Rapunzel sat at a small table just outside front window of
The Spanish Grill restaurant in
downtown Far Far Away, trying to ignore the street festivities around her. People – common
people – were laughing, singing, and partying.
The quality of their clothing, jewelry and accessories were nearly on a
par with her own, which upset her royal sense of propriety. And all because of Rumpelstiltskin’s deal-making. Well, perhaps she would see the impertinent
little imp about a deal of her own, she thought, although one of a more
personal nature, and reflexively reached up and straightened the golden tiara
in her long blond locks styled in multiple long braids.
“Anyway,” said a beautiful woman of about the same age who
sat across the table and who also wore a tiara in her straight brunet hair, “I
heard that Snow and Cindy got swept up…”
Here she had to pause to yawn, then shook her head and continued, “… got
swept up by some sort of fairy-tale character dragnet over in Duloc.”
Rapunzel snorted derisively. “Well, Beauty, if you ask me, if you spend so
much time in a backwoods province with filthy talking rodents and filthier
dwarf miners, eventually you’re going to get ratted out and picked up.”
“Wow,” Beauty said.
“What’s got your tresses in a
bind tonight?”
“Lay off my tresses!”
Rapunzel snapped.
Beauty blinked.
“Jeez, take it easy! I’m just
trying to make conversation.”
Rapunzel closed her eyes and tried to compose
herself. “Sorry,” she said. “I’ve just been having…personal problems
lately.”
“Ohhh,” Beauty said knowingly, then reached over and
patted Rapunzel’s hand. When Rapunzel
opened her eyes and looked at her, Beauty winked and said, “I understand. I had my…problems
just last week.”
Rapunzel rolled her eyes.
“It’s not that, Beauty.” She said.
“Oh. Well, then
what? Is something wrong with your
head?”
Rapunzel’s eyes narrowed.
“What about my head?” she challenged.
“I mean…all this,” Beauty said, gesturing to all the
celebration going on around them. “The people coming out and expressing all this gaiety. I know it can be disconcerting, but we really
should be happy for them.”
Rapunzel looked around at the commoners, the contrast of
their sudden good fortune only making her own recent loss more painful. “It’s not natural,” she intoned. “It’s only because of…magic.”
“So what’s wrong with that?” Beauty asked.
Rapunzel laid a hand on either side of her own face and
plopped her elbows onto the table top so that she was looking downward. “Because magic sucks!” she muttered, trying to keep her voice from choking.
Suddenly someone plunked a large iron skillet, filled with
sizzling and steaming chunks of meat, onions, and different colored peppers in
front of them.
“Y listo!” a
jubilant Spanish-accented voice said.
Rapunzel looked up to see the portly, mustached manager of the
restaurant looking down upon her with a broad smile while two of his staff
placed covered tortilla baskets and bowls with tomatoes, lettuce, sour cream
and salsa before her and Beauty. “Your
order of Fajitas Supreme is complete, Your Highnesses! Is there anything else I can do for you this
fine evening?”
“Yeah,” Rapunzel said.
“I’ll have a Margarita. Beauty,
do you want—” She looked over at the other princess only to see her head
slumped forward, and she was beginning to snore. Rapunzel sighed and then said to the manager,
“And some coffee for my friend. Black.”
“Si, Your Highness,” the manager said, bowed, and then
headed back into the restaurant followed closely by his two assistants.
Rapunzel huffed irritably, then reached over and smacked
Beauty’s hand. Beauty immediately raised
her head to attention and her eyes sprung open.
“Huh? Wha? Whozzat?” she sputtered.
“Really, Beauty, you should see somebody about those
narcoleptic episodes. It can’t be
healthy,” Rapunzel said as she looked down at the table, took a tortilla and
began filling it with pieces of meat she picked out of the skillet with a small
fork.
“What’s that?” Beauty said,
concern in her voice.
“It had better
be chicken,” Rapunzel said. “That’s what
we ordered.”
“No,” Beauty said, rising from her seat as her voice took
on more urgency. “That!”
Rapunzel looked up.
Beauty was standing by her chair, but was holding onto the back of it
with one hand as her whole body trembled.
Her eyes were wide with fear, and she had one arm held out as she
pointed to something in the distance.
Rapunzel followed her gesture, gasped and quickly rose from her own chair,
nearly knocking it over.
Down from the hill upon which sat the ‘Far Far Away’ sign
a thick luminous purple fog was rolling, heading directly toward them. Other people around them had also begun
noticing the ominous phenomenon, and the sounds of jubilation quickly began to
turn to cries of fear as people began running haphazardly about, panicked.
