Chapter 11: Awakenings


Lieutenant Maximus awoke with the cawing of a rooster 
somewhere as day broke.  His office was small, austere, and 
efficient.  Once awake, he arose, made his small bed, and 
donned his uniform, all with steady precise motions learned by 
routine that no longer required concentration -- which was 
just as well, as other thoughts were occupying his mind this 
morning.  Some of the thoughts he would just as soon not have, 
as they troubled him.  But they kept intruding nonetheless.  
They were temporarily wiped away, however, when he stepped out 
into the morning air and beheld the jailkeep rushing toward 
him from down the street with harried and uneven strides, one 
hand holding his helmet upon his head.

The jailkeep eventually reached Maximus, but was so out of 
breath when he did so he could only stand there, his face 
dangerously red, gasping for breath.  He stared at the 
Lieutenant with wide-open eyes, his mouth working madly as it 
was obvious he desperately wanted to report something, but 
only incomprehensible wheezes came out.

Maximus tried to maintain sympathy and patience for the 
obviously distressed jailkeep, he really did.  But as the 
man's inarticulate huffing and  puffing continued, joined with 
many desperate but useless gestures, the Lieutenant found that 
patience wearing thinner and thinner until he finally blurted, 
"FOR HEAVEN'S SAKES, MAN, SPIT IT OUT!"

That startled the jailkeep, who froze in mid-gasp.  He then 
took a great swallow and spoke with a voice still out of 
breath but just comprehensible, "The jail, sir ... the ogres ... 
must'a cast a ... a sleepin' spell on me ... an escape ..."

"The ogres have escaped!" Maximus gasped himself.  A moment he 
later started taking long strides toward the jail.  "Come on!" 
he ordered the jailkeep as he passed the man, who was now 
half-kneeling with his hands resting heavily on his knees.

"No, sir," the jailkeep huffed, "the ... ogres didn't escape ... 
Hood did ... the others are ... they're still there."

"HOOD did?" the Lieutenant repeated, whirling back toward the 
jailkeep, "but ... then why would they cast ..."

Maximus shook his head, turned back toward the jail and 
resumed his way towards it with strides still long but somehow 
less certain than before.  Those troublesome thoughts suddenly 
returned again, joined now by new ones.

*     *     *

A pounding on the door awakened the snoring witch.  Groggily, 
she reached over to her bedside table, slapped the snooze 
button on her clock, then immediately went back to sleep and 
began snoring again.  The pounding resumed once more, louder, 
a moment later.  The witch's snoring changed momentarily into 
an irritated snorting as she finally came awake and opened her 
eyes, then immediately shaded them from the early morning sun 
that poured through a nearby window.  "What in the name'a Kim 
Novak --" she began, and then once again heard the pounding.  
Her eyes narrowed and she snarled, "Seems like SOMEBODY wants 
ta get a shot at the role of Frog Prince, again."

The witch threw the covers off and clumsily pushed herself out 
of bed.  She was wearing a nightgown whose construction was 
exactly like the black robe she normally wore, only the 
nightgown was white with a floral pattern, mostly wolfbane.  
In place of her pointed hat the witch was wearing a floppy 
sleeping cap of the same pattern as her gown.  Scratching her 
hip, she lumbered to the door.  Another round of pounding 
began as she was halfway there, and the witch called, "Hold 
your frickin' horses, I'm coming, already!"

The witch reached the door and threw it open.  Before her, in 
a simple commoner's dress, stood a frail woman in her fifties 
with graying hair and a worn, worried expression on her face.  
"Please!" the woman said when she saw the witch, "You've got 
to help me!"

The witch's eye narrowed again.  "Hey, I recognize you!" she 
said, "You're that old woman that lives in that shoe."

"Yes, yes, that's me," the woman said, "and I'm afraid I've 
lost one of my children and ... and I don't know what to do ..."

"LOST one?" the witch echoes, "how did you manage that?"

"Well, I have so many children, sometimes I ... oh, PLEASE.  I 
was hoping maybe she was still here.  I saw her come over to 
visit you last night.  She's blond, and her name's 
Goldilocks."

"Oh, I remember HER," the witch said with a trace of disgust, 
"that kid of yours has quite a disrespectful little mouth on 
her."

The old woman bit her lip.  "I'm very sorry about that, 
really," she said sincerely, "but I'm very worried.  Is she 
possibly still here?"

"Nope," the witch said, "she left last night 'round midnight.  
While they were hitchin' that size 240 or whatever it is of 
yours up.  I figured she headed back to be with you."

"Yes, I thought she was with us, too, but --" the woman said, 
then ran a trembling hand through her hair.  "Now I don't -- I 
don't --"  The woman then sobbed a bit, and seemed on the 
verge of tears.

The witch sighed and her expression softened somewhat.  "Oh, 
criminy, don't start bawlin' on me," she said.  "C'mon in, 
we'll see if we can't find where your little urchin has gone 
to."

