Layer 11: Interludes Some time later the sun had set, to be replaced with a big, bright full moon that cast an eerie luminosity over the scene that was taking place in a clearing a short distance from the former valley. The sheriff was just finishing binding the hands of the last of the villagers to the rope. The rope now connected all of the culprits arrested that day together. The Piper, trying to maintain an air of dignity, was the first in the rope gang line, followed by Fledgud and then the rest of the villagers. Bo stood nearby, beside the sheriff's stallion, and across from them stood the ogres and their friends. Fiona, a thoughtful expression on her face, cradled Puppy in her arms, petting the dog's head gently as she watched the sheriff doing his job. Shrek, his own face set in a scowl as he surveyed the line of villains, stood right beside her, a large arm firmly and protectively draped over her shoulders. Next to them stood Groyl and Moyre, whose expressions mirrored their son's. Each of the older ogres had an arm around the others' waist -- or as far around their waist was possible. Moyre's left arm, the one that was not clinging to her husband, now hung in a makeshift sling. Next to them sat Donkey and Dragon, with their offspring sitting or pacing in various spots around them. Donkey looked up to offer Dragon a grin, but noticed her staring across at the sheriff's stallion, an odd smile on her face. Donkey glanced over to see the stallion gulp nervously and smile awkwardly back at her. Donkey then looked back up at Dragon, one eyebrow cocked, his expression one of uneasy suspicion. Dragon then noticed her mate looking at her, blushed in embarrassment, then offered him a shy smile and abashed shrug. All this was interrupted when the sheriff announced, "There! That should do you all until we get you back to Typical. Sorry we don't have a paddy carriage to provide more amenable transport, but you'll just have to tough it." The tone of his voice did not sound like he truly regretted their inconvenience. The sheriff then trudged back up the line, giving each of the villagers a surly stare, each of whom in turn turned their heads away and down ashamedly, until he at last reached the front of the line and stared into the face of the Piper. The Piper -- a large knot on his forehead -- stared defiantly back at the lawman. "Thomas T. Piper," the sheriff said. "In trouble with the law ever since that stint you served in juvy for stealing that pig. A pity really, since your father was such a respected member of the community at the time --" "My father? Peter?" the Piper said derisively. "Ha! The man spent his entire life working day and night picking pecks of pickled peppers for that Vlasic plant. And what did it get him? A pension that would barely pay for his bread and butter, and notoriety as the butt of some insipid kids' tongue-twister. No! I wanted MORE out of life than that!" "Well, you got it," the sheriff said. "Right now you have multiple charges of attempted murder facing you. Congratulations!" "Murder?" the Piper said, then sneered over towards Shrek and his family. "I hardly think that murder laws apply to such creatures as OGRES. Besides, even if they did, all I did was lead one ogre into the valley. I never tried to make her go into the pit." "Oh? Aren't you forgetting the little incident with the dragon?" The Piper shrugged. "All I was doing at the time was trying out a new pipe," he explained. "Am -I- to be held liable if some unpredictable, homicidal monster just happens to take that same moment to go berserk? Really! Fairytale beings really DO need to start taking more responsibility for their own actions and stop blaming sorcery." Dragon's eyes narrowed. She emitted a deep growl from her throat, and blew puffs of smoke from her nostrils. "Uh, at any rate," the Piper continued uncomfortably, "I'm sure my lawyer will clear all this up." "Lawyers," the sheriff said with distain, then spat disgustedly on the ground. "You always were in tune with rats, weren't you, Piper? Well, even if you find some wiggle room out of THIS, there's several OTHER cases waiting for you from around the kingdom, starting with multiple counts of kidnapping from that town of Hamlin. Plus, you'll be interested in knowing that we've finally indicted your contact to the Fairytale Underworld -- and I'm NOT talking about the seven dwarves' mine! I'm sure you'll recognize his moniker; he was known as 'The Pie Man'. He sliced a deal with us, though, and has opened up and is singing like a blackbird. No doubt it's just a matter of time now and you'll be going down like a giant on a toppled beanstalk!" "Impossible!" the Piper objected. "How --" "We planted an agent inside the Pie Man's business, somebody who he never suspected," the sheriff said. "You might even have crossed our man's path. He went by the name of 'Simon'." "SIMON!" the Piper exclaimed, stunned. "That simpleton? He --" The Piper suddenly seemed to realize he was saying too much, and shut his mouth. "Yes, he was a pretty good