“Rapunzel, what—what do we do?” Beauty said as she took
moved toward her friend and they embraced in terror. But there was nothing to do as suddenly the
fog washed into town, bathing everything in an eerie purple haze where
visibility was limited to a dozen or so feet.
The smell, oddly enough, reminded Rapunzel of fried onions – or was she
still catching a whiff of her skillet? – and she could
feel its dampness adhering to her skin.
She instinctively tried not to breathe the stuff in – but the stronger
instincts of her adrenaline-infused body forced her to inhale. She felt a little light-headed for a few
seconds, and her vision grew blurry.
That in itself frightened her, but it was
nothing compared to the fear when after a few seconds her vision and head
cleared and she heard the pounding of hooves storming down the same hill from
which the fog was rolling, obscuring the riders within.
“Is…this a nightmare?!” Beauty said, tightening her
embrace.
“I’m afraid not,” Rapunzel said. “Maybe we should head inside—”
But just then there was a rapid clomping before them and a
figure suddenly rode into view. For a
moment Rapunzel thought she caught the dull outline of a tall muscular man atop
a horse, but then he drew nearer and she realized that she was staring at the
outline of an ogre sitting upon a great warthog. The ogre wore old, tattered trousers. He had no shirt, and his massive green chest
grew a thick tuft of hair. In one hand
he held a gnarled, ugly, imposing club.
“Well, now,” the ogre said in a gravelly voice, leering
down at them. “Hello, ladies. A big foggy tonight, eh?”
The ogre deftly slipped a leg over the warthog’s back, dropped
to the ground and began striding toward them.
Both princesses screamed, and then Rapunzel felt Beauty faint – or did
she just fall asleep again? Rapunzel let
her friend’s listless body slip through her arms as she stepped back, hoping
the ogre would pay attention to Beauty’s helpless form and leave her
alone. Unfortunately, the ogre simply
stepped over the supine princess and toward Rapunzel. Staring at the ogre, shaking her head
plaintively, Rapunzel retreated until her back was pressed against the
restaurant’s brick wall. The ogre moved
forward until he stood before her, staring down at her from his six and a half
foot height. The mist glistened off of
his green skin. His long earstalks were
askew. His head was hairless except for
a thick moustache. Rapunzel was too
scared to even scream – and didn’t think she could be any more scared until he smiled
at her with a wicked, gap-toothed smile.
“My, my” he said, his breath foul. “What do we have here?” He lifted one sausage-fingered hand and
reached toward her throat. Rapunzel’s
eyes widened even larger and she uttered a squeak of a scream as her own hand
went to her throat defensively. The ogre
paused, smiled even more deeply, then continued reaching forward, but instead
of feeling his massive hand enclose her throat, Rapunzel felt a sting in the
back of her neck; it was where her gold necklace snapped when he viciously
pulled it off of her.
The ogre held up the necklace, admiring it for a
moment. “My, what a fine little
trinket,” he observed, and then dropped it into a pocket of his stained, worn
trousers. Then he looked up at the tiara
in Rapunzel’s hair. “As is that!” he
said, and reached for it.
“No! Don’t!” the princess cried, reaching up herself. But she was
a beat too late, as the ogre grabbed the tiara and pulled. But instead of ripping the tiara loose, Rapunzel’s
hair came with it, and the ogre found himself holding a huge wig, while before
him stood a horrified princess, with a pate as bald as his own. Rapunzel blushed, moaned and shamefully
covered her entire head with her arms while the befuddled ogre stared at her.
Then the ogre cried out in distress, “Hey! Stop that! Get offa me!”
Rapunzel dropped her arms and saw the ogre stumbling
about, reaching around his head and trying to take hold of his unexpected
assailant. Beauty had leapt upon his
back, holding on with her legs while with her arms she was attempting enclose
his huge head in a sleeper hold. The
ogre continued to struggle and protest in progressively less refined language
until he was using words that Rapunzel knew that a woman of her station was
never meant to hear.
Frightened and, frankly, appalled at the swearing, the
first thing that occurred to Rapunzel was to take the opportunity to flea while
the beast was pre-occupied with Beauty.
She turned to do so, but then remembered her wig. She turned back around and looked. The mist was thinning and she quickly found
where the ogre dropped it. She picked it
up, brushed it off twice quickly with her hand, and sat it upon her head; she
could tell it was askew but she would need to worry about that later. Just then, the ogre, whose movements of body
and mouth had been slowing as Beauty’s hold was taking effect, managed to grab
hold of a good chunk of her hair and, amidst cries of pain from the princess,
violently pulled her off of him and slung her to the ground, where she rolled a
couple of times and ended up laying on her back. Rapunzel watched the scene and couldn’t help
but be jealous of Beauty at having such a resilient head of hair.