The woman brightened.  "Can you DO that?" she asked excitedly, 
"Oh, I would be so grateful --"

"Cut the schmaltz, lady, I just wanna get back to bed.  It's 
early for me and I need my beauty sleep," the witch retorted, 
turning from the door and heading into her kitchen, the old 
woman following meekly behind her.

The witch impatiently looked over the various magical 
paraphernalia she had sitting on the shelves and with an 
"aha!" reached into one of the shelves and pulled down a 
spherical object about ten inches in diameter and covered with 
a cloth.  The witch pulled the cloth off to reveal a black 
bowling ball.  "Oh," the witch said, perturbed, "rats!"  She 
then placed the bowling ball back and tossed the cloth over 
it, scanned the shelves a few seconds longer and exclaimed, 
"Ah, THERE it is!"  She then pulled down another ball about 
the same size, also with a cloth over it.  The witch whisked 
the cloth away to reveal a shiny crystal ball.

"Oh, my!"  the old woman gasped.  "Will that help?"

"Can't hoit," the witch said, then went over to the table and 
laid the ball down in the center of it, then propped a napkin 
holder and the salt and pepper shakers around it to make sure 
it wouldn't roll away.  "I really oughtta get a proper stand 
one day," she murmured, then sat in one of the chairs.  The 
old woman, her eyes fixed on the translucent orb, sat down in 
another.

"Now then," the witch took a deep breath, then leaned over and 
gazed into the ball.

After a few seconds of watching the witch just stare into the 
ball, the old woman asked, "Aren't you going to say anything?"

The witch looked over at her, a somewhat annoyed at the 
interruption.  "Like what?" she asked.

"I don't know," the woman replied, "some sort of incantation 
or something?  Hocus pocus dominocus?  Something like that?"

The witch rolled her eyes.  "Amateurs," she mumbled to 
herself, then turned back to the woman.  "Look, you wanna do 
this?"

"Well, no, I -- "

"Then just keep quiet and let me do my thing!"

Cowed, the old woman shut her mouth tightly and gulped.  The 
witch rolled her eyes once more, then took a deep breath and 
resumed staring into the crystal.  After several seconds, the 
clear crystal started clouding up, and shortly its entire 
interior seemed filled with swirling smoke.  Then the smoke 
cleared, and the women were treated to a 3-d image of  
Goldilocks lying in the woods, asleep.

"That's her!  That's her!" the old woman cried, greatly 
relieved.

"No kidding, Sherlock," the witch replied under her breath.

"Where is she?  How far?"

The witch stared into the ball at Goldilock's image a bit 
longer, then replied, "East.  Not far from Duloc proper."

"She made it all that way?" the old woman asked.  "How long 
will it take to reach her?"

"Oh, not long," the witch replied, "we can just hop on my --"  
At that point Goldilocks's figure rolled over in her sleep and 
the witch saw the broom laying beside her.  The witch's eyes 
automatically darted to the spot beside the door where she 
kept her broom when not in use.  The spot was barren.

The witch's shriek of anger filled the woods for many yards 
around the little gingerbread house.


*     *     *

Try as he might, Milquest could not sleep.  The twin demons of 
fear and guilt played upon his conscious, a conscious that he 
had thought he had mastered long ago.  But now his usually 
masterful ability to rationalize away such personal failings 
failed him.  And so, as the sun rose, so did he.  Dressing 
himself quickly and efficiently in his usual dapper, formal 
attire -- he had not dressed in simple casual clothes for as 
long as he could remember -- he set out to visit a place that 
he had not been to for some time except for official functions 
or for the ritual Sunday ceremonies which to him had become 
more contests to stay awake than a means to spiritual 
fulfillment.

The morning was quiet as he approached the church.  The 
celebrations of the night before had died out  -- those that 
had not been snuffed out by the witnessing of the dragon's 
capture.  A few of the celebrants were still on the sides of 
the street where they now snored in inebriated slumber, some 
still clutching mostly empty bottles to their bosom.  Milquest 
paused a few yards outside the church and looked up at the 
imposing edifice.  The pale morning light shown into the empty 
windows.  Milquest wondered how long it would take to replace 
the stained glass -- and then wondered what differences there 
would be in the figures that were portrayed in them.  He 
recalled those panes where Farquaad had ordered that his own 
image be represented, such as the one of him standing 
triumphantly over a slain dragon -- a pane that the dragon had 
ironically broken herself after that great gust of wind or 
whatever it was had taken out nearly all the rest.  Milquest 
now imagined such panes being replaced, but with Gledius's 
image replacing Farquaad's, and the mayor shivered.  With a 
self-conscious sigh, he entered the church.

