The Innocent
Farkle was confident he'd never be caught dead in such an embarrassing situation. But that conviction quickly evaporated when he stepped into the blatantly obvious trap that snared him. The satchel full of vegetables he had gathered spilled out on to the soil as his ankle was hoisted into the air, flipping him upside down. It was so painfully cliché that he had only been grateful no one was around to see it. Hands hanging towards the earth, he stretched his fingers out in an attempt to grab the hunting knife that had fallen with his harvest. Too far to reach. "Are you kidding me…?" He breathed his frustration.
Changing tactics, he pulled himself up to tug at the knot that held him. As he worked to get it undone, there came a very distinct GASP. Farkle's ears pricked in response, his eyes darted towards the sound. In front of him stood a man who mirrored his own dumbfounded surprise.
"We got one." The man whispered. "We got one!" He turned sharply to run back into the woods, shouting. "We got one!"
"For Pete's sake..." Farkle exhaled, going back to the knot. It was one thing to get caught in a trap, but it was another to be found. He was eager to be long gone before he'd have to deal with the buffoonery of humans who get a little too excited with this sort of thing. Besides, he knew that if he didn't get home soon there would just be another one of his mother's infamously long-winded lectures waiting for him. And if the family found out why exactly he was so late in returning, they'd never let him forget it. Felicia and Fergus would likely memorialize it by giving him some annoying new nickname. And his father would undoubtedly be disappointed. Farkle concluded that point would have been the worst of all. He had an image and ego to maintain, after all, which largely hinged on his father's big round ogre stamp of approval.
But that plan was cut much too short when the first fellow returned with a group of some 10 men, a few holding torches, some pitchforks. A real classic mob.
"Stop that, monster! You're not going anywhere, so just stop messing with that!" One of them called, throwing a rock in an attempt to get him off the knot.
Farkle let go of it. "Alright, alright, great job you guys, hoorah. You got me." He applauded them, unamused. "You can let me down now. I can come scare you guys later. I know how much you guys like that whole cat and mouse game."
"You're coming with us! We're not playing any games!" Another hollered.
"Oh, come on! Is it because I took those?" He pointed at the produce. "You can have those back!"
Just then, one of the larger men emerged from further back. A flanged mace hung at his hip, which he pulled into his right hand. "This isn't about vegetables, yuh bloody cretin."
Farkle's vision zoned into the weapon. "What're you DOING?"
The man drew nearer with a hideous enthusiasm.
At his age of 17, Farkle had handled his fair share of angry mobs, but this, this was unfamiliar territory. "What the FUCK are you DOING?"
"Get him, Gunter!"
Instinctually, Farkle's hands flew up crisscross each other to cover his face and the mace caught the backs of his fingers. A horrific cracking shot through them and he screamed; his hand batted away with the force. And It was mercy that the last thing he could remember was the metal head pulling back before it hissed through the air a second time with manic speed.
BA-DUM. Ba-dum. BA-DUM. Ba-dum.
Out of the black cloud of unconsciousness rang a booming pulse so loud that Farkle had been convinced the vibrations would shatter him. His skin dilated with every beat. Then entered the fetid taste of iron in his mouth.
With considerable effort, he forced his eyes open, though his right refused the order. Through the left he saw the purple and reds of the late evening sky. Rows and rows of rooftop tips ran along his periphery. It was enough to understand he was moving, yet his body was still atop a hard jittering surface. The sound of wood crunching against gravel connected to this fact. A wagon. A wooden wagon being pulled. A wooden wagon being pulled through a town with him on it, he deduced. An attempt to lift a hand informed him that they were both bound behind his back. He noted the immense paralyzing throb in the left one. The mace flashed in his memory. Then he understood.
Farkle shifted his head to see the group of men walking along side the wagon, whooping and hollering. One of them made eye contact with him. "Oi men, he's awake!"
"Thank goodness, Gunter! We really thought you killed him back there!" Another teased.
"I told yuh I wouldn't! Lionel told me the rules." Gunter said defensively.
The wagon stopped and a fourth man yanked on Farkle's arm. "Get up, you!"
"Gh-Git offa me…" Farkle slurred, searching for his voice. Several others joined in the struggle to pull him off the wagon. While his hands behind him provided enough of a handicap, it was the disorientation that nearly disabled him completely. They shoved him aggressively, staggering him off the wagon and onto his feet.
"Well how about that, boys! You got one!" Just then, a citizen dressed in a decorative maroon and olive velvet tunic approached the men with familiarity, throwing his arms up into an giddy 'Y'. His dark royale beard widened with his smile, his brows so enthused they touched the fringe of his bangs.