“Why, you little vixen!”
the ogre spat, picking up his club and looking over at the supine princess, who
was struggling to sit up on her elbows while looking up at the beast, terror in
her eyes. “You didn’t think you could do
that and not get punished, did you?”
The ogre had his back to Rapunzel, who thought that that
now would be another good opportunity to take her leave. She turned to do so, but Beauty’s plaintive,
“No!
Please! Don’t!” gave her
pause. The irritating somnambulist would have had to come to her rescue. Now if Rapunzel didn’t return the favor she
would never hear the end of it…well, if Beauty survived her ‘punishment’,
anyway. She could just imagine Beauty
blabbing to Snow, Cindy, and all the others, probably showing off whatever
scars she was about to receive from this encounter, ‘When Punzy got scared and
ran away’. As Rupunzel stood for a
moment, inwardly debating what to do, she noticed the iron skillet still
sitting half full on the table where they had been sitting. Without thinking further, she grabbed the
skillet – quite heavy, she noticed – turned, and rushed over behind the ogre as
he towered over Beauty. Holding the
handle with both hands, she whacked him hard on the back of the head just as he
began to raise his club. The clang of
iron resounded around them. The ogre’s
arms immediately fell limp to his sides as the club dropped harmlessly to the
ground. He swayed on his feet for a
moment and then toppled forward, falling like a great tree; Beauty had to quickly
roll aside so as not to be squashed.
“Good job, Punzy!
Thank you!” Beauty said, scrambling to her feet.
“Yeah, whatever,” Rapunzel said,
kneeling down and reaching into one of the ogre’s trouser pockets.
“What are you doing?”
Beauty said, aghast.
Rapunzel pulled out the necklace that the ogre had
taken. “What’s mine is mine,” she said, holding it out and
examining it.
Then the ogre moaned, and began to roll his head. Both Rapunzel and Beauty gasped. It was clear that despite the severity of the
blow the ogre would be conscious again in a few seconds.
“Let’s get out of here!” Beauty said, reaching down to
grab Rapunzel’s arm.
“Huh? Oh, yeah,
okay,” Rapunzel said, stuffing the necklace down the cleavage of her dress,
picking the skillet back up and scrambling to her feet.
Together the two princesses began heading toward the door
of the restaurant, but after the had take just a couple of steps in that
direction another ogre, still mounted on his own warthog, appeared from the haze
and rode into the restaurant’s doorway.
The princesses clumsily halted as they heard screams from inside,
reversed their direction and starting running down the walkway along the misty
Romeo drive as behind them they heard the sound of breaking glass and the
proprietor crying, “Not the wine! Not my
best wine!”
They had just traveled a few yards when the sound of heavy
clomping feet from somewhere up ahead again caused them to stop in their
tracks. They both looked around where
they stood. “There!” Beauty said,
pointing to a nearby, deeply recessed and dark shop doorway. The princesses ran into it and tried the
door. It was locked. They both pounded on it, pleading to be let
in, but there was no response. After a
few seconds they simply huddled closely together and turned to face the street,
Rapunzel holding the skillet at the ready with two shaky hands. Beyond them they heard the sounds of warthog
feet clattering, windows smashing, people screaming, and the occasional whoosh
of property being set ablaze. The purple
mist continued to recede, but its gloom and stench was gradually replaced by
the haze and scent of smoke.
“You know what’s weird?” Beauty asked.
“Oh, I don’t know, Beauty,” Rapunzel quipped, not looking
at Beauty but keeping an eye out on the street.
“Maybe that purple fog? Or the town being overrun by rampaging ogres? Those would be the top two on my list.”
“No. I mean, yeah,
that. But…when I was trying to grip that
ogre’s head, it seemed like my arms were…I don’t know…sinking through part of him, somehow.”
“What, you mean neck fat?
I know it’s gross, but I doubt ogres go to the spa.”
“No, not that.
It was like…well, like he had an aura or something.”
“Aura?
Are you going new-age on me?”
“Don’t be silly.
I’m as middle ages as the next princess.”
“Then I think that maybe you weren’t fully awake, like usual,”
Rapunzel said, and finally glanced over at Beauty, only to see her staring up
at her wig.
“What?” Rapunzel
snarled.
“Oh, nothing, nothing,” Beauty said, averting her
eyes. After a few moments, she ventured,
“Um…how did—”
“I don’t want to
talk about it.”
“Okay! Fine! Fine!”
There was an awkward silence between them, but the sounds
of struggles around them continued.
Eventually Rapunzel turned back to the street and said, “Where are our
soldiers?”