The mayor did not see anyone at first, but found even the 
apparently empty structure imposing both for its immensity 
which the emptiness only highlighted, and for the memories 
from the previous evening that hung heavy in every corner as 
well as upon his own mind.  Milquest made his way to the bank 
of small confessional booths and slid into one.  He found it 
uncomfortable, both for its dark crampedness and for other, 
non-physical reasons.

Before he had managed to wiggle into a more comfortable 
seating position Milquest was startled as a small, screened 
window slid open and he heard an elderly voice say, "What 
troubles you, my son?"  The mayor recognized the voice as that 
of the old priest who ran the church, the one who had 
performed the wedding ceremony the previous night and had 
fearfully shrunk into a corner when Shrek burst through the 
doors.

"I -- uh -- " Milquest stammered, trying to remember the 
proper words, as if they were part of some magical spell that 
would ease his conscious.  At last he thought he remembered 
the right ones, and said, "Forgive me, Father, for I have 
sinned."

"What is this sin, my son?" the priest asked with an 
ostensibly concerned tone that Milquest the politician 
recognized as feigned sincerity.  But did the sincerity of the 
priest really matter in situations like this?  Milquest didn't 
think so.  The sincerity that mattered now, he realized, was 
his own.

So what was the sin?  Now Milquest had to think.  What sin HAD 
he committed?  Was self-doubt a sin?  He doubted it.  Milquest 
tried going over the seven deadly sins in his mind -- those 
that he could recall -- and although some made him 
uncomfortable -- gluttony, for instance -- it was not the 
flirtation with any of them that had driven him here.  So what 
had?  "I suppose, Father ..." Milquest said haltingly, "that my 
sin is one of ... omission."

Now it was the priest who hesitated.  After a few seconds, 
Milquest heard him say, "Yes, my child, go on."

"I feel that I have failed in an important way, Father," 
Milquest said.  "Failed both the people I am obliged to 
represent and ... failed myself.  No, more than that.  I've 
failed a trust.  I was given an example of heroism and was 
challenged to rise to meet it myself.  And I failed.  I failed 
miserably."  Then a word sprang to his mind.  He wasn't sure 
if it was one of the seven deadly sins, but it surely felt 
like it was.  Milquest spat it out.  "Cowardice!  That's what 
I am, Father.  A coward.  I'm a pompous, over-inflated 
caricature of what I'm supposed to be.  I ... I suppose I always 
was.  But the things that happened last night ... well, it 
brought it all home."

There was a moment of uneasy quiet, and then the priest said 
hesitantly, "You're referring to the ogres and the occurrences 
here at the church?"

"Yes, here at the church, and ... well, and afterwards.  After 
years of living under the self-absorbed Farquaad and his 
feigned civic concerns, I bore witness to the actions of a 
person who, when thrust into his position, showed a pure heart 
and courageous mind.  Then, when we were invaded by Gledius 
and his minions and time came to choose sides, I ... I stood by 
like his obedient dog as he took her and her companion into 
custody."

There was another hesitation, then the priest asked, "If you 
had chosen to make a stand, could you have prevented her from 
being overcome?"

"Well, no, I suppose not," Milquest replied.  Then he signed 
and added, "I don't delude myself that any actions I might 
have taken would have caused Gledius much concern.  I would no 
doubt be sharing a cell with them right now, as well as 
sharing whatever their fate might be.  But at least I would be 
feeling much better about myself right now, Father.  And yet, 
when I think about marching over to Gledius and challenging 
right now ... my cowardice still holds me back."

After a few moments the priest spoke, his almost ancient voice 
even softer than usual.  "Your situation is ... not unique, my 
son.  I must also confess, there have been times over the 
years, when personal danger threatened, that I, too, have 
opted for the ... safer path.  And with due respect to the 
ogres, the example that I am obliged to emulate is a bit 
higher."

A wry smile appeared on Milquest's lips.  "So what should my 
penitence be, Father?"

"Hummmm," the priest said.  After several seconds, he replied.  
"Perhaps we should wait for a while.  Things are bleak, but 
not yet black.  Perhaps God Himself may yet provide a means 
for your penitence ... and for mine."

*     *     *

"Hey, kid, you okay?"

Goldilocks stirred, moaned softly, and opened her eyes.  It 
took her a moment to awaken and focus on the face looking down 
at her, the one that spoke those words.  Then the face came 
into focus -- the furry gray face of a wolf.  And not just any 
wolf, but the one of lore, the "Big Bad" wolf that she had 
seen with the other fairy tale folk.

Goldilocks shrieked and tried scooting back away from the 
canine.  She got about a yard when her back came up against a 
tree.  Frightened, she fumbled for the broom, grabbed it with 
both hands, and held it out like a sword, its point aimed at 
the wolf.  The wolf  straightened up, took a step back and 
held his front paws up in a calm-down gesture.  "Hey, kid, 
it's okay!  I'm not gonna hurt ya!"

