"FIONA!"

This time the voice that cried her name was Shrek’s new voice. He suddenly appeared before her, turning into the alley from beside LORDS’ TAILORS and running towards her. He was wearing a fashionable white outfit with gold sleeves, gold trim, and gold boots. More to the point, he had his sword drawn. Beside him ran Sir Hoariman, his sword also drawn. Likewise, behind them followed the other three security knights, swords at the ready. Trailing them was the ill-clad woman that had been sitting near Fiona when she had tumbled from the window.

Shrek and Fiona soon reached each other and the princess fell against him. "Fiona, are you all right?" he asked, wrapping his left arm around her while he continued holding his sword at the ready with his right. The four security knights quickly formed a tight perimeter around them, all facing outwards, swords ready.

"I think so," she replied. "But I was set upon by three men. They’re lying over there by that dark-haired –"

Fiona turned and pointed back to the area where the three villains still lay unconscious. But the dark-haired stranger was no longer standing among them.

"By that dark-haired what?" Shrek asked, following her gaze.

"He’s gone," she said, unable to hide all the regret from her voice as she felt her heart sink. She wanted to feel relief, but instead felt awash with disappointment.

"Who’s gone?" Shrek asked, cocking an eyebrow at her in curiosity.

"A man," she replied, unconsciously putting extra emphasis on the word man. "A brave man intervened when those villains tried to … tried to kill me." She didn’t feel up to giving more details on their full intentions just then. "He bested them all. And now … he’s gone."

Shrek paused to think for a moment, then his brow knitted in suspicion and he said, "Perhaps he was in on it. Part of some diabolical plan to win your royal favor."

"No!" Fiona objected. "It’s not possible! He was … he was heroic!"

"Fiona, my love, some people can be more devious than you might imagine, even when playing a hero," Shrek said, but then his countenance changed, as if he didn’t care to pursue the topic of pretentious heroes further just then. "But you’re likely right, or these other three wouldn’t still be lying here. But why in Heaven’s name did you venture out into this God-forsaken alley?"

"I … I …" Fiona felt both afraid and ashamed to admit the full reason. "I … just felt compelled. I don’t really know why." It was the truth … as far as it went.

Shrek squinted. "Perhaps it was some sort of witchcraft."

"Perhaps," Fiona said. For all she knew, it could be true. Truer than you’ve been to your husband, that inner voice rebuked her again.

"I see," Shrek said, drawing out his words thoughtfully. A moment later, he added, "And I think we have that witch … right here!" With that, he shifted their position and threateningly pointed his sword back at the ill-clad woman, who was standing just outside the protective perimeter.

The woman’s eyes grew wide with fright. "WHOA!" she said, holding her hands out defensively. "Hey, if that were true, why would I’ve gone to fetch help when I saw she was in trouble?!"

"Shrek! No! It’s not her!" Fiona insisted, aghast at his reaction. "I just … everything was so overwhelming … I just felt compelled to get away from it all for a little while." That, too, was true … as far as it went.

Shrek studied her for a moment. "Oh?" he asked, again cocking an eyebrow. "From everything? Surely that ‘everything’ doesn’t include … me?" His tone made that possibility seem somehow ludicrous.

"Oh! Of course not!" Fiona responded, trying to hide the flinch she felt at the truth that his question revealed within her.

But Shrek continued studying her, his eyebrow still cocked suspiciously. Fiona felt herself growing uncomfortable, and decided that actions would speak louder than words. Suddenly she reached up, pulled Shrek to her, closed her eyes and pressed her lips to his in a kiss. But behind her closed eyes, Fiona imagined the man she kissed did not have the features of the handsome Shrek … nor even those of his former ogre self … but rather the ruggedly attractive face of the dark-haired stranger. She recalled the moments when she had been holding his cheeks and yearning to do to him then what she was doing with Shrek now. She knew the thoughts were wrong … probably even sinful … and they made her feel base.