“Heck if I know,” Beauty said. “Right now I’d settle for some prince riding
in on his noble steed to take us away from here. This situation is way too hairy.”
Rapunzel shot her a look.
“Oops!” Beauty said, blushing and gritting her teeth in an
uneasy apologetic grin. “Sorry!”
Rapunzel just shook her head and again looked back toward
the street. But overlooking the gaffe,
Beauty’s remark about the prince caused a tug in Rapunzel’s heart. She hadn’t seen or heard from Pookie – from Charming – since that morning when his
mother had appeared and whisked him away from her. Now both
he and his ‘mummy’ were gone, Heaven knew where, just when this tragedy had
befallen her beautiful hair. Rapunzel
wondered sometimes if maybe the Fairy Godmother hadn’t had a hand in it, and
perhaps she (Rapunzel) should have known better than to have gotten so tangled
up with a momma’s boy.
Just then, from out of the purple mist, slowly emerged
another rider. This ogre was even bigger
and broader than the last. He had the
expected green skin and protruding earstalks, but unlike the other ogre this
one had shoulder-length black hair growing from around his bald pate. A moustache that looked like opposing sickles
bracketed his mouth, and thick unkempt eyebrows sat above eyes with black
sclera and yellow irises, which Rapunzel thought looked odd even for an ogre. This made the fact that those eyes were
staring directly at her all the more unnerving.
The ogre’s warthog trotted toward the princesses as the
ogre continued to stare at them, his mouth curling into what might be a leer,
or might be simply a contemptuous grin.
“D-d-d-don’t, come any closer!” Rapunzel said, holding out
the skillet. “I’ve got a frying pan
here, a-and I’m not afraid to use it!”
Only after the words had left her mouth did she realize how absurd they
sounded.
Still, the ogre did pull his ‘steed’ up with a snort some
twenty feet from the princesses, in the middle of Romeo drive. The ambient sounds of pandemonium still
echoed around them, but he seemed oblivious as he stared at them with those
weird eyes whose pupils almost seemed to glow.
“Good evening, ladies,” the ogre finally said in a low,
rumbling baritone. “I hope that this
evening’s events have not upset you too much.
My men tend to be somewhat…overenthusiastic.” He smiled a cold smile.
Suddenly a soldier rushed in from out of the mist. “Keep away from them, monster!” he cried.
The ogre looked almost casually at the charging soldier,
who was dressed in a simple outfit of red tunic and white leggings, his only
armor being a chain mail shirt and short domed helmet atop a chain mail hood. The solder drew his sword as he approached
the ogre and, holding it with both hands, swung at him. But with one quick, fluid motion the ogre
drew his own sword – longer than his foe’s and with an odd, zig-zag blade – and
easily parried the blow. The solder swung
again and again, only to be parried with equal easy. At last the ogre appeared to tire of the intrusion
and with one last, vicious blow knocked the sword flying out of the solder’s
hand and sending it flying far off somewhere into the mist. The soldier watched his weapon disappear,
then stared down at his empty, stinging hands, and then up at the smirking
ogre.
The soldier sighed resignedly, dropping to his knees and
bowing his head. “Very well,” he
said. “Take my life. I only beg that you allow your bloodlust to
be satiated with me, and that you spare yon maidens.”
The ogre seemed to chuckle. “How brave. How gallant.
And how stupid,” he said. He then
raised his sword to strike, but then paused, as if remembering something. The ogre sighed himself, and then lowered his
sword. “No,” he said reluctantly. “You shall not die this night by my
hand. But have faith, my foolish
friend. I am sure other opportunities
for valiant ends lie in store for a man as…daring as yourself.”
The ogre then looked back over at the cowering
princesses. “Maidens, eh?” he said with
a smirk.
Rapunzel blushed.
From the castle balcony, Rumpel continued to fiddle as the
receding mist revealed several fires that had broken out across town. Sounds of pandemonium had reached a crescendo
that filtered up through the night air and could be heard through pauses in
Rumpel’s recital. The imp abruptly
stopped. “Well,” he said. “It appears that my kingdom is in dire
distress. Ladies, time to rev up the deus
ex machina. The five witches all leaned
their broomsticks downward, where they began hovering in place about two feet
from the floor. Each of the broomsticks
now had a lit lantern hanging from near the nose and a small cauldron near its
rear. The witches all mounted their
broomsticks side-saddle style, and Rumple – still holding only his violin –
similarly hopped up onto Baba’s broomstick just behind her. “Up, up, and away, ladies!” he cried, and the
witches launched into the air. From
across the valley behind the damaged ‘Far Far Away’ sign, a flock of some two
dozen other witches also took flight.
Together, the witches began descending onto the panicked town as Rumpel
began playing Ride of the Valkyries.