actor. Eh, Piper?" the sheriff goaded him. The Piper stared distastefully at the sheriff, but didn't reply. The sheriff cast a last dismissive glance at the Piper then moved down to the next perpetrator on the rope. "Speaking of rats," the sheriff said, "here's a prime specimen!" He looked the bound villager up and down, then said, "I believe I warned you to stay away from the ogres, Feldgud." Feldgud, red-faced, glowered back at the sheriff. "Well, SOMEBODY had to take responsibility for protecting our village from these green beasts. And it obviously wasn't going to be YOU." "How can you SAY that?!" Fiona said, half in anger and half in true dismay. "We've done nothing to YOU! Plus, I saved your useless LIFE, you murderous, ungrateful son of a ... son of a ..." The little female dog in Fiona's arms barked. "Yeah, what she said!" Donkey chimed in. "HA!" Feldgud guffawed. "Better THAT than the daughter of an amphibian!" "UGH! You CUR!" Fiona spat. "Have you, in the end, no sense of decency whatsoever?!" "Of COURSE I do! It's for the decent, the moral, and the traditional human way of life that I fight! Have YOU no sense of HUMANITY? Casting your lot with these monstrous brutes? Set to become breeding stock for more of these ... THINGS?!" Fiona was finding it harder to keep herself from physically lashing out at Feldgud. She bore her teeth and began trembling in fury. Puppy whined, both sensing her distress and feeling the princess unconsciously squeezing her tighter. Shrek laid a hand gently on Fiona's shoulder. "Take it easy, Fi," he said, his face also twisted in disgust as he beheld Feldgud. "Ye can't talk sense into 'em. Ye should'a just let him drop into the pit of darkness. That's where his mentality's trapped anyway." "Ah-ha!" Feldgud blurted. "You see? Murderous brutes all! You've just proven my point!" "The only point YOU have is the one that sits atop your imbecilic head!" Fiona spat back. "But that's only appropriate, considering how narrow a mind it houses! And just what business is it of yours WHAT we do in our swamp, anyway?" "Are you kidding? You're OGRES. We're HUMANS. We know it's just a matter of time before you and your hatchlings come down and steal away our precious young to satiate your fiendish palates! We have no intention of sacrificing our children to your monstrous appetites!" "AHHHH!" Fiona screamed skyward in frustration, then to Feldgud, demanded, "If I'm a member of such a horrible species as you describe, then why would I endanger myself to save your miserable life?" "That? I'd say that was due to the lingering dregs of what's left of your humanity, somehow peeking out through that thick, green, smelly hide!" Fiona turned to Shrek. "I think I'm either going to kill him or I'm going to be sick. Or both," she said, trying desperately now to keep her temper from boiling over completely. "Join the club," Shrek agreed, looking passed her to the villager, the ogre's scowl deepening. The sheriff, who had been observing the altercation with quiet amusement, his arms casually crossed, now chuckled. "You know, Feldgud," he said, "that mouth of your is really going to land you in some hot water one of these days. And since these are ogres that you insist on baiting, that might turn out to be literal. But as far as her humanity saving your worthless behind, you might have noticed that no HUMAN risked their lives for yours. I certainly know that I wasn't going to risk MINE under those circumstances." "And that goes double here!" Bo said. "Oh, shut up!" Feldgud scolded Bo. "I don't want to hear another peep out of you! You're the biggest traitor here! You were supposed to keep the sheriff preoccupied. We had a deal!" "You never said anything about trying to kill any ogres!" Bo shot back. "Oh, good grief, Bo! What did you THINK I wanted you to keep him away from the Drainpipe for?" "Well, I confess, I didn't really care much at the time, as long as you gave me a chance to leave," Bo admitted sheepishly. "But then, riding with the sheriff, he told me about how badly you had it in for the ogre newlyweds and, well, my conscious got the better of me. Then, after spending a little more time with the sheriff --" here she looked up at the lawman, smiled and batted her eyes -- "I was a changed woman!" Then she laid a hand on the rock-hard bicep of his arm, leaned against him, and sighed. The sheriff grinned down at her. "Oh, brother!" Feldgud moaned. "Now I think that I'M gonna be sick!" "Fine," the sheriff said. "But make it a walking sickness. It's time for us to head back to Typical. C'mon, all you vermin, follow the Piper." He began leading the long roped-together gang of men away, the Piper in front. "Wait, Sheriff!" Fiona called. The sheriff stopped and looked back at the ogress, restrained annoyance on his face. "Yes, Princess?" he asked. Fiona turned and handed Puppy to a surprised Shrek, then turned back and advanced to the prisoners and looked over all the villagers in line after Feldgud. "Do you agree with your leader?" she asked. "Is that how you see the relationship between