Worse, it wasn’t working. Perhaps it was a lack of imagination on her part, but Fiona just could not buy into her own fantasy that the lips she kissed belonged to anyone other than to the oddly cold being that Shrek had become. She realized with some frustration that it was only the being within the man – or ogre – she kissed that could arouse real, true, heart-felt passion within her. Would she have felt the same way had she kissed the stranger? Was his soul like Shrek’s – the real Shrek’s? She’d never know. Perhaps that was for the best. After a few second she broke off the kiss and drew back. He looked at her and smiled. Fortunately, one thing seemed to have worked; he no longer seemed suspicious. His face had resumed that smug, somewhat pompous expression that she had seen too many times that day. "Well!" he said. "I hope that was good for you."

"Oh, indeed!" Fiona said, forcing as much sincerity as she could. She smiled back, fighting off the urge to wipe her lips with her sleeve. She thought she was putting on a rather good act. Anyone who had watched the kiss and her reaction afterwards would have thought her sincere and loving towards this man, when in truth Fiona realized upon the breaking of the kiss that she didn’t really care to kiss those lips again. It was one more thing that made her feel shamed, but it was nevertheless how she felt. She hoped – she prayed – that that would eventually change. "And thank you," Fiona thought to add, "for coming to my rescue."

"Yes, well, I’m sorry we couldn’t have been here sooner," he said, then gesturing to the ill-clad woman, added flippantly, "but we did come as soon as the hag here let us know what was going on."

Shrek’s words had been more unthinking than unfeeling. Nevertheless, the woman’s face flushed red and its features scrunched in indignation. Placing her hands on her hips she said, "I went to get help as soon as I saw the princess get knocked out after running into that big lug. It was you and your bloody knights that refused to listen to me at first."

"Well, what did you expect? How seriously did you think you’d be taken, looking like that?" Shrek said, indicating with disgust the woman’s overall appearance. "For all we knew, you were just another lowly peasant, either mad or trying to get attention for some hand-out."

The woman gave a harrumph, and then, gesturing to Hoariman while still speaking to Shrek, she retorted, "Yeah, well, even after I got Darth’s attention, it took forever to pry you away from that stupid mirror."

This time it was Shrek’s turn to look indignant. "I came as soon as I was aware of the direness of the situation," he stated flatly.

"Yeah, right," the woman said, almost chuckling and rolling her eyes.

Shrek’s eyes squinted in anger. "Need I remind you to whom you’re speaking?" he said, taking an ominous step towards the woman.

Shrek’s reaction took Fiona aback. "No! Wait!" she said, quickly interposing herself between Shrek and the woman. Shrek halted, although he continued glaring past Fiona at the woman. The princess turned to her, smiled, and said, "It seems that we owe you a debt of gratitude, Miss …?"

"Just call me Jenna," she said, returning Fiona’s smile and then casting a brief dismissive smirk in Shrek’s direction.

"Well, Jenna, thank you so much," Fiona said, hoping that would make up a bit for her husband’s rudeness.

Jenna shrugged. "Hey, no sweat," she said. "After all,, we’re all stuck together on this great big cosmic egg together, so we need to keep up the communal chi by helping each other when we can, right?"

"Uh, riiiight," Fiona said, her smile faltering as she tried to follow whatever it was that Jenna was talking about.

Everyone’s attention was then drawn back to the villains as a moan escaped from one of their prostrate forms.

"Sir Hoariman," Shrek said, turning to the security team head, "escort the princess back to the store. The rest of you –" he looked around at the other three knights "– help me take those knaves into custody."

"But sir," Hoariman said, "I don’t think –"

"No, you apparently don’t think, sir, or else you wouldn’t have allowed the princess to come into such danger!" Shrek chided.