Something about the wolf's demeanor -- so apparently sincere 
and non-threatening -- did serve to quiet Goldilocks somewhat, 
but she continued to hold the broom at the ready as she eyed 
him warily.  She also started to wonder why he was still 
wearing an old lady's pajamas and sleeping cap.  "W-what do 
you want?" she asked nervously.

"Want?  Nothing!  I just saw you layin' there on the open 
ground and wanted to make sure you were okay! Jeez, just 
because you're a wolf, nobody TRUSTS you around here!"

"I'm sorry," Goldilocks said, "but -- well, after what you did 
to Little Red Riding Hood's grandmother -- eating her and all 
--"

Suddenly the wolf's voice did get a bit gruff as he protested, 
"Hey, I did NOT eat that little girl's grandmother!  I knocked 
very nicely on her cottage door and when she saw me she 
freaked out and jumped out the window before I could get two 
words in.  People have been retelling that story for years and 
adding all kinda mean, violent details to it.  Blasted 
wolfophobic busy-bodies!"

"But -- then what DID happen?  And -- why are you wearing the 
grandmother's clothes?" Goldilock asked.

The wolf sighed.  "Okay, here's the REAL story.  I live near 
where that grandma did, and I knew it was the day of the week 
when that Riding Hood kid would always come a-visiting with 
her basket of goodies.  Man, what a great smell that was!  
When you got a snoot like this," the wolf said, tapping the 
side of his long snout, "you just can't ESCAPE a smell like 
that a-waftin' through the forest.  Finally, I couldn't take 
it any more, I HAD to try one of those pastries to see if they 
tasted as good as they smelled!  And I KNEW if I approached 
the kid directly that SHE'D freak out for sure.  Then she'd 
run to the village and the idiots would be out with guns and 
stuff and -- well, not a pretty sight.  But I thought that I 
might be able to strike a deal with the grandma, maybe trade 
her some fresh pork for a couple of scones or something."

"Where would you get fresh pork?" Goldilocks asked.

"Never mind," the wolf said, waving off the question with a 
tad of discomfort, "that's another story.  Anyway, the grandma 
acted just like I feared the girl would act.  Go figure!  So 
there I was, alone in her cottage, and I knew the little girl 
was on her way there with those great smelling treats.  So, in 
a moment of weakness I got the bright idea to dress up in an 
extra pair of Granny's pajamas and try and fake out the kid 
into giving me her treats."

Goldilocks pursed her lips and squinted her eyes in an 
expression of dubiousness.  "Did you REALLY think she'd 
believe you were her grandma?"

The wolf frowned and shrugged.  "Okay, maybe it wasn't the 
best idea in the world.  But I thought I'd give it a shot.  
You never know, sometimes little kids can be awfully 
gullible."

Goldilocks eyes widened with renewed fear and she tightened 
her hold on the broom.

"Oh, no!" the wolf said, "I didn't mean -- I'm not trying to 
fake YOU out!  I just saw you layin' there and wanted to make 
sure you were okay!  Jeez, never mind, I'll just go."

The wolf shook his head in disgust, turned and started 
stomping off.  

"No, wait!" Goldilocks called.

The wolf paused, looked back and cocked an inquisitive 
eyebrow.

"I'm sorry," Goldilocks said, reticent but still a bit wary, 
"it's just that -- I'm alone, and scared and you're -- well --
"

The wolf sighed.  "Yeah, I know," he said, then turned back 
completely, approached the girl, and reached down with a 
forepaw.  "You need a lift?"

The girl paused a few seconds more, still holding the broom, 
but staring thoughtfully at the paw.  "My!" she gasped, "What 
a big paw you have!"

"Hey, let's not go there, kid," the wolf said.  "C'mon, take 
it.  I won't bite ya!"

"All right," she said, still a bit wary, then she lowered the 
broom, let go of it with her right hand, and with that hand 
grabbed the wolf's paw.  With a mild grunt he helped pull her 
to her feet.

"There!" the wolf said, letting go of the girl's hand and 
taking a stand with both paws resting on either of his hips, 
"See?  I'm not so bad."

"But you're big!" the girl said, looking up at him.

The wolf shrugged.  "Only relatively," he said.  "Nothing 
compared to that grouchy ogre that tossed me outta his shack 
the other night."

"That's where I'm going!" Goldilocks exclaimed.

"Huh?" the wolf asked, missing the connection.

"The ogre!  And the ogress!  They've been arrested back in 
Duloc!  They set us free, and now I'm going to try to help 
them!"

The wolf examined Goldilock's small frame.  "YOU are?" he 
inquired, barely holding back a titter.

"Yes!" she said, then held the broomstick out, "with this!"

The wolf cocked a skeptical eyebrow, sucked in a breath to 
keep from laughing, and said, "Really?  So, I guess you're 
going to clean up the town, is that it?"  Here he did let out 
a little laugh, and quickly choked it off.