your village and our family? An endless cycle of fear and enmity and confrontation? Is there no way that we can convince you we mean you no harm? That we simply wish to live beside you in peace, if not friendship?" The villagers cast their eyes awkwardly down, most looking ashamed. Fiona thought she was making progress, but suddenly felt a tug on her arm. "Fiona!" she heard Moyre hiss in her ear as the elder ogress took a firmer grip on her arm and led her several yards away from the villagers. "What?!" Fiona asked her mother-in-law in a somewhat irritated voice as Shrek, Groyl and Donkey wandered in to hear the conversation. "You're showing weakness!" Moyre whispered. "You should NEVER show weakness around humans! It only emboldens them to cause more trouble!" "I'm not showing 'weakness'," Fiona argued. "I'm simply trying to establish a dialog here, to come to some meeting of the minds." "With HUMANS? PEASANTS, nonetheless? HA!" Moyre rasped. "You're wasting your time, Fiona, in trying to befriend them. You're only giving them less reason to fear you. FEAR is what keeps them in line, Fiona! That's the way it's always been. It's tradition!" "She's right, Fi," Shrek said. "It's in their nature. That's just the way it has to be." Fiona's jaw went slack as she set her hands on her hips and stared at her husband. "I can hardly believe I'm hearing that from YOU, considering all we've been through!" she said. Shrek blushed, but then said defensively, "But these are just common villagers! There are some things ye just can't change, Fiona. You're asking the impossible." "Well, I'm sorry," Fiona said, "but ever since you came crashing through the roof of my room in the tower, I guess I've just gotten used to experiencing the impossible!" Shrek smiled shyly, acknowledging the hit. "I don't know about the rest of you," Fiona said, now addressing all three ogres, "but I think it'd be nice if we could look forward to a future where we don't need to worry about dodging bricks and pitchforks when we go out for a walk. And I certainly would like for our KIDS not to have to worry about it. Isn't that worth taking a chance?" But Moyre sadly shook her head and said, "Fiona, dear, it's a wonderful thought, but this is the real world. Ye had the right idea earlier, the way ye scared 'em off with your roar. Don't suddenly turn into a Pollyanna --" "Moyre," Groyl interrupted her, "maybe we should let Fiona try it her way." "WHAT?!" Moyre gasped, surprised at her husband. "But these humans are all the same! These people just ain't no good!" "Darling," Groyl said calmly, "need I remind ye that we wouldn't be alive right now but for the intervention of two of those humans? Besides, I think Fiona might have a certain insight on human nature that we lack." Moyre sighed. "Very well," she said reluctantly and without enthusiasm. "I've said my piece. Fiona, it's your swamp, and your kids. Do as ye think fit." Groyl turned to Shrek. "Son?" the older ogre prompted. Shrek looked his wife in the eyes. "I say we trust Fiona," he said resolutely, then offered her a confident smile. She smiled appreciatively back. "All right!" Donkey said. "You go, girlfriend!" "Princess?" the sheriff called back impatiently from where he stood beside the Piper. "If there isn't anything else --" "Oh, but there is!" Fiona said, approaching the group. "Sheriff, except for the two men in front, I want you to let all the other prisoners go." All of the humans stared at her, shocked. "Did ... did I hear you right?" the sheriff asked, aghast. "You want me to let these would-be murderers GO?" "All except for those two," Fiona said, pointing at the Piper and Feldgud. "The rest ... well, they didn't really participate." "But they were here with their torches and their pitchforks," the sheriff said, still incredulous and now perturbed. "And they very well may be here again before too long. Leave it to me, and I'll see to it they won't be ABLE to be back for a very, very long time --" "But they WOULD be back," Fiona said. "Them or others like them. No. I want this cycle to end." She then addressed the villagers, who were still staring at her, speechless. "Please!" she said. "Maybe we can't be friends, at least not right away. But believe me, we just want to live here in peace. We mean you no harm. We just want what any decent young couple wants; to be able to live together and raise our young in love and happiness and security. Those are values we all share, are they not?" The villagers glanced around at each other and started mumbling. "Oh, would you listen to THIS!" Feldgud said derisively. "The ogre princess is trying to negotiate a truce with her adversaries!" His tone then turned even more hostile. "But only to buy time to raise her gang of little creatures until they're old enough to raid our village! Men, BE men and don't listen to her deceitful lies --" "FELDGUD, SHUT UP!" the sheriff roared. The villager did, looking back at the sheriff. Feldgud's face still reflected some anger but it was now mixed with considerable fear. The sheriff jerked