Rapunzel heard the first explosions from far down the
street, in the direction of the castle, and thought they were part of the
ogres’ rampage. But then she heard a few
more go off, and the cries that accompanied them were not the screams of
citizens but the offended bellows of ogres.
And then – above the din – she heard the unlikely sound of violin music
drifting down from the skies, and looked up to behold the eerie glow of
lanterns illuminating the foreboding shapes of several witches as they swooped
across town. Every so often one of them
would throw something downward, where it would explode in the street. Good grief, Rapunzel thought, were they now
going to be assaulted by every type of fairy tale villain? But then one witch-tossed object landed
nearby and rolled toward the ogre. It
stopped a few feet away and Rapunzel saw that it appeared to be a small
jack-o-lantern with a burning fuse attached.
“Look out!” the soldier said, rising and rushing toward the
princesses. But then the object
exploded, sending the soldier tumbling forward and the ogre’s warthog rearing. The ogre quickly calmed the
animal as the soldier scrambled to his feet and took a stance hear the
princesses, putting himself between the ogre and the women. The ogre looked at the little group…then grinned that snarky, knowing grin again. “It appears your…rescuers have arrived,” he
said. He gave a mock salute with his
sword, and then sheathed it, turned his steed and trotted away until he
couldn’t be seen anymore even in the receding mist.
“Rescuers?” Beauty said in disbelief. “Did
he just call those witches…‘rescuers’?”
“Surely a sad jest!” the soldier declared. “Doubtlessly those wicked crones are in
league with the beasts!”
Just then the violin music stopped as witches maneuvered
to form a row hovering some fifty feet above Romeo drive. The broomstick in the center appeared to have
a small passenger sitting behind its weird pilot. A group of five witches maneuvered into a
pentagonal formation framing him and illuminating him with their lanterns. Rapunzel gasped when she realized it was none
other than Rumpelstiltskin himself, his white finery and powdered wig
contrasting starkly with the dark-clad squadron. She lowered the skillet as she stared up at
the sight.
The imp was holding a golden violin, which he placed in
the broomstick’s cauldron and then from it pulled out a bullhorn – literally
the hollow horn of a bull with its tip sawed off. He
then hopped up into a standing position on the broomstick, a move that caused
Rapunzel to gasp, but he seemed to stand in perfect, nimble balance as he
brought the small end of the bullhorn to his lips.
“Citizens!” he said, although his voice was little louder
than normal. He lowered the bullhorn and
frowning at it said, “Is this thing on?”
He whacked at it a few times with his hand, and eventually a few magical
sparks flittered from out its larger end.
He smiled, held the small end to his mouth again, and began speaking,
this time his voice enhanced so that all throughout the town could make out his
words.
“Citizens!
I fear that our fine kingdom has become the target of a campaign of
terror waged by a horde of vile, savage beasts.
Ogres, my friends! We’ve all
heard horror stories about them, grown up being taught to distrust and fear
them. Odd looking,
green-skinned interlopers who would devastate our homes and threaten our loved
ones. Meddling oafs who stick
their noses where they don’t belong, destroying our businesses and ruining our
lives—”
Rumpel had become progressively more agitated as he
delivered the last line; even the witch on the same broomstick turned around
and looked up at him questioningly.
Rumpel paused. “Ahem,” he said
awkwardly, “just for some examples.” He
then cleared his throat and continued with more self-control, “Excuse me if I
seem a bit emotional, but…I just care so awful lot about this kingdom.” He sniffed a bit and wiped at an eye. “But now,” he continued with harder voice,
“these creatures have gone too far! Now
instead of lurking in their lairs amidst the swaps and deep forests where they
belong, they have brazenly set their faces against us…”
The imp went on for
several minutes, slowly enthralling his frightened and angry listeners, giving
them a target against which they could focus those emotions. As he went on, Rapunzel could hear more and
more shouts of agreement from voices around her. She pulled her eyes from the surreal sight of
the floating imp to the street around her.
The mist had all but gone, and she could see that citizens of all
classes had come out and were lining the street, staring up at Rumpelstiltskin. She noticed that some citizens were
brandishing torches or pitchforks, and every so often someone would step away,
only to return a few moments later with some such instrument. With every emotionally charged note that the
imp struck, they would raise their torch or pitchfork or fist as they bellowed
their accord. Eventually the princess
looked back up at the mesmerizing orator.
