashing last not very long, as she expected it wouldn't, then his footsteps into their sons' room, and the creak of a mattress being sat upon. A small hitch began forming again in her throat, which she attempted to swallow away. She would have been successful, too, if she hadn't heard the tiny and yet unmistakable sound of her husband's sob, muffled behind the door. It was a sound she'd not heard for a long time, since… Grimm, more than seventeen years ago. Fiona couldn't help but feel guilty, listening in on him in a moment he'd absolutely not want her or anyone to see. She allowed herself to join in with him from across the house, folding her arms across her chest and burying her face deeper into her pillow.
If she allowed herself to be selfish, Fiona never wanted the kids to leave home. Even in moments of anger, of needing space in their cramped little home, of wishing for a day without anyone needing or nagging her, she would have been perfectly happy if all three of them lived there forever. She knew, of course, that wasn't realistic or fair. Her children had so much more… ogre in them, as obvious a thought as that was. In a way, she herself had learned how to be an ogre right along with them, which also meant things that were just seen as fact to them had taken her quite a lot to let sink in. When Shrek first informed her of the Leaving Day tradition, a handful of years into their marriage when the triplets were still small, it was easy to shoo away as being so far away down the line. However, when her husband mentioned, years later as the kids were entering adolescence, that they should tell them about the tradition, it brought back all the anxiety she had saved herself from back then. A new layer was added, too, much to her guilt: was she going to deprive her children of their full heritage, was she going to clip their wings, all for her own selfishness at losing them? So, after a lengthy discussion, she compromised with her husband: they wouldn't force the kids to go through with Leaving Day, as Shrek was forced to… as she herself, ironically, was also forced to do.
And so on their thirteenth birthday, the parents sat them down and explained the tradition. There was a large array of reactions from them - Farkle was intrigued about the prospect, Fergus had several logistical questions, and Felicia zeroed in on the final rule: ten years without contact once the Leaving had begun.
"Well, that's where we've considered some… amendments to all these rules," Fiona had said with a small smirk, glancing to Shrek for agreement, to which he nodded.
"I'm not the greatest with 'time' and 'dates' anyway, as ye all know," Shrek began, more than a hint of jest in his voice. "I think we can be a wee bit loose on all that. We don't even hafta make a decision right now. Ye don't even hafta do Leaving Day at all, if that's not what ye want." Fiona nodded at Shrek, but quickly turned back to the kids, as to not seem overly biased toward what her husband had just suggested.
"There's still quite a long time before anything has to be decided at all, one way or another," she said to them, her tone positive but calm. We can talk about it another time, closer if you want." The triplets seemed content with that conclusion, and the ogre family continued eating that night's dinner as normal.
As the years went by and Leaving Day wasn't brought up, Fiona allowed herself to fall into the blissful fantasy that it would never come up. Even in the triplets' most rebellious, ornery, nightmarish adolescent moments, it didn't come up even as a joke or an empty threat. She naively believed she was off the hook, and so she herself didn't bring it up either, even to her husband, out of fear of cursing it all. But of course, luck would have it that Leaving Day would rear its ugly head once again, at perhaps the most ironically inconvenient time it possibly could have.
Considering all that lay ahead of her, Fiona finally let herself give in to the sleep that had been so elusive earlier.
Shrek finally stepped out of the boys' room, unsure of how long he'd been in there. He pulled the door fully shut behind him, and glanced to the side at Felicia's door. He took a step towards it, but stopped himself; he wasn't sure how long he'd sit in there once he entered. Instead, he turned on his heel and decided to keep to the promise he'd made Fiona and returned to the dishes to busy himself.
The siblings walked along the path as it became less defined, less traveled, wrapping through the trees that seemed to only get taller and thicker. They came upon a familiar fork in the path - turning left would take them to the hideout fort they'd built with their dad many years prior - to which they turned right. Felicia kept a half-step ahead of her brothers, redirecting her energy from her emotional reactions to making as good time as possible before sunset.
The three trekked along wordlessly, gripping their knapsack straps in each fist, focusing on the ground ahead of them. They came upon a clearing in the woods - no path in any direction, aside from that which they'd come from - was detectable. Fergus opened a small outer pocket on his bag, and withdrew a compass. He let the needle find its way, then nodded his head in the direction it suggested.
It was a good, long while of fighting through thick brush before the siblings found relief. All at once, they burst from the dark overgrowth into an open field - sparse trees here and there, but otherwise lush, green grass as far as they could see. They also realized how late in the day it had gotten, as the sun was quickly setting in the horizon.
At the very edge of their vision, they could just make out a tall, rectangular gray castle, surrounded by a small, well-organized township. Just what they'd been looking for.
"Should we… you know…" Felicia gestured to the field they stood in, conveniently encircled by bushes with colorful thorned flowers.
"Aye," Fergus said, and the three began to unpack their camping supplies.
They laid out their sleeping bags, and began to dig into their leftovers… the last meal they'd have that wasn't their own endeavor. As their impromptu dinner progressed, they couldn't help but glance around at each other, their eyes giving themselves away. They were excited. They were finally here. On their way.
"So," Farkle finally began, "Early night tonight, for an early morning tomorrow."
Fergus and Felicia nodded.
"And then…" Farkle waited for someone else to finish his thought.
"Tower?" Fergus offered.
Felicia nodded. "Tower."