Hoariman stiffened, but remained quiet. Still, Fiona thought she could almost feel him bristling underneath his armor. "Hey!" she said, interceding. "It’s not his fault! I –"

"Would have been better off without the false security of this incompetent," Shrek finished for her , casting a spiteful glance at the knight. "Perhaps I’m being foolish, Sir, but I’m assuming that I can at least trust you to keep the princess in sight and safe long enough to get her from here back into the store?"

"Yes, sir," Hoariman said, the words coming out clipped.

"Very good. Now, Foina, please allow Sir Hoariman to perform what I will ensure when we get back to the castle will be his final service. It seems the soon-to-be former security chief has … realized his limitations."

"But –" Fiona began to protest.

"GO!" Shrek barked.

Fiona stared at him, mouth agape.

Shrek sighed, closed his eyes, and shook his head. A moment later he reopened his eyes, and his face once more assumed that pleasant, almost angelic appearance and his voice came out smooth and refined as he said, "I’m sorry, dearest. But you gave me such a fright. We’ll discuss the matter later. But this is not the time nor place. Please go."

Fiona sighed as well. "All right," she mumbled.

"Good girl," Shrek said with a hint of condescension. He then smiled, took her hand, and kissed it. He looked back up, still smiling, and their eyes met. His smile, Fiona noted, was not entirely consistent with what she saw in those eyes, which suddenly appeared to her more wary and probing than caring as he scanned her own features. Still, she managed to force a little smile of her own as she slid her hand from his, and then she turned and started trudging back up the alley towards the store. Hoariman sheathed his sword and fell in step beside her on one side, Jenna on the other. Behind them Shrek and the knights busied themselves with securing the ruffians.

"I’m sorry, Sir Hoariman," Fiona said, speaking low enough that she couldn’t be overheard by her receding husband. "I’m afraid the prince has quite a temper." That was true enough. She had seen enough of Shrek’s outbursts and had been told of more. Shrek was not one to suffer fools gladly, at least not fools who didn’t acknowledge that they were being foolish. Yet Hoariman was no fool; he had simply been performing his job. Plus, Shrek’s previous outbursts, although sometimes loud and angry, almost always lacked the underlying vitriol that he had just displayed. And in the past, after he cooled down, Shrek often showed remorse over his actions and would even lay his sizable pride aside and apologize. However, Fiona wasn’t getting the feeling that this was necessarily the case anymore. She shook her head and said, "I’m sorry. It’s all my fault."

"No, Princess, it’s not," Hoariman said, his lowered voice even more hoarse and gravelly than before. "I forgot the rule of security service."

"What is the rule?"

"Protect your charge at all times."

Fiona sighed. "I’m afraid I didn’t make that easy for you."

They took a few steps in silence, then Hoariman said, "No, Princess, you didn’t. In fact, I don’t ever recall a person placed in my care ever showing such … ingenuity in avoiding it.

Fiona couldn’t help but crack a small if sad grin at Hoariman’s line, delivered with an odd mixture of rebuke and admiration. Then she said, "Maybe after he calms down –"

"No, I don’t think so, sweetie," Jenna said. "Sorry, but I’m just picking up all sorta bad vibes off your prince … even if he is one gorgeous hunk."

"He’s … having a stressful time adjusting," Fiona said as they turned a corner and could see Romeo drive, bright and bustling with activity, at the end of the alley before them. "After all, we were married not all that long ago and now –"

"Oh! That reminds me!" Jenna said, then halted just as they were halfway down the last alley. Fiona and Hoariman halted as well as Jenna dug into one of the pockets of her worn and tattered garment. Then the pulled out Fiona’s wedding ring. "Here," Jenna said, handing it to her. "You dropped this."