his red bandana from his neck, held it by opposing corners and twirled it until it was completely furled, then approached Feldgud and roughly tied it around the villager's head and across his open mouth, gagging him. "There!" the sheriff said as Feldgud made indistinct objections behind the gag. The sheriff then turned back to Fiona, fought to regain some composure, and said, "You were saying, Princess?" Fiona smiled. "Thank you, sheriff," she said, then turned to the other villagers again. "Gentlemen, you have your freedom," she said. "Please use it to better yourselves and serve your community and family in more constructive ways than trying to harm those who have not and would not harm you." She sighed. "I know you were brought up to hate and fear ogres, taught that they were just big, stupid, ugly beasts. Believe it or not, so was I -- perhaps even more so because of my situation. More than you want to purge us from the outskirts of your village, I sought to purge the hideous thing I saw staring back at me from the mirror at night -- those rare times when I could stand to LOOK into a mirror at night. Like Feldgud here, I thought that whatever benign, positive traits I had were from my human side. But then I met ... my prince," here she gestured over to Shrek, who looked back bashfully. "The love of my life, who showed me that he -- that WE -- are capable of as much love and compassion and bravery as the noblest human. Sure, we look a little different, have different tastes, and enjoy different pastimes. But trust me, I've lived both lives, been close to loved ones on either side, and I know that your dreams and aspirations and ours are quite compatible. In those important areas that really matter, like love and concern for family and friends and the desire for a stable, happy home, we share far more than you might think now. So I DO challenge you TO think, and consider possibilities beyond the narrow confines of those stereotypes and fairytales you've been brought up with. So relish your freedom! Go home, kiss your wives, hug your children, live in peace, and know that where we live, we only wish the opportunity to do the same. Thank you." The villagers stared at Fiona, wide-eyed and speechless. Feldgud made excited, incomprehensive noises behind his gag that nobody was paying attention to. The Piper just smiled sardonically and shook his head. Fiona nodded to the sheriff. The lawman sighed, then reluctantly began releasing the villagers until only Feldgud and the Piper were left bound. As Fiona watched, cross-armed, most of the villagers rubbed their newly freed wrists, cast their eyes away, and began wandering awkwardly toward the their village. All but one. A teenager about five feet tall with blond hair tentatively approached her. The ogress watched, cocking an inquisitive eyebrow as he came within four feet, took his hat off, held it awkwardly in his hands, and looked up at her. "M-Ma'am," he said timidly. "May I ask you a question?" Fiona looked him over. He seemed meek enough, and had certainly not been near the front of the pack when they were wielding their weapons. She smiled down at him. "Certainly," she said, trying to sound friendly. "What is your name, son?" "Francis, ma'am," he replied. "And you may call me Fiona. Go ahead and ask your question, Francis." "Ma'am," Francis began, too nervous to drop the formality, "is it really true, then? You really were a beautiful royal princess that was rescued from a tower by an ogre and chose to be one yourself?" "Well, that's a pretty condensed version of it," Fiona said, chuckling, "but you've got the gist right." Her smile turned wry as she considered the way she must currently look to him; an ugly ogress with soiled rough homemade woodland clothes, disheveled and tiara-less hair, and dirty face. "Although I imagine that I don't look very 'beautiful' or 'royal' to your eyes just now," she added. The teenager's expression turned to one of surprise. "Oh, but I disagree!" he said. "It's plain to anyone WITH eyes! And I -- I thank you for my freedom. I am truly sorry for my part in all this. I beg your forgiveness ..." He then sank to one knee, then bowed his head so low that Fiona found herself looking down on the back of his neck as he concluded, "... Your Highness." Fiona stared down at him, speechless. The other freed villagers had quietly taken note of the scene, including those who had started drifting away toward their village. Now they all slowly and timidly meandered toward the two, and one by one they all took off their hats, sank to one knee, bowed to Fiona, and said, "Your Highness." The ogress suddenly found herself looking down upon the bowed heads of nearly a dozen human villagers, all paying her tribute. She again felt tears begin to well in her eyes. She looked over at the sheriff. He looked back at her with a wry smile of his own and shook his head in bemusement. Then he also sank to one knee and bent forward in a bow. Bo, standing beside him, then followed his lead and did the same. Fiona started to weep. * * * A