"No," Goldilocks said, lowering the broomstick as he cheeks 
flushed with anger.  "This is a WITCH'S broomstick!"

The wolf's jaw dropped, and all traces of amusement left his 
features.  "A WITCH'S broomstick?" he repeated.

Goldilocks nodded.

The wolf stroked the hairs on underside of his snout 
thoughtfully for a moment, then said, "You know, usually you 
gotta KILL a witch to get her broomstick.  You're not -- a 
witch slayer are you?"

"No," Goldilocks replied in surprise.  "I didn't KILL her!  I 
just -- uh --"

The wolf smiled mischievously.  "You STOLE it?"

Goldilocks fidgeted uncomfortably for a moment, then said, "I 
didn't STEAL it exactly.  I just -- I just BORROWED it for a 
while.  Until after I help the ogres."

"Uh-huh," the wolf said with a hint of sarcasm.  "You know, 
going around st--,  er, BORROWING witch's brooms -- it's 
really not a very healthy activity."

She shrugged.  "I don't care," she said.  "The ogress was nice 
to me.  She set us free.  Now I'm going to help her." Then she 
paused and looked down either direction of the path they stood 
beside.  "Oh, my!" she said, "I'm afraid I lost my way.  Which 
way is Duloc?"

The wolf lifted an arm and pointed it down the eastward 
direction of the path.

"Thank you," she said, then started walking down the path in 
the direction he indicated.

"Why don't you use the broomstick and fly?" the wolf  asked 
after she had taken a few steps past him.

"I haven't exactly figured out how to make it work," she 
replied with a bit of embarrassment, then turned back towards 
him.  "You wouldn't happen to know, would you?"

The wolf gave a short laugh, then said, "Sorry, kid, not my 
specialty.  You -- uh -- sure you want to do this thing 
alone?"

"No," she said, "but -- say, would you like to come with me?"

"ME?" the wolf asked.

"Sure!  They freed YOU, too!  We could --" the girl said, then 
noticed the look of fear in the wolf's eyes.  "Oh.  I guess it 
IS dangerous.  We don't know what might happen back in Duloc.  
And I've got a witch mad at me.  If you're afraid --"

"AFRAID?" the wolf shot back with forced bravado, "I'm not 
afraid of no witch!"

"So you'll come with me, then?" Goldilocks asked.

"Well -- okay," he replied reluctantly, taking a few steps to 
stand beside her.  "For a while, just to make sure nothing 
happens to YOU in these woods.  They can be kinda spooky."

"Oh, good!"  Goldilocks said.

The wolf sighed, forced a smile and offered a bent elbow.  "To 
Duloc?" he asked.

"To Duloc!" Goldilocks echoed, taking the crook of this elbow 
in her hand.  Then the two began down the brown dirt path.

"By the way," Goldilocks asked after they had traveled a few 
yards, "why are you STILL wearing the grandmother's clothes?"

The wolf shrugged.  "I'm not really sure," he replied, "they 
feel -- I don't know, just sorta comfortable, I guess."

"Oh, well," Goldilocks said, "it's not like there's anything 
WRONG with that."

*     *     *

Shrek, Fiona, and Donkey looked out through the bars of their 
cell out into the area where the jailkeep normally sat.  But 
there was no jailkeep there now -- it had been several minutes 
since he had run off.  In fact, there was nobody else in 
sight.

"Hey, great!" Donkey said enthusiastically, "Now's our chance 
ta get away?"

"An' just how do you proposed we do that?" Shrek asked in a 
voice heavy with sarcasm.

"Whaddya mean, how?  Jus' break down the cell door here!"

Shrek wandered over to the door and calmly asked, "Didja 
happen ta notice how thick these bars are?"  As if to 
emphasize his question, Shrek flicked one of the bars.  It 
left a heavy reverberating echo.

"Well, yeah, I know they're THICK," Donkey said, "but so're 
you!"

Shrek's eyes squinted as he looked down at Donkey.  "Come 
again?" he asked, the hint of a threat in his voice.

"What I MEAN is, well, you know, you're the big mean green 
fightin' machine!  Just try whammin' against the bars a couple 
times, you know, really put your shoulder into it, and see 
what gives!"

"I KNOW what'll 'give'," Shrek replied, "MY shoulder!  No 
thanks, Donkey.  We'll need ta thinka somethin' else."  With 
that, Shrek walked back to his cot and sat down.

Donkey looked at Shrek, then over to the cell door, then back 
to Shrek.  "Ain'tcha even gonna TRY?" he implored.

"NO," Shrek said with finality.  "An ogre's gotta know his 
limitations."

"But --" Donkey began to stammer, and saw Shrek set his jaw 
even firmer.  Donkey then moved his desperate gaze toward 
Fiona.  "What'cho think, Princess?" he asked.  "What we gonna 
do?"