"Oh my goodness!" Fiona exclaimed. She slipped the ring on, embarrassed and upset at herself for having forgotten it. "Jenna, I … I don’t know how to thank you! First you went for help, and then you give this back to me … you must realize that it’s worth a great deal of money –"

"Hey, don’t worry about it, Princess," Jenna said, smiling. "Like I said, we all need to watch out for each other. Helps keep the karma on the upswing. And as for the ring itself … well, I figured it would be worth a lot more that just a wad of money to you. I know that’s how I feel about mine!" Here Jenna held out her left hand, showcasing a small, scratched, and tarnished wedding band of copper on her ring finger. But she seemed as proud as if it were solid gold with diamond studs.

"Still, you deserve a sizable reward –" Fiona said.

"Ah, naah," Jenna said, waving the offer away with the hand whose ring she was just admiring. "Thanks anyway, but I’m not into material things. Speedbumps on the road to Nirvana, y’know?"

Fiona, surprised, looked the woman up and down. "But surely you can’t prefer to live in the squalor of these back alleys!" she said.

"Oh, I don’t live here!" Jenna said, laughing. "This is where I do community service. I’m a member of Varada Mudra Charities. Maybe you’ve heard of us?"

"Uh, no," Fiona said apologetically. "I’m afraid n–"

"Really? Well, how about our slogan? ‘We make the Medieval a little less evil, we make the Dark Ages a little more bright’?"

"No, sorry," Fiona said.

"Darn," Jenna said, disappointed. "That was our biggest campaign. Our ads were everywhere. Where’ve you been, locked away in a tower the past few years?"

"Well, yes, actually," Fiona said, blushing.

"Ooooh," Jenna said. "You’re one of those princesses."

"Not just any of ‘those’ princesses," Hoariman broke into the conversation. "Princess Fiona is our princess. She just returned a couple of days ago with her new husband."

"Really!" Jenna said.

"You hadn’t heard?" Hoariman asked.

"Well, I was aware there was some sorta commotion," Jenna replied. "But I’ve been kinda busy back here. We’re not exactly first on the public service announcement list. Well, welcome back, and congrats on scoring your new hubby!"

"Thanks," Fiona said. "And again, if there’s anything I can do …"

Jenna’s eyes brightened. "Say! If you’re really set on giving rewards, how about a donation to VMC?"

"Well … certainly," Fiona said. "I’ll arrange something when I get back to the castle."

"Kewl!" Jenna said.

"But … I’d really like to help you personally," Fiona said. Then an idea struck her. "Speaking of the castle, perhaps I can arrange for a position for you or your husband? You could still do your service here, but you could live there. Nice clothes, beautiful accommodations … surely your husband would like that?"

"What? Haldamir?" Jenna said, laughing. "Oh, no, he’d hate it! But then, what’d you expect from a Sylvan elf?"

Fiona raised an eyebrow. "Your husband’s an elf?"

"Yep. A Sylvan elf," she repeated, as if that was a significant distinction.

"There’s more than one kind?"

"Of course!" Jenna said.

"Sorry," Fiona said. "I didn’t know."

"That’s okay," Jenna sighed resignedly. "Most normal humans don’t."

Fiona nearly bit the insides of her mouth, then asked, "So what kinds are there? What’s the difference?"

"Well, there’s the Noldor. They’re the upper-ups; highbrow types. They’d fit fine in your castle, I’m sure. Well, all right, some are okay, even noble, but lots are just plain snooty. The Sindar are even worse in that account, though, at least how they regard non-Sindars. Lots of ‘em mean well, and talk about maintaining the ‘purity of the elven line’, but they can be down-right xenophobic. The Sylvans, like my Haldamir … well, they’re more into nature. They prefer simple life out in the woodlands. They’re independent and emotional. Haldamir took some getting use to, but he’s really got a heart of gold."

"Really?" Fiona said, raising an eyebrow and fighting back a grin. Still, she couldn’t help herself from asking, "So … how did your parents react to you marrying outside your … species?"

Jenna laughed. "Just as you might expect," she said. "They hated the idea! Particularly my Dad. They did everything they could to discourage us, especially after we announced our plans to live together out in the forest."

"So what happened?"