After one particularly emotional point during which
Rumpelstiltskin stamped his food, causing the broomstick to bob for a few
seconds and which provoked a particularly enthusiastic round of shouts from his
listeners, he took a deep breath and motioned for the crowd – more a mob now –
to calm down. “My people,” he said. “I see that many of you have armed yourselves. This is not a bad idea – eternal vigilance is the price of liberty. And I just apologize that our supposed
protectors failed you so badly tonight—”
“That’s not fair,” the soldier before the princesses
said. “Just before the ogres arrived, I
felt this strange sensation that—”
“Shut up, loser,” Rapunzel said.
“My name is ‘Dirk’, m’lady,” the soldier said humbly.
“Whatever,” Rapunzel quipped, trying to concentrate on
Rumpelstiltskin as he continued.
“I must beg your forgiveness for continuing to entrust your
lives and livelihoods to the conventional forces put in place by my
predecessor,” Rumpel said. “But we have
learned from this. For in our hour of
dire peril, new heroes have selflessly come to our aid. These witches you see around you –” here he
made an open gesture with his free arm to indicate the hovering hags “– despite
being mocked, persecuted, and shunned – rallied of their own accord to come to
the aid of their fellow Far Far Awayans, driving the villains back into the
darkness whence they belong. I think
they deserve our gratitude.”
Rumpel stopped speaking as he stood there, and lifted his
other arm so that this gesture taking in the witches was accentuated. There was an awkward silence for a few
moments. Rapunzel looked around her
again, and saw that some of the citizens had also started looking around at and
in many cases murmuring with each other.
Then someone shouted, “Three cheers for the witches! Hip, hip…”
And then some dozen voices in unison shout “Hooray!” Another “hip, hip”, followed
by even more voices shouting, “Hooray!”
Then a third “hip, hip” followed by a resounding chorus shouting
“Hooray!” Then the crowd burst into
cheers and applause. Rapunzel looked
back up to the sky. Most
of the witches’ expressions remained stoic or in some cases grimacing, but some
betrayed traces of true emotion at actually being cheered. In one case the princess thought she could
make out a glistening tear drop from one of the witches’ eyes – which was unfortunate as it burned a small canal down her cheek.
“Well, what do you know!” Beauty
said. “Who would have expected to be
rescued by a bunch of witches? I guess
it’s true what they say. You know, that
you shouldn’t judge people before you get to know them.”
“Mmmm,” Rapunzel mumbled as she tried to pay attention to
Rumpelstiltskin, who had brought the bullhorn back to his mouth and was about
to begin speaking again.
“I think it’s safe to say that from this night forward, we
should all put our faith in our new protectors, the Crones’ Coven Calvary
Patrol, or CCCP for short. I promise you
that with their help, we will keep our fair kingdom safe from ogre attacks in
the future, and will round up any such beasts that might dare trespass upon our
cherished land in the future!”
There was another great round of applause. Beside her, Beauty screamed enthusiastically
as she clapped, then pumped her fist in the air and barked “Woof! Woof!
Woof!” Rapunzel dropped the
skillet and began applauding as well.
From just in front of her, Dirk just drooped
his head in shame.
Above them all, Rumpelstiltskin lowered the bullhorn and
smiled down contentedly.
Yu’s band of mounted raiders, most of whom bore sacks of
loot slung across their steeds’ backs, waited in a clearing in the forest. He scanned the group with his cool eyes. All were accounted for, not that he had
really anticipated that the pathetic resistance of the townspeople or the mock
assault by the witches would have cost him the life of any of his stalwart
men. If it had in the case of the former,
he would have had to break his vow not to take any of the townspeople’s
lives. In the case of the latter, the
coming meeting would end nearly as bloody as if the imp were to betray him.
A soft, gentle whoosh of displaced air, nearly inaudible
to most ears, caught his attention and he looked up to see the band of witches
gliding in just above treetop level, their lamps extinguished, Rumpelstiltskin
riding in on the back of the broomstick of the lead witch. When they reached the
clearing they adroitly halted in the air and then drifted noiselessly straight
downward. Rumpel hopped off his
pilot’s broomstick just before she touched down. The witches all landed about thirty feet from
the raiders, and as they did so they stood fast as they took their brooms and
held them at the ready, almost as if they were military. Yu couldn’t help but chuckle at the
absurdity.
“Ah, my friend, Shan Yu!” Rumpel said jovially, strutting
forward to within ten feet of the mounted Hun.
“You and your men did splendidly.
And I see you’ve already started collecting your rewards!”
“Yes,” Yu said humorlessly. “But that is nothing compared to the room of
treasure you showed me earlier. As you
said, that would be mine when we completed this charade.”
“Ah, yes, about that,” Rumpel said, appearing suddenly in
distress. “You do recall the wording of
the agreement was that all the kingdom’s treasure in
that room would become yours upon fulfillment of your raid—”
Yu’s dark eyes narrowed and his hand tensed on the hilt of
his sword. “You had best not say that
you moved the treasure from that room and thus we aren’t entitled to it.”