"Speak of the Devil! Lionel, yuh bastard, come here! Come see yer thanks for recruiting me!" Gunter patted Lionel on the back as a couple of the others shook him with hearty embraces. Gunter then ushered Lionel over to the prize in their possession.
"Let's take a good look at him." Lionel praised.
On cue, the men wrestled Farkle to turn and face Lionel, pushing him onto his knees. One of them looped a rope around Farkle's neck, tracing just beneath the jawline, and pulled it tight, forcing him to look up.
"Agh!" He grimaced furiously.
Lionel leaned over to study him, hands resting on his hips.
If a mirror had been placed in front of Farkle, he might not have recognized himself. Streaks of blood traveled across his face in every direction. Large gashes displaying both on his right brow and cheekbone. His curly hair matted against his temple and his right eye had already swollen shut in a purple mess. His bottom lip split where two teeth had cracked just underneath, leaving jagged edges. Red spilled from his nose to the crook of his neck. The left side, however, was largely untouched by comparison, save for the pale purple that bloomed at the inner corner of that eye.
"Wow, they really did a number on you, didn't they?" Lionel straightened himself, impressed. "Well, we'll try not to make it too painful for you tomorrow-"
"Dad!" a female's voice called in the short distance.
Irritation instantly poisoning his face, Lionel turned to find his daughter marching fiercely towards them, her arms and legs chugging in large swings. She wore a modest yellow dress, her honey colored hair brushing the top of her collar in waves. She couldn't have been much older than Farkle. "You have to put him back, this is so wrong! He's just a kid!"
"We're not going to talk about this, Tomidia!" Lionel knew exactly where she was taking this. He was well aware that Tomidia had recently preoccupied herself in the "ogre rights activism" nonsense going around, much to his dismay. It had become a frequent topic of of their quarrels. If he was being frank, he would have admitted it did sadden him that the subject had created such a deep, festering wound in their relationship. Their home had become a war zone. But regardless of his desire to mend it, the last thing he was going to do was let her stop him from doing what he felt needed to be done. Much less make him a fool in front of his men.
"LOOK at him, the poor thing- " Tomidia demanded.
"Go. Home. NOW!" Lionel pointed her in the opposite direction.
"You don't have to do this!" She begged.
It was at this point that Lionel became impressively loud, every fiber of him shaking. "God Tomidia, for once in your life, just DO what I SAY!" Lionel grabbed Tomidia's arm and shoved her with such strength that she would have fallen if he hadn't still had a firm grip on her. Stumbling, she regained her balance before her father threw her arm in an effort to turn her back where she came from.
Tomidia's lip quivered with tension, her eyes flickering between the ogre and her father. She then raised a finger to point at Lionel, offering clarification on one thing. "YOU'RE the monster."
Lionel had been the only one to hear this at her volume.
Tomidia threw Farkle one last glance before finally turning back to do what her father told her to do, for once in her life. If she had taken the time to look back, she would have seen the slight ache in her father's eyes.
Bringing himself back to the group, Lionel ran a hand through his hair in an effort to compose himself, exhaling loudly. He smiled in a desperate attempt to pretend whatever that was didn't just happen. "Well! Great work again, men. Let's get this wrapped up."
Farkle spat blood at Lionel's feet.
"Take him." He ordered the lot, scowling.
"Wait." Farkle bellowed in a frustrated stammer. "What the hell did I do? What do you want from me?"
"No one wants anything to do with you! That's the whole point!" Lionel spat, his patience gone with the wind.
"So then just let me leave! You never have to see me again!" Farkle threw it back at him.
"No, I'm going to make sure no one ever sees you again! And I'm going to make sure of it myself!" Lionel got close to him again, baring his teeth. "And don't think I didn't notice the way you were looking at my daughter, you repulsive monstrosity. Those eyes are going to be the first to go!"
"You delusional dense fu-"
Lionel grabbed a mate's pitchfork and violently shunted the handle side into Farkle's stomach.
"OOF!"
"Next time it's going to be the pointy end!" Lionel handed it back to the chap he had yanked it from. "Men, please, just get him out of here already." He shooed them.
"We got it, chief!" They assured him.
The group threw a cloth over Farkle's mouth and lodged it between his teeth, tying it in the back, before forcing him to his feet.
Dinner had come and gone. The dishes were already washed, and the table had been wiped compulsively several times. Yet Farkle had not returned home. Fiona was sat at the dinner table, nervously picking at her her fingers. "Where did you say he was going again?"
"You told him to go get more of those little squash, didn't you?" Felicia replied from the couch, thumbing through her magazine with little interest to the conversation.
"But is that what he said he was doing?"
"I honestly don't remember."
"But he did go into town, right?"
"I don't know, Mom, I don't keep track of him." Felicia said exasperated.