"They came around. After they had some time to digest the idea, got to know Haldamir a little better, and … mainly … after they saw how much Haldamir and I meant to each other. Love’s the key. If you pick a good guy, and your parents love you and really want what’s best for you, then with enough time they’ll come around. Love and tolerance. Learning not to judge people before you get to know them."

This time a wry grin broke on Fiona’s face. "Sounds like a reasonable philosophy," she said.

"Besides," Jenna said, "it wasn’t like I was marrying an ogre or something."

Fiona started to guffaw, then forced herself to cough lest she fall into a laughing spree. After a few moments she cleared her throat and then asked as neutrally as she could, "You … uh … have something against ogres? What happened to that ‘judging people’ thing?"

"Yeah, well, that’s good in general," Jenna said. "But ogres? I mean, c’mon, you’ve gotta draw the line somewhere."

Fiona frowned and was debating how to respond when she saw Jenna’s face take on a pensive, somewhat worried expression. "What’s wrong, Jenna?" the princess asked.

"Oh … well … I just started thinking about Haldamir," Jenna said. "And … well, I’m a little concerned. He didn’t come home last night. I got a pigeon-gram from him saying there’d been an accident at the factory where he works, some sorta spill. Blasted Keeblers, I wish they hadn’t sold that place. Sold out, more like it. Anyway, he wrote that there wasn’t anything to worry about, but they had to get some things … straightened out. His writing was odd, though. I mean, he’s not the neatest of writers anyway, but this scribbling looked like real chicken-scratches."

"I’m sorry," Fiona said.

"Hey, don’t worry about it, Princess. It’s not like it had anything to do with you."

"I mean for your distress. If there’s anything I can do …"

"Thanks," Jenna said. "But I’m sure he’ll be fine." Still, her face briefly took on an even more worried expression. She seemed to fight it off, then smiled and said, "Say! Maybe some time you can teach me some of those moves, like the one you used on that big galoot. It might come in handy with some of the characters I have to deal with. HI-YAH!" Jenna suddenly struck the pose Fiona had used when she’d struck Butcher’s face.

"Uh, sure," Fiona said, wondering if she had looked as comical as Jenna did now. "Just come by the castle some time and give them your name, and I’ll see what I can arrange."

"Kewl!" Jenna said, resuming her normal posture. "There was this one guy that dropped by town once who knew a lotta that stuff. I met him where he had a temp job at a Chinese restaurant. And he was really into the philosophy angle, too. He even had a little book filled with these short little … sayings, you know … what do you call those things …"

"Aphorisms?" Fiona suggested.

"Gesundheit!" Jenna responded. "Anyway, he had a book full of ‘em. Unfortunately one day it accidentally fell into the cookie making machine and got shredded. Still, we had a couple of nice chats. He kept talking about his old teacher, who called him … um … Cricket or something. Anyway, he had to bug out before he taught me the moves. Said something about needing to find his brother."

The little group lapsed into silence. Jenna looked out at the activity on Romeo drive. "Well, I guess this is where we part company," she said.

"Let me at least buy you a dress or something," Fiona offered.

Jenna smiled and shook her head. "Naah, I’m good," she said. "Thanks anyway."

"Thank you," Fiona said. "And I do hope things work out all right with Haldamir."

"Thanks," Jenna said. "And good luck with your hubby, too. Try to get the guy to lighten up. A little more Yang and less Yin would be good."

Jenna held her hand out, but Fiona moved forward and they shared a hug instead. "And do drop by the castle, sometime," the princess said. "We’ll see about those lessons." And I’ll probably need the distraction, Fiona thought.

"Sure thing, Princess," Jenna said, backing away. She paused, turned to Sir Hoariman, and said with a playful smirk, "See ya ‘round, Sir Shades."

"Ma’am," Hoariman acknowledged, and bowed genially.

Jenna giggled, waved to the knight and the princess, and then turned and strolled back down the alley.