Rumpel rolled his eyes.
“Oh, please, General, don’t think me so petty. Even if I did, I had already indicated that
specific treasure, so you’d still be entitled to it even if we did. I am a stickler for details like that.”
“Very well,” Yu said, waiting for the imp to continue.
Rumpel did so.
“However, that treasure is longer mine to give.”
“What?!” Yu said.
“Again, I must honor the letter of the agreement, and that
treasure became the private property of three Barons shortly before you
fulfilled your raid. Thus it was no
longer the kingdom’s treasure at the time you did that. Do you follow?”
“Yes,” Yu said in a low, ominous rumble. “You are attempting to swindle us.” The men behind him started to murmur, which
abruptly stopped when Yu raised a hand as he continued staring down at the
creature before him.
“Now, please, there’s no reason to throw unwarranted
accusations about,” Rumpel said. “It’s
just bad timing. Especially since, due
to the untimely demise of those Barons, the treasure will forfeit back into my
– I mean, the kingdom’s ownership at
midnight, which is due momentarily. Unless their next of kin arrive to file a claim at the town revenue
office before then. That’s
unlikely, however, since they live many miles away. And they haven’t been told of the Barons’
deaths. And…ahem…the revenue office was
just burned down.”
“So at midnight the treasure will become ours per the
agreement,” Yu said.
“No no no, please may attention,”
Rumpel said. “At the time you performed the raid you became owner of all the
kingdom’s treasure that was in that room.
But none of what was in that room was any longer the kingdom’s treasure
at that time. Whether it belonged to the
kingdom before your raid or becomes so later is irrelevant. Do you understand?”
“Oh, I understand,” Yu said, and drew his sword. “I need that treasure to finance my next
campaign against the Han Empire. If I
can’t take that kingdom, then I’ll take yours.”
Yu heard other swords being drawn by his men behind him.
Yu would have expected the imp to be cowering now. But instead, he began to chuckle. “Now, now, Shan – may I call you Shan? – I
really don’t see the need to resort to violence here.”
“To the contrary.
I do,” Yu replied coldly. Then,
indicating the witches, of number of whom did appear nervous, “And this time I
don’t expect your little coven to stop me.”
“Oh, they might surprise you,” Rumpel said. “But they don’t really need to. I just need to release you.”
Yu glared back at the imp.
“What?”
“Release you,” Rumpel repeated. “After all, I was the one that summoned you.”
“What are you talking
about?”
Rumpel sighed, and then said in a surprisingly consoling
tone, “Do you remember when I showed you the treasure earlier, when we made our
deal?”
“Certainly!
That’s why—”
“Do you remember how you got there?”
“Of course!
I—” Yu stopped. He tried
searching his brain, but suddenly realized that he couldn’t recall exactly how he had gotten to that room – or into
the castle – or into Rumpel’s kingdom, for that matter.
Rumpel nodded, as if reading his mind. “What’s the last thing that you do remember?”
Yu thought hard.
“I…I remember a girl…” he said.
“And…fireworks…”
“Ah, would that were the last memory we all had!” Rumpel
said, and laughed. He choked off the
laugh as Yu stared daggers at him.
Resuming his consoling tone, Rumpel explained, “Let me put this
delicately Shan. You’re… shall we
say…um…oh, the heck with delicacy. You’re
dead, Shan. All your men are dead. You died in an avalanche. You know how Sun Tzu said, ‘Regard your
soldiers as your children, and they will follow you into the deepest valleys;
look upon them as your own beloved sons, and they will stand by you even unto
death?’ Well, yours followed you even
beyond that border.”
Yu, dumbstruck, stared that the imp for a moment, then
laughed himself. “Don’t be absurd! Us, ghosts? We’re as corporeal as you are!”
Rumpel smiled, and then turned to look at his
witches. “He thinks there’s only one
type of ghost,” he said, tilting his head back toward Yu. The witches began tittering amongst
themselves.
“Enough!” Yu
thundered, silencing the witches. As
Rumpel turned back to face him Yu pointed his sword at the imp. “I tire at your poor jests, scoundrel. Now we shall—”
“Your determination to conquer was so great,” Rumpel said,
ignoring the threat, “that it survived even your demise. Tell me, since the avalanche, have you found
yourself capable of performing any astounding physical feats that, even with
your great strength, you weren’t able to before then?”
Yu paused. He did recall just such abilities, such as
splitting whole pillars with one swipe of his sword. He wondered why he hadn’t consciously noticed
that before.
“Ever get the urge to surprise someone and say, ‘boo’?”