Fiona fidgeted uncomfortably for a moment under Donkey's gaze.  
She then looked over at Shrek, and saw him looking back at her 
as well, his expression more one of curiosity than anything 
else -- apparently he was waiting to see if she would back him 
up.  She thought for a minute, sighed, then looked away from 
Shrek and toward the cell door.  Then she started to take 
determined strides towards it.

"And what do ya think YOU'RE doing?" Shrek asked.

"I'm going to try to learn MY limitations," Fiona replied.  
She paused once she came within a couple of feet of the cell 
door.  Then she closed her eyes, lowered her head, folded her 
hands in front of her, and began taking long deep breaths.

"And what do ya call THAT?" Shrek asked.

"Please!" Fiona said, not moving from her position, "I'm 
trying to clear my mind!"

"Oh," Shrek said, "too bad you can't be like Donkey here.  
That's no problem a'tall for him."

Donkey looked over at the ogre and his eyes narrowed and mouth 
pursed in confusion.  "Was that some kinda insult?" he asked.

"Case closed," Shrek said with a mocking laugh.

"PLEASE!" Fiona repeated, and looked back crossly at her 
fiancé.  

Shrek raised his hands defensively.  "Sorry," he said, half 
serious.

Fiona shook her head slightly and resumed her position.  She 
again tried to clear her mind.  Fortunately, the two males 
behind her did keep quiet -- which she realized was a minor 
miracle, especially for Donkey.  Of course, she realized, they 
were probably staring at her in amusement, wondering what kind 
of show she was going to supply for them.  Well, let them.  
She'd see if she might give them something to remember.  After 
a few moments more, she opened her eyes and fixed their gaze 
on the cell door lock.  She tried to block out everything in 
the world except that lock.  Then, after several seconds of 
intense transfixion, she sprang to life, whirling her body 360 
degrees about, giving a shriek, and hammering the door lock 
with the base of her foot.  The metal gave a mighty clang, but 
did not budge.

Fiona's martial arts yell quickly transformed into a howl of 
pain as she grabbed her now injured foot and started hopping 
about on the other one.  Although Donkey looked at her with 
concern, Shrek began to laugh.

"Very funny," Fiona spat with a mix of anger and pain.

"Sorry, Fiona," Shrek said, trying to control the laughter 
that made a mockery of his words.

"Princess, are you okay?" Donkey said with genuine concern for 
which Fiona felt gratitude.

"Yes, I'm fine, Donkey," she said as she stopped hopping 
about.  She felt the foot with a little more attention -- it 
did not appear to be seriously hurt.  She let it drop to the 
cell floor and tested it.  Still a little sore, but it would 
be okay again shortly.  She then hobbled the couple of steps 
to the cell door and pushed against it.  It was still locked 
up tight.  She then leaned down and carefully examined the 
cell door lock.  "I think it's bent a little," she said.

"Which," Shrek asked, "the door, or your foot?"  He then began 
a fit of laughter.  Donkey looked at him, at first 
disapprovingly, but then he started to chuckle, and a few 
moments later he had joined Shrek in full-bodied laughter.  
Fiona stared at the two of them, her eyes narrowed and teeth 
grinding, and fumed.

*     *     *

Maximus hurried into the door of the jailhouse, but slowed his 
pace when he heard, to his great surprise, uncontrolled 
LAUGHTER further down the hall from the cell area.  He 
realized that something remarkable must be going on.  As the 
jailkeep, who had been trailing his rapid pace, came huffing 
and puffing up to the door of the jailhouse, Maximus turned 
back toward him and held out his hand to signal for him to 
stop.  The jailkeep did, abruptly, and stood there gasping and 
looking in bewilderment at the Lieutenant.  Maximus then 
pulled his hand back to his own mouth and held its index 
finger up to his lips, signaling the jailkeep to keep quiet.  
The man nodded, swallowed hard, and tried to control his 
breathing, which had settled into a rapid wheezing.

After a few moments, during which the laughter continued, 
Maximus slowly tiptoed up the hallway until he was just 
outside the cellblock administrative area, from which all the 
cells on that floor could be seen.  The laughter had abated 
somewhat, and he risked a quick glance around the corner.  The 
ogres and donkey were still in the cell, but Hood was indeed 
gone, apparently through the now barless window.  The ogre and 
donkey were just finishing their fit of laughter, the ogre 
sitting on a cot and rubbing his eyes, the donkey laying on 
his back in the middle of the floor.  The ogress stood by the 
cell door looking away from Maxiumus at the ogre, her arms 
crossed.  She stood very still and very silent.

Maximus leaned away so that he was again entirely out of sight 
of their cell.  He looked back to the jailkeep, who was now 
stand just behind him, a confused, quizzical expression on his 
face.  Maximus leaned toward him and whispered very softly, 
directly into his ear, "Stay quiet.  They don't know we're 
here.  Let's listen to them for a bit; we may learn of Hood's 
whereabouts or some other devious plan they may be hatching to 
escape themselves."