"Quite a piece of work, isn’t she?" Fiona asked.

"Indeed," Hoariman said, then turned back towards Romeo drive. "Right now, let’s get you back into the store." He looked over at her. "Unless you have any other adventures you need to attend to first," he added stoically.

"No," Fiona said glumly, brushing a displaced lock of hair into place. "I think my adventuring days are just about done. And again, I’m sorry for the prince’s tirade. I’ll speak to him about those threats to have you fired."

"Don’t worry about it, Princess," Hoariman said. "This is a young man’s profession, anyway, and I’ve been retiring age for a while. There’s a little restaurant off the beaten track that I’ve been thinking about buying. It’s in this little town by the sea, and they make the best caramel around. Running that should make for a nice, quiet way to spend my golden years."

Fiona nodded, then started thinking about when she had first met the man earlier. "Sir Hoariman," she said, "I was wondering. You mentioned our … whatever you call them, code names, or whatever. Anyway, you called Shrek ‘Angelface’. That I understand. But why did you think to call me ‘Sunflower’?"

Hoariman shrugged. "Yesterday morning," he said. "When you were still … well, going through your green period. I saw you pause by the garden. Of all the flowers there, that was the one you picked."

Foina remembered. It was while she was searching for Shrek and contemplating her father’s words, ‘I’m only thinking of what’s best for you. Perhaps you should do the same’. She had noticed the sunflowers in the garden, and her mind had drifted back to their significance earlier in their relationship. She’d picked it, then sat down and contemplated a lot of things, staring at it and turning it in her hands. She had grinned, remembering Shrek’s words at one time when he’d observed to his ogress wife, ‘They remind me of you, Fi. Big and bold and beautiful.’

"The way you were studying it, it seemed to have some … special meaning to you," Hoariman was recalling.

"True," Fiona sighed. "It did." Then her brow furrowed. "But … I don’t recall seeing you around at the time."

"I was trying to remain … inconspicuous," Hoariman said. "That’s part of my job around the castle, observing my charges while remaining unobtrusive, knowing my way around, both the normal passages as well as those that are more … discreet. Well, anyway, that was my job." He sighed, paused for a few seconds, and then said with more resolution, "For now, I think we’d best just get you back into that store."

Fiona nodded, and the two of them took a few steps and were soon out of the alley’s shadows and into the bright sunlight of Romeo Drive.

"Oh-oh," Hoariman said, an edge to his voice.

"What’s wrong?" she asked.

"Paparazzi," he said, pronouncing the word as if it was an obscenity.

Fiona looked to see a gang of some twenty men with various types of cameras rushing them. Fiona winced as she was blanketed with a barrage of flashes. Hoariman stepped in front of her and growled, "That’s enough! Make room for the Princess!"

One photographer, a wiry man in his mid-twenties, rushed towards her anyway. Hoariman quickly stepped into his path, and the man nearly bumped into him. "I said step aside," Hoariman said in a low rumble that nevertheless seemed to bear even more threat than his louder command voice.

"Hey, what about my first amendment rights!" the photographer said peevishly.

"We don’t have any amendments," Hoariman pointed out.

"Oh," the photographer said, taken aback. Then, smug and sneering, he countered, "Well, still, you can’t intimidate the press with your fascist antic–"

In a flash Hoariman’s sword was out and its tip held up to just under the man’s chin. People around them gasped as the photographer’s eyes grew wide and his mouth of necessity clamped shut. "You were saying, punk?" Hoariman goaded. His cockiness gone, the photographer stared at the knight’s dark visor with a mixture of fear and wisely restrained fury. "Go ahead," Hoariman said. "Make my day."

"Please! Sir Hoariman!" Fiona pleaded, tugging at his arm with some urgency. "It’s all right. Let’s just go."