few hours later Fiona was dressed in her blue one-piece bathing suit and making her way across the swamp. In her hands she carried a tray upon which sat four mugs with bent straws and little paper umbrellas sticking out of them. Soon she came to her destination: Her and Shrek's favorite mudhole. Two torches set to either side of the miniature bog aided the illumination provided by the full moon that now set high in the sky. Various night creatures chirped and croaked and whistled around them, but none of the fairy folk that sometimes could be seen flitting about the swamp visited this particular spot; they had learned to avoid it lest they be involuntarily conscripted to provide additional, more colorful illumination. Shrek and his parents were already in the hole, the mud coming mid- way up the male ogres' bare, hairy chests, and up to a few inches below the collarbone on Moyre. All three had their eyes closed and their faces bore little smiles of relaxed contentment. Fiona hated to disturb them, but these particular drinks would not keep. "Hello everybody!" she said cheerfully. "I brought us a little something." The other three ogres all opened their eyes, smiled and greeted her warmly. "I was wondering what was keeping ye, Sweetheart," Shrek said, glancing at the tray. "I thought ye said you'd be right behind us." "Well, since this is such a special day, I thought I'd make a special drink," she said. "It's one of MY favorites, anyway," she added shyly. Fiona then began handing out the mugs, first to Moyre, then Groyl, then Shrek. She then took the last for herself, sat the tray aside and -- being careful not to spill her drink -- cautiously slid into the mudhole beside Shrek. She sighed in contentment as she felt the cool, brown, oozy, semi-liquid substance enveloping her. Groping about in the muck with her free hand she found the shelf where Shrek was sitting and sat beside him, the mud now lapping near the top of her chest. "THAT feels great!" she said, then leaned against Shrek's arm, relaxed, and sighed. A moment later several bubbles erupted in the mud around her. "THAT feels even BETTER!" she commented, and smiled slyly up at Shrek. He laughed and then draped a mud-covered arm around his wife and pulled her closer to him. Moyre smiled at the happy couple, then looked at the contents of her mug. Her expression twisted into one of perplexity. "Fiona," she said, "is this ... crushed white ice?" "Yes, partially," Fiona replied. "Dragon was good enough to retrieve some from a mountaintop for me before she and Donkey had to take off with their kids. It's mixed with a few other ingredients for flavor. It's called a 'Pina Colada'. It usually has a shot of rum in it for kick, but considering the occasion I substituted Ograrian Ale. I hope you like it." "It looks ... different," Moyre observed, sniffing it. Then she looked at Fiona, grinned, and said, "But sometimes, things that are different can prove t'be of surprisingly high quality." Fiona grinned back. Moyre lifted her mug in a gesture that took in the other three ogres. "A toast!" she proclaimed. "To today's heroes!" The other three ogres tipped their mugs to her and they all took long sips through their straws. "Mmmm," Groyl said, smacking his lips. "Not bad, Fiona." "No, not bad at all," Moyre agreed. But then she carefully took out the miniature paper umbrella, examined it for a moment, then looked over at Fiona and asked teasingly, "Were ye expecting rain tonight, dear? For if so, I fear these things won't quite cut it." Fiona giggled. "No," she said, "they're just something that gets served with drinks like this. They're not of any practical use." "Ah!" Moyre said. "So they're like so many other types of ... tradition." "You mean like the one that says ogres take care of their own injuries?" Fiona asked half-teasingly, and gestured toward Moyre's left arm, most of it submerged in the mud now, but the top of the wrappings still visible. "I still say you should have let us have Dragon fly you to Far Far Away and had my father's doctors have a look at that --" "Oh, Fiona, please!" Moyre said dismissively. "How knowledgeable could your father's doctors be about ogres, anyway? I doubt they even know we have fifteen more bones than humans!" "I'm sure they do!" Fiona disagreed. "They keep up on all the latest publications of 'Grimm's Anatomy'. Besides, they had to be prepared in case anything ever happened to me at night --" "It's all right, Fiona!" Groyl interrupted. "I understand your concern, but I examined Moyre and it really wasn't broken, just a bad sprain." "Besides," Moyre said, "that wasn't the ... impractical tradition I was alluding to. I was talking more along the lines of the ogre marriage rules." "Oh. THAT," Fiona said, her demeanor sagging. "Oh, well. If Shrek can handle my ... nonconformities as his wife, and you can tolerate me as a daughter-in-law, then we'll see if we can't raise our children in proper ogre manner even without our union having an authentic ogre blessing." "But what if it could?" Moyre