Rumpel added with a little smile.
Yu shook his head as he tried to clear the confusion. “Enough nonsense,” he said. “We demand our reward!”
“Oh, you shall get it,” Rumpel said. “Right now.” From somewhere in town, bells started chiming
midnight. “Ah,” Rumpel said, “the
witching hour! And to commemorate that
–” he clapped his hands and said, “I release you!”
Yu suddenly felt light-headed. Below him, his horse whinnied urgently, and
then began dissolving into a dark cloud which quickly began losing its
coherence. Yu heard gasps and cries from
his men, and then turned to see that they were also dissolving into elongated,
mist-like forms. He then looked down at
himself to see that he was beginning to do the same. He reflexively released his sword, but
instead of clattering to the ground it too dissolved. His vision then began growing increasingly
blurry, and then off in the distance a tunnel of light suddenly appeared. Yu felt himself being drawn to it, sucked
toward it. His last discernable sight
was that of Rumpelstiltskin smiling up at him as he floated above and past the
imp. “A curse upon
you, Stilkskin!” Yu said, his
words drawn out and unearthly. “A cuuuurssssssse!”
“Yeah, yeah, get in line,” Rumpel said as he watched the
now spectral forms disappearing into the light, which then closed behind them. “Ah, there goes the wraith of Shan!” Rumpel
joked. He then turned back and looked at
the various bags of loot on the ground which had fallen from the Hun as they
lost their corporeal forms. “Sorry
General,” he mused, “I guess it’s true what they say – you can’t take it with,
Yu!” Then he quickly turned to the
witches. “Baba!”
“Ga’ah!” Baba sputtered, snapping to attention.
“You and the others gather all this and take it to the
castle…discretely.”
“Yessir!” she said.
“Excuse me,” Griselda said, stepping forward. “Something doesn’t make sense to me, and I
have a couple of questions.”
Rumpel cocked an eyebrow curiously. He glanced over at Baba, who seemed to be
trying to shoot her fellow witch a warning look. He smiled, and then looked back at Griselda. This had been a good night, and he could
afford to be indulgent. “Go on,” he
said.
“Why ogres?” she asked.
“I mean, why bother with the spell making the people see them as
ogres? Wouldn’t rampaging Huns be
frightening enough?”
“Ah, yes, why ogres,” Rumpel said wistfully. “One reason is, when you’re frightening your
people and dehumanizing the enemy, it helps if the enemy is already
inhuman. Since the townspeople aren’t
that versed in the nature and habits of ogres, it’ll be easier to keep them
afraid of some monster appearing at any time, and anywhere. But more than that, I find it personally
satisfying in a way I don’t expect you to understand.”
“Then why didn’t we just enchant some real ogres and send
them into town?”
“Because unless there’s an ogrid wedding or funeral it’s
devilishly hard to find more than a couple of ogres together, and so it
would’ve taken too long to gather a decent sized horde. They’re stubbornly solitary creatures. Plus, an ogre on a rampage might do a lot of
bluster and roaring, but they wouldn’t have been as thorough, enthusiastic, and
convincing when damaging property or gathering loot as these guys were. Ogres have an
instinctive aversion to unbridled materialism that is positively sickening.”
Rumpel paused to take a breath, and then added
thoughtfully, “And there is one other reason.
The reason we are here today. Shrek. Whenever he
arrives, he’ll soon figure out something’s amiss, and he’s going to be one
dangerously unsatisfied customer. So I
don’t want him to find any friends in this kingdom that he might turn into
allies. I want the people to fear and
despise ogres so much that the sight of any one will drive them to us for
protection. And in turn they’ll be less
critical of us in how we run the kingdom as long as we provide that protection.
After all, people who won’t give up essential liberty in exchange for
safety deserve neither liberty nor safety. Also, I want every ogre in this kingdom
ferreted out, captured, and brought to me until we find Shrek. With Fiona dead he can’t break the spell, but
being stripped of all he holds dear and with nothing to lose he might – well,
let’s just say we wouldn’t want the poor fellow to do anything that I might regret,
now would we?”
“Oh, no, I suppose not,” Griselda said. She began to turn away, but then turned
back. “But if we persecute ogres as a group,
what happens if they group together against us?
Couldn’t they be dangerous?”
“Ogres?
Grouping together into, what, an army?” Rumpel said, and laughed. “That’s stuff of legend. Maybe in ages past, but
ogres today, as individualistic, stubborn, and self-absorbed as they are? These guys are self-reliance and rugged
individualism run amok! Trying to form
them into a disciplined army? Hah! It would be easier herding cats. What ogre today could possibly even begin such a task? Who?”