After a moment, the knight responded, "As you command, Your Highness." He then re-sheaved his sword and bumped the photographer aside. He began leading Fiona through the crowd of photographers and other people who had gathered at the princess’s re-appearance. All of them, however, now gave the knight and his charge room as he lead her towards the storefront. Still, the photographers continued snapping pictures, albeit maintaining a distance, and Fiona found her shoes crunching on several discarded flashbulbs as she walked.

As Fiona began mounting the steps of the store, she glanced back over the crowd and, despite the little white spots that now danced across her vision, she again noticed a familiar face – or at least, the new face of a familiar friend – a few yards past the people. She halted, turned towards him, and called, "Donkey!"

The white stallion, still bearing his peculiarly dressed feline rider, was wandering near the edge of the street. Following Fiona’s actions, the crowd between the princess and the horse also turned to look at him. Donkey, whose head jerked in the princess’s direction upon hearing his name, now looked at her, and his face took on an unexpected expression of disapproval. "Oh, it’s you," he said flatly. Noticing the attention he had suddenly garnered from those around them, he said, "Sorry, Princess. Didn’t mean to interrupt your little parade. Shrek and us got separated. You haven’t seen him, have you? Not that you apparently care."

Fiona blinked. Even Donkey was acting strange now. Not knowing how else to respond, she pointed back towards the alleyway and said, "He’s back there somewhere."

"Thanks," Donkey said with a tone that brooked no real gratitude. He began clopping towards the alley.

"Wait!" Fiona called. "Donkey … why are you doing this? Why are you acting this way?"

He looked up at her. "As if you didn’t know!" he said. Apparently seeing her confused expression, he sighed and continued, "Look, Princess, I don’t mean to judge but … well, loyalty goes a long way in my book, and frankly, you disappoint me. After what Shrek did for ya, and now you –"

The cat suddenly broke in. "Donkey! Please!" the feline said, his eyes trained on Fiona admiringly. "That is no way to speak to a princess. Especially a beautiful one that is heir to the throne"

"Ah, quit your book-lickin’, Puss," Donkey spat, then with less brusqueness asked his companion, "You got any good watering holes around here? I could use a drink."

"Si," Puss responded. "There is one place near the outskirts of town where my … associates and I gather."

"Well, let’s go," Donkey said to Puss. "And don’t tell Shrek we spoke to the princess. He wouldn’t like it." Then, with a subtle sideways, contemplative glance at Fiona, Donkey muttered, "Maybe we can talk him into at least trying to – well, we’ll see." Donkey then faced Fiona directly again, tossed out a less-than-heartfelt, "See ya round, Princess", and then clopped off towards and eventually down the alley. Puss doffed his hat and gave Fiona an elaborate bow just before they disappeared around its corner. Fiona watched them go, flabbergasted.

"What got into him," she mumbled under her breath. But she knew. That potion. That rancid potion. It was making them all act strangely now. Why else would Donkey react that way? And why wouldn’t he want Shrek to know they’d spoken; that surely made little sense. Still, she had felt another pang of guilt when Donkey mentioned loyalty. Did Donkey know what had happened? No, of course not, how could he?

Then Fiona wondered briefly if perhaps the potion was behind her own feelings towards the stranger. It made her feel better in an odd way thinking it was that rather than a flaw in her own character. But that made less sense. Why would a potion meant to aid her and her True Love cause her to feel emotions opposite to that goal? No, Fiona decided resignedly, she could not sooth her conscience by blaming chemistry.

"Friends of yours?" Hoariman asked from beside her. Fiona, her reverie broken, looked at him questioningly. He jerked his head in the direction of the departed animals.

"Oh. Well, the donkey – I mean, the stallion is," Fiona said. Then with a sad sigh, she added, "Or was."

"I appreciate how you feel," Hoariman said, his voice uncharacteristically soft. "I had an orangutan friend once. I know how they can grow on you." He grew oddly pensive for several seconds, then cleared his throat and said, "All right, just a few steps more." They then turned back towards the store, and Fiona gasped.