asked. The other three ogres all jerked their heads toward the older ogress, confused looks on their faces. "What do you mean?" Fiona asked anxiously. "What if ye could have a proper ogre marriage ceremony and have your union recognized by the ogre community? Would ye be interested?" "Of COURSE!" Fiona said, suddenly so attentive that even her ears stood at unusually high angles. "But I thought you said --" "That both principals plus both their parents had to be ogres," Groyl finished for her, looking at his wife in confusion. "Aye, that's correct. What's going through your mind, Moyre?" "Well, I've been thinking," Moyre began, then chuckled. "Yes, I know that's hard to believe from me. But I wanted to think of some way I could pay Fiona back a little for what I put her through today at the swamp, and for saving my life at that pit. And I've come up with an idea. But a great deal of it depends on her parents." "What about my parents?" Fiona asked, her brow knotting in confusion. "You're still on good terms with then, I take it?" "Of course! Better than ever, actually. In fact, they feel rather guilty over the way they treated me as I was growing up --" "Good!" "Excuse me?" Fiona asked, somewhat perturbed at Moyre's reaction. "So that means ... like me ... they probably feel they owe ye ... a favor," Moyre said. Her voice then took on a mysteriously conspiratorial tone as she added, "Perhaps even a particularly BIG favor. Right?" Fiona felt curiosity and an odd exhilaration begin rising in her. She leaned as far toward her mother-in-law as the ledge she sat on would allow. "What do you have in mind?" the princess asked. * * * It was sometime in the afternoon the next day. A witch, dressed in the dark robe and pointed hat that her customers expected her to wear, stood by a cauldron which sat on a fire. She held a long stick in her hands with which she stirred her brew, every so often having to pause so as to push the little wire-rimmed glasses she wore back into place, as they continually wished to slip down her long nose. Near where the witch stirred her concoction sat a wooden stand with several shelves, upon which sat a variety of potions and spells, all bottled or packaged very neatly and labeled with its name and a price tag. Next to this stand sat several wooden baskets with a variety of fruits and vegetables, all the baskets also bearing labels telling what was in each and the price per dozen. Above all this was a larger sign, set across two poles, which read, 'Hazel's Potion and Fruit Stand'. This all sat just off the side of a dirt road that ran through the forest. A couple of dwarves were currently looking over the various vegetables while their companion, a young raven-haired woman, seemed to be considering which variety of apples to buy. Overall, however, it had been a slow day. And so the witch looked up in anticipation when she heard carriage wheels approaching from somewhere down the road. Her anticipation turned into surprised curiosity when the vehicle appeared. The carriage seemed to be made of a giant hollow onion, and driving the two white horses that pulled it was a large male ogre who bore a resemblance to someone she had seen before. The carriage pulled off the side of the road and stopped by her stand. Then a door opened and three other ogres stepped out, one female about the same age as the driver and two older ogres, one male and one female. The witch recognized the older couple, and in fact it was the male who the driver reminded her of. The witch stopped stirring and leaned on her stick. She pushed her glasses into place again as the four ogres approached her. When she did so, she was quite happy to see the older ogress carrying a small jar. "Hazel!" the older ogres said, smiling as she and her mate pulled ahead of the younger two as they approached her. "I was hoping you'd still be here!" "Moyre!" Hazel responded in kind. "It's been quite some time!" Then, indicating Moyre's bandaged left arm that rested in a sling around her neck, "What happened to YOU?" "Oh, it's a long story," Moyre said as she and her companion came to a halt a couple of feet before the cauldron. "You remember my husband, Groyl?" "Certainly," Hazel said, and nodded to the older ogre. "Good afternoon, Groyl." "Madam Hazel," he responded, nodding back. Moyre looked into and sniffed at the cauldron. "Ah, I see you're cooking bats again," she observed. "Since early this morning!" Hazel said. "They're just about done if you'd care to purchase some." Moyre squinted as she sniffed some more. "But the broth's different," she noted. "Don't you normally use a combination of turpentine and turtle juice?" "Usually," Hazel agreed. "But I'm trying something new. This is an herbal mixture I invented -- well, herbs and fourteen percent alcohol. The bats come out almost as tasty, but they're much lower in fat and even have fewer carbohydrates! I've even found the broth itself is an astringent, with medicinal uses for treating skin irritations, itching, minor cuts, and hemorrhoids! I'll probably end up marketing