The jailkeep nodded as Maximus at last heard the ogress speak 
over the dying dregs of her companions' laughter.  "I am SO 
glad I was able to entertain you," she said with overt, cold 
sarcasm.

"Sorry, Fi," the ogre responded, the hint of a chuckle still 
in his voice, "I didn't mean anything by that little laughin' 
spell.  It just --"  There was a sudden pause in the ogre's 
speech, and after a moment he resume, his voice suddenly 
enthusiastic and very serious.  "That's it!" he shouted.  
"That's the way out!  A spell!"

Maximus smiled to himself.  So, he was right!  These creatures 
WERE the ones responsible for the magical happenings over the 
past day.  The lieutenant looked back to the jailkeep who, 
apparently realizing the same thing, was looking at Maxiumus 
with some admiration.  Maxiumus rested his hand on the hilt of 
his sword.  He had best interpose before these sorcerers could 
conjure up some new foul deeds.  Just a few seconds more and -
-

But then Maximus heard the donkey speak, apparently to the 
ogre.  "What 'spell'?  What'cho talkin' 'bout, Shrek?"

"Simple, Donkey," the ogre replied, "and 'simple's the 
operative word, here, at least as far as these humans go.  
That Gledius character, he wants them t'believe that we cast 
some kinda spell that caused all this stuff ta happen, for 
Fiona to transform, and all that, right?"

"I guess so," the donkey said, confused.

"So what are you suggesting, Shrek?" the ogress now chimed in, 
no longer angry, but nearly as confused as the donkey.

"Simple," the ogre said again, "I confess."

"You confess ... WHAT?" the ogress said, her voice edgy and now 
a little apprehensive.

"I confess that I'M the one that put a spell on you!" he 
replied, "After all, things were going just peachy at the 
weddin' before I showed up, weren't they?  You were all human, 
and Farquaad had accepted you as his queen and all, and 
everything was set up for a storybook endin'.  But y'see, 
that's when that evil, jealous ogre showed up and worked his 
magic, changed ya into a monster just like him so he could 
have ya for himself, and summoned the dragon to gulp down 
Farquaad so they could take over Duloc, you actin' as queen 
but actually under the evil ogre's spell!  I just confess all 
that, and they'll let you go, cause I'll explain to them that 
once they do me in, the spell will be broke and you'll go back 
to bein' all human again.  And you, too, Donkey.  I'll tell 
them that your being able to talk an' all was part of it, too, 
and after they do away with me you'll go back to being an 
innocent, dumb animal."  Then he added with a wry chuckle, 
"Which is half truth now, already."

There was a moment of silence, then the donkey asked, "You 
think they'll really buy that?"

The ogre gave a derisive grunt, then said, "There's a buncha 
superstitious humans.  They already distrust ogres.  An' they 
associate physical human beauty with goodness, and they saw 
what Fiona looked like b'fore.  Yeah, I think that it'll work.  
If we sell it.  So, Fiona, when I confess, I need you ta chime 
in and tell how you're comin' to your senses, and how I --"

"You CAN'T be serious," the ogress said simply.

"I'm deadly serious," he responded.

"Exactly!"  the ogress blurted, "The operative word being 
'DEAD'.  Didn't I catch that as the key to the plan here -- 
that you were offering up YOUR life to free US?"

"Well, not exactly," he said, "I mean, yeah, on the face of 
it.  But that's just to get you two outta harm's way.  Then 
I'll figure out somethin' else t'get myself free."

"Like what?" she asked.

"I don't know yet," he said defensively, "somethin' will come 
t'me.  In the mean time, I need you ta --"

"No," she said firmly.

"Fiona," he protested, "it'll work better if you help back me 
up --"

"No!" she said, even more firmly.  "Not only will I NOT back 
you up, but if you try to enact this 'plan', I'll tell them 
that your 'confession' is the lie it is."

"Fiona -- my love --" the ogre protested with growing 
desperation in his voice, "please, let me try this.  Even if 
the worst happens, you might go free.  You're young, you've 
got your whole life ahead o'ya --"

"My life is BEFORE me," she replied calmly but assertively, 
"standing right before me.  My life IS you, Shrek.  You are my 
betrothed.  And whatever happens, we face it together."

"But -- but --" the ogre was stammering desperately, 
apparently trying to find some way to talk his -- betrothed, 
did she say? -- into supporting his plan.  "What if all we 
have to face together is the executioner's axe?"

"In that case," she said meekly, "we can face eternity 
together -- although perhaps a bit sooner than we might have 
preferred."