Fergus chimed in from the other side of the couch. "Yeah, that's what he told me, he said he was just headed up there."
"Well that's not a 4 hour trip, so where is he?" Fiona asked anxiously.
"How should I know, Mom! And you're freaking me out." Fergus tried his best to avoid absorbing his mother's radiating anxiety. "I'm sure he's fine, Farkle can take care of himself."
Fiona's troubled expression shifted to Shrek across the table, wordlessly asking him with her eyes: I'm worried. Can we worry now? Is there enough here for you to worry?
It wasn't. But Shrek was worried about her worrying, because then it just lead to the kids worrying, and then he would never hear the bloody end of it. "Oh come on now, what're ye worried about?"
"Why is everyone so relaxed about this?" Fiona shot at him. She had a hard time believing she was being irrational. "I mean, what if he broke a leg out there? Or hit his head? Or if someone hurt him? This isn't like him."
"Hurt Farkle?" Shrek was surprised. "You think someone's stupid enough to try that?"
"Mom, he wonders off like this all the time, what're you talking about? And if it was Gus, I might see where you're coming from. But Fark?" Felicia laughed, making sure Fergus caught her looking right at him.
"Screw you!" Fergus kicked her from his seat.
"THE POINT IS," Fiona jabbed a finger repeatedly against the table. "He was supposed to be back by now and he's not. And the fact that I don't know why is what's concerning. And none of you are helping!"
Letting a sigh out through his nose, Shrek gave Fiona a consoling half smile. "Alright Fi, I'll go get him. But if he's not dead yet, I'm gonna kill him."
"Shrek, please…" Fiona rubbed her eyes, pinching the bridge of her nose. Shrek in turn took her head in his hands and gave her a firm kiss on the cheek before moving to the door.
"Fergus, why don't ye come with me?" Shrek waved to him, and Fergus got up from the couch to follow. "Felicia, stay here with your mother."
"That's ok, I wasn't gonna go anyways." Felicia said from behind her magazine.
The two ogres made their way out of the front door. With the house entirely quiet, Felicia looked up to notice her mother still had her face in her hands. Getting up from her seat, Felicia walked over to hug her from behind. "Mom, he's fine. He probably just stopped to go talk to some girl."
The older ogress took her hands from her face to firmly squeeze her daughter's forearms in return.
"I hope so."
The town had become entirely black in the night. Each glowing window created a single star in the darkness, hundreds of them dotting the streets. Its citizens settled in for supper. In his residence, Lionel took a knife to his poultry, cutting pieces in long sweeps before spearing it onto his fork.
"You know I'm doing this for you, right?" Lionel asked with care. He hovered the fork in front of his mouth.
"Yeah." Tomidia spoke flatly from across the dinner table, chewing.
"It's for your safety too."
"Ok." She took a drink, never taking her eyes off of him.
"I mean and the goal is to not have to keep doing this. I think maybe after this they'll get the message." Lionel continued to explain, sensing Tomidia was not actually listening.
"Sure."
"I don't actually enjoy doing it, Tomi. I think you think I do." He continued digging his hole.
Now this, this had struck a nerve. "Dad, If that was true, you wouldn't be parading them through town and then making a performance of killing them in front of everyone, like some barbaric holiday."
"Well, that- Uh. That all just gives everyone some assurance that something is really being done out there. They can see the work we do. It makes them feel safe. But I have also heard a lot of feedback from folks that agree it really is quality entertainment, Darling. Did you see how excited the neighbors' kids were last time?"
She didn't bother responding to this.
"I love you, Tomi." He backtracked. "Very much."
Tomidia tossed her utensils onto the table. "Can I go now?"
Lionel bit back a 'No'. "…If you've had enough to eat, Darling, of course." He watched her get up from the table, taking her plate with her, and heard the sound of it dropping loudly into the kitchen sink. Her footsteps faded as they clunked all the way up to her room on the second floor. Lionel finished his meal alone.
A half mile from Lionel's property sat farmland on the outer edge of town owned by an old time friend, Sampson. When Lionel had asked him if the group could use his stable as a place to house their quarry, Sampson had been more than happy to oblige. That evening, the men hauled Farkle to the stable and secured him in one of the stalls, confidently locking him away that night for their return in the morning. The men shared drinks after the work had been done.