it myself, I just haven't thought of a name for it yet. But enough about me!" Here Hazel gestured toward the jar in Moyre's hand. "Is that what I THINK it is?" she asked. "Indeed!" Moyre said. "Rare ogre lice, freshly captured during our last delousing before we went to visit our son and his new bride." "Splendid!" crowed the witch, then began to reach for the jar. "I take it you'll be expecting the regular price --" "Not quite," Moyre said, pulling the jar away. "This will be part of a ... very special transaction." Hazel's smile faded and her brow knit in sudden suspicion. "What do you mean?" Moyre sighed. "First," she said, "let me introduce you to my son and his new bride." She gestured behind her to where the younger ogres stood patiently, arm-in-arm. "Madam Hazel," Moyre said, "I'd like to introduce you to our son, Shreklech-- I mean, SHREK, and his wife, Fiona." The two younger ogres bowed slightly, uncomfortable smiles on their faces, the female's expression also containing a hint of hopeful anticipation. "Madam Hazel," they both said politely. Hazel was nodding back when a memory rose in her mind. "Hey, wait a minute!" she said. "Shrek ... Fiona ... didn't I read something about you two ..." She snapped her fingers. "Of COURSE! That ball at Far Far Away! You're that princess!" "Oh," Fiona said meekly, blushing. "You heard about that." "Darling, when something major happens at Far Far Away, the whole flat WORLD hears about it!" Hazel said. "You couldn't get a lot more major than THAT! It was in all the papers, scrolls, magic mirrors, crystal balls, you name it! And the troubadours had a field day!" Shrek and Fiona looked at each other awkwardly and sighed. "In that case," Moyre said to Hazel, "you're aware of Fiona's parental background, and the ogre marriage problem." "Ogre marriage problem?" Hazel repeated, confused for a moment. Then realization dawned on her face. "Oh!" she said. And then, a moment later when she fully realized all the implications, "Ooooh." "Exactly," Moyre agreed. Fiona looked down, embarrassed. Shrek put a comforting arm around her and said, "As ye can see, it's really, REALLY bothering Fiona. My mom thought maybe ye could help us find a way around this stupid ogre marriage ... tradition." He infused the word 'tradition' with more than mild distaste. "Now, dear," Hazel said, "there's a basis behind ALL traditions. Old fogies don't just sit around making them up for no reason at all! In the case of the restrictions on ogre marriages having to be between ogres with ogre parents ... well, that's a good deal the fault of magic users such as myself, I'm afraid. You see, whenever some particularly heinous lout of a human being deserved to be punished, some magic user would usually turn him or her into a different species. It's kind of a knee-jerk reaction. And I'm sorry to say that often the species of choice would turn out to be an ogre, as humans considered them such vile creatures that to actually be turned into one would be one of the worst things imaginable. So you ended up with a lot of vile and heinous ogres running around who weren't really ogres and, frankly, started giving the species an even worse name. Plus such miscreants never cared for proper ogre traditions anyway, and well -- you might say things got ugly, so to speak. So eventually the restriction got put in place that, in defense of the species, they only wished to propagate unions between 'real' ogres." Fiona sniffled, and Shrek pulled her closer. "But Fiona's different!" Moyre said. "She wasn't turned into an ogre for some indiscretion! She's been at least part ogress since she can remember! It's not HER fault her parents aren't ogres. And she's shown all the proper behavior and attributes and respect for things ograrian that ANY ogress could. Now she simply wants to be allowed to go through a proper ogre marriage ceremony --" "WHOA!" Hazel interrupted. "Moyre, I'm not disagreeing with you. I'm simply filling you in on the history of why things are they way they are. Your argument's not with me, it's with the officials that approve or disapprove of any particular wedding. It's not like there's anything I can do to help you here." "Oh, but there is!" Moyre said. Then she took a deep breath and continued, "I has to do with a certain potion ..." "Well," Hazel said, gesturing to the wooden stands, "I don't know what potion might help your daughter-in-law's situation, but feel free to look over my stock --" "No," Moyre said, "this would be a ... special order." Hazel frowned, suspicious. "I don't know ..." she said. Moyre then held out the jar. "What would you say if we paid with not just this jar, but, say, jars from the next five delousings?" Hazel licked her lips. Ogre lice was a potent ingredient in many of her spells and recipes. "What do you have in mind?" the witch asked. * * * A couple of days later day King Harold was sitting on his throne in the royal palace at Far Far Away. Suddenly the captain of the guards came rushing into the room, his polished armor clattering. The man brought