"But Fiona, these humans are taught from wee lads that ogres 
are beasts not t'be trusted.  You know how many foul thing 
I've heard em' call me?  Heavens, you must know some o'that, 
havin' been human yourself.  How d'ya think we'll get a fair 
shake from their 'justice' system here?  An' after all, you've 
only known me a couple a'days, anyhow.  An' before that, you 
thought you'd be the wife o' some handsome prince in shining 
armor.  So maybe -- maybe your belief in -- in us -- well, 
maybe it's somethin' else that's just not meant t'be, just 
another delusion --"

"Do you believe it's a 'delusion' ?"

"Well -- no -- I confess, I've never felt more convinced of  
anything in m'life," the ogre conceded, "but that's why you've 
GOT to let me try this.  If you'll just play along, I -- 
Fiona, please, I'd hate t'think I'm responsible for causing 
your -- for causing you to --"

"And I wouldn't be responsible for -- whatever happened to 
YOU?" she countered, "After all, I'M the one who insisted on 
staying here."

"I know," he said, "but --"

"I'm Sorry, dearest," she said, "but whatever Destiny has in 
store for us here, we face it together."

"No matter what?" he asked, a defeated tone in his voice.

"No matter what," she replied, her own voice, although 
sounding certain of its answer, was also apparently attempting 
to show more bravado than it actually did.

Maximus heard the ogre sigh heavily in resignation, and the 
lieutenant leaned back against the wall, his own head 
spinning.  The conversation had certainly taken turns he had 
not expected.  At first, he was so confident that these beings 
were about to reveal themselves for the cunning, nefarious 
schemers that Gledius had warned him about.  But now -- 

Suddenly, outside on the street, the automatic P.A. system 
kicked in and started playing a muzak version of some popular 
song -- a gentle love ballad.  Maximus decided to chance a 
peek around the corner again at the cell.  He did so, and saw 
the ogres standing in the middle of the cell facing each 
other, the male gently holding the female's cupped hands in 
his own, the donkey standing off to the side watching them.  
Then, suddenly, the female picked up on the tune and began to 
sing:

    "No matter what they tell us, no matter what they do
    No matter what they teach us, what we believe is true ..."

"Hey!" the donkey injected, "Princess, you oughtn't do that!  
Shrek don't like sing--"  His words were cut off by a curt 
warning glance from the ogre.  "Uh, never mind," the equine 
mumbled.  The ogress smiled and continued:

    "No matter what they call us, however they attack
    No matter where they take us, we'll find our own way back

    I can't deny what I believe, I can't be what I'm not
    I know our love's forever
    I know, no matter what ..."

At that point the ogress's voice choked a bit.  She bit her 
lip and looked down.  The ogre reached down and gently brushed 
a tear from her eye.  She looked back up at him, forced a 
smile, and started a new verse:

    "If only tears were laughter, if only night was day
    If only prayers were answered, then we would hear God say:

    'No matter what they tell you, no matter what they do
    No matter what they teach you, what you believe is true
    And I will keep you safe and strong and sheltered from the storm
    No matter where it's barren, a dream is being born'"

The ogress began to choke up again, and the ogre took her into 
his arms in a tight embrace.  Maximus, forgetting himself, 
took a step forward so that he was in full view of the cell.  
The ogres didn't notice him at first, but the donkey did.  
"Hey, guys, we got company," the equine said with distaste, 
"Looks like the captain's lackey again."

The ogress leaned back from her companion's chest, although 
their embrace did not completely break.  Both looked at 
Maximus with the same distaste as the donkey, and then the 
ogress continued singing:

    "No matter who they follow, no matter where they lead
    No matter how they judge us ..."

Here the ogress turned away from Maxiums and stared directly 
up into the ogre's eyes as she concluded, her voice strong and 
certain:

    "... You're the only ONE I need!

    No matter if the sun don't shine or if the skies are blue
    No matter what the ENDING, my life BEGAN with you

    I can't deny what I believe, I can't be what I'm not
    I know this love's forever, 
    That's all that matters now, no ... matter ... what ..."

Here the ogress again suddenly seemed emotionally drained, and 
collapsed against the ogre's chest.  The ogre shot one last 
glance and sneer toward Maximus and then turned back to 
comforting the ogress.

Maximus stood there for a moment, mental and emotional 
tempests tossing in his mind.  Then, from behind him, the 
jailkeep asked, "Um, sir, what do you want me to do?"

"Uh ... well ..." the lieutenant stammered, his eyes darting 
nervously about.  Then they alighted on a wall clock.  "It's 
morning.  You should feed your prisoners.  I -- I'll see about 
getting a search party together to go after Hood.  These 
others won't fit through that window."  With that, Maximus 
turned and strode down the hallway, suddenly anxious to be 
away from the cell and the things he kept hearing and seeing 
there that tore at the fabric of his beliefs.  The last thing 
he heard was the jailkeep saying, "All right, you all.  Time 
for breakfast.  You have your choice.  Eggs or waffles."