Shrek was mounting the steps from the opposite side.

"Shrek!" Fiona said. "Where did you come from?"

"What?" Shrek asked, at first confused by the question. Then, after a moment, he said, "Oh. We came up the alley along the opposite side of the building." He gestured behind himself and Fiona saw the other three security knights escorting her three assailants, the latter group bound and stumbling, still not fully conscious. Butcher was in the lead, his face looking like a raw slab of meat that had just taken a pounding from a tenderizing hammer. Baker came next, his mouth hanging open, his left cheek swollen like a holiday turkey stuffed with breading. Chandler brought up the rear; he kept his eyes trained downwards, apparently trying to mask the fear that his waxen countenance unconsciously betrayed.

Fiona pried her eyes from the trio and tried to refocus on Shrek. "Well … Donkey was here," she said, then gestured towards the alley down which her equine friend had vanished. "He was looking for you. You’d better go after him, he’s acting very peculiar. Even for Donkey."

When Fiona turned back towards Shrek she was surprised to see him frozen, an expression on his face like a deer caught in coachlights. After a moment he shook his head and said, "Yes, well, perhaps later. First, we need to finish our business in the store."

"But Shrek!" Fiona objected.

"Now, now, dear," Shrek said comfortingly. "Donkey is a big … uh, being. I’m sure whatever he wants can wait a little while."

"But –" she began.

"Come, dear," he said, taking her around the waist. He began leading her towards the store.

"If you’d like, Princess, I could go after your ‘Donkey’," Hoariman offered.

Fiona started to respond, but Shrek’s harsh words came out first. "No, Sir Hoariman", he said, releasing her and facing the knight. "We’d like you to guard the door, protecting the princess, as is your job … for a short while longer, anyway. Do you think you can manage that?"

"Shrek!" Fiona said. "You can’t –"

"That’s all right, Princess," Hoariman said, his voice low and even, betraying only the slightest quiver of anger. "Your husband is correct. That is my job."

"Good! I’m glad we’re agreed, then," Shrek said.

Shrek was starting to turn away when Hoariman asked, "Did you find him, sire?"

Shrek looked back at him, and Fiona thought she saw him blush slightly. "What do you mean?" Shrek asked.

"That dark-haired man," Hoariman said. He then explained, his tone coldly analytical, "After all, my men could have rounded up the scoundrels themselves. It would have made more sense for you to have accompanied the princess back here. Thus I assume the real reason you wanted to stay behind was to find this stranger."

Shrek stared at Hoariman for a moment, the prince’s face blank. Then one corner of Shrek’s mouth twitched, and then his face broke into a full smile and he said smoothly, "Very good, Sir Hoariman. It appears you do have some deductive abilities. Yes, actually, I was curious to find this mysterious rescuer. He had performed an invaluable service to the kingdom in saving its princess and to me personally in saving my True Love, and I wished to make sure he received a just reward."

"Indeed," Hoariman said. "And did you find him?"

"No," Shrek said, disappointed. "He was gone … or at least chose not to reveal himself."

"Pity," Hoariman said.

"Quite," Shrek agreed.

The two men stared at each other. Fiona looked back and forth between them for a moment, then said, "It doesn’t matter. I already offered, but he didn’t want a reward."

"Really?" Shrek asked skeptically. "He was a rare man, then. I’ve chanced upon few purely altruistic people in my … um, during my lifetime."

"Yes," Fiona said, allowing herself a brief remembrance. "He was quite … unique."

After a moment, Shrek said, "Yes, well then, let us finish our business here, shall we?" He proffered his arm to Fiona.

"Very well," Fiona said, and took his arm. She indeed wanted to finish here and return to the castle. Actually, she preferred to return to the castle. What she truly wanted … well, she remembered sadly, that was something she could no longer have.

She cast a last curious, longing glance towards the alleyway entrance just before Shrek led her back through the fashion store doors.