himself to an abrupt halt in front of Harold's throne and snapped to attention. "Sire!" the man reported, his voice anxious but in control. "We are under attack!" "WHAT?!" Harold said, lifting himself erect by all four webbed feet, his mottled green skin flushing. "From where?" "From the air, Sire. We're being circled by a large red dragon!" "Red dragon?!" Harold repeated, and something within him leapt. True, such a beast could be attacking, but it could also mean -- "Captain!" Harold said. "Quick! Take me up to the battlements!" "Yes, Sire!" the captain said, then knelt and held out his two hands, pressed side-by-side, palms upward. Harold leaped from his throne onto the captain's hands. The captain then quickly got to his feet and began hurrying back to the stairwell that would take them up to the battlements on the roof. The captain went as fast as he could while making sure he protected his amphibian monarch, but Harold still found the trip excruciatingly slow. "Hurry, man, hurry!" he goaded. "Hop to it!" The two finally exited onto the castle roof, and Harold saw several of his soldiers loading a new type of catapult that had recently been added to the castle's defenses. The weapons aimed upwards at an angle, and were loaded with multiple flaming projectiles that spread across the sky when fired. Harold knew the captain liked to be prepared for anything, hence the large barrels of milk and accompanying boilers which had proved so useful when the castle had suffered that extremely unlikely attack by a giant gingerbread man. Tragically, it had turned out that the great pastry -- 'Mongo', as he had been named -- was on the right side in the conflict that night. But it was another oversized visitor who arrived hours later -- a large red dragon -- that had taken the defenders by surprise. It had easily made its way to the courtyard itself, and it had embarrassed the captain that they had no defense ready to stop it. Fortunately, that dragon had also been on the right side, so there was no harm done, and another tragic misunderstanding avoided. However, the captain had since devised the anti-air weapons in the event of any visits by other such beasts that were not so amicably inclined. "Captain," Harold said sternly, "you KNOW this may be OUR dragon, don't you?" "Indeed Sire," he confirmed as they came to the edge of a rampart. "But it hasn't given us the agreed-upon signal!" The captain turned toward one of the men readying one of the weapons. "Lieutenant, where is it now?" he demanded. "It disappeared behind a cloud, sir," the soldier said. "We fired at it twice while it was circling, but it avoided both -- look, sir, there it is!" The captain and king followed the man's gaze and saw a red dragon exiting a cloudbank. It was several hundred yards away, but Harold could swear he saw someone riding on its back toward the base of its neck. Suddenly the dragon started releasing a trail of smoke through its nostrils as it flew a deliberate pattern. A moment later everyone could make out a large 'S' that the smoke trail had left in the sky. "Unload your weapons!" the king shouted. "That's OUR dragon!" The soldiers unloaded and uncocked their weapons as the dragon flew lazily toward the castle. As it came closer, Harold could see he was correct and it DID have a rider. In fact, it would have been hard to miss the rider, since it was an ogre. The king beamed when he was able to make out exactly who that ogre was. The dragon landed on the castle roof and Harold's daughter smiled down at her father from her perch atop the beast's neck. She was wearing the same dark green dress she had been wearing that night at the ball -- well, that she had been wearing after she had reassumed ogress form. "Hi, Dad!" she called. "Fiona! Sweetheart!" Harold smiled back. But then his expression turned stern. "Why the devil didn't you signal earlier? You might have been killed!" "I wanted to," Fiona said, then cast a stern glare of her own at the dragon, who was looking back at her. "But Dragon wanted to play." The dragon grinned naughtily and shrugged. Fiona and her father both shook their heads, then Fiona slid off the dragon's back and landed adroitly a few feet in front of the captain and her father. She held her own hands out, pressed together with open palms upward. Harold leapt from his perch on the captain's hands onto Fiona's broader hand span. She lifted him up and they shared a brief kiss, then she held him out at eye level to her so they could converse on an equal plane. "Fiona, dear, what brings you to Far Far Away?" Harold asked. "And where is Shrek? Is ... everything all right between you? You two didn't have another spat?" "Oh, no, everything's going great!" she said, smiling. Then her smile faded and she continued. "Well, except for one thing. In fact, it's what I'm here for. There's something I need to talk with you and mom about. And then I'm afraid I need to ask you two for a favor. A BIG favor." Harold tilted his head inquiringly. "What is it, dear? What do you have in mind?" the king asked.