Pressed against a wooden post, Farkle's hands had been tied behind him, the rope at his neck pulled tightly around the wood, causing his breath to come in and out in rasps. In his fruitless tugging at the ropes, he had only succeeded in rubbing his wrists raw. And at some point in the night Farkle finally gave in to rest. Or at least, that's what he labeled it to avoid having to call it by its name: Defeat. He would not, however, surrender the rage of having been thoroughly cheated. He had played nice. He had followed the rules. Never in his life had it ever occurred to him to hurt any human being. He stood by that. But it was now, at the very possible end of it, he thought for the first time that maybe he should have. Because it had become painfully obvious now that keeping the peace had not been worth a shit. Because there were no rules. The rulebook had been burned a long time ago. How naive he had been to think he was at least partially immune to mankind's deepest loathing. Every one of his father's warnings echoed with sudden clarity.
A singular sound abruptly snapped him out of thought. From the far side of the stable, a door thudded against its frame. The gentle rustling of straw carried through the hall, steadily growing. Farkle's heartbeat quickened. Then, as soft as a whisper, Tomidia stepped through the half-door into his stall. She stopped and stood just before him. Farkle looked up at her.
The sight of him filled Tomidia with sorrow. But she was startled to find that, for some unknown reason, fear had threatened to override it. Pushing it aside, she dismissed the feeling as just a left over conditioning she had learned from her human peers. There was no reason to be afraid. She knew that. She only wished the rest of humanity knew it too. And she was going to save him, and he would be free, and they would all have the chance to live in peace, and then they would know.
Farkle found it difficult to read her intention in the dark, but even there he was able to see the look of pity in her eyes, as if he were some pathetic animal in a bear trap. And he didn't like it. And it was both absurd and the truth that there was a part of him somewhere that would've preferred to have been dead than to be looked at the way she was looking at him in that moment.
Tomidia lingered for some time before speaking to him softly. "They're planning to kill you in front of the whole town tomorrow, you know."
Farkle's anger stayed fixed on his brow.
After some hesitation, Tomidia extended a hand towards his face, and he cursed himself for flinching when she did. With careful dexterity, she used a finger to work the cloth gag out of his mouth, leaving it to hang off his neck. She stopped, waiting for a reaction. He didn't give one. Resuming, she walked around to the back of the pillar he was bound to. Pulling a knife from her dress pocket, she sawed away at the rope around his neck until it came loose. Farkle took in a copious breath before coughing and spitting out the mixture of blood and saliva that had accumulated at the back of his throat. She then released the binding around his hands. They tingled as the sensation rushed back into them. Finally, working quickly she cut the ropes that held his bulk, freeing him fully.
While he worked to untangle himself, Tomidia moved swiftly back to the front door from which she entered. Peering outside into the darkness, she took a few steps around the structure, confirming the area was free of witnesses. She then made her way back to the stall. "Ok, looks like we're clear." She whispered, turning back to him. "If you take a left, that road leads directly out of here. You should be able to- " She jumped a little when Farkle stood, towering beside to her, registering his full size for the first time. His attention was wholly on her. And that nagging spark of fear was back.
Farkle's voice was low and hoarse. "I wanna leave a message for your dad."
Tomidia's brow narrowed in confusion.
Unblinking, he bent to her. "You tell him that if I ever see you, or him, or any of these people in those woods again, I'm going to come find you and I'm gonna kill you. And I'm gonna break every bone in your body and I'm gonna take your fucking guts and leave a trail out for the rats- But before I do any of that, I'm gonna tear your head from your body, and I'm going to sit it so that your cold dead eyes can watch me do it!"
Tomidia hands shook uncontrollably in horror over her mouth as tears gushed down her cheeks.
"And when your dad comes looking for his dearest little daughter, he's never going to find you, because you're gonna be utterly unrecognizable. And if he doesn't off himself, I'm gonna make it so that he wished he had! Do you hear me? Do you understand?!"
"Y-Yuh-Yes…" she whimpered, nodding frantically.
"YOU TELL HIM THAT!"
"YES!" She sobbed. Her knees buckled and she become a hysterical weeping pile on the floor.
Filled with a sort of disfigured satisfaction, Farkle slipped out of the stable and into the dark. The night offered him no moon.
A/N: Hi, I'm Ari and I read too much horror. Everybody loses!
Shout out to hanny spoon for inspiring this, specifically chapter 30 of her "By Night One Way, By Day Another" collection ( go read it! ). Really got me thinking what would happen if one of the triplets got into a life-threatening situation with humans; What would their response be when they're faced with that injustice? And how would the whole family handle that? How do you get back to your normal ogre life after that? Especially considering they can't entirely avoid humans, with Fiona's family and all. Which I try to explore in chapter 2!
Also shout out to both hanny spoon and rawshark for their portrayal of the teenage triplets, which I used a lot as a reference to write the siblings. Especially rawshark's "Extraordinarily Pleased" story and hanny's various chapters in the above mentioned collection.
Also, I have such a hard time limiting their potty mouths, it just feels so natural for them haha!
I think this will end up being only 2 chapters